Chapter 565
“Chargeee!”
Aerin let out a roar rising from deep within her core as she raised her sword high. Around her, soldiers running alongside were struck down by enemy arrows, tumbling to the ground, but her resolve remained unbroken. Eyes fixed solely ahead, she pressed forward until she reached the grand, imposing wall.
“Waaaah!”
Boom!
With every punch the golem slammed down, sandstorms whipped up from all directions.
Aerin shielded her face with her arm and crouched briefly. Then she noticed—the entrance to the third gate’s wall had shifted slightly. The other soldiers saw it too.
“It’s cracking! It’s opening up bit by bit!”
“Attack the gap!”
“Yaaah!”
Inside, frantic movements tried to seal the breach. Bariel soldiers thrust their swords and spears through the opening, thirsting for Burgos’s blood.
“One more time!”
“Clear the way!”
As the golem raised both fists, the soldiers stepped back on warning. The drawn blades glistened with blood—whose, no one could tell.
Boom!
“The golem’s acting strange!”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“Don’t get distracted! Keep climbing! Over the wall!”
“Secure the ladders tight!”
The golem, which had been steady, suddenly wobbled and leaned to one side. The soldiers hesitated for a moment but forced themselves to ignore it and continued scaling the wall under their commander’s orders.
“Get lost, Bariel scum!”
“Come here!”
“Ughhh!”
Bariel soldiers climbing the ladders grabbed Burgos soldiers by the hair and threw them down.
One person crushed another, then a boulder fell on top—an endless cycle of tragedy. Yet amid the chaos of battle, no one realized it was a tragedy at all.
Boom!
This time, the golem struck the wall’s entrance with a different force. Finally, the half-collapsed wall gave way, and Burgos soldiers poured through like an ant swarm. Aerin swung her sword wildly, pushing forward like a madwoman.
Clang! Clang!
“Damn you bastards!”
“Get lost! Just get lost!”
“Open the path! I’ll spare you if you do!”
“Ughhh!”
Then, suddenly, the golem—until now moving smoothly—creaked and ground to a halt. Losing its balance, it toppled forward.
“Huh? Uh-oh?”
“Get out of the way! The golem’s falling!”
Crash!
Thud! Boom!
The massive stone golem collapsed, completely demolishing the Burgos wall entrance and, in doing so, erecting a new barrier. Soldiers trapped beneath screamed in agony, dying helplessly.
“The golem!”
Why? Why now? For what reason?
Only then did Aerin glance back. On the Bariel side, small but chaotic movements stirred. Astana sorcerers had fallen.
‘Impossible.’
All ranged mages capable of attack were locked in battle in the skies. Could it be the northern sorcerers? But they were Astana too. They knew each other well—there was no way they hadn’t prepared for an attack.
“Get past it! Over the golem!”
“Where do you think you’re going? Kill them all! Every last one!”
Aerin climbed the ladder and looked around from atop the wall. There had to be something—some source of the mysterious attack.
“Yeeeah!”
Clang!
Burgos soldiers charged at Aerin, but she tripped one with a swift kick and shoved him off the wall.
Then, a thunderous roar exploded in the sky.
Boom!
The intense heat forced everyone to crouch and shield themselves. It was an explosion caused by mages fighting winged half-beasts.
Among them, a striking blond boy stood out. The Minister of Magic moved gracefully, tearing off one creature’s wing and unleashing a powerful burst of magic.
Boom!
“Kyaaaah!”
“Ian! More are coming!”
The winged half-beasts fell screaming, repeatedly lunging at Ian with swords. Ian focused carefully, fending off each attack one by one.
Slash!
If you cut their wings, they can’t stay airborne. As they aimed for Ian’s neck, he targeted only their wings, fighting efficiently.
Seeing this, the Ruswena mages clasped their hands and began drawing magic circles in the sky.
Ziiing! Ziiing!
“Whirlwind.”
From the fingertips of the Ruswena mages, a massive torrent of water surged, swirling rapidly. It spread out, closing in on Ian, trapping him as if submerged in a droplet.
“Ian!”
Slash!
The mages tried to cut through the water, but how could a blade slice through liquid? Tiny air bubbles rose from Ian’s nose and mouth. He gestured to retreat and conjured a ‘Huirok’ spell.
Flash!
The water instantly vaporized upon meeting the intense heat, steam billowing like a massive cloud. Ian pushed back his damp hair and traced a magic circle with his fingertips.
“The Minister of Magic is casting a spell!”
“Ian is attacking!”
“Stop him! Attack!”
“Protect Ian! Escort him!”
Ruswena and Bariel mages surged forward, unleashing endless magic to block each other, with Ian in the center.
Boom!
Boom!
The chaotic battle repeated—deflecting attacks, breaking through gaps, and holding ground with all their might.
Light filled Ian’s magic circle, concentric rings spinning rapidly. Just as he reached out to bring down the entire wall at once—
Piiing!
Slash!
Something sharp pierced Ian’s abdomen in a flash. The searing pain bent him over, and the magic circle vanished.
‘It’s the same thing I was hit with yesterday, in front of the wall.’
That thing that grazed his cheek—he was sure.
Blood gushed from between Ian’s fingers, and the mages panicked, hastily erecting a protective barrier. It was too late, but they were determined to block any follow-up attacks.
Seizing the moment, the Ruswena mages combined their power once more.
“Whirlwind.”
Slash!
The massive water torrent trapped Ian again.
The water, once clear as the sky, turned red with blood, blurring Ian’s vision—not from unconsciousness, but from the blood.
“Hold him tight!”
Hold him tight?
The Ruswena mage’s shout rang out louder than the rest. Ian realized the mysterious enemy was someone who manipulated ‘position.’
Tap tap tap!
Deep inside the Agiar wall.
Bagban wiped sweat from his brow as he peered down at a massive puppet stage shrouded in darkness. The Agiar wall and hill were crudely built, with cotton puppets moving slowly atop.
He cursed at the soldiers running noisily above.
“Quiet down! Damn it! I can’t concentrate!”
Bang! Bang!
Unable to contain his anger, he slammed the wall, but the soldiers risking life and death above wouldn’t hear him.
With trembling hands, Bagban picked up the puppet again. It was a plain cotton doll with no markings.
“Let’s see, let’s see… again.”
As he released his grip, the puppet stood upright on its own.
Now came the crucial part. Bagban was a rare talent who could link this puppet stage to reality and inflict physical harm on his target. If he could pinpoint the enemy’s position, he could pierce their heart without resistance.
Swish.
Closing his eyes, he focused. Faintly, beyond the wall, he saw flickering shapes—like looking through five or six keyholes.
Suppressing his nausea, Bagban groped the puppet and soon identified an Astana standing beside the golem.
“Heh heh. Got you now! Perfect, just perfect.”
This was the one.
In his hand, a massive needle gleamed. Slowly, carefully, he pierced the puppet’s heart.
Thunk!
Though a cotton doll, when the spell took hold, it felt like stabbing a real heart. Ecstatic, Bagban chuckled softly and pulled the needle out through the doll’s back.
“Outside!”
“Yes? Yes, yes!”
“Check how many Astana remain!”
“Got it!”
Though it was a needle in the puppet, the actual target felt a thin blade flying toward them—deadly enough.
The problem was, if the target moved, the attack could miss, and it was hard to pinpoint each individual. Also, after doing two or so in a row, the nausea overwhelmed him, forcing him to lie down.
“Ughhh.”
His subordinate, who had gone to the Bariel mage tower, must have used the same method to take down King Damon. But why no word from him?
Bagban vomited, then refocused.
Boom! Bang!
The loud explosions told him the Ruswena mages were struggling.
He clicked his tongue and surveyed the scene with his ‘third eye.’ The view was narrow and spinning wildly, showing nothing but the sky.
“Ugh…”
A flash of cloth, a glowing orb of magic, feathers? What was that?
Amid the chaos, one figure stood out.
“Oh ho. This one’s handsome.”
Ian Hielo.
As soon as he saw Ian’s face, Bagban grabbed the puppet and pierced its belly with the needle. He should have aimed for the heart, but in his haste, he missed slightly.
Thunk!
“Good, good! Hahaha!”
“The feel of it is just perfect!” Even as Vagban staggered and nearly fell, he chuckled and cheered. A hole had been pierced in the belly of the Bariel wizard! Not bad at all, right?
Swoosh.
From around the corner of the hallway came Vagban’s muffled laughter.
Clark, hidden in the shadows, glanced over with curiosity. He had tried to approach, knowing Vagban was an old comrade of Rutherford’s, but given the circumstances, he couldn’t get past the guards. So, after acquiring armor, he planned a stealthy infiltration—but dawn had already broken.
“What’s going on?”
Clark watched Vagban through the crack in the door. Playing with dolls? At a time like this? Outside, a life-or-death battle was raging—there was no way.
Clark’s gaze lingered insistently on Vagban, but all he saw was a madman lost in meditation and threading dolls.
“Where is Rutherford?”
Swoosh.
Leaving Vagban behind for now, Clark moved toward where Rutherford was likely to be.
The soldiers running past glanced at Clark, but since he wore the same armor, they didn’t seem overly suspicious. Besides, everyone was too busy.
Boom! Bang!
Pat-pat-pat!
“Damn it! First squad, block the left entrance of the third gate!”
“Move the weapons! To the left!”
“Move quickly!”
Clark, pretending to be on a mission, dashed about, inspecting the barricades. Every time the ground shook violently and dust fell, he feared being crushed, but the walls of Agiar held firm.
Then—
“Ah.”
Unlike the other soldiers rushing about, some stood frozen by the door. Someone inside must be under their protection. Clark cautiously approached and saluted them.
“Excuse me. Is Rutherford here?”
“What is it?”
That was the right place. Clark felt a wave of relief and answered.
“I have something to report in person.”
“State your unit and name.”
Unit? Name? He had no idea. Hoping to bluff his way through, Clark reached for his sword—
Clatter! Bang!
Clang!
A commotion erupted from inside, and the soldiers flung the door open.
“What’s going on?”
“Are you alright?”
Through the gap between the soldiers’ shoulders, Clark saw Rutherford with his hair disheveled, and beneath him, a struggling Gypsy pinned down.
“Ah, it’s fine. Nothing to worry about.”
“R-Rutherford…”
“Stop worrying. I’m just—”
Rutherford smiled, pressing a dagger sharply against her neck.
“I’m just glaring at the treasure that rolled right into my lap.”