Chapter 663: Duke Grant is Weak
Night fell. Beneath the deep swells of dark-elemental particles, a troop clad in heavy armor and wielding mana firearms crept slowly toward the kingdom’s fortress.
The howling cold wind swept the banners on the wall, rattling poles and cloth so that they cried loudly like banshees in each sentry’s ears, adding a sharper, more murderous edge to the already oppressive atmosphere.
A lone moon hung high in the night sky, casting pale light across the frozen earth before the wall. Dark-red blood had already congealed beneath the snow; the silver sheen made it look like flowing red amber.
By Grand Duke Charles’s orders, this assault force will use a light-and-dark hybrid spell, "Polarized Concealment Prism", to hide their forms, closing in on the Grant-held border fort under the cover of moonlight.
The cold night wind grazed the soldiers’ faces; even their lashes collected a thin frost. Footsteps that should have punctuated the snow were perfectly muffled by the wind-magic, unseen by any observer.
Lyra did not wear the Holy Knight Armour; she donned the same standard-issue armor as the men around her. Her soft, cherry-pink hair was tucked between helmet and back armour. At her hip hung a modified Sword of Light altered slightly to hide her identity. She moved with the formation’s pace, inching toward the objective.
Astrid’s message delivered into the fortress during the day had been both a probe and a diversion, meant to dull Duke Grant’s vigilance.
It was unlikely the duke would imagine that the imperial regent who’d expressed friendly intent
that morning and even offered talks would at night marshal a large force for a surprise attack.
Since the Valeria Empire began strengthening toward Liya Tower Fortress, Grant’s nerves had been taut, but even the most vigilant man let his guard drop for a moment after prolonged pressure.
Now was the most likely such moment.
Seeing the flames lit on the wall in the distance, Lyra pursed her lips, slowly slowing her breath so not a wisp of white fog would betray her.
Like her, the formation soldiers, rigorously trained, kept strict discipline. In the cold night they flowed like a great silver serpent in the snow, slow and silent.
They were about to enter the detection range. Unusual activity among elemental particles will soon be picked up by mage-tier sentinels; advancing further would become disadvantageous. Lyra relayed a hush-voice through the formation, ordering everyone to ready their defenses.
"Hold up mana shields first. Advance in stages with defensive magic."
She drew her cavalry sword; the blade’s slide from the scabbard was carried backward on the wind. Her once-soft blue eyes were now resolute and bright.
"Execute the original plan. Use mana air ships to shatter the magical runes on the wall’s surface. When the defenders’ counter-arrays break, attempt to scale the ramparts."
It was the most reliable method and minimized troop casualties, though it would slow the siege.
Having given the final command, Lyra began to sharpen the sword. Tangible mental-force congealed on the blade, whipping up winds like razor edges.
She inhaled cold air, feeling it filled her lungs, and accepted that who knew how many living beings might soon perish beneath the immaculate Sword of Light. Her mood darkened, but she did not stop amassing blade-energy.
If misconduct goes unjudged, more will surely follow.
In the next instant, the gathered sword-qi burst forth. The impact surged forward with the wind, a keen cutting front like scissors able to shear the world, instantly severing banners and lamps from the wall.
Before the garrison could react, their fragile defensive array was struck. Lyra had deliberately suppressed her power to the peak of a Master Knight; the blow landed like cutting butter, no sound, no cry, just erased life itself.
Simultaneously, the siege troops who watched the blade withdraw the Polarized Concealment Prism. Several ornate mana shields inscribed with runes were set on the snow and aligned in a horizontal front. Leaning on those shields, the troops pushed forward slowly as long-barreled mana firearms protruded, bombarding the wall.
Even a sluggish garrison realized they were under attack. Bright illumination spells flared from the parapet, lighting the foot of the wall and warning every soldier nearby, someone was attacking the ramparts.
"Enemy assault! Inform the duke!"
"What are you doing? Hurry, hurry, they’re almost over!"
"Protect the wall! Don’t let the defensive array fail, or we’re done for!"
Chaotic shouts rattled the battlements. The gunfire’s sparks cast the waking terror across faces that had just jolted out of stupor.
"Get the sappers up here with the rolling stones, don’t let the runes be completely worn, "
Before the words finished, the centurion commanding the defense was cut off by a piercing blade of spirit-force that penetrated his ward and slit his throat. Hot blood sprayed like a bursting sluice, staining white stones crimson. The unfinished sentence choked into a gurgle; for a moment there was no sound at all.
Those who remained hadn’t even time to scream when a silver-clad knight, gender indistinguishable under solid helm and gleaming armor, mounted the parapet.
Hearing the whistling wind, Lyra did not hesitate. She tightened her grip, spun into a rounded blade dance, and in a single breath ended the lives of those men who had seen her on the wall.
Then she moved to the other side.
With boots barely touching the stone, Lyra, aided by wind-elemental enhancements, moved like a specter. The pale steel flashed coldly in moonlight; each sweep left hazy trails of light, the last colors the dying defenders saw.
Lyra’s appearance tore a gap in the Kingdom of Velys’s defense line. She twisted her holy white longsword; blood sprayed from the blade and did not cling, each maneuver leaving the parapet slick, little blooms of red in the snow like plum flowers opening.
Noticing the slaughter by the first climber, the defenders flapped their spirit-wings and launched a decisive counter at Lyra.
She glimpsed above that something bore heavy down to strike her. Lyra sidestepped, so quickly the afterimage clung to the retina.
The next moment, the heavy impact smashed where she had just stood, stone exploded, split into tortoise-shell fractures.
She hadn’t even done anything, yet how had the wall been torn like that?
Thoughts flickered. Lyra steadied herself and watched the approaching figure through the slit of her helmet.
He gripped a massive warhammer, his frame hulking, clad in reinforced plate over leather to blunt penetrating blows.
Compared with blades, this kind of blunt, weighty weapon poses a far greater threat to Lyra.
Without summoning the holy plate, ordinary armor couldn’t withstand a full-powered strike. Had she not sidestepped that blow, had she tried to take it on with strengthened physique, she would now be shaken internally, suffering a significant loss of combat capability.
For the sake of the campaign, she avoids using spells beyond the summit of a master magus; even her bodily enhancements stayed within executive-grade. Otherwise, the hulking man wielding the warhammer would have been killed by Lyra in a second.
"The regent commands: surrenderers are not to be killed."
An arcane-forged voice sounded through Lyra’s helmet, its genderless tone barely distinguishable. If possible, Lyra preferred not to slaughter many soldiers; most were simply following orders and had no idea what they were fighting for.
The burly man, broad-shouldered, barrel-chested, picked up his hammer and looked at the slender silver knight before him with no hint of disdain.
"If she won’t even show her face, how am I to trust her?" His voice was low; spirit-force swathed his body.
Though the figure standing before him appeared small, the cold, murderous presence and blood-stained armor responsible for countless deaths made it clear that this lone infiltrator, who had opened the gate for the Valerian Empire’s forces, was far from an ordinary enemy.
Despite possessing power comparable to that of a peak Master Knight, he still sensed that his opponent’s strength was immeasurable, with no discernible limits.
Receiving the officer’s reply, Lyra did not remove her helmet nor cancel the arcanic voice that masked her. She quietly pointed her blade at him.
She was merely offering a choice, willingness to yield in person. After so many wars, Lyra was no fool; she wouldn’t rush to reveal sincerity on a single spoken assurance.
Every second on the battlefield carries risk. That brief parley had been her last scrap of personal mercy. If refused, there was no alternative to fight.
The white tip of her sword flared into flame. A wave of heat passed across the field; in less than half a second’s chant, Lyra had enchanted the Sword of Light with fire.
Her highest elemental affinity was an outlier-level light element, but she also had excellent affinity for fire. While minimizing light magic, she could temporarily forsake the Light Knight’s usual fighting style and shift into a flame-sword warrior.
The searing fire formed a pillar of wind that followed the blade’s arc.
In an instant Lyra reached the officer. The fire-infused Sword of Light sliced across the man’s neck.
At the wall’s foot, the Valeria assault force had entered full siege mode; Plasma bombs were being lobbed upward to clear defenders from the parapet.
Violent surges of lightning-elemental activity battered the defensive array. The arcane factors that kept the wards in order were thrown into chaos by intense particle collisions. Once the array’s composition loses its coherence, the entire shield protecting the garrison will collapse.
"No good, ordinary arrows do nothing... They’re climbing, "
"Enchanted bolts don’t work either. Those shields are strange, there’s some array blocking elemental particles, and they can discharge electricity."
"Then use rolling stones. Crush them."
Compared arrows, stones were indeed more effective, but only marginally compared under these evolved conditions.
Before the battle, Grand Duke Charles had meticulously arranged the formation. Mages capable of countering were placed in the third and fourth ranks to unravel enemy magic.
Huge boulders dropped from the wall, briefly slowed the attackers, but as the defensive array began to fail, the space through which mages could channel spirit-force expanded.
Just as the soldiers tried to heave stones down, the garrison’s mages preempted them: under earth-element magic, the once-solid rock turned into granules of metal and powder, most clattered off helmets, the rest scattered to the ground.
Soon the Kingdom of Velys realized a dire problem: they simply had no effective answer to the attackers below.
The specially made shields could absorb heavy magic bars; their physical strength blunted arrows. Their mana firearms could steadily weaken the wall’s defenses. Velys’s defensive options dwindled into a vicious circle where attempts to break free only pulled them deeper.
The hardest nut to crack is the shield array, destroying it requires massive mana output, ie, many spellcasters capable of destructive elemental magic. Velys’s proud infantry quality now seemed fragile before the Valeria Empire’s advanced military kit.
No matter how many mages you had, could they match replaceable weaponry?
"Pour hot oil down on them."
"But... that will damage the wall and accelerate the array’s collapse, "
"Better that than having them climb up and stab you."
Reluctantly, the officers ordered combustible liquids and solidifiers, lamp oil and tar, to be tipped down and set aflame.
Yet in the next moment, the soldiers near the wall felt a thin layer of ice form outside their armor. Ice and fire met, and the expected scalding heat failed to touch skin.
From the rear, Astrid scanned the frontline with mental-force. The deep-blue brooch pinned to her bodice gleamed faintly as she continuously manipulated dense ice-elemental particles in the air to enchant their troops.
In the far north wastes, ice elements were the most abundant of all.
On the wall, Lyra stood backlit, having already severed one of the hammer-man’s arms. Seeing him try to strike again, she beat her wings of spirit-force to accelerate the Sword of Light and charged.
The searing flames mixed with cold blade-light. Another life was cleanly ended by the sword.
Feeling her arm ache slightly, Lyra lifted back and was relieved to see others had climbed the wall as well.
Unlike the expected tug-of-war, tonight’s assault occurs approximately smoothly.
The Kingdom of Velys... no, Duke Grant...
Was his foundation really so frail?