Chapter 125
Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 125
Chapter Title: Spear and Shield (1)
“But will this be enough?”
The question came from his adjutant at his side.
Hearing it, Bertram looked around.
There was his army.
Over a hundred grotesque figures and more than ten monsters.
And himself—an executive of the Eremus Northern Branch—along with thirteen other black mages.
Plus the familiars they commanded.
A massive force exceeding two hundred strong.
‘In a normal situation, gathering this many troops would’ve been tough.’
Nicolaus, the Northern Branch Chief, was a reasonable man.
Even executives didn’t get this many grotesque figures and monsters without a damn good reason.
But Bertram had secured a large force.
How?
Thanks to the pretext of stopping Heros.
“It’s enough.”
Bertram answered with a face brimming with leisure.
Meanwhile, he mentally reviewed his plan.
‘Three executives including me. We block Heros’s magic, and in the meantime, the supported troops attack him and his crew.’
The black mages of the Eremus Northern Branch.
Among them, Heros was already infamous.
He was the one who’d taken down Desmond, the Eastern Branch Chief, making him a marked target organization-wide.
And after entering the north, he’d started antagonizing black mages, disrupting Eremus’s grand ambitions.
But the real trigger for Bertram’s resolve to kill Heros was something else.
‘Wiping out my gathered troops like that. Insolent bastard!’
Heros had used magic to annihilate the grotesque figures and monsters Bertram had painstakingly assembled to capture Dustin Castle.
All that effort, down the drain.
Of course he hated Heros.
‘The report says he uses devastating fire magic that hurls massive fireballs. He casts all sorts of spells, but that’s the one to watch. So I’ll focus everything on blocking it.’
As Bertram steeled himself,
his adjutant posed another question.
“What if the enemy flees? If it plays out that way, what’s your move?”
“I guarantee you, he won’t run. Hell, seeing us, he’ll probably think it’s worth taking a shot.”
When Heros—egged on by Count Dustin—massacred Bertram’s gathered troops,
that unit’s size had been about the same as now.
Bertram had deliberately matched the numbers.
To lure Heros out with confidence.
‘Heros, this is your grave.’
The moment Bertram felt certain,
an elderly black mage who’d been sitting on the ground, eyes closed, bolted upright and shouted.
“I’ve pinpointed Heros’s location!”
The old man—an executive like Bertram—had the sharpest mana detection among the mages here.
He wouldn’t be wrong.
Bertram’s mind raced.
The elder’s senses could pick up a mage several minutes out.
Meaning they had a little time before the target arrived.
So they needed to prep for battle now.
“Heros and his minions will hit us soon. If he’s the mage the rumors say, he’s already sniffed us out. Expect him to strike first—stay sharp, everyone.”
The black mages nodded, faces grim.
But then, armed humans charged in from all sides.
Slaughtering the grotesque figures.
Battle erupting far sooner than expected.
Heros must’ve sent his forces ahead.
“Knights! Heros’s knights!”
One black mage called out the intruders’ identity.
Bertram quickly sized them up.
Ten attackers.
All knight-caliber.
Except one old barbarian, every one outclassed a standard knight.
‘The report never said Heros’s subordinates were this strong.’
Even flustered, Bertram kept commanding.
“Knights to the grotesque figures and monsters. Everyone else but executives—harass them with magic!”
The instant Bertram finished,
a mystical event unfolded in the distant thick brush.
Countless tiny flames began drifting down from the sky.
A rain of fire.
No other way to put it.
A breathtaking spectacle that’d draw gasps,
but Bertram stared with a face gone rigid.
He knew it was the harbinger.
‘Fireballs incoming any second.’
Sky raining flames,
then two fireballs from Heros sweeping grotesque figures and monsters.
Just like the report Bertram had read.
He’d bought it hook, line, and sinker—prepped to counter the fireballs.
Right then.
“It’s coming!”
In the flame-rain zone,
a fireball spawned and rocketed toward Bertram’s position.
Roar!
A massive, raging fireball.
Power oozing from it at a glance.
Which let Bertram smirk.
This scene confirmed his plan was on track.
‘Can’t spam that beast ten, twenty times. Max three. Just block three.’
Bertram was a mage too, like Heros.
He knew.
That fireball guzzled mana like crazy.
“What the hell is that...”
“Never heard the fireball was that big.”
“We can really block it?”
The black mages pinning the knights.
They buzzed at the sight.
They felt it too, dimly.
The fireball’s raw destructive force.
So Bertram unleashed his Iron Wall spell.
Swish.
A golden translucent membrane materialized midair.
Slotting between Bertram and the fireball.
Its strength scaled with mana poured in, so Bertram dumped his from the jump.
Mana burnout?
Not a worry.
Two support mages at his side.
“If it doesn’t hold, we’re toast.”
“Relax. It’ll hold.”
Bertram’s flanks.
The two executives here to face Heros gripped his arms.
Channeling their mana.
Magic to transfer mana to another.
A rare technique they’d mastered—side effects be damned—for this op.
‘Bring it!’
Bertram’s eyes blazed ahead.
Fireball slammed the barrier.
Boom!
The golden shield quaked hard.
But held.
Stood firm.
Black mages’ morale spiked.
“Blocked!”
“Hell yeah!”
“Now we can fight easy.”
Cheering black mages.
Executives grinned too.
But grins died fast.
Second fireball incoming.
Cheers turned to dead silence.
‘Right on script.’
Bertram’s eyes lit at the second.
Heros had double-cast fireballs before.
Meant at least two casts.
All in his math.
“No panic!”
Bertram steadied the group.
Focused on the barrier, glaring at the flyer.
It hit soon after.
Bang!
Fireball struck, erupted.
Roar and shake screaming its power.
Barrier took it—cracked a bit, but solid block.
“Yes! Two down!”
“Next one’s the last.”
Flanking executives beamed.
Bertram stayed tense.
Heros might ditch fireballs for other spells.
But he’d prepped for that.
‘Switches spells? We counter with what mana’s left.’
Third fireball? Maybe, maybe not.
Bertram held reserves.
Other executives too, likely.
Fireball or switcheroo—didn’t matter.
He’d handle it.
And Heros... fireballs again.
‘Kid can’t rein in his ego.’
Fireball blooming before the brush.
Bertram smiled.
Heros stuck to type—pride unbroken.
Young powerhouse, cocky as hell.
Magic blocked twice? Impulse kicks in.
Not weird.
“Third and final! Block this, we’re gold!”
Bertram bellowed for all to hear.
Morale boost on success.
Then dumped every drop—his mana, executives’ transfers—into the barrier.
‘Fireball origin’s Heros’s spot. Block three, rush troops there, hit him.’
Ten knight-tier foes here.
Heros’s defenses thin.
Exploit it.
As he double-checked,
third fireball closed in.
Kwang!
Collision, boom—fireball gone.
Shield hung on, surface spiderwebbed, ready to shatter.
And it did.
Crash!
Glass-shatter sound, barrier crumbled.
Golden shards glittered midair.
Then dusted away.
“Waaah!”
Black mages roared.
Told ahead: three blocks, no more.
Focus pure battle now—no enemy nuke worry.
Morale through roof.
‘Victory’s ours.’
Bertram figured.
Not just him—all black mages saw the win.
But.
Roarrr!
Fourth fireball popped up.
Happy visions? Poof.
“Huh?”
“Three was it!”
“We’re screwed?”
Black mages gawked.
Bertram, executives—same shock, staring.
Couldn’t freeze.
“Hold steady!”
Bertram clenched teeth, conjured barrier.
Forced it, death on the line.
Mana gap? Life force.
His body withered fast.
Flanking executives stared, dazed, as he aged.
No mana left to feed him—spectators only.
Wooong!
Golden barrier bloomed.
Black mages’ faces eased at the fireball.
This’ll save us too.
They figured.
But caster Bertram knew better.
‘Straight through.’
Certain.
Fireball smashed it easy, as predicted.
Then.
Fireball hit Bertram.
Kwaaang!
Short boom, then silence.
Body heat? Gone.
Senses blanked, Bertram knew: death coming.
One question burned in his mind.
‘How much mana does he even have?’
Heros’s mana pool—how vast?
Bertram itched to know, but death loomed—no answers.
His consciousness faded with the question.