Chapter 141
Chapter 141
"Captain!"
The urgent voice calling from behind barely registered in Heinkel's mind before he was already charging toward his lord.
As the Knight Order Captain, this was an act that would be called disgraceful by any measure—a foolish charge into a battlefield of masters where his skills were clearly insufficient.
The person he sought to save was already grievously wounded, and his reckless assault might only hinder his own allies.
Had he been in his right mind, he would have cursed himself for such idiocy.
But in this moment, he saw nothing else.
"My lord!!"
His warhorse, enhanced by Force, accelerated at a speed he had never experienced before.
The bomb arrows, issued for emergencies and meant to be used sparingly, were emptied in an instant—ten shots fired in rapid succession toward the transcendent enemy conjuring a blinding white storm.
If he could divert the transcendent's gaze even for a split second, the Grand Prince might save their lord.
A desperate, irrational hope.
But as if the heavens had heard his plea, he saw arrows glowing red streak in from two entirely different angles.
Huh?!
In the brief moment of his astonishment, a miracle unfolded—thirty bomb arrows converged in perfect timing, colliding at a single point and detonating in a chain reaction.
That small miracle created an explosion powerful enough to stagger even a transcendent.
Now!
It was just enough of an opening for the old knight to save his lord.
CRACK.
Ellen only let out a sigh of relief after seeing the transcendent, who had been moments away from killing Logan, turn to engage another enemy approaching from behind.
She threw her emptied bomb arrow quiver to the ground and crushed it underfoot—preventing any chance of the enemy analyzing their weapons.
Only then did she turn her gaze toward the one who had fired the synchronized volley from the opposite direction.
"Good timing."
"It was nothing."
A humorless brat.
With his striking heterochromatic eyes—one red, one blue—he was a year younger than her, yet already a mid-tier Force User despite having trained for only a few years. A true prodigy.
And for some reason, ever since she had joined the knight order's training, he had always treated her with thinly veiled disdain.
I'll have to ask him about that someday.
But now was not the time.
"Both of you! Cover me for a moment!"
Clayton's urgent voice rang out as he raised a staff she had never seen before, emanating an immense and alien energy.
The moment Ellen and Victor's eyes locked onto him—
The atmosphere of the battlefield began to shift.
Shortly after spotting the Calria forces.
"Master Clayton! Use it now!"
"Huh?!"
Clayton instinctively caught the object Logan threw at him.
The artifact that had allowed Roger Bifrost to cast spells beyond his own level.
Even the faintest trace of mana radiating from it was at least Class 5.
Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't have accepted such a thing so readily—but this was no ordinary situation.
Logan, who had tossed it to him, had already clashed with an unexpected transcendent.
"Master! The Grand Prince—!"
"I see him!"
At Victoria's near-screaming cry, Clayton hastily channeled mana, and the staff amplified his power with a resonant hum.
In that instant, Clayton understood exactly how Roger Bifrost had been able to wield such overwhelming magic.
Huh...? This is—!
The staff's effects—spell acceleration, mana amplification, and efficiency enhancement—stacked in rapid succession, elevating Clayton's magic to a level incomparable to his usual capabilities.
If this is possible now...?
Even that spell—the one that served as a gateway for earth-aligned Circle Mages toward transcendence—might be within his reach.
No, it's absolutely possible!
His mind, clearer than ever, perfectly controlled the overflowing mana.
The result?
Clayton barely managed to time it right.
"Gravity Control!!"
A sixth-circle spell executed as if drawn in his mind—flawless.
Though he still needed the artifact's aid to cast it...
One day...
He understood now why mages prized staff artifacts above all else.
With a hopeful smile, Clayton watched as the effects manifested across the battlefield.
Wycken Calria gritted his teeth as an oppressive weight suddenly crushed his entire body.
It felt as if his weight had multiplied by dozens—no, hundreds of times.
A pressure that would have made an ordinary man—no, even most knights—cough up blood and collapse.
The sheer force disrupted his balance mid-charge.
WHOOSH!
The strike meant to finish off the brat in front of him missed wildly, cutting through empty air.
CRASH!
"Tch!"
A loud landing followed—uncharacteristically unsteady for a transcendent.
Thud.
His opponent, staggering and coughing blood, lips stained crimson, somehow seemed lighter than him.
That unnatural sensation confirmed his suspicions.
Magic!
And not just any magic—high-tier magic, so refined he hadn't even sensed its activation.
He tried forcing his way through the invisible shackles binding his entire body, but they wouldn't relent.
"Grrr..."
Thud. Thud. Thud.
His movements—once so swift he was called Stormblade, master of the wind—were now sluggish, barely recognizable.
No matter how much Aura he poured into resisting, the sticky, intangible force wouldn't fade.
The source wasn't even near his body.
Don't tell me—?!
Though he had rarely encountered such bizarre magic in his life, those few experiences gave him an idea.
Magic that affects even transcendents.
An intangible force that doesn't dissipate easily, even with Aura.
These two facts pointed to only one conclusion:
A sixth-circle spell!!
Only multi-attribute magic, powered by Magic Force—a level beyond mere Mana—could achieve this.
"There's an Archmage here?!"
His face stiffened like stone at the unexpected obstacle.
Then came the enemy's shout:
"I'll hold the transcendent! Wipe out the rest!!"
No matter how slowed he was by the Archmage's spell, there was no way this brat could defeat him.
The gap between an Aura User and a Force User was insurmountable.
Unless he was so exhausted he couldn't even maintain his Aura, there was no chance he could lose.
But—
His grand plan—shattering the enemy formation and driving his knights like a wedge into their forces—had already gone awry from the start.
No! At this rate, the losses will—!
Had he pushed himself too hard, rushing here at Roger Bifrost's desperate request?
Regret gnawed at him for not bringing his full forces.
And now, the MacLaine army—armed with those damn new weapons—was fighting with strength that defied their supposed inferiority.
I can't afford to be pinned here!
That calculation fueled his rage.
"Damn brat! Stop running and fight me!"
But—
WHOOSH!
The enemy tore through his area-of-effect attack and spat out something absurd:
"Withdraw your forces, Marquis. We have no desire to continue this war!"
A strangely polite tone, entirely out of place in battle.
Wycken's response was simple.
"Bullshit!"
HUM!
If speed wouldn't work, he'd overwhelm with sheer power.
Though his Aura-infused blade and body were slower, the wind blades conjured by his overflowing elemental force would be enough to crush this brat through raw might.
At least, that's what he thought—until he saw the enemy's massive golden greatsword.
"Damn it!"
CRASH!
Thud. Thud.
His opponent staggered back, face pale—but so was Wycken's.
His slowed body had no choice but to take the brute-force strike head-on.
CRUNCH.
What the hell is this...?!
That monstrous greatsword strike bypassed the fundamental compatibility between Aura and Force, stacking damage in a way that defied logic.
Yet, it was undeniably real.
The bigger problem?
The enemy had noticed it too.
"If this continues, you won't walk away unharmed either!"
Even if he pushed himself further, there was no guarantee he could finish the brat off in this slowed state.
"We don't want this war!"
Under normal circumstances, he would have dismissed the nonsense outright—but now, his ears perked.
"What are you talking about?"
"The Second Prince's faction stabbed us in the back! Why would we keep fighting?!"
Now that he thought about it—it made sense.
Bifrost's ambush had shattered any trust between them.
"MacLaine has no interest in faction wars anymore! Withdraw your forces! Do you really want to let the Second Prince's army reap all the benefits?!"
But even as the enemy kept talking, his attacks never relented—relentless, snake-like Force Blades seeking openings.
His flexible movements made counterattacking in this slowed state nearly impossible.
All Wycken could do was wrap himself in Aura and endure.
CRASH!
The enemy staggered again—but his sluggish body couldn't exploit the obvious opening.
Damn it!
Maintaining full-body Aura like this was draining.
If this dragged on...
No, no way. I can't possibly—
His pride crushed the grim thought—but the enemy seemed to read his momentary hesitation.
"If pride is stopping you, then prepare to die for it!"
"Don't be ridicu—"
"Knights, form up! Target Wycken Calria first!"
"Sir!"
Though it felt like an eternity, his knights hadn't even arrived yet.
The pale-faced enemy lashed out with golden serpentine Force Blades, coiling around him from all sides.
"I'll hold you down by force if I have to! Crush him!!"
"You madman—?!"
HUM!
GRIND!
His wind Aura easily repelled the golden Force Blades—but—
CRACK!
The enemy, despite his blue-tinged pallor, refused to retreat.
And then—
The Gravity Control's effect intensified.
Even Wycken Calria—who had been moving like lightning under hundreds of times his weight—slowed to a crawl, his movements now visible to ordinary knights.
"Knights, charge!"
THUD THUD THUD!
At that moment, his towering pride finally buckled under reality.
"Fine! I accept your terms. You stop attacking first!"
Stop attacking first in the middle of war? Even he knew how absurd that sounded.
But his pride as a transcendent forced the words out.
Damn it all.
The moment he spat them out, his own expression froze—but—
"All forces, cease attack! Halt the assault!"
The enemy actually agreed to the impossible demand.
Thank god.
Logan swallowed back the blood rising in his throat—his internal injuries were severe.
Had Wycken held out just a little longer, it would have been disastrous.
Clayton's mysterious magic had cornered the transcendent, but if Wycken had truly resolved to fight to the death, the casualties would have been unimaginable.
And I'm at my limit too.
HUM.
His Force Core was nearly depleted, and the searing pain in his organs made his vision flicker.
Five more minutes of combat, and he'd collapse on his own.
Besides, there was no reason to suffer heavy losses just to kill Wycken Calria.
Who would benefit from that?
The serpentine smile of Duke Jordan flashed in his mind, and Logan's expression turned colder.
The two factions still had plenty of blood to spill between them.
So Wycken Calria's near-surrender was nothing but good news.
Logan forced his energy to stabilize, ensuring his injuries weren't noticed, and shouted:
"I'll count to five. If your army doesn't halt its advance by then, you die—no matter the cost to us."
Bloodshot crimson eyes shattered the last of the transcendent's pride.
Wycken clenched his teeth and roared:
"All forces! Halt! Cease fighting!!"
The moment his wind-carried voice reached his distant, charging army—
The battle that had erupted so suddenly ended just as abruptly.