Chapter 372
Chapter 372
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 372
Chapter Title: Kingsgate Battle (3)
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—Thwoooong!!
Abel blocked the incoming pillar of fire with her wing membrane, gasping for breath. It was already the seventh spell. She had endured lightning bolts crashing from the sky and ice spears erupting from the ground without faltering.
There was nothing she could do but hold out. Now that the enemy's magical barrage had begun, she had no room left for choices. She couldn't advance or retreat. If she did, everyone atop the walls would be annihilated.
"The magi...!"
"All of them have fallen, Your Highness...."
The knight trailed off heavily. The magi who had been waging the magical battle from the rear had died thirty minutes ago, their heads exploding or blood pouring from their mouths and noses. They couldn't withstand the backlash from losing the magical duel.
There was no time to mourn their deaths. Eric had to decide in this moment. Glorious self-sacrifice or desperate thrashing. The choice was fleeting. He might have considered it alone, but he couldn't sacrifice them all as fodder for some heroic epic.
"Retreat... We retreat."
"B-but... where in the world are we supposed to go...?"
"We abandon Kingsgate. Lead the civilians inside Altbert. We fall back to Altbert!"
"Your Highness, we don't even have time to bind the enemy's feet!"
[I will buy you that time. Everyone, go.]
Abel spoke to the two men shouting from beneath her feet. The enemy's relentless assault had shifted to a massive deployment of troops. Having won the magical battle, all that remained was physical conquest.
Of course, retreat caused greater troop losses than advance. Retreating didn't mean simply turning tail and running. It meant shaking off pursuing enemies while maintaining formation and slowly withdrawing without breaking ranks.
It was no easy task. Especially leading wounded soldiers with broken morale. If the lines crumbled and they scattered in panic, the soldiers would no longer be an "army" but "routed rabble." From then on, it wasn't battle—it was a hunt.
The problem was that everyone here was militia who had never undergone proper military training. How could he lead them in a retreat?
Thus, all Abel could do now was buy time so the fleeing rabble wouldn't have to worry about their backs.
[Fernandez. If you're too late, we might not even exchange greetings.]
Abel flashed a bitter smile as she swatted away Fairn's charging soldiers with her claws. Countless soldiers had already tried climbing the battlements, and though she'd knocked them back repeatedly, they showed no sign of giving up.
"The dragon's tiring!! Charge, charge!"
[With just this? I haven't tired in a thousand years!]
Flames trickled from the corners of Abel's mouth. The soldiers recoiled in horror, but their commander bellowed fiercely.
"Don't fall back!! Don't retreat! The mages are supporting you!!"
Abel seethed, unable to spew her flames easily. The enraged dragon rampaged atop the walls. Her tail, like a bridge's arches and pillars, whipped in all directions, smashing and hurling soldiers away.
Yet in those gaps, soldiers finally reached her body and managed to gouge her with spears and blades. A single scale was hard to pierce, but accumulated wounds couldn't be ignored.
Arrows and blades lodged between scales. Abel thrashed in fury at the stinging pain. Amid it all, she bitterly reflected.
"Fernandez, in the end, I couldn't follow your words."
From the start, she had anticipated Kingsgate's fall in this tactic. Fernandez's strategy truly began with the siege of Altbert.
He had asked her just one thing: Hold until the first magical bombardment hit Kingsgate, then withdraw. But Abel had already endured dozens of different spells with her body.
The last militiaman hoisted his wounded comrade over his shoulder and descended from the walls. The plains beyond stretched toward Altbert in a long procession of refugees.
Until the very last of them, that final straggler, entered Altbert's outer walls and the gates sealed shut. She couldn't retreat until then.
"I'm sorry I couldn't keep my promise."
She gazed at the ice spear hurtling toward her head. After fighting so long her muscles had gone slack, she lacked the strength to dodge or block.
It had been over half a day—eight grueling hours where she alone had held the walls, repelling thousands. Even if the heavenly dragon Kaladpellin stood here instead, it would be deemed a monumental feat.
Her eyes trembled sadly as she lowered her head. The ice spear approached in slow motion. So close now, within a breath's reach.
—Kwaaang!!
[Hm...?!]
Then, like grain ground in a mill, the ice spear shattered in midair, scattering shards everywhere. The soldiers swinging swords at her feet were pierced by needle-like fragments, screaming as they collapsed.
A new energy surged through her body. A familiar sensation. This was...
[Fernandez, you've been watching!]
She felt black chains of mana linking her to somewhere in those distant hills. Infermer—the pact of submission forged from the moment she first opened her eyes—pierced time, space, and perhaps even physical distance to reach him wherever he was.
Until now, this contract had only supplied him her mana. For great spells, to fill the circuits of the Bronze Throne when they fell short.
But now, mana welled like a spring, coursing through her veins and rekindling life in her weary heart.
—Thump, thump, thump!
Vitality returned to her cooling body. Mana utterly unlike hellish power—close to natural essence—raced through her bloodstream.
Crack. Her claws gripped the battlements tighter. Soldiers screamed and flung themselves from the walls. Simultaneously, the section she clutched crumbled and collapsed.
"R-run! Run awaaay!"
"Don't retreat! It's the beast's last gasp!!"
Conflicting shouts swirled through the enemy ranks. Spells doubled, hurtling toward her—lightning, flames, ice. Every conceivable attack spell lunged to bind her.
But they didn't connect.
—Bang! Kwaang! Creak!
They bounced, crumbled, dispersed. The instant a spell formed, a thread of mana flashed from her body, shattering its core incantation precisely.
Insane technique. Like threading a needle from afar. A feat defying astronomical odds. And it was...
—Creak!
Happening simultaneously to dozens of spells blanketing the battlefield. Abel laughed in disbelief at the fireworks of exploding mana and shooting-star remnants.
[You truly were an unreasonable one. You are.]
She couldn't fathom how taxing this mana supply and large-scale disruption were for him. But she knew it wasn't easy. Moreover, until this moment, Fernandez had concealed his presence utterly.
This act clashed entirely with his operational plan—a threat factor. Abel smiled bitterly, recalling his paranoid nature. Her unilateral decision had exposed him.
[But help me just a little longer.]
'Gladly.'
His voice seemed to echo from somewhere. He was behind me. In this moment, we were one. That thought stirred something boiling deep within her heart.
She recalled riding with him atop her back, flying the elven king's flagship. Yes, this was omnipotence. The mage's sight. How delightful.
Abel laughed happily and stomped down hard. Her wounded, bleeding, utterly exhausted leg crashed onto Kingsgate's gallery.
—Thwoooong!
The siege rams battering the gates and nearby soldiers scattered in panic. Flames dripped from Abel's maw.
"Block it!! What are the mages doing?! Stop that thing!!"
"B-but... the spells... the spells aren't working!!"
"Didn't you say their magical forces were wiped out?! What nonsense is this!!"
"We confirmed Dane's magi all dead. But there's a mage... one that wasn't there before...!"
Sigismund bellowed at the flames on Abel's lips. But the battle mages, pale-faced, formed seals with pained groans.
Each time mana gathered, the core collapsed. Ghostly skill. Beyond ordinary interference—an unimaginable depth of spellcraft.
Could they even call it counterspell? Even academy professors shook their heads.
Was there a way to explain to their lord that this mystery mage focusing solely on dispels was a miracle?
That if such a mage had joined the magical battle, it might be them exploding and bleeding out?
The dragon's head rose slowly. Piercing the distance, an intense gaze fixed on him. Sigismund startled at the long-forgotten chill.
On this land without gods or devils, the nearest thing to perfection bared killing intent toward him. The sensation of facing a predator—the ultimate predator shaped by natural law.
Dragonfear, that mythic dread, tightened around Sigismund's throat.
—Crack!
A line of blood trickled from Sigismund's mouth. He bit his tongue forcibly, swallowing blood to smother fear with pain. Shaking off the spine-tingling chill, he regained reason. Then, he smirked with bloodied lips.
"Come, ancient specter. Prove your courage. Rampage and spew fire to your heart's content. And when you finally meet death at your limits, you shall be the most precious offering to Him."
The dragon's eyes blazed with fury, as if reading his lips. Her maw slowly parted. Liquid flame trickled down her jaws.
Too far for her breath to reach, with twenty thousand soldiers between. The narrow pass made the physical distance feel twice as vast.
Would she take the bait? Sigismund watched expectantly. Better a dragon's life as sacrifice than toppling Altbert and all those humans.
But the dragon lowered her head.
[Not yet the time, you think? Truly? Yes. As always, I shall follow you.]
The dragon whispered low, then unleashed flames with head bowed. In an instant, the area around Kingsgate melted under fire.
"Hah, buying more time?"
Even if the entrance collapsed, twenty thousand men were here. Reinforcements trickled in from the rear even now.
Clearing rubble would take half a day at most, and Altbert's outer defenses faced absurdly few foes.
Cowards delaying death. Losers who missed their chance for brave, brilliant ruin. Sigismund hummed, settling back with wine.
* * *
Strictly speaking, Kingsgate wasn't the only path to Altbert. It was the only paved road for large groups, but...
Mountain paths and defiles abounded for small bands of one or two. Hunters' trails, shepherds' routes. Too rugged for war, fine for individuals.
And Dane's royals naturally knew them well. Every noble prepared private escape routes in their lands.
One such group reached Altbert's castle plains via those paths, heading straight for Kingsgate's rear.
"Your Highness, we..."
"Yes, go aid Eric. You have served me more than enough already."
"Glory to the royal house."
"Eternal glory."
As the two turned toward Altbert, one man remained. He slowly urged his horse toward the dragon's feet.
The dragon had spotted him approaching from afar. The man dismounted, kneeling at her claws.
[How does a king and knights' exemplar kneel so improperly?]
The dragon teased playfully. The man looked up into her eyes and laughed heartily.
"What matter if this is my final courtesy, Great Mother? Having witnessed Great King Dane's end, I hope you remember me as a knight without flaw."
[I didn't witness that child's death myself, but...]
The dragon smiled gently, lowering her head to meet the knight's gaze.
[You were never once lacking as a knight compared to your ancestors.]
The knight nodded in satisfaction, donned his helmet from his belt, drew his sword, kissed the blade, and stepped forward.
"I will hold this position. Please look after my son and the people."
The day after the Kingsgate battle, as Fairn's army cleared the wall rubble and resumed march.
They beheld a lone knight barring their path.
The king of a fallen realm raised his sword with the castle at his back. Early morning sun slid down the blade.
* * *
Fernandez, who had watched from start to finish, closed his eyes and whispered softly.
"O king, O king. Rest in peace."
His heart returned to three years ago, receiving knighthood directly from Dane.
* * *
"Hmm... What to do."
At that moment, Freya sat cross-legged, smiling awkwardly. An urgent guest had arrived, but no way to relay it. She had bloomed flowers wildly around Fernandez's neck, but no response.
"Uh... um... The goddess has done her part!"
Freya grumbled, munching a snack brought by her attendant.