Chapter 89: Blown to Bits

The explosion triggered by the mana crystals was nothing like a conventional bomb blast on Earth. Though both culminated in a spectacular fireworks display, their processes were worlds apart. The latter was a rapid chemical reaction, while the former was essentially a magical ritual.

Because of this, detonating mana crystals didn’t demand meticulous packaging or specific containers, nor did it require precise “explosive specifications.” Instead, what mattered was placing all the energy-storing crystals within the detonation array’s optimal range, ensuring the array’s precision, the quality and compatibility of the magic-conducting materials, and the total amount of mana stored inside the crystals.

When all these conditions aligned perfectly, the resulting blast was a delight to anyone who witnessed it.

The entire cliff face was bathed in a blinding white light. Within the detonation array’s radius, every crevice and fissure stuffed with crystal fragments erupted in violent magical explosions. The mutated creatures, crowded together and beginning to scale the cliff, were thrown into momentary confusion as their target suddenly vanished—only to be immediately overwhelmed by the onslaught of “explosive artistry” raining down upon them.

Unfortunately, Hetty, who had already been pulled into the Shadow Realm by Amber, was denied the chance to witness this magnificent spectacle.

The collapse of the stone wall triggered a chain reaction. Unstable boulders above the mountain path loosened and tumbled down amid violent tremors. Rocks and earth cascaded like a torrential downpour, burying many of the flesh giants beneath. A significant number were crushed instantly, their roars dissolving into rising elemental smoke.

Yet when the dust settled, nearly half of the monsters still lived—some had fallen outside the collapse zone, others had simply survived the crushing. The strongest mutants casually tossed aside the stones and dirt pinning them down, staggering out of the rubble. The chaotic mana released by their comrades rapidly healed their battered limbs. Within mere breaths, those missing arms and legs regained about seventy to eighty percent of their mobility.

Hetty and Amber’s presence had vanished far away, but the surviving monsters recovered from their disarray and turned their heads northward in unison.

They “sensed” another presence—somewhat distant but vast in number. It was the scent of many living humans, accompanied by active magical energy.

Mutants had no concept of morale, but the lure of prey sent them into a primal, frenzied excitement. The flesh giants jostled and surged forward, leaving behind their crushed and broken comrades like carrion. Like hyenas drawn by blood, they charged down the northern mountain path.

Then they stepped right into the sprawling minefield.

The explosions and collapses echoing through the Dark Mountains sounded like thunderclaps, audible even from the camp. The soldiers on high alert stirred uneasily at the loud booms, but Byron and Sir Philip’s sharp commands quickly quelled the unrest.

Gawain exhaled in relief upon hearing the blasts. Explosions meant the first phase of the plan had succeeded.

With Amber providing support on the other side, Hetty’s safety was likely assured. The continuous rumbling mixed with the blasts confirmed the rockfall had gone exactly as planned. Now, all that remained was to watch those brainless monsters get blown sky-high one after another.

Minutes later, a new series of explosions echoed from the mountains.

These were different from the initial blast—quieter but relentless, coming every few seconds like two mages tossing fireballs back and forth (side-eyeing Rebecca). The sounds grew closer, starting deep in the mountains and soon reaching the mountain pass.

Gawain could almost picture the mutants, heads down, recklessly charging into the minefield—what a satisfying sight that would be.

The soldiers listened to these unfamiliar battle sounds, gripping their weapons but exchanging uncertain glances. They knew no troops guarded the mountain, yet the noise was terrifyingly loud. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of flesh giants were funneling through the narrow, winding paths—not facing brave warriors, but a deadly field of explosive traps. Was this really war?

News of the mountain’s turmoil spread to the nearby villages. At first, the trembling civilians hid in their tents, but the continuous explosions piqued their curiosity. The sounds didn’t resemble desperate fighting but rather thunder rolling through the sky. For these rural folk, who’d never seen a high-level mage, let alone witnessed archmages hurling fireballs and firestorms, the noise was beyond their imagination. They guessed that even if dozens of mages were battling outside, it wouldn’t sound much different.

Eventually, a few bold and curious souls crept out of their tents, edging toward the camp’s southern side to gaze at the Dark Mountains. At that moment, the explosions reached the mountain pass—or rather, the mutants recklessly charging through the minefield finally reached the pass.

A cloud of dust and smoke billowed at the foot of the mountain. From the black-and-red haze, the first flesh giant roared as it charged forth. Like a mythic harbinger of doom punishing mortals, it swung its grotesque arms and shouted blasphemies. It barreled through the minefield, fueled by explosions that launched it into the air. Then it split into over twenty pieces, scattering evenly on the ground—only to be crushed into pulp by those who followed.

The camp’s soldiers watched wide-eyed as the first monster completed its brief but dramatic debut: roaring, fearless charge, on-the-spot explosion, spiraling ascent, demonic disintegration, and a fierce love for this land all in a matter of seconds. They instinctively tightened their grip on swords and held their breath—but suddenly felt a bit awkward.

Except for those who had helped Rebecca and Hetty test the explosives, ninety-nine percent of the soldiers had no idea the wooden boxes they’d buried held such devastating power.

But this was only the beginning.

A rolling cloud of dust surged from the pass, stirred up by the chain of explosions along the mountain path. Mixed within were fragments of chaotic mana released by the mutants. From the swirling haze emerged countless shredded flesh giants.

Gawain quickly realized that while blowing up enemies with mines was exhilarating, the fact that these were mindless brutes seriously diminished the experience. These mutants were like a leaderless swarm of insects, blindly fixated on food. They charged headlong into the minefield, ascending in all sorts of contorted poses amid earth-shaking blasts, falling back down in random numbers and directions. Yet they showed no fear, pressing forward relentlessly, with new monsters continuously emerging from the pass.

Some wounded mutants, even severed in half, stubbornly crawled toward the camp with their remaining limbs.

This wouldn’t boost morale—it might terrify many instead.

Fear could blind people to the fact that the monsters’ numbers had been drastically reduced.

Gawain felt he should do something, but before he could act, Sir Byron burst into hearty laughter.

The grizzled, mercenary-turned-knight jabbed his sword at the blasted, broken, crawling mutants, laughing until he was out of breath. “These things are so dumb and weak! Look at them, dazed and crawling around after getting blown up… Ha! Half of them don’t even make it halfway before their own kind tramples them into meat paste! How the hell did we ever get scared of these things?! Ha ha!”

Byron’s tone dripped with contempt as he nudged Sir Philip’s shoulder. “What do you think, Sir Philip?”

Lowering his voice, he added, “Damn, it’s embarrassing to be the only one laughing.”

Sir Philip straightened up, wearing a stern, righteous expression as he replied, “A knight should not mock the weak. Their pitiful state is only because we wield the wisdom of our ancestors.”

The soldiers, already infected by Byron’s laughter, found Philip’s solemn words resonated deeply. The earlier unease quickly faded. Watching the monsters continuously charge out only to be blown sky-high, their fear gradually ebbed.

Some even felt like laughing.

Gawain stared, dumbfounded, at the two knights beside him. This land truly hid hidden talents. Both knights were remarkable—especially Philip, who usually seemed so serious and upright, yet turned out to be a perfect straight man.

Philip himself was oblivious to all this.

He had already gripped his sword tightly and stepped forward.

Based on his knowledge of the minefield, he judged that not all the monsters would be destroyed by the explosions—at least a few dozen would break through. The real close-quarters battle was imminent.

Gawain made the same assessment, raising his longsword and shouting orders to the soldiers: “Don’t celebrate until all these freaks are dead! Everyone, ready your swords!”

A cold gleam of steel rose. Under the setting sun’s fading light, the soldiers’ armor and weapons shimmered faintly.

Enchanted arms and armor stood out vividly to the mutants’ eyes.

The first mutant to stumble out of the minefield staggered to the front. It raised its remaining half-arm to the sky, emitting a chaotic roar from its chest, then charged forward.

“Stand and fight!”

(End of chapter)