Chapter 253: Encounter

Something felt off nearby—a subtle discordance in the air. That was a warning sign of danger.

The patrol captain wasn’t a supernatural being himself, so he couldn’t sense the environment through magical energy. But as a seasoned veteran, his battlefield instincts were honed enough to rival those of a low-level supernatural. Years of life-or-death experience had sharpened his crisis intuition, allowing him to detect the faintest traces of threat. On top of that, the secondary clarity spell embedded in his standard-issue helmet heightened his focus to near-supernatural levels.

There were hostile individuals lurking nearby. Their numbers were unknown, but they didn’t seem to be mountain beasts.

They had already noticed the patrol’s presence but hadn’t made a move yet—likely still figuring out the best angle for an ambush or uncertain about the patrol’s true strength.

The captain didn’t speak rashly. Instead, he calmly signaled a few hand gestures behind his back—simple tactical signs every Cecil combat soldier mastered. Legend had it these signals were inspired by a young refugee from the first wave, and every member of the patrol was fluent in them.

The soldiers caught the captain’s signals and silently shifted their formation, preparing defenses in the indicated direction. They quickly dashed toward the nearest cover and disengaged the safety on their thermal ray guns. Just as they finished these motions, a faint whistling sound sliced through the air!

The captain’s heart skipped a beat. The attackers’ reaction speed exceeded his expectations. His soldiers’ formation change was smooth and natural, and their communication was discreet—but the enemy had immediately realized they’d been spotted and decisively launched their assault. These weren’t ordinary bandits, nor typical mercenaries.

Fortunately, the captain had already been on alert. The moment the whistling sound came, he instinctively raised his left arm. A translucent energy shield instantly materialized, covering most of his body. Several crossbow bolts clanged against the shield, sliding off the force field and dropping harmlessly to the ground.

In that split second, the captain drew a crystalline grenade from his waist, swung his arm, and hurled it toward the attackers’ hiding spot. His soldiers did the same—seven or eight metallic grenades whistled through the air in perfect arcs. The entire sequence flowed like a well-rehearsed reflex.

Just as their lord had instructed during training: if you can’t be sure about the enemy, at least throw a round of grenades. Even if they don’t kill, they’ll disrupt the enemy’s formation and create opportunities for attack or retreat.

All of this unfolded within seconds. Compared to the near-reflexive response of the Cecil combat soldiers, the Typhon squad hidden along the mountain path was utterly stunned from the start.

Not because they weren’t elite—they simply hadn’t seen anything like this before.

Everything was different from what they expected—different from any battle style they’d heard of or witnessed!

This squad was one of the infiltration teams that entered the Dark Mountains alongside the Solderlin squad. They had chosen a route closer to the northern side of the range. Their team included two low-rank knights and a low-rank mage. They had spotted the patrol early on, but the narrow mountain path made an encounter unavoidable. So they planned to use a blind spot in their line of sight to ambush and annihilate the oddly equipped patrol.

In their initial calculations, this was a sure thing. With the advantage of surprise, they could take out the patrol captain and two or three soldiers with the first volley of crossbow bolts. Then the mage would unleash fireballs or arcane missiles to sow chaos, and finally, the knights would charge in to finish the job. It was a foolproof plan.

But before they could even launch their attack, the Ansu patrol reacted—just like they had rehearsed. They swiftly changed formation and sought advantageous positions, communicating in a way that was impossible to discern.

The Typhon soldiers had no choice but to fire. Yet every single crossbow bolt was stopped by a magical shield.

Stopped by a magic shield!

The patrol captain, clad in standard infantry armor and looking every bit a warrior, was apparently a mage capable of instant force field casting?

As the Typhon soldiers gaped in disbelief, the enemy counterattacked. Several strange metal objects flew toward their hiding spot.

Though they didn’t know what those metal lumps were, years of training and combat reflexes kicked in. Their mage hastily raised a mana shield just in time. Then, like thunder cracking, explosions erupted outside the shield.

Human strength had its limits. The thrown crystalline grenades didn’t land in the most effective spots. Most detonations happened at a distance. Only two grenades struck the imperial soldiers’ mana shield directly. The powerful magical blasts shattered the shield and caused the surrounding rocks to collapse. But thanks to the shield’s protection, the soldiers inside were unharmed.

Amid the dust and smoke, one of the Typhon knights drew his longsword. His body radiated with magical energy as he charged out of their now useless cover, aiming for the Ansu soldiers who had thrown those “explosive magical devices.”

“Charge with me!”

At his command, the remaining Typhon soldiers surged out, ready to settle the fight in close quarters along the narrow mountain path.

This was nothing like their plan. But these battle-hardened elites were confident. They believed no army could best them in hand-to-hand combat. The patrol captain might be a mage with unusual taste in armor, but surely not every soldier he brought was supernatural.

As the enemy charged, the patrol captain felt a surge of calm. He shouted, “Focus fire on that knight up front!”

Streams of searing rays pierced through the smoke stirred up by the grenade blasts. The charging imperial knight was hit repeatedly. His protective aura flickered violently before fading away.

Only then did the knight realize how foolish it was to charge out. But the narrow path left no room to dodge. With the faint sound of armor being pierced, he collapsed mid-charge.

The soldiers behind him were stunned, watching their powerful leader fall halfway through the charge. Their own momentum carried them forward, but their lighter armor offered no protection against the scorching rays—they fell one after another.

Despite the one-sided battle, the patrol captain remained vigilant, eyes fixed on the direction the enemies had emerged from. He remembered the flicker of the mana shield and knew the enemy mage was still hiding behind, preparing a spell attack under the cover of their fallen soldiers. Though the front line was wiped out, the mage’s assault was inevitable.

Suddenly, a flash of fire appeared in the swirling dust—a fireball streaked through the air.

Much smaller than the massive fireballs Miss Rebecca had recently conjured. She had even managed to shape two fireballs into a dumbbell form—these mages from out of town were hardly impressive.

The captain sneered inwardly, then raised his force field with his left arm to block. The fireball deflected, exploding in a blaze among nearby rocks, revealing the caster’s position.

“Focus fire on that direction!”

He shouted, then unleashed a barrage of thermal rays from both arms, hammering the enemy mage’s location. The charging enemies had all fallen, so all firepower concentrated on the target. Amid the dust, magical glimmers flickered—shields or protective artifacts—but no matter what, continuous suppression would force a break.

The magical lights held for a moment before fading.

Still uneasy, the captain fired a dozen more scorching rays until the energy crystal in his arm guard was depleted. He swapped in a fresh crystal and led his soldiers forward to assess the outcome.

As they moved along the narrow path, the veteran captain ordered his men, “Watch those downed—some are just wounded. Tie them up so they don’t escape.”

In the rocky debris caused by the grenade blasts, the captain found the dead enemies—more than just a mage, there was also a knight in armor. Both had multiple holes in their bodies; the mage had been killed by a direct hit to the head from a scorching ray.

That knight had likely stayed behind to protect the caster, guarding against stealth assassins or suicide squads trying to get close to the fragile mage. But he hadn’t expected the battle to end without any close combat. Magical attacks had obliterated all defenses from the start.

This was probably the most humiliating death a guard knight could suffer.

But the patrol captain felt no pity—especially not for enemies who ambushed his patrol on a mountain path.

He bent down, examining the bodies for clues to their origins.

Though these foes had been crushed, it was because they were unprepared for this new style of combat and because the patrol had superior equipment. If it had been a fair fight with both sides fully aware of each other’s strengths, the captain didn’t believe he would have had the upper hand.

His soldiers were well-trained but mostly inexperienced in battle. These enemies, however, had maintained organized attacks even in chaos and urgency—clearly elite troops.

Such elites didn’t just appear out of nowhere.

(End of chapter)