Chapter 433: The End of the Noble War

Under the cover of night, a silent squad crept steadily toward the Cecil camp.

Clad in lightweight leather armor designed for mobility, every piece of their gear was painted black. Agile and sure-footed, they moved effortlessly across the rocky, uneven wasteland.

The night was pitch-black, starless, yet the darkness did nothing to hinder their advance.

This was an elite unit of supernaturals—the precious vanguard of the Rockhold Fortress.

Noble warriors, obsessed with honor and decorum, usually scorned ambushes. Their idea of war was a formal affair: both sides agreeing on time and place, lining up in formation, and clashing openly on the battlefield. But once those lofty rules were shattered, even seasoned veterans knew how to adapt. The so-called “virtues” of noble warfare were, in truth, just a thin veil to mask the brutal business of plunder. Rip off that veil, and the game was still the same.

A shifting shadow swept low over the overgrown ground, coalescing beside a massive boulder. Within moments, other black-clad supernaturals joined the figure. The stealth squad leader emerged from the darkness, lowering his voice to whisper orders: “Almost there. Stay sharp. Priority is to disable the magic devices on their wagons.”

The operatives each fingered the small pouches at their sides—inside were magical scrolls, painstakingly crafted by veteran mages. These scrolls could unleash explosions powerful enough to destroy the Cecil’s arcane equipment. Such scrolls were among Rockhold’s most precious strategic assets, and their mission was to ensure these treasures were used where they mattered most.

After a brief pause, the raiders pressed on. Shadows surged from all directions, swallowing their forms in the night. Soon, the vast plain was empty of any sign of them—only fleeting streaks of darkness darted through the grass.

Far off, a faint red glow flickered within a dense thicket.

A steel-clad ranger withdrew his gaze, the red gleam of his tactical goggles flickering on his helmet. He lowered his voice to the squad commander beside him: “Captain, another group spotted. That’s ours, right?”

Thanks to the “Distortion Detection” enchantment on their goggles, most stealth operatives were visible even on this starless night. Those reckless raiders, relying on their supernatural speed to move quickly across the open plain, were anything but invisible.

“They’re ours,” the captain replied quietly, “but hold your fire. Those idiots are about to run into the minefield.”

“We spent half a day planting those mines. At least a couple should go off.”

“Alright. Get your explosive shots ready. We strike as soon as they panic.”

The steel rangers moved silently in the dark, while ahead, the Rockhold raiders closed in on their target.

Swift shadows slipped between stones and grass like the night wind—free, unrestrained, and graceful. The stealth leader savored this feeling of moving unchecked through darkness, especially on a night ripe for killing.

The thick blackness was his armor; the silent blade, the perfect tool to slit the throats of lambs led to slaughter. He thrived on the power to decide life and death in the shadows. Though the work was perilous, the thrill was intoxicating.

Rumor had it the Cecil’s “Heavenfire” explosions were terrifying—enough to send a coalition of over forty southern noble houses fleeing in panic. But it was precisely such missions that brought the greatest satisfaction: no matter how powerful the magical device, every weapon had a weak spot. The stealth operatives specialized in plunging their knives right into those vulnerabilities.

A cool breeze swept across the plain, dispersing the lingering mist. Under cover of darkness, the leader and his team stepped lightly onto a patch of gravel. At the moment his foot touched down, a strange “click” echoed faintly in his ear.

One operative halted, puzzled. “I think I stepped on something…”

He lifted his foot to inspect—and suddenly, a burst of blazing light erupted beneath him.

A thunderous explosion shattered the night’s silence. The raider who triggered the mine was sent flying skyward, followed by others in quick succession. In that instant, the fastest among them all thought the same word: Trap!

The stealthers’ greatest asset—speed—was unleashed to its fullest. As their comrades soared through the air, the survivors scattered in all directions. But no matter how fast they moved, they couldn’t outrun the shrapnel and flying debris. A chorus of agonized screams erupted; half the squad was caught in the blast.

The leader, stronger and more experienced, relied on his battle instincts to escape the blast radius first. Yet the deafening roar and blinding flash left him dizzy. In that fleeting haze, his peripheral vision caught movement—figures emerging from the grass.

Years of training forced him to fight down the dizziness. He drew his short sword in one swift motion, his form blurring as he prepared to strike.

A stealer should never fully expose himself to the enemy. Only by remaining hidden could he maintain the upper hand in close combat. The words his mentor had spoken when he first became a supernatural flashed through his mind. His eyes locked onto the ambushers stepping out of the grass, waiting to see which fool would charge first.

He was confident in his hand-to-hand skills.

But the first thing to confront him wasn’t an attacker—it was a devastating explosive shot.

With a series of mechanical clicks and a sharp crack, strange devices wrapped in pale blue magical orbs flew from the shoulders of the grass-bound foes. They streaked through the air, landing at the stealthers’ feet, detonating in rapid succession.

This world was home to many unique supernatural troops, each faction’s “tip of the spear” with their own fighting style.

Rangers excelled in forest warfare; wanderer units wielded powerful magic; royal shadow guards leapt from stealth to unleash whirlwind slashes; and the steel rangers from Cecil…

They crouched in the grass, waiting to jump out and blast you with an RPG before disappearing.

The deep darkness, the starless wilderness—explosions near the Cecil camp shattered the night’s calm. At the camp’s center, Knight Philip listened quietly to the distant blasts.

The nobles from Rockhold had indeed chosen the night to strike.

Nobles might be slow to adapt, but they weren’t fools. After nearly two weeks of being chased down by the Cecils, they had at least learned a few lessons. The magic crystal rail cannons were devastating, but setting them up took time and preparation. The only way to counter Cecil’s arcane artillery was to sabotage it before it could fire. Clinging to traditional noble warfare in the face of such weapons was suicide.

Young Knight Philip sighed softly.

The age of classical noble warfare was gone for good. The nobles were learning to fight—or rather, to abandon “honor”—faster than he’d imagined. As the lord had said, the romantic but inefficient noble wars were doomed. When a new era dawned, war would return to its raw, primal state.

A low hum interrupted Philip’s thoughts. He looked up to see the arcane device occupying half the table in the tent flickering and buzzing. He hurried over, somewhat awkwardly manipulating the runic triggers on its base.

The device activated, projecting a hologram of the bearded face of Knight Byron, his voice booming through the static: “Can you hear me? Can you hear me? Damn… this thing works like this, right?”

“Yes, loud and clear—no need to shout!” Philip replied quickly, still marveling at the new communication device despite having used it several times.

Testing this new tech on the battlefield was part of Philip’s duty. The assault on Rockhold included a team of arcane engineers and a cache of magic network units and energy obelisks to extend the magical field wherever the army went.

Since Count Hosman died early, the southern nobles’ magic network was inefficient. The northern regions lacked seamless coverage, so engineers had to set up relay stations between wildlands and villages. Fortunately, the modular design of the hive queen units and small obelisks made installation manageable.

Byron’s hologram showed him grinning in amazement, still loud: “This thing’s incredible… I can’t believe we can talk so easily from so far away. Before this, I’d only seen mages use sending spells twice in my life.”

“Lower your voice—the comms use the magic network, not your lungs.”

“Can’t help it,” Byron chuckled, then cupped his ear. “Sounds like things are heating up on your end…”

Philip’s expression tightened. “Just like you guessed—they’re launching a night raid.”

“Ha! Those nobles finally learned how to fight,” Byron clapped his hands and laughed heartily. “Too bad they’re still green—only smart enough to think of a midnight ambush…”

Seeing his old friend’s increasingly irreverent attitude, Philip frowned. “So you’re just here to hog the channel and chat?”

The word “channel” was, after all, the lord’s invention.

“Chat? Oh no, I’m here to talk business,” Sir Byron suddenly remembered what he came to say and quickly steered the conversation back on track. “We’ve already set sail—two warships, equipped with the latest ‘Calibrators,’ those rainbow-beam cannons. We’re cutting through the waves, heading straight for your side!”

“Calibrators?” Sir Philip repeated the unfamiliar term with curiosity. From the word’s structure and phrasing, he caught a hint of the old Gondor Empire’s style.

“The name Master Kamail gave them after finalizing the design,” Byron chuckled, brimming with pride. “It means they can ‘calibrate’ the enemy’s mindset. Now it all depends on your progress—once these two ships are fitted with the rainbow cannons, they won’t have much defense left. You’ve got to clear the battlefield for me.”

Watching his old partner beam like a kid in the holographic projection, Philip felt the lingering regret and melancholy he’d had over the noble wars finally ending quietly fade away. He laughed too, his voice strong and confident. “You should worry about yourself. You’d better hurry—who knows, I might just blast open the walls of Rockhold Fortress before you even arrive!”

“Ha! You’re seriously underestimating Miss Tyr’s skills—”

(Happy New Year, everyone~~~~ Honestly, I wish I could take a break too…)

(End of chapter)