Book 2, Chapter 185

Outburst

Although the feeling of his mana leaving him so suddenly left Richard wanting to collapse, he did not forget that he was still in a battlefield where every second counted. He steadied himself by holding onto Olar’s arm, sending a series of commands out in his mind.

Many thuds sounded out as the boards of the carriages were smashed to pieces by sharp axes. Groups of throwers leapt out, grabbing hatchets from within and tossing them at the enemy. A sharp whistle permeated the battlefield, and the hatchets spun and smashed into the disorderly cavalry. With less than fifty metres separating the two armies, the power of these axes was astounding. The armour of the cavalrymen could not hold up at all, and be it human or horse anyone hit by the axes was heavily injured.

The throwers’ axes were unimaginably fast. Their minds would not be influenced by any external factors in battle, and they would not be intimidated no matter how many spells Richard used. The moment he gave the order, all the hatchets were thrown as quickly as possible.

The hundred throwers were at an optimum distance from the enemy; they sent out five waves of axes as fast as possible, the rain of attacks growing to be a terror for the vanguard. Words could not describe the emotions one felt when they saw hundreds of hatchets flying towards their heads. Once the five waves were done, less than fifty cavalrymen could stand.

The leader’s mouth finally closed. He yelled out, having all his troops retreat.

“Trying to run?” A cold smirk rose on the corner of Richard’s lips.

The desert warriors had long since moved to cover both sides. In the meanwhile, the throwers switched from their depleted tomahawks and all lifted their armour, producing the bone axes that were glimmering with a pale white lustre. Stopped by the elite throwers, none of them acted. They instead formed three files, slowly advancing forward. No heavy infantry could outdo them.

The knight captain had experienced hundreds of battles, and was immediately able to discover that Richard’s side was the weakest of them all. Seeing the troops gathered at the frontlines, he knew it would be too late to escape. Desert warriors were known for their resilience; it would be near impossible to get away. Did it not make more sense to just charge through the formations of the throwers? Who knew, perhaps they could break through and capture Richard.

However, just as he was about to give the order, he found a towering figure standing at the front of the throwers, his axe level. There were no knights at the vanguard leading this formation, only Gangdor.

Although it was just one person, the captain showed a rare hesitation. However, that slight hesitation lost him his last chance. The hapless cavalry did not receive the next order. Some charged forward, others retreated, while yet more clashed with the desert warriors flanking them from the sides. However, they were completely surrounded.

Richard slowly raised his left hand, clenching his fist in the exact same way as the cavalry’s leader had before. The desert warriors all shouted out their battle cries, hacking out at the cavalrymen with their falchions.

The moment the battle began, an elven warsong rang out to boost the strength of the desert warriors. The opposing cavalrymen fell one after the other, and no matter how much the leader shouted he could not stall Richard’s momentum. Having witnessed Richard’s storm of magic, their will had been obliterated. In front of an opponent who did not lose to them in power and even bettered them in viciousness, they were instantly left at a disadvantage.

Olar continued the elven warsong, all the while taking opponents down with his bow.

Stuck in the desperate situation, the leader was like an injured lion that erupted with power. The large, blood-stained sword in his hand sent three desert warriors off their horses the moment they approached him, but even so he could see more of his own men were dismounted as well. Even without those trogg-like monsters attacking them, the desert warriors were ganging up on his men two or three to one and taking them down. He knew it was impossible for him to leave this place alive; Richard’s attitude at the beginning of the battle spoke volumes of his bloodthirst.

Just like how he hadn’t asked what was in the carriage when he began ‘robbing’ them, Richard didn’t care for his status or backing. Everything was an open secret, with the superiors just pretending to be ignorant. Such were the rules of this ‘noble’ game.

The leader’s grim gaze landed on one of the desert warriors, but at that very moment he felt a thread of chilly wind by his throat. Goosebumps appeared where the wind blew, and he yelled as he threw himself at the ground without care for his horse!

The dull black blade of the Shepherd of Eternal Rest was unremarkable even in daylight, but its might could not be underestimated. The tip of the sword suddenly flashed at the leader’s neck, brushing across it to leave a terrifying gash between his neck and shoulder. Although the wound was serious, it had not been able to send his head flying like Waterflower had expected.

Still, the young lady reacted quickly. A quick turn of the blade and she cut downwards, but only managed to tear into his armour to leave a long wound. Even the second strike had failed to kill him.

*Thud!* The knight captain hit the ground loudly, rolling a few times to dodge a few metres away. Having put some distance from the girl, he supported himself as he resumed body stance before looking backwards. Only then did he see Waterflower nimbly standing on his horse’s back. Was it this wild girl who looks so frail that nearly took his life? The man didn’t have much time to be bewildered, however, as he suddenly felt a chill at his back. The tip of a blade erupted from his chest.

The fellow’s throat gurgled some words, but he could not form a complete sentence. Looking down at the short tip, he did his best to turn around and look at the face of the person who killed him. However, he had barely turned sideways before a numbness spread through his body and the dark overtook his sight.

He never managed to see Phaser’s appearance.

……

Once the last of the cavalry fell, the short yet intense battle finally came to an end. Richard grabbed Flowsand quickly and asked, “Is that the divine spell you were working on? What is it called? Why have I never heard of a spell like this before?!”

“Outburst, comparable to a grade 6 divine spell. It can increase the rate of a mage’s mana flow, also speeding up the flow of time in their body. How is it? Feels good, no?” Flowsand asked, pleased with herself.

“It’s madness!” Even now, he was still blown away by that godlike feeling. An entire group of cavalrymen had fallen easily at his hands! Such strength, such destruction, such control… It was something he had never imagined even in his dreams!

“Mm, as long as I’m around any mage can show unimaginable prowess. I shall be the lighthouse of all mages!” Flowsand proudly declared. However, under that proud little face of hers hid a craftiness difficult to sense.

Richard nodded several times, taking her words to heart. A divine spell able to let him use his entire mana pool in two seconds was definitely very powerful. With this and his own magic penetration rune, he could get rid of a grand mage from Faelor in direct battle! After all, even a grand mage could not take the might of fifteen fireballs exploding together, especially when they had the additional magic penetration property.

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OMA's Thoughts

Translated By: Ying

Edited By: Theo

TLC'ed By: OMA