Chapter 352
Chapter 352
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 352
Chapter Title: Land of Magic vs Land of No-Mind (2)
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The moment Rokan received Matulda's message spell, he immediately transferred to Moston.
Moston had already sealed off external access and hunkered down for a siege. Even attempting to approach was impossible due to the overwhelming numbers of familiars from the Land of No-Mind that had surrounded it on all sides.
"Hmm...."
What to do.
Of course, he could slip inside if he wanted.
Thanks to the special rune Matulda had made for him, he could bypass the magic circle's spatial transfer restrictions.
But Rokan wasn't a mage.
Sure, the Grand Master's authority let him cast spells, but the efficiency was incomparable.
What good would it do to squeeze in there and toss out some half-baked level 400 mage-tier magic?
After a moment's thought, Rokan gave up on entering. Instead, he used Polymorph to shift into the form of a familiar and observed the siege's progress.
"Commence the assault!"
As warriors encircled the castle on all sides, bellowing with bloodlust, the order to attack rang out from every direction.
Just as the lords governing the Land of Magic had their roles, the Land of No-Mind had equivalents performing similar duties.
"No way—they all showed up?"
There were four of them.
Four powerhouses on par with castle lords had gathered to take a single city.
The defenders were holding out only because they specialized in siege magic. Otherwise, the city would have fallen long ago.
"Interesting."
Of course, Moston had gathered a fair number of forces too. Not just the lord, but plenty of spellcasting familiars with comparable power. Ones that normally guarded Matulda's side.
They might falter in one-on-one fights, but in group battles, they could match the lords. As these elites prepared to unleash their might at any moment, the No-Mind forces struck first.
Kieeeek.
Flying familiars in all sorts of bird forms spiraled into the sky.
Atop them rode other familiars, each gripping their weapons.
The so-called Sky Riders—possessors of flying mounts—had seized control of the heavens.
"Shoot them down!"
The castle interior responded instantly. Lightning, fire, and wind spells rained down, forcing the airborne foes back to earth.
Kuwek! Piiiyaaaa!
But their resistance was fierce. They weren't mere "mounts"—they were powerful familiars in their own right.
Some dodged with agile flight, others countered attacks with blasts of raw power, and the riders atop swung weapons to cleave through spells. They resisted the magic with everything they had.
'Like a fireworks show.'
To those watching from the ground, it just looked like a dazzling display.
"Charge!"
But they couldn't focus magic on the skies forever. The ground forces outnumbered the flyers by far.
While spells hammered the aerial foes, ground commanders ordered the assault. Melee familiars, weapons at the ready, swarmed forward like ants to butcher their spellcasting nemeses.
"Graaagh!"
Approaching the gates wasn't easy, though.
Magic traps laid in advance by the defenders snagged their feet, detonating and wiping out whole groups.
Cleverly, some traps didn't explode on contact but waited for a certain weight threshold—meaning even ground already crossed wasn't safe. Trap after trap sprung in endless chaos.
"Don't stop—keep charging!"
That was all, though. "Pre-set magic" had its limits, be it in numbers or power.
The commanders overcame the spellcasters' preparations with sheer human wave tactics.
Magic traps? Burn through them.
Magic barrages? How long could the mana hold?
With that mindset, they flung high-master familiars into the fray en masse. Cannon fodder—no, spell fodder.
And it was working. The charging familiars inched closer to the gates.
Woooong!
Then, a lord-level commander unleashed his true power.
He gripped a massive spear—not quite a lance or ballista, but close—and activated a master skill to empower and amplify it.
"Spear of Penetration!"
Squeeeee!
The enormous spear shot from his hand toward the gate.
Desperate spells flared from the walls, but it was too fast, too powerful. Blocking it was impossible.
Boom!
Moments later, a massive hole gaped in the gate.
Shattering a magic-reinforced gate outright was too much, but carving an entry for troops? That they could do.
"Waaaaah!"
An entrance to pour through—and a path to survival amid slaughter. The soldiers roared in triumph.
Morale soared as they activated charge skills one after another.
"Gahk!"
And that's when Rokan doused their rising spirits.
A massive, razor-sharp axe blade protruded from the commander's chest—right through his back.
Rokan had closed in while the fool charged up his massive power to breach the gate, then pierced his heart.
He'd already dropped Polymorph to go all out.
Boosted in an instant by key skills like Gale Incarnation and Blood Awakening, his guards hadn't even reacted.
"Lord!"
"You bastard!"
Everyone had been fixated on the gate, cheering—too late to respond.
They rushed to avenge their now-corpse of a lord, but Rokan had time for his next skill.
"True Gale Slash!"
Kuuuwaaah.
A tornado-like gale erupted skyward.
The lord's body shredded into hundreds of pieces, scattering. Even the onrushing foes lost limbs—arms, legs, whatever.
A horrific slaughter born of complacency.
But Rokan felt no shame. Assassinating key figures was standard in war. The fool who let his guard down was at fault.
"Groooargh!"
His simultaneous Roar of Madness swept the battlefield on the winds.
Not just those under level 400—even low-stat transcendents buckled, collapsing in place.
And that handed the defenders a golden opportunity.
Classed as "allies" via his pact with Matulda, they were immune to the roar.
Their gritted-teeth spells crashed down on the stunned foes.
"Grah!"
"Damn it!"
With the charge broken at the waist, the vanguard caught hell.
They'd been holding out for support, but now support vanished, replaced by focused fire. They died getting pummeled.
"Push forward!"
But things weren't all rosy. The gate breach and entry wasn't just at the south gate where Rokan stood.
Commanders had pierced gates simultaneously, each with their own weapons and techniques.
A breather, sure—but only one direction.
The west, east, and north gates still raged fiercely. Only the south was thrown into chaos, milling about cluelessly.
"I'll take that guy!"
Small mercy: the west and east gate commanders were turning toward Rokan.
Their intervention could've toppled the walls in seconds, but they chose to go after him.
'No— they want to fight.'
Familiars born in the Land of No-Mind were warriors to the core.
They honed their martial prowess and craved strong opponents. Even in war, they yearned to clash with a peer like Rokan, who'd just toppled one of their own.
Sure, it was a sneak attack, but his follow-up power was monstrous.
Full commitment to the siege could've minimized allied losses and fallen the castle faster—but the excuse of other lords joining swayed them.
"I'm first!"
"You idiot, you siege the castle!"
Proving it, the two lords bickered even as they charged Rokan, weapons ready.
Each insisting on claiming him.
"These guys."
They were dead serious, but their antics pissed Rokan off. Who were they to decide his order?
Fine. If that's what they wanted.
"Clone Summon!"
In that instant, Rokan split into two.
The charging lords' eyes bulged—naturally.
But they grinned wider and dove in, each picking a target and lunging with weapon raised.
"This one's the real deal!"
Boom!
[Spear Arts Master Garune][Lv 447]
The spear user arrived first.
He'd zeroed in on Rokan's original spot and lunged—but miscalculated.
Clones let you designate spawn points, or swap positions once at the start.
Rokan had swapped this time.
"Perfect!"
The fool didn't notice. Minus immortality, the clone matched Rokan's stats, style, and combat power perfectly.
It twisted its battle axe to parry the thrust effortlessly, then unleashed a flurry—over a dozen strikes in a blink.
Garune held his own, shortening his grip to nullify them, but the clone pressed with superior strength.
"Damn it! A clone?!"
[Battlefield Dominator Kolop][Lv 447]
Kolop glanced over, fuming.
Wielding a halberd as his main, he had faith in his power. He swung a vicious overhead at what he pegged as the real Rokan—the "clone."
Whoooosh!
A simple vertical chop felt like the sky collapsing. Not just from the halberd's size.
"Slaughter Strike."
"......!"
But his foe was Rokan. A powerhouse who could shatter falling heavens and stand alone amid ruins.
Rokan met the strike head-on, no dodge. Kolop gritted his teeth, pouring more power into the halberd.
Claaaang!
Next instant, searing pain tore through Kolop's hands like they were ripping apart. He lost grip with one.
The halberd rebounded, chest wide open. Fatal for a warrior.
"Full Body Charge!"
Rokan wouldn't miss the gap.
He rammed forward shoulder-first. Kolop panicked but chose best—optimally.
"Full Body Smash!"
Like Gale Slash, but dumping attacks in one spot instead of a flurry.
Kakakakakang!
Kolop's barrage hammered Rokan's body, red sparks flying.
The damage was insane—HP plummeting—but Rokan didn't stop.
No, anything short of lethal was a gift. Gale Pauldrons boosted attack by charge damage taken.
"Gahk!"
Ignoring the blows, Rokan's slam bent Kolop's waist into a vicious kink.
Something—blood or bile—spewed from his mouth. Eyes bulged like they might pop.
Pain beyond blades.
Desperate, Kolop flailed at Rokan's back, breathless—but futile.
Rokan planted his stance, adding force, and swept the battle axe upward from below.
"Kahk!"
And right in the arc's path? Kolop's groin.