Book 2, Chapter 140

A Bloody Battle

Sinclair’s face changed immediately. Jumping off the manticore’s back, she tried to intercept one of the huge ballista bolts. The sheer force of the impact left her pale, pushing her back a few metres to land on the ground. The six others effortlessly shot towards the great mage who was completely shocked.

Her small face contorted even more fiercely. She bit her lip so hard it seemed like blood would spurt out, flinging her head vigorously and shooting a venomous glance at Twilight Castle. Anyone on the walls that met her gaze was left trembling uncontrollably.

The demonic young lady hopped onto her beast, pulling hard at its mane. With a roar of pain, it leapt at least ten metres into the sky and made its way towards Twilight Castle at the speed of lightning. She didn’t look back; that great mage’s fate had already been decided.

The six remaining bolts seemed to arrive at the same time. A magical radiance illuminated the great mage’s surroundings; he had already spent the mere three seconds he had to cover himself with three different protection spells. However, these spells wouldn’t be enough to handle the magical bolts that had even killed the bearguard captain.

All of his defences crumbled under the magical light, the mage’s body ripped apart by the explosive energy. All that was left of him after the attack was half a skull that flew far away. The other mage had retreated swiftly in his shock, hurriedly casting another spell on his companion once he determined he wasn’t the target, but it was all for nothing. With his colleague dead, he was left without the time to care for the rest of the knights who had advanced; all he could think of was getting far away to avoid the attack of the ballistae.

The combined might of the seven heavy bolts was comparable to an all-out attack from a saint. Even if he cast his defensive spells and used magic scrolls, there would be no escape. These heavy hits had given him a new perspective of the might of this plane; he no longer thought lowly of its inhabitants.

Richard stood behind the city walls, his gaze fixed on the battlefield. Endless amounts of information bounced around his head in a frenzy, too much to handle for even his superior intellect.

Most of his previous battles had been with far larger armies, but the information he had to process throughout hadn’t reached a tenth of what he needed to now. Be it Sinclair or her subordinates, any one of them could seriously threaten his life in a one-on-one situation. As such, he needed to keep track of the current bearing and situation of every one of them. He spent ten times as much effort on a single bearguard knight as he would with a normal soldier, while Sinclair alone was tens of times more. Everything movement of hers, big or small, was kept track of in his mind.

This was the first time Richard had felt like he didn’t have as much control of the battlefield as he wished.

His entire body was trembling, hot as lava in one moment and cold as ice in the other. Sinclair’s face was magnified in a corner of his subconscious, every detail of her expression being tracked. Outside of that, the killing aura of every single bearguard knight relentlessly assaulted his morale.

Amidst all the killing, he had to use all of his willpower to stop himself from sounding a retreat. However, the trembling in his legs was hard to control. This was an innate problem of extremely intelligent beings— their instincts were normally hard to control. With no way of resisting the oncoming enemies, his mind was screaming for him to flee.

However, it was this battle between instinct and wisdom that had grown his will from day to day. Richard’s legs were still trembling under his robes, but that trembling would slowly come to a stop. Time itself seemed to come to a standstill, every leap and landing of Sinclair and her knights growing clear in his mind.

In that split second, Richard had managed to process an absurd amount of information. He could figure out the path of every knight, and the flight pattern of the manticore upon which Sinclair was sat. Everything was extremely clear.

This was a sudden and esoteric sensation, as though the whole world was in his hands. Even he himself didn’t understand how he managed to get to this level, but the sensation only lasted for a fleeting moment. He immediately felt drained of all his strength, as though a significant portion of his mana had vanished into thin air.

Sinclair slowly became that rapidly flashing demon once more, drifting through the sky before she covered herself with her cloak and disappeared into thin air.

When she vanished, that vile shadow was only about ten metres from the castle walls. Everyone on top suddenly felt great danger, as though they would be her next target. The subconsciously assumed battle stances, and even the archers slowed down their attacks on the bearguard knights.

“Baron Fontaine! Look out!” Richard suddenly screamed.

Fontaine was startled, suddenly feeling a light breeze brush past his face. He reacted instantly, bursting forth with all his power. He relied on his experience to determine the direction of his strike, thrusting his sword out to directly stab into the hollow space in front of him.

The shining blade was covered with his energy, growing fast and agile. A low whistle sounded as the blade cut through the air, proving its incomparable sharpness. This single strike was enough to show his skill; even without the aid of runes, he would be a formidable presence back in Norland.

A soft clang sounded as two blades appeared out of thin air, Sinclair’s figure revealing itself as she shot an astonished glance at the Baron. She never would have expected the trash nobles of this plane to use such an exquisite strike. The attack had been swift and precise, breaking her own aggression perfectly.

Fontaine’s blow had locked up a cubic metre of space exactly where she would appear. If not for a timely counter, it would have pierced straight into her chest! Her body was extremely delicate; if her chest was cut open, she would be severely injured. Without a healer’s help, it would take a long time for her to recover.

Ever since she reached Faelor, this was the first time someone below the level of a saint had forced her to materialise. Of course, this was also the first time she had launched a frontal assault.

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OMA's Thoughts

Translated By: Styles

Edited By: Theo

TLC'ed By: OMA