Chapter 168
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 168
"Damn, things are getting tense out here..."
On the banks of the Ebrel River, bordering the Frostwind Forest in the northern Land of the Five Lakes, a young man dressed in the armor of a Baraha knight muttered to himself. He stared warily at the encampment lined up on the opposite bank.
Across the massive river, which spanned nearly two hundred meters, the mages of the Great House Ruban were deployed in force. True to their reputation for specializing in close-quarters combat, they were clad in heavy plate armor and gripped massive polearms.
If they chose to charge across, just a handful of them would be enough to turn this outpost into a wasteland.
As he was lost in these grim imaginings, a hand suddenly clamped onto his shoulder from behind, and a voice hissed in a low, harsh whisper.
"I’m certain I told you lot not to approach the riverbank."
"I-I’m sorry, sir!"
"You idiot! I’ve told you a dozen times—mages, especially the nobility, have senses far sharper than ours. If I catch you loitering here one more time, consider yourself executed."
The middle-aged man glared at the young knight, who retreated with a series of frantic bows, before turning his gaze back toward the Ruban camp. A few minutes later, satisfied that the enemy hadn't noticed anything unusual, he let out a long, weary sigh.
"Phew..."
A few weeks ago, the nobles of the Baraha family had received a peculiar order from their House Head. They were to assemble an army consisting of a handful of nobles, about fifty knights, and a thousand commoners, and march toward Ruban territory.
No matter how much he turned it over in his mind, the command made no sense. Fifty mages and a thousand commoners? What was the point of such a lopsided force? Even if you put weapons in the hands of those powerless commoners, a few well-trained knights could slaughter them with ease. When it came to the nobility, ordinary iron weapons couldn't even scratch their skin.
Furthermore, commoners were agonizingly slow. After marching twenty or thirty kilometers a day, they were usually too exhausted to stand, let alone fight.
When the Baraha nobles voiced their doubts, the House Head had replied nonchalantly.
[It is a fake army. You are to move and threaten the Ruban family, but you are not to engage in combat.]
Regardless of the logic, the orders of the god-like House Head were absolute. Before long, the Baraha family had assembled an army of commoners. Clad in the robes usually reserved for mages for the first time in their lives, the commoners looked at each other with bewildered expressions.
[Whoa...]
[Dressed like this, we actually look like real mages.]
They hadn't just rounded up warm bodies off the street. There were specific criteria: they couldn't be too unsightly, they had to be young—under forty—and they had to possess sufficient physical stamina. The entire process was overseen by the few remaining, yet most trusted, vassals of Baraha.
What awaited these secretly handpicked men was a grueling forced march toward Ruban territory. It was a harsh schedule of sixty kilometers a day—a distance impossible for ordinary people. It was only possible because they had gathered young, healthy men and provided them with constant treatment from healers, but even then, it was slow compared to the march of a proper mage army. If anything, it matched the speed of a regular mage army taking a leisurely stroll.
Since their arrival, this fake army had been locked in a week-long staring contest with the Ruban forces stationed across the river. It was, essentially, a cat growling at a tiger.
"Arche."
Arche, the middle-aged noble, was pulled from his thoughts by a sharp voice. Standing there was a beautiful woman with straight black hair and piercing green eyes. In one hand, she held a longsword from which fresh blood still dripped.
Having participated in the Lavitas-Baraha War, Arche recognized that sword as a treasure belonging to the Parsha House Head.
"You called, Lady Berit?"
"I caught eleven spies trying to scout our position. I’ve lined them up to the west; send someone to deal with them."
"Understood."
While Arche’s role was to lead this army as one of the few Baraha nobles present, the true authority within the ranks was the woman before him: Berit Zahar.
A noble of Zahar and the lover of Solif, the Baraha House Head—effectively his designated companion. Her role was to intercept anyone attempting to scout their position while the fake army remained stationed. She seemed to be aided by a stone tablet she checked constantly, though Arche didn't know its exact function.
"Um, Lady Berit."
"Yes?"
Arche winced, realizing he was about to make the same mistake he’d just scolded the young man for. But since he’d already spoken, he pushed through.
"By any chance... do you know where the main force is while we’re acting as a decoy?"
The operation had been so secretive that even he, a noble of decent standing, didn't know the full details.
At his question, Berit tilted her head slightly. "Why do you want to know? Who are you planning to tell?"
"It’s not like that! I just..."
"The moment a secret leaves your lips, the right to keep it passes to the listener, not you. That is the family motto of House Zahar."
"My apologies."
"However, I’ll confirm what I told you before... if they launch a proper attack, surrender. You won't be held responsible."
Having lightly crushed his curiosity, Berit pulled out a small kit and began dabbing cosmetics onto her face.
"Ugh, camping in a place like this is ruining my skin... I wish I had skin like my sister’s, the kind that doesn't need any maintenance."
As she lamented, Berit’s gaze drifted toward the west. Specifically, toward the west where her lover would be.
Something must have happened by now.
A while ago, Berit had informed Zahar that Baraha had raised an army and was marching toward Ruban. Her lover—and his most trusted friend, her second cousin—were certain that their other enemies wouldn't miss such a glaring opening.
Whoever they were, those who rushed in to exploit the gap would be met with a terrible disaster.
*
Using Turan’s invisible railgun fire as the signal, the three-hundred-strong Parsha-Baraha allied force advanced toward the Carmine and Merfolk army, which outnumbered them more than tenfold.
Naturally, they weren't intimidated by the numbers. Unlike the opposing side, which consisted mostly of commoner-class Merfolk and a handful of Carmine and Merfolk nobles, the Parsha-Baraha alliance had intentionally filled nearly a third of its ranks with nobility.
Most importantly, there was an overwhelming difference in firepower.
"Scatter it!"
Accompanied by a shout amplified by wind magic, the Parsha mages simultaneously threw handfuls of black powder into the air.
The "Soul of Fire"—otherwise known as gunpowder—was carried by the fierce winds, blanketing the Merfolk before exploding all at once.
"Kaaaaakh!"
It was a scene reminiscent of what Turan had done to the pirates years ago, but on a much larger scale. With just a few ignition spells that even the weakest knight could cast without strain, hundreds of Merfolk were torn apart, their screams filling the air.
"Yes!"
"One more time... Huh?"
As if displeased by their celebration, rain suddenly began to pour from the sky. It had been clear just moments ago, save for a few clouds. Though they didn't know it was the effect of a rain-summoning magic device Carmine had prepared in advance, it wasn't hard to realize the situation had turned sour.
Not only was the gunpowder now useless, but the Carmine mages, who manipulated water, would grow stronger, while the fire-wielding Baraha mages would lose their edge.
However, the balance between the two forces wasn't something that could be broken by such a small shift.
"Nothing has changed! Attack!"
At the signal, the Parsha-Baraha mages began unleashing every type of magic in their arsenal except fire.
As the Carmine mages moved to intercept and the commoner Merfolk lunged forward like hunting dogs, Zemel, leading the Carmine army, groaned as he looked toward the distant Parsha camp.
"Turan... Parsha..."
While others might not have known why he had suddenly appeared, Zemel knew for certain. Through the Spiritual Awareness he had activated before the battle, he had seen Turan snatch the soul of the possessed vessel that had just been killed by the railgun. Turan wouldn't have been able to maintain his stealth magic while pulling a spirit body out of its physical shell.
Can I kill him?
His head knew the truth. This wasn't the time for vengeance; it was time to flee. His immortality wouldn't function as it used to against an enemy capable of capturing souls. But his mind, heated by the humiliation of being so one-sidedly suppressed, and his bloated ego built over a long life, wouldn't allow it. He had to land at least one blow to save face.
And perhaps, if the enemy was completely defenseless, he might be able to end it right here...
With that thought, three symbols merged within him. A flowing river froze with a sharp crack, taking the shape of a dragon, and finally, six eyes appeared on the sides of its head, granting it life and movement.
Shoal. Frost. Hunter.
The skill Eternal Pursuer, which could only be used by combining these three symbols, manifested in his hand and was immediately fired toward Turan. To the naked eye, it looked like nothing more than a teal haze, but it was a horrific curse that would instantly flash-freeze anything it touched. It was a curse so potent that no modern magic could dispel it.
If it hit a defenseless Turan, even a powerhouse with the strength of a House Head wouldn't emerge unscathed.
However, Zemel’s attack was thwarted by a golden shield that materialized in front of the vulnerable Turan.
"Did you think I was just going to sit here and watch?"
The one mocking him from behind the shield was Solif, the Baraha House Head. Zemel’s face darkened at the sight of the white flames flickering around Solif’s body. He knew what that was. It was a skill from the "game" they had once enjoyed, obtainable only through a combination of three specific classes.
"He can already use that...?"
It was thanks to these skills that the possessed vessels of the gods held absolute superiority over modern mages. Conversely, if a normal modern mage could master these skills, that superiority vanished. In fact, since their bodies and souls were still young and their bond strong, they were actually superior in that they could use the skills far more easily than the possessed vessels.
As Zemel ground his teeth in jealousy, a sudden chill ran down his spine. He quickly formed an ice barrier around himself. Simultaneously, a strange, navy-blue bolt of lightning shattered the barrier and grazed his side.
"Ugh—"
Realizing that the attack had come from Meisa Arabion in the distance—and that she, too, could skillfully use a combination skill from the Grand Artificer and Thunder Master classes—Zemel completely lost his will to fight.
Those two alone were a formidable force, and if Turan joined in after finishing his soul-snatching, it wouldn't even be a fight. At the very least, they had the Great Sea Serpents, so it wouldn't be a total slaughter—
Wait, those bastards?
Only then did Zemel realize that the massive forms that had been beside him until moments ago were gone. The three Great Sea Serpents had already shifted into Merfolk forms and were fleeing in different directions. Perhaps it was because of the heavy downpour? Even on land, their movements were incredibly swift.
"You fish-brained bastards!"
Zemel spat in fury, though he understood why they were acting this way. The disadvantage was clear. Rather than resisting until the end and dying, it was the right choice to abandon their former enemies-turned-allies and run.
The bitter truth was that he couldn't just abandon his subordinates and flee like they did. The Carmine mages here were those who had accepted the inhumane order to collaborate with Merfolk—an order so scandalous it would have sparked a rebellion if mentioned to anyone else.
"We retreat while the Merfolk hold them off! Fall back!"
"Yes, sir! Everyone, retreat!"
Fortunately, the thousands of commoner Merfolk served as the anvil to absorb the enemy's attacks. No matter how elite the Parsha and Baraha mages were, it would take time to clear out the Merfolk, who were fighting even more fiercely in the pouring rain.
Not long after they abandoned the Merfolk army and fled, Zemel realized why the enemy had brought an elite force composed mostly of nobility.
"Don't tell me... they thought this far ahead?"
From a distance, several armies of mages were closing in, surrounding them. Given the limits of their manpower, most of them were likely only at the knight rank. But in a situation like this, even being stalled for a moment by such "insignificant" pests was fatal.
Zemel’s face twisted like a demon’s as he watched the approaching enemies.
*
The battle between the Parsha-Baraha alliance and the Carmine-Merfolk army—or more accurately, a pursuit so one-sided it was embarrassing to call it a battle—lasted for nearly a full day.
Naturally, the losses on the Parsha and Baraha side were almost non-existent. About thirty knights were lost while trying to pin down powerful nobles like Zemel, and another twenty fell to the ferocity of the charging Merfolk. Among the nobility, four died during a reckless attempt to suppress the Great Sea Serpents.
In contrast, the sacrifices the Carmine family and the Merfolk had to make were staggering.
Of Zemel, the fifteen Carmine nobles who followed him, and the eighty knights, only about ten made it out alive. As for the Merfolk, only one of the three royals capable of transforming into Great Sea Serpents narrowly escaped; the noble and commoner classes were completely wiped out.
In terms of the exchange ratio, it was an overwhelming victory—effectively a hundred-to-one.
Solif clicked his tongue as he listened to the incoming reports. "Seriously... I didn't think they'd fall for it exactly as you said."
"Carmine had already collaborated with Ruban once," Turan replied. "And since I knew Zahar was the one who brokered that deal, I figured if we showed a weakness and informed Zahar, someone—whether it was Carmine or Arabion—would take a stab at us. Carmine teaming up with Merfolk to invade was a bit unexpected, though."
In fact, Turan had even prepared for the worst-case scenario where all his enemies mobilized their full forces together. A scenario where Badal, the Arabion-Nagin army, the Carmine House Head, and other possessed vessels led thousands of mages against them.
If that had happened, Turan would have used the Transformation Mask to infiltrate their ranks and incite internal strife. He would have attacked Arabion while wearing the Carmine House Head’s face, or attacked Carmine while looking like Badal. Or he might have secretly brought Armani along to attack, making them think the Great Sea Serpents had switched sides.
By dragging out the fight with repeated retreats and harassment, the battle would have inevitably tilted in favor of Turan, who had the advantage in stamina. Compared to that, the current situation—where they were raided by a force just large enough to crush a supposedly weakened Parsha—was almost disappointing. It was like a small fish falling into a trap meant for a shark.
If only the Carmine House Head or the Mermaid King had come personally and been captured, the trap would have been more than worth it. Of course, even without that, they had dealt a blow so severe that the Carmine and Great Sea Serpent forces wouldn't be able to move freely for a long time.
"But what if they hadn't taken the bait?" Meisa asked. "Ruban could have attacked the fake army on the Baraha side, or no one might have attacked us at all."
Turan took a moment to organize his thoughts. "First of all, Ruban could never attack."
"Why?"
"Because they likely have an army that is just as much of a hollow shell as ours."
Recently, through several railgun ambushes, Turan had proven that he was an entity that couldn't be dealt with by an ordinary army—that gathering elite forces would only increase the casualties. Knowing such a being was on the other side, they wouldn't throw their elite troops into the fray unless they were fools. Even if they crushed the main body with brute force, catching Turan would be difficult, and the ambushes would continue.
"Ah..."
"It’s just a guess, but they’re probably waiting for me to attack with the railgun while preparing a separate unit to track its origin."
Of course, considering the Baraha army in the east had neither the ability nor the will to cross the river—and that Turan wasn't even among them—it was an utterly meaningless endeavor.
"And if no one attacked... well, it would just be a bit of a shame."
The only resource truly consumed in this plan was Solif’s prestige, so there was no real loss even if it failed. Besides, since Baraha had done Parsha a great favor in this operation, the support they would receive in return would quickly restore any lost prestige.
And finally, there was one more important thing.
"By mixing in a deception like this, they won't be able to be certain of our actions in the future. Just making them hesitate and wonder if it's real or not is a gain in itself."
It would have been better if he could have completely uprooted one faction as originally planned, but he had certainly dealt significant damage to two hostile forces. Even as he explained calmly, Turan’s mind was already piecing together the next plan.
"While they're paralyzed from the blow, if we target Ruban immediately... Oh, come to think of it, I should probably have a chat with our new friends first."
Turan tapped the Jewelry Box, which was still damp from the rain.
For now, he needed to build some rapport with the friends who had recently "checked in." Perhaps a strategy of promoting Resion and the half-elves to a higher rank than the newcomers to give them a sense of superiority wouldn't be a bad idea.