Mage? Magic Engineer!

A scorching wind once again lashed their faces, blowing out from the dark, dilapidated ruins to carve out a corner of Hell on the Prime Material Realm.

The world had dissolved into a vast, hazy expanse, bleached of color by the winter day. Ash and dust masked the bright hues of the blue, white, and red uniforms, while the gray uniforms grew even filthier and darker. The only vibrant red belonged to the monsters, whose unnatural Vitality propelled their budding, fleshy masses toward the truly living.

Both the Empire Army and the National Guard had Casters present, so it wasn’t that they lacked the means to deal with the advancing monsters. But the entire environment was deteriorating. An indescribable, opaque white miasma enveloped the battlefield and the city, and worse still, it seemed a second rain of ash was brewing.

At the edge of the ruins on the south bank, the two armies, once locked in battle, finally called a truce, turning their weapons on a common, non-human enemy. For the common soldiers, their guns did little more than slow the undead monsters’ assault. Perhaps more importantly, the act of firing provided a sliver of comfort, helping them maintain their slowly retreating formation and preventing a full-blown rout.

Against these inhuman creatures of budding flesh, it was the Mages who were truly effective.

Pascal never imagined he’d be fighting side-by-side with a Caster from the Empire, and one from the Royal Magic Academy at that. ’Wait,’ he thought, ’isn’t my junior brother one of them too...?’

"Hey, don’t lose focus." The Military Mage, who hadn’t introduced himself, blocked a monster’s attack for Pascal. With an embarrassed smile, Pascal retaliated, blasting a monster that had drawn near with a Missile.

The target Pascal had hit was sent crashing into a wall, but the lump of flesh quickly scrambled back to its feet.

Pascal immediately switched tactics. Chanting in a low voice, he flung two balls of lightning at the fleshy creature. The monster convulsed on contact, and as snake-like tendrils of electricity coursed over its body, it quickly dissolved into a crimson, putrid mess.

"What was that spell?"

"Electric Explosion Magic Ball," Pascal answered instinctively.

The Empire’s Military Mage immediately used his Radio Communication Skill to report, "Electric Explosion Magic Ball is effective. Magic Missile is ineffective..." He repeated the message on the open channel and then received more information in return.

Relaying what he’d learned from the others, he told Pascal, "Certain Necromancy spells work, like Apoptosis Ray. Don’t use any healing-type magic on these things. It’ll cause the flesh to explode and spread."

’Who would attack with a healing spell?’ Pascal wondered. But he quickly understood. "Someone must have mistaken them for undead."

"Exactly. But they aren’t undead. At least, not any normal type of undead creature." The Military Mage was multitasking on three fronts: while conversing with Pascal, he kept a vigilant watch on their surroundings and, with a series of swift hand signs, unleashed a bolt of lightning—he didn’t know Electric Explosion Magic Ball, but he was quick to adapt. Simultaneously, the Caster summarized this new finding and immediately reported it on the open channel:

"All Thunder-related Magic can inflict damage, but the current must pass through the target’s entire body. A partial effect will result in paralysis. Be advised, weaker currents will only paralyze. You must confirm the kill! I repeat, confirm the kill!"

He practiced what he preached, finishing off a sprawled pile of fleshy ooze with a Fireball.

"Don’t they have a resistance to fire?" Pascal didn’t understand his temporary comrade’s tactic.

"Experience shows that as long as you ensure they’re ’fully cooked,’ they can’t regenerate or split." The monsters in their immediate vicinity had been mostly cleared, but Pascal noticed a disturbing detail:

The Military Mage’s definition of "fully cooked" meant carbonizing the fleshy ooze completely and utterly. However, as the red glow faded from the charred remains, traces of white ash appeared, peeling away from the cinders and drifting up into the sky.

Pascal didn’t know if this was happening all over the area. He didn’t know if this ash was the culprit behind the thickening white miasma. And he didn’t know if it would herald another rain of ash, bringing with it more monsters and annihilation.

Each of these three possibilities was more terrifying than the last, and a chill crept into his heart.

Of course, the other Casters had noticed the situation as well. As the number of monsters charging the armies on the south bank began to dwindle, Paul gathered a group of Mages to perform a large-scale ritual. They summoned wind and rain, attempting to prevent a second rain of ash from falling. The Empire’s Military Mages even dispatched some of their own to assist. However, most people were more concerned about the situation on the north bank.

The command posts were on the north bank, along with more residential districts.

This made their next move extremely delicate. Both sides had ceased hostilities to fend off the monsters encroaching on their positions from the south bank, but what about the city districts on the north bank?

"We don’t have enough personnel. We should request assistance."

"Request assistance? We were trying to kill each other just a few hours ago! How can you be so naive..."

"They fought their way here. It’ll be easy to invite them to the north bank, but getting them to leave will be another story."

A debate erupted on the Military Mages’ open communication channel, while the Valois and Empire soldiers broke into direct arguments.

Initially, most of the Valois just wanted to be rid of these wretched things and get as far away from this godsforsaken place as possible. But what truly set them off was suspicion and doubt. Starting with the soldiers, nearly everyone began accusing the other side of having caused the catastrophe.

If both sides hadn’t suffered such heavy losses in the disaster, they wouldn’t even be arguing—the guns they had just lowered would have already been raised again.

But it seemed that point was fast approaching. The Empire Army wanted to fall back to reinforce the districts on the north bank but feared the National Guard would attack them as they did.

The National Guard was also eager to retreat, but they were resentful and apprehensive, fearing the Empire Army would pursue them relentlessly if they tried.

After all, there was no safe distance between them anymore. With the immediate external threat seemingly repelled, the two groups of soldiers stood together, ready to start a second battle at a moment’s notice—be it at long, medium, or close range. For now, at least, they had resorted to slinging insults and blaming each other for the catastrophe.

"More people are coming! It’s Imperial reinforcements!"

A dark shape appeared on the vast, white horizon, growing steadily larger and darker. As it drew near, it resolved into a large, gray-clad army. Unusually, its commander rode far ahead of the main formation, a clear sign that this force had not come to fight the Valois.

The leader was Major General Richard. He urged his mount into a gallop, then a full charge, leading the way alone.

As he neared the city’s edge, more monsters suddenly erupted from the ground. Tendrils and spikes of rapidly coalescing flesh shot out, trying to intercept, touch, and devour the rider.

Richard remained perfectly composed. He raised a hand, gathering a bolt of pure thunder. The stray arcs of electricity crackling through the air were enough to keep the monsters at bay. With a flick of his wrist, he hurled it forward like a Divine Spirit’s spear, clearing a safe path with a trail of sparks and lightning.

"Fucking hell, that was cool," Pascal couldn’t help but curse.

’He went straight for Thunder Magic... Could the Major General have been monitoring our mages’ open channel this entire time?’ The Military Mage beside Pascal considered the deeper implications. His mind also drifted to...

’The young man on horseback was the epitome of a handsome man by the Empire’s standards. His uniform was perfectly tailored, and his golden hair seemed to shine even in the pale sunlight. But what was truly captivating was his resolute gaze and the sheer composure he displayed while casting...’

’No wonder rumors had been circulating endlessly, from the highest circles of Nobility down to the common city streets, that the new Emperor, William II, and this young Major General who had saved his life shared a "friendship that crossed a line."’

’Pah, what am I thinking about at a critical time like this?’ The Military Mage mentally chastised himself and refocused. Pascal, oblivious to his temporary comrade’s sordid train of thought, kept his attention completely fixed on the Imperial commander galloping toward them.

"My apologies for being late." Richard pulled his reins tight, swung himself off his horse, and gave a slight bow to the soldiers of both armies—friend and foe alike.