Chapter 88: The First Roar

The stonemasons and their apprentices sat on the ground, resting, their eyes filled with a mix of awe and envy as they watched the magical materials, guided by Hetty’s power, rise into the air. They hovered precisely above the stone wall, where an enormous, translucent hand-shaped construct assisted in the process—removing vines that interfered with the runic array, adjusting the delicate lines of the glyphs, or embedding amplification crystals at critical nodes. Between the runes on the array were the holes and crevices they had painstakingly chiseled out earlier, now stuffed full of glittering crystal “gravel.”

To their eyes, these tiny crystals—each about the size of a grain of rice—really did look like mere gravel.

Exhausted as they were, these workers had no idea what monumental task they were part of. They didn’t even know about Gawain’s plan to blow up the cliff face. They were simply following their lord’s orders, working as they always had. But Amber, watching them, felt a strange sensation welling up inside her.

Aside from the final step of drawing the detonation array, almost the entire process had been carried out by ordinary people. The serfs in the kiln district had fired the crystals; the first magic network, which charged the crystals, was built by common craftsmen. Rebecca had helped design the network, but hadn’t used any supernatural power herself. Then the laborers transported the crystals here, the stonemasons carved holes in the rock, and the crystals were stuffed in…

In fact, if it weren’t for the need to paint the array directly onto the cliff face—and the limited time—ordinary people could have even drawn the runes themselves. As long as they placed every symbol correctly and installed the magical materials at the key points, the array would work. Though it required some knowledge and skill, it didn’t demand any extraordinary power. Amber was convinced that even commoners in the territory could master this with enough training.

As for how to activate the array without magical ability… Rebecca had already created a runic trigger, and it had been proven to work on the detonation array. Even without the trigger, the territory’s “Magic Network One” was capable of external power supply. By extending its charging lines, ordinary people could detonate this so-called “large-scale artwork” that Gawain had designed.

Sure, the process was far more complicated and difficult than a grand archmage snapping their fingers, but just the fact that it was possible made Amber shiver.

A group of utterly non-magical commoners could use this “magical device” to blow up an entire cliff…

The thought made her glance at Gawain with a strange look. This odd man, who didn’t look noble in the slightest… did he even understand what he was doing?

But after a brief moment of serious reflection, Amber’s last shred of solemnity drained away. She clapped her hands, looked up at the sky, saw it wasn’t mealtime yet, and slipped back into the shadows.

She still had to keep an eye on the aberrants and relay any intelligence back here. The mission was far from over.

Meanwhile, at the mountain pass on the southwest side of the camp and along the path into the mountains, knights Philip and Byron accompanied Rebecca as they did something neither had done before.

They were overseeing the laying of traps—explosive traps.

Soldiers and conscripted laborers dug pits, while Rebecca and the craftsmen carefully placed each “mine.” Since placing the runic trigger on the magic array would turn those seemingly harmless crystal grains into devices capable of shattering rock, Rebecca personally adjusted and installed every trigger. To prevent any careless fool from accidentally setting one off, she placed a red stone marker beside each trap.

Yes, marking the traps—that was completely against the basic code of mine-laying professionalism. But it didn’t matter; after all, they were just making things easier for the mindless aberrants…

Philip watched with a strange expression as his soldiers covered a wooden box with a thin layer of soil, then glanced over at the others digging energetically nearby. He finally muttered to Byron, “Isn’t this… a bit unknightly?”

“Unknightly? You mean digging traps?” The older knight with graying hair gave the young man a sidelong glance. “And what do you think knighthood is about?”

Philip placed his hand solemnly on his sword hilt. “A knight should face the enemy openly and honorably, armed with courage and justice. They should challenge the strongest foes head-on, defend the people and the land, and if victorious, return with honor; if defeated, die on the battlefield—not dig traps here.”

Byron waved his hand impatiently before Philip could finish. “Stop, stop—your stubbornness never changes. You sound like an old zealot. Don’t forget, these traps were ordered by the Duke himself. He’s a knight among knights, a hero among heroes. The knightly codes of many nations today are modeled after him. Do you really think what he commands goes against knightly spirit?”

Philip, already conflicted, looked even more troubled. “Then I just don’t understand.”

“From my perspective, this fits knightly spirit perfectly,” Byron stroked his chin and began spinning a dubious argument honed during his mercenary days. “We’re digging these pits openly and honestly, just like the chevaux de frise on the battlefield or the armor you wear. And we’re still challenging the strongest enemies—look at all these pits. Only the toughest monsters will make it through to the last line of defense to fight us. Those who can’t even cross these traps are weaklings, and fighting weaklings dishonors the knightly code…”

Philip thought it over, puzzled. “So, by your logic, these traps are meant to weed out the true enemies?”

Byron nodded. “Something like that.”

Philip frowned. “I still think you’re talking nonsense.”

Byron laughed heartily and turned to instruct the craftsmen placing the mines. “Pour some stones on top, just don’t crush the triggers. I’ve seen these things explode—if there are stones in the pit, the blast is even more powerful…”

Rebecca’s eyes lit up. “Oh! We can do that?”

“Of course,” Byron smiled. “Don’t underestimate the wisdom of mercenaries—and the justice of knights.”

“Wait, I’ll have someone bury all the rusty scrap metal we pulled from the mountain into the traps too…”

The half-trained knight and the half-witted viscountess exchanged a conspiratorial smile, forming an unholy alliance…

Philip sighed deeply, having witnessed the whole scene.

Hours later, everything was finally set. All the warriors and civilians withdrew to the camp.

Gawain also returned.

The monsters were close now. According to Amber’s report, they were approaching the first trap line to the north of the mountain.

Once they sensed the presence of living humans and active magical energy, they would shift from their slow, aimless wandering into a frenzy, charging toward the largest human settlement within their detection range.

The area in front of the camp was deliberately left open, a wide stretch of bare ground from the western mountain pass to the camp itself. Beyond that lay a makeshift wooden fence and sharpened stakes—though these barely slowed the aberrants, at best delaying them slightly.

Behind the fence stood the fully armed knights and soldiers—the camp’s last line of defense.

Gawain stood among the guards, Rebecca clutching her staff nervously beside him. Behind them were Byron and Philip, while other soldiers and militia guarded the southern gate. Since the monsters lacked intelligence and didn’t know how to flank or maneuver, holding this gate facing the dark mountains meant holding all the defenses.

This was probably the only good thing about fighting aberrants.

“Nervous?” Gawain noticed Rebecca taking her third deep breath and asked casually.

“A little,” Rebecca forced a smile. “Strange, I wasn’t nervous last time I fought them…”

“That’s because back then you didn’t have time to be nervous. This time, you’ve known for three days they’re coming. Waiting is the most terrifying thing in the world,” Gawain shook his head with a smile. “But don’t be afraid. Trust in the power of those crystals—they’re your creation.”

Rebecca nodded, then shook her head again. “But nothing I’ve ever made has really been reliable…”

Gawain quickly cleared his throat to cover it up. “Ahem, don’t say that here. It’ll shake morale.”

Why did this kid always have to be so stubborn?

But clearly, the soldiers around them paid no attention to what their lord and former lord were saying.

They only stared at the mountain pass, waiting for the moment their lord called “the thunder” to explode.

At the dark mountain range, atop a jutting boulder overlooking the winding natural path, Hetty stood alone, quietly watching.

She could already smell the foul stench of the monsters.

The air beside her twisted slightly as Amber’s figure emerged from the shadows. The half-elf’s face was more serious than ever. “They’re coming.”

Hetty nodded slightly, eyes fixed on the far end of the mountain path.

A filthy mist rose there, wilting and killing the plants it touched. From within the haze, giant, grotesque flesh monsters emerged—one, two, three… more and more.

Hetty dispelled the concealment spell cloaking her presence. Instantly, the scent of living beings and active magic radiated from her like a blazing fire in the dark night.

The monsters, previously swaying slowly, suddenly “awoke.” They let out chaotic, frenzied roars, then, like a pack of bloodthirsty hyenas catching a scent, surged forward at full speed toward Hetty’s position.

The massive figures thundered down the mountain path. Amber’s skin prickled with goosebumps, but Hetty simply watched calmly. She stood at the magic injection point of the detonation array, yet made no move.

“C-close!” Amber whispered tensely.

“Not yet,” Hetty shook her head. “The more we bury here, the less pressure they’ll face. So, wait a little longer.”

Amber grabbed Hetty’s arm, half her body already beginning to fade. “Okay, I’ll wait for your signal. Just detonate, and I’ll pull you in immediately!”

Hetty nodded slightly, then raised her hand and cast the simplest of spells—a flash of light—toward the approaching monsters.

The simplest spell triggered a far more intense surge of magical energy. The monsters went into a frenzy, swarming even more wildly. They shoved and jostled, pressing together like grotesque, misshapen behemoths made of writhing flesh and blood, rushing toward the center of the mountain path. Some even began clawing their way up the cliff where Hetty stood.

Without hesitation, Hetty activated the magic circle beneath her feet and grabbed Amber’s arm. “Let’s go!”

In an instant, the two figures vanished into the swirling shadows.

At the same time, the magic circle etched into the rock face blazed with a blinding white light, detonating countless “mana crystals” embedded throughout the cliff.

The explosion roared like thunder.

(End of chapter)