Chapter 585 - All-Out War (3)
A succession of moves striking at the unguarded.
The Black Hour advanced like a slow tide, and before long, it had crept in.
The destruction of the unofficial laboratory that researched the spiritual realm, and the luring and elimination of Omar Boldrak by making use of Rayshen Tailroad—those must have been omens.
Too many things did not make sense logically. The conviction that no secrets could possibly have leaked out only made it more so.
Yet, there was the precise strike against the command center where the national brainwashing plan was being carried out, and the raid on the unofficial laboratory at the northern border.
And then, the sudden loss of contact with the Array of Spectrum, barely after they had departed.
...It had to be acknowledged.
'Information about Coercion has been exposed. All of it.'
Even the countermeasures against Coercion must have been discovered.
They had nullified the coercive force and extracted every kind of information through Rayshen, a key internal figure of the magic tower, and the elders of Itium.
It was a hard-to-believe hypothesis, but... if so, then it explained the origins of the attacks currently being unleashed upon the Bohemirn magic tower.
'And moreover, the assaults were launched across the entire continent, simultaneously.'
Swift, and coordinated.
There was no doubt they were actively utilizing multiple magical means of long-distance communication, along with numerous teleportation arrays.
"Hah."
Balrog exhaled once, then suddenly shook his shoulders. In the still silence, laughter began to echo.
Everyone's faces stiffened.
For although the corners of the tower master's lips curved, his eyes did not smile at all.
A chilling voice soon pierced their ears.
"They underestimated us."
Balrog walked toward the window.
"Amwol Dahit Wethroel. That usurper bastard was far too underestimated."
As 7th-rank transcendents, they had both achieved equivalent realms, yet their backgrounds were different.
No matter that the Black Hour was classified as a transcendent force, there still existed a gap that could not be bridged with the Bohemirn magic tower.
So much so that a total war could not even be established.
And yet the war dragged on, and still the Black Hour had not been crushed───solely because of the 'Great Hall' built by the eight original members.
That place could not be observed from the outside unless one followed certain procedures, procedures known only to the Black Hour's leadership.
Furthermore, the Great Hall used artificial artifacts engraved with ancient artifact functions to spatially block intrusion from the outside.
The moment observation was attempted, the internal spatial coordinates would shift.
It was no exaggeration to call it an inviolable fortress.
Yet, it was not without a way.
Balrog halted his steps.
"Angelo."
"Yes, tower master."
"The Black Hour thwarted my plan with the mental brainwashing test subjects, so naturally they must also have caught wind of Sandir Paen's existence. They would never leave him alone, nor exclude him from their plans. You will go and directly guide Sandir."
Unexpectedly, teleportation arrays had been severed, but Balrog had a staff connected to the Coercion branded into Sandir.
The only controller whose range Balrog himself had magically refined three whole times, expanded to cover nearly a fifth of the Western Continent.
The command had already been given.
The Array of Spectrum, dispatched to the northern border, was to slaughter every enemy they encountered on their way.
And here, Balrog laid down one more move.
"You mean, to aid a transcendent?"
"That's right. If a trap truly exists and Sandir Paen falls into their scheme, then you strike, ambush the enemy's rear, and annihilate them. Should it go as planned, the Black Hour's loss in power will be no less than Itium's. That would strike Wethroel at his sorest point."
Common sense dictated that sending reinforcements to a transcendent was folly. Overkill. All the more so if that reinforcement was the magic tower's highest elder.
Strategically, it would be a hundred, a thousand times wiser to focus elsewhere.
Truly, it was a daring choice.
There was no further objection.
Angelo received from Balrog the staff of Coercion, pointing toward Sandir's direction.
"I shall obey."
From the uppermost floor of the Bohemirn magic tower, Balrog stretched his arm out toward the window.
From the magic circle manifested high above the ground, strong ripples of power poured forth. A magical corridor connected to the far end of the central-western region of the Western Continent.
It was the closest possible place to the northern region of the Western Continent, where teleportation had been blocked.
Whoosh.
Angelo immediately leapt from the tower, casting
As he opened the mana of lightning-bonds, his entire body was wrapped in lightning, and in the instant thunder boomed and lightning flashed, he vanished beyond the magic circle.
Excluding teleportation, no one in the Bohemirn magic tower could move faster by magic than Angelo, not even Balrog.
It was now time to make the next move.
"Tilon, and Crodon. You will take command of the Saturation of Jinche. Select only mid-class or larger airships with durability as the priority."
"The Saturation of Jinche... where shall we go, master?"
"To the Black Hour's stronghold."
...!
If it could not be entered through three dimensions, then it would be reached via the fourth. Just like when they had infiltrated the Lepraegium magic tower.
Yet there were two problems.
First, Balrog himself could not act directly.
He had to keep a close watch on Amwol at the front and respond actively. In the end, the most dangerous variable in the Black Hour was the transcendent.
Second, the moment one entered the fourth coordinate, an unprecedented pressure would engulf them. It was burdensome even to transcendents, let alone others.
Ordinary mages would be crushed, and even if airships were used to prevent that, anything short of the highest tier would be sunk.
Even if they reached the destination safely, the damage would be immense.
The astronomical cost of repairing the strategic weapons into which the Bohemirn magic tower had poured all its capital and technology would be inevitable.
Nevertheless.
Give flesh, take bone.
"March on the Great Hall."
The moment Balrog made his decision, Crodon's lips twisted into a grin.
***
Including those who had returned after slaughtering mages of the Bohemirn magic tower in five small nations, the forces waiting in the Great Hall began to stir.
Fully armed, they moved through the subterranean corridors.
"Genuine Sandir Paen. At last, it is time to face a powerhouse of the past age. How strange. It seems that in old age I encounter more new things than I ever did in youth. Don't you think so?"
"That is the world of magic. One never knows when or where something will happen."
"Heeehm, if it weren't for the need to keep this confidential, it would make the perfect story to tell my grandchild. A shame indeed."
Osgar Fargon.
Melard Tastienne.
And even Yurgien, the sole highest elder of the Ostea magic tower, who had also been part of the Black Hour's purges.
These three would join Adrian in facing Sandir head-on. A composition considering offense, defense, and support.
Isabella saw them off, handing over potions she had finished only hours before.
"Along with the other enhancement potions, make sure to drink this Lysandro's Fruit Potion with the greenish glow before battle. The professor and I refined it again and again so that sustained recovery power would be activated. Most wounds will heal quickly."
"Thank you. But what is this?"
Osgar pointed to the potion that shimmered faintly in a deep green glow.
"That too is a Lysandro's Fruit Potion, but I've maximized its inherent properties and immediacy. As long as you don't die outright, it can restore your body without any recoil.... However, there's only one, so use it only when absolutely necessary."
It would have been ideal if there were more in number, but unfortunately, this was not something that could be made just because there was time.
A creation painstakingly produced by recycling failed attempts and adding supplementary ingredients.
Yet, it was too ambiguous to be called a true success. After repeated trials and errors, it had come into being by coincidence.
Though its components had been thoroughly analyzed, the central ingredient—Lysandro's Fruit—was too limited to attempt recklessly.
No matter how sparingly used, there was a limit.
To manufacture another of the same quality, months of research would be necessary, perhaps even then uncertain.
Melard nodded.
"Understood. I shall take utmost care in using it."
"Huhuhut, Isabella. As always, you are bold, courageous, beautiful, and talented. I had planned to suggest this later, but it seems I cannot wait. Would you by any chance consider meeting my grandchild?"
"I prefer natural meetings. I'm sorry, but I'll have to decline."
Isabella gently refused Yurgien's proposal. He was sincere, yet it was not a serious recommendation.
The tense atmosphere loosened ever so slightly.
But beside them, Unia's mind did not brighten.
Her face was marked deeply with worry and concern.
"...May I not go as well, Sage?"
Unia carefully tugged at the hem of Melard's robe with her fingertips. The Sage of Wisdom smiled softly and held her hand.
"Unia has a duty given only to Unia. This place needs your strength. Protect not only Ethan, Rebecca, and the Society, but everyone."
Isabella, Unia, Alderneys, Alpha, and the others remaining in the Great Hall would be the force prepared against the movements of the Saturation of Jinche.
And including even the Sage of Protection at the front lines.
The core of the plan was to prevent that mage division from interfering in other battlefields, to sow confusion, and to disperse the leadership forces so they could support the battlefield where Sandir Paen was.
"We will be fine. And so will Cain, certainly."
"Even if Sandir Paen proves stronger than expected, we will not die before you come to aid us. Of course, of course."
Osgar stroked his beard as he added.
A firm declaration imbued with conviction.
At last, Unia's face eased a little as she stepped back.
It was now the moment of imminent departure.
High-order magic.
──────!
An unknown resonance struck.
A ripple of space?
No, it was different. It felt as if the very dimension twisted beyond the level of space, seeping into the Great Hall entire.
[The underground dock of the Great Hall. The epicenter of the phenomenon is confirmed there.]
Alpha, perched on Isabella's shoulder, analyzed the phenomenon.
No sooner had it spoken than Heras of the Society, who was assisting closest at hand, pulling Melard's wheelchair, cast
Arriving first, he raised his gaze.
The Black Hour's dock, built upon a natural cavern's vast hollow, connected to one of the passages leading outward.
Normally, it should have been empty, since eight-tenths of their airships had gone to the northern border.
"...How."
Two large-scale airships and six medium-class airships filled the empty sky. A fleet bearing the emblem of the Bohemirn magic tower.
The Saturation of Jinche.
The magic tower's main mage division, specialized solely in destructive power, including those who wielded high-tier elemental attributes.
Craaaash, Kuuuuung!
One of the medium-class airships collapsed.
Through the heavily damaged hull, corpses lay strewn. The tower's mages' bodies were grotesquely distorted.
The other ships had not sunk, but all were damaged. Their protective barriers flickered and failed.
So unstable they could barely maintain altitude.
Yet the passengers inside remained unharmed, both physically and magically.
Bzzzzzzzzzt!
From one of the large airships, a powerful lightning strike shot down and smashed into the ground.
Heras hastily retreated, his vision consumed in white.
"Isabella."
Crodon Olentia stood at the prow, looking down below. And he thought of her, whom the Black Hour had in its grasp.
"I came to save you."
"We have reached the Great Hall! Exterminate the Black Hour! No captives!"
At Tilon Narger's command, Bohemirn tower's internal personnel of the Saturation of Jinche poured out from seven airships.
Verden and Balrog Bessias.
The clash of wits and commands between the two pinnacles of power reached its peak.