Chapter 142
Chapter 142
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 142
Chapter Title: Spirits of the Heroic Tombs (2)
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Steel Arrows.
These iron arrows, born from a unique forging method due to the northern cold that makes ordinary ones brittle, were avoided by the Empire's various forces.
Once they struck a target, these Steel Arrows that "shattered" anything were the natural enemy of elite soldiers.
Yet Troyvan was aiming hundreds of them right at them.
It was easy to guess how that forging technique had made its way east, just from the current situation.
"Fire—!"
Shweeeee—
At the commander's order, the Steel Arrows poured down like a squall.
"Umbra!"
Keeeeeak!
Umbra beat its wings hard, soaring higher into the sky.
They could see the arrows falling just short by a hair's breadth, but the enemy's assault was far from over.
"Magic corps, forward—!"
Clack clack clack!
Robed figures shrouded head to toe appeared at points along the encirclement.
Murmur murmur.
As they raised their staves in unison and chanted, fireballs rained down from the heavens this time.
"I heard the Magic Tower was siding with Troyvan, but...!"
"These bastards look like they've come prepared!"
"Too many."
If the Ragnar Grand Duchy dominated the north, then Troyvan and the Magic Tower ruled the east.
The Magic Tower might be small in numbers, but they couldn't be ignored for their ability to wield magic.
Arin and Selphard slashed sword auras into the air, while Rey condensed the surrounding atmosphere to barely shove aside the spells they couldn't fully intercept.
But at this rate, they were outnumbered.
It seemed they'd prepared for aerial combat in anticipation of spiriting Cassandra away from Ragnar territory.
Especially when the second encirclement net revealed itself after passing the first—even the laid-back Selphard paled.
"Those guys... are they really planning to finish this here?"
Giant ballistae were arrayed in a fan formation, primed and waiting.
Anti-air siege catapults.
Word was that Troyvan had rushed to develop them in response to the White Dragon Knights' exploits in the recent northern wars.
No matter how tough a wyvern's armor, getting hit by those arrows spelled doom.
The problem was there were far too many here, when battlefields usually had maybe ten at most.
'What do we do?'
A chill ran down Selphard's spine.
Normally, ballistae were ground-mounted, making it hard for dragon knights to engage directly, so swordsmen handled them instead.
But that wasn't feasible now—what could they do?
"I'll handle it."
"Theo, what are you—!"
"Those ballistae are different from what you know, Senior."
"What?"
"They're designed purely to hunt the White Dragon Knights. The arrowheads are loaded with explosion magic, and the shafts have simple tracking spells that even adjust their trajectory."
"......!"
Selphard's eyes widened.
"So let me go."
"......How do you even know that?"
"It was in the intel Black Snow told me to watch out for. Didn't expect it'd show up this soon, though."
It wasn't future knowledge per se, so it was a plausible cover story.
"How do you plan to regroup?"
"You know me, don't you?"
What answer could be more reassuring?
With a sigh, Selphard finally agreed to the request, and Theo thanked him before releasing the telekinetic chains.
His landing target: the ballistae.
Theo wrapped himself in telekinesis to safely slow his descent.
"Incoming! Take him out first!"
At the ballista legion commander's order upon spotting Theo, the guards unleashed a barrage of sword auras.
Boom boom boom boom boom!
Watching them, Theo began inducing mana resonance.
Steam rose from his body.
Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop!
Four Deathbits leaped into the air, transforming into thunder dragons.
Rumble—
Groooar!
Amid fierce explosions and thick smoke,
"Oh, got 'em?"
"Hey! Don't jinx it like—!"
KABOOM!
Theo crashed between the guard unit, swinging the drake blade in his hand savagely.
The steam leaking along the blade turned into crimson flames, sweeping everything around.
[Nibelung's Claw – Tide of Flames]
Roarrr!
The fire rippled outward, incinerating those nearby.
"Aaaagh!"
"Block it!"
"He's going for the ballistae! Don't let him reach them!"
Troyvan's swordsmen moved with sharp precision.
True to their reputation for superior formations, a rotational battle array formed swiftly.
'Sword Prison Formation?'
Sword Prison.
As the name implied—imprisoning foes in a cage of swords—it was specialized for facing masters or elite few.
But Troyvan overlooked one thing.
Theo didn't just possess future knowledge; he'd been embedded in Black Snow too.
He already had the counters memorized.
'Right diagonal, 15 meters, then ve