Chapter 223
Chapter 223
The Iron Emperor — Chapter 223
Fires raging on all sides checked the North Roselin army's advance.
"Do not panic! Wizards, redirect your attacks and open a path! Soldiers, clear the way with your own weapons!"
Under Baronet Haupeu's command at the vanguard, the soldiers were steadily regaining their composure.
"Seeing that they've resorted to fire attacks as well, it seems the enemy's hand is now fully revealed!"
Baronet Haupeu judged the searing heat surrounding them to be nothing more than the allied forces' last desperate struggle.
"Still, this is hardly pleasant. In the end, we haven't even caught sight of the enemy."
Count Sunhand nodded at Baronet Haupeu's words, yet his dissatisfaction was plain.
"As things stand, we cannot even pursue them......"
Baronet Haupeu looked equally frustrated by that.
"But something is off."
"What do you mean?"
Count Sunhand surveyed the flames in every direction, studying them carefully.
True, the fires could hold their steps for a short while, but the valley floor had too much dry ground for a fire attack to be well-suited.
Moreover, with the high humidity making it difficult for flames to spread easily, it was hard to believe that an opponent who had so deftly led them by the nose until now would overlook such a basic flaw. It would have been far better to carry out intermittent ambushes with the troops who had laid the traps.
"They likely judged they'd already delayed our march enough. The wind was blowing in our direction, after all."
Even as they spoke, the soldiers paired off and concentrated on extinguishing the fires in areas where the wizards had beaten the flames down.
"Water Field!"
As the wizard's incantation reached its conclusion, water surged up from the ground and devoured the flames. Where the fire had passed, only waterlogged earth remained.
"Hoo."
Hovering in midair and catching his breath, the wizard watched the flames and still could not shake a nagging sense that something was amiss.
In practical terms, the present situation—with fires actually raging—was heaven compared to the earlier phase, when the wizards had been randomly flinging spells to clear traps. Now all they had to do was target the fiercest flames and drown them.
"The flames show no sign of dying down."
They had certainly suppressed a great many fires, yet the flames still reared their heads fiercely.
"Wizard, be careful!"
"Hup!"
Fwoosh!
A soldier shouted a warning toward the wizard.
The wizard, too, must have sensed the danger. With a short cry, he chanted a spell at the tongue of fire lunging to swallow him.
The fiery tendril coiled toward him like a living serpent and lunged as if to wrap around his body, but the sphere of water enclosing the wizard erupted with steam and consumed the flames.
"Wh-who is it!"
The wizard had felt it unmistakably.
He could tell that this attack was not a product of nature—someone had deliberately aimed it.
Tsssss.
He felt the water vapor merging with the surrounding heat and vanishing into the air.
"Urk!"
Sensing something pulling at him, the wizard's face twisted with urgency as he retreated.
The wind was faint, yet it was unmistakably drawing toward the North Roselin troops. And in that current, the wizard saw the mist that had risen from his own body streaming in one direction and vanishing, like a school of salmon returning to their home waters.
"This can't be!"
It was not only the steam produced by the battle against the flames—his own Water Shield, connected to his magical power, had begun to be pulled away as well.
"Hiek!"
One soldier who had been watching collapsed backward and screamed.
'What is it?'
The wizard, struggling desperately to hold on even a moment longer, raised his head at the soldier's reaction.
Hwaaaaah!
"Wh-who in the world......."
The figure that filled the wizard's pupils.
A silver-haired man, his body wreathed in masses of vapor like clouds, was dragging in not only his own Water Shield but every Water Shield cast by the wizards around him.
"This can't be!"
"The flames are surging!"
"Bring soil!"
The silver-haired man was sweeping away every curtain of water cast by seven wizards at once.
Count Sunhand and the other nobles were so transfixed by the awe-inspiring, spine-chilling sight of the strange silver-haired man suspended in the air that they forgot even to command the soldiers.
"It's dried out!"
Baronet Haupeu shouted, startled.
"What!"
At Baronet Haupeu's exclamation, Count Sunhand swept his gaze around, studying the air, then stopped at one spot.
"That such a thing could happen......."
Not only had the humid air turned bone-dry, but the surrounding leaves were losing their green luster, shifting to red before his eyes.
Count Sunhand ran to a nearby tree and swung his sword.
Thwack!
The tree, severed in a single stroke, slowly tilted.
Even to the naked eye, its bark looked desiccated. But what troubled Count Sunhand was something else.
"How can a human being cause something like this......."
The cut stump showed not the faintest trace of life or moisture—it had been transformed into an enormous piece of dry firewood.
Yeon Hwi-garam was pulling in every drop of ambient moisture.
Unlike previous situations, the energy of fire dominated the surroundings, so the water energy that governed his body was not running wild; instead, according to his will, it absorbed the surrounding water rapaciously, like a hungry spirit.
Grasses and trees stripped of moisture offered their own bodies to the fading embers.
Were they really that thoroughly dried out?
At some point, even the acrid smoke had ceased. Now only heat radiated from them, making the surrounding objects shimmer as if inside a blast furnace.
"Hoooo!"
The swelling water energy made Hwi-garam's entire body thrum. His hair rose skyward, untouched by the wind, and the sight inspired indescribable terror and awe in everyone watching.
For him, so often under constraints, this was something he had not experienced in a very long time.
"Kraaaa!"
"Oul Sala Um Taa!"
From every direction, the wizards chanted incantations through parched lips. In their eyes was the resolve that they could not fall here.
"Lightning Spear!"
"Lightning Bolt!"
The chanting ended, and spears and arrows of stark-white lightning flew, bent on devouring Yeon Hwi-garam.
CRACKLE!
Unlike Lightning Field, these attacks concentrated their force utterly into a single point, carrying enough power to erase anyone from the world.
Flame-based attacks had already dissipated before even reaching Hwi-garam's body, and ice-based attacks had been absorbed as well.
The wizards' remaining choice was obvious.
Even a glancing touch would send a tremendous current surging through Hwi-garam's body and reduce him to ash.
That was why they unleashed the most powerful lightning spells—normally shunned because they were slow and consumed enormous amounts of mana compared with the commonly used area spell Lightning Field.
"I was worried about how to release all this overflowing power anyway."
There was a reason he remained so composed, even watching the lightning energy hurtling toward him.
"Fools."
An uncharacteristically harsh voice came from Hwi-garam.
"I'll send it all back!"
ROAR!
With his shout, the cold, biting torrents of water coiled around his body surged outward like a waterfall's cascade and, instead, swallowed the incoming lightning.
"H-how!"
"No!"
The wizards had never imagined he would spew every stream of water back out, and shrieks burst from their mouths. But their parched voices were drowned beneath the roar of water—now carrying lightning magic—crashing down on the soldiers.
WHOOSH!
"Kaaaaa!"
"Guurk!"
Water should have been a relief to soldiers suffering in the heat, yet screams filled the air as it poured over them. Was it because the water carried lightning?
"Kurrgh."
Soldiers touched by the water sprayed across the area lay on the ground, eyes rolled back, convulsing.
The fortunate part was that, because the lightning's power was dispersed, it did not take their lives—and that the surrounding flames, which had been poised to swallow them, were swept away all at once.
The silver hair that had risen skyward slowly settled.
Despite having unleashed such tremendous power, Hwi-garam's face was tranquil—a sight that instilled more dread than the visage of any demon ever could.
"Do not risk your lives any further."
It was a calm voice.
Yet no one hearing that voice found it calming.
Count Sunhand, who had suffered less of the shock thanks to the magic defense array woven into his armor, watched Hwi-garam slowly turn his back and posed a question.
"Who in the world...... are you?"
At Count Sunhand's weak question, Hwi-garam turned his head slightly and spoke.
"A warrior of Gauri. Yeon Hwi-garam."
"Gauri......."
From the lips of the nobles, crushed by humiliation and despair, his name followed, as though they were repeating it to etch it into memory.
With those final words, Hwi-garam's silver hair streamed behind him as he vanished.
Among the North Roselin soldiers who had been staring blankly for a long while, a trembling voice escaped.
"The Silver-haired Demon......."
Someone's murmur struck Count Sunhand's chest with a stinging ache. No other name could be more fitting.
Chapter 70: Partean in Flames
The sixth day since the Gauri and South Roselin allied forces had begun their attack.......
CRASH!
CRASH!
Despite the Gauri siege assault continuing without pause, the walls of Partean Fortress refused to crumble. Still, the aftermath of the relentless, grinding attacks had transformed the once-majestic Partean into something that called to mind a single bristling porcupine.
"How much longer are they going to keep that up!"
Duke Palsieon's frustrated voice was swallowed by the din of logs pounding the walls.
"Your Grace."
"What news!"
Baron Nyuron, Duke Palsieon's aide, who had briefly stepped away to learn the status of the relief force, wore a listless expression.
"Are they...... delayed?"
Duke Palsieon asked the question he did not want to ask, looking at Baron Nyuron's somber face.
"They request that you come to the great hall first."
"Very well."
Leaving behind the noise of the siege engines battering the walls, Duke Palsieon spurred his horse toward the royal palace.
* * *
As he stepped into the great hall of the Partean royal palace, Duke Palsieon could easily read the markedly subdued atmosphere.
"Come in, Duke."
"I pay my respects to Your Majesty the King."
After paying his respects to King Cadel, who greeted him with composure, Duke Palsieon moved to his place and stood.
"You have heard the news."
"Indeed I have."
King Cadel silently kept his peace as he regarded Duke Palsieon, who was making an effort to answer calmly.
Tragic tidings arriving at the very hour the relief force was due.
The first piece of ill news was that Count Sunhand's troops were still four days' march away.
The second was that the reason for the delay was that they had been harassed by the Gauri and South Roselin alliance.
What sapped their strength further was that they could not even estimate the number of allied troops dispatched to obstruct the relief force, leaving the capital with nothing useful for making any decision.
"It is clear that the enemy allied forces' numbers have not changed significantly."
Baron Nyuron, the aide, protested as if he could not understand. Yet no one in the chamber believed he was lying.
Dire though these reports were, there was another fact that plunged them deeper into despair.
News that the relief column had lost two thousand men was not the issue. Nor was the fact that they were still four days' march away. The real problem was the mass desertion that had unfolded in just two or three days.
In that short span, a full ten thousand troops—several times the number of dead—had fled before anyone could lift a finger, and soldiers were still slipping away even now.
The only explanation for the cause was the unintelligible phrase "Silver-haired Demon," and in the end, even if they arrived, the force would number only around fifteen thousand—drastically reduced from over thirty thousand once the wounded were excluded.
"Still no movement today?"
King Cadel asked a question to which he already knew the answer.
The pounding of the allied forces' logs, hammering away without rest for six days and nights, could be heard even here in the royal palace.
"I would almost rather they fought a fierce battle."
At King Cadel's voice, steeped in sorrow, Duke Palsieon lowered his head.
For the first day or two, there had been no problem.
In fact, they had looked upon the allied forces' wasteful, attritional attacks as foolish, and inwardly they had even embraced great hope, believing they had gained two days' time while awaiting the relief army.
But from the third day of nonstop attack came the burning logs that flew in every night.......
The walls themselves were unharmed, but some of the supplies stockpiled within the fortress were lost to the flames, and soldiers descending to eat were burned to death en masse.
From the fifth day onward, not only the troops that had been standing by as if in escort but the entire allied army had formed defensive formations and stood as if poised to attack at any moment. Yet they did not move.
The soldiers could not sleep amid the ceaseless din. It was also because of the anxiety that the arrayed enemy soldiers might surge forward at any second.
It created the illusion that the war was continuing without respite, and it drove some soldiers to madness.
Of course, they had sent roughly five thousand troops out under cover of night, but even then the allied forces guarding the area drove them off, and they managed to destroy only two of the siege engines they had targeted.
So their next plan was a direct assault by the wizards. Because Gauri's magical strength had proved weaker than expected, they boldly committed their own magic forces.
The result, to some degree, was effective.
Of the fifty-odd siege wagons, they managed to destroy one-third.
But the price was brutal.
Of the thirty-strong Royal Magic Corps, only seven returned alive.
And yet, perhaps because they could not afford to let slip the small opening bought with the wizards' sacrifice, the North Roselin noble who immediately led out troops was turned into arrow fodder before even reaching the enemy lines.
In the end, their remaining hope had been the relief army, which they had judged to be the key that could overturn the course of the war. And now word had come that, far from arriving, that key had been broken clean in half.
"What of the situation in the south?"
When King Cadel personally inquired, a communications wizard stepped forward.
"The southern regions are mustering troops with desperate effort, but the places that conscripted the largest numbers throughout this war were the southern border territories, and the enemy forces are also thoroughly keeping them in check, so reports indicate no sizable army has yet materialized."
"Haa."
King Cadel's sigh.
"Furthermore, although there are areas that have gathered roughly three thousand and five thousand troops respectively, Baron Bels—who was a staff officer of the South Roselin Eastern Army—is leading over ten thousand troops, subjugating minor domains as he moves and applying constant pressure, so reports say even movement is nearly impossible."
After the wizard finished his report, no one spoke.