Maltiel’s skin and wings, which were slicing through the upper air at several hundred kilometers per hour, were glowing red due to the frictional heat.
The moment Arthur’s barrier that was spread out over Valleland was lifted, this monstrous creature with pitch-black skin took off to the east without looking back, unleashing its full power. In an instant, the monster had escaped the pitch-black lands of Valleland.
No longer could the blackened lands of Valleland be seen, and now it was flying over an unnamed, tranquil mountain range.
Even though he was several hundred kilometers away from the battlefield, Maltiel remained cautious.
The adversary was that Sword Saint.
There was no possibility of doing what he had done in the past—using his mutants to attack the wounded and keep the Sword Saint tied up. Gridia was by the injured, and given her level as a cleric, the defensive barriers erected by her were insurmountable by just his subordinates.
Raguel probably couldn’t hold out against the Sword Saint for even a minute.
The pursuit has likely already begun, and one of us—either myself or Michael—will fall by the hand of the Sword Saint.
‘It doesn’t matter which of the two survives.’
In Maltiel’s view, Michael was a highly competent Grand Marshal. He had hundreds of high-ranking mages held hostage under him, forcing them to daily study magic, thereby thoroughly uncovering various weaknesses in it.
Though he might lack in military knowledge and the ability to respond to sudden situations compared to Maltiel, once time passes—40, 50 years—experience would make up for those deficiencies…
“Uaaaaah!”
“Aaaaah…”
Whoosh!
In the corner of Michael’s vision, who was flying with wings spread wide, a mysterious giant golden sphere passed by.
…The identity of the unknown screams was just an additional note.
“…?”
Maltiel couldn’t help but halt his wing flapping out of confusion, unable to comprehend what was happening.
Is it the Sword Saint? No, if the Sword Saint had chosen me, my head would’ve been separated from my body before I could even have this thought.
It’s not the Sword Saint. Then, what was that golden sphere just now…?
“One point. Deficiency. Unity and compression.”
A faint spark burst through the dense trees below.
It traveled through the air, and a chilling sensation slid past the nape of Maltiel’s neck. The sharp survival instincts inherent to a Grand Marshal demanded immediate action.
Following the instincts’ commands, Maltiel immediately accelerated forward by spreading his wings.
“Bolt.”
In the next instant, a brilliant white flash erupted amidst the dense trees.
Electricity, measured in hundreds of millions of volts, extended out from the air, accurately piercing the spot where Maltiel had stood just moments before.
Surrounding air began ionizing; the vast energy of the electricity transmitted immense heat to the surroundings. Soon, warm air currents rose, and following these updrafts, ionized air soared high above.
Maltiel lowered his gaze toward the column of light that rose into the sky. The trees were ablaze, and evaporated water vapor was enveloping the surroundings in a faint mist.
Through the fire, a grey-haired old man appeared. He was wearing a robe covered in mud and holding a large staff in both hands, perfectly embodying the image of a mage.
‘…A quite formidable practitioner, even among 9th Tiers. Magic power is overflowing from his body, and his eyes are colder and more chilling than words like “cold” or “stern” can encapsulate. But…’
Maltiel faintly smiled at the mage below him.
“Seems like the Sword Saint chose Michael.”
In the next moment, Maltiel’s figure disappeared into thin air.
A delayed gust twisted the rising air currents soaring high, and soon the ground where the old mage of Alter was standing was shaken with a huge impact sound.
The surrounding trees were being uprooted, and some were being thrust into the ground covered with fallen leaves.
The toppled trees began rolling downhill along the mountain paths, and the impact caused the floating leaves to be set ablaze upon colliding with other burning trees, turning into ash in no time.
Maltiel’s single step shook the entire mountain.
“… Quite reckless, indeed.”
The grey-haired mage, Alter Heinzel, turned his head toward the Grand Marshal standing beside him with that thought.
The usual Maltiel would not have been so aggressively throwing himself in front of a mage whose nature he had yet to fully identify. Ordinarily, he would identify the mage’s magic, analyze its weaknesses, and craft a strategy to slowly suffocate his opponent.
But the current situation was different from usual.
With the Sword Saint headed towards Michael, it was unclear when he would dispatch his companion and arrive here.
There were risks involved, but they needed to dispose of any mage posing as an obstacle quickly and flee immediately.
“… No bodyguards around the mage. Perhaps they haven’t yet formed their ranks? It seems wiser to press the advantage to maximize chances of success.”
Black light gathered around Maltiel’s clenched fists. The black light coiled around his hands like gloves and began to suck in the light emanating from flames and the sun surrounding it.
Alter Heinzel felt a chilling sensation akin to the presence of a sword blade at his throat, something he hadn’t felt in a long while.
The black light clutched in Maltiel’s hands aimed straight for Alter’s head, consuming everything it touched.
There was less than a second before the giant of the Storm School’s head would be smashed into pieces.
Huuuuu!
Out of thin air, the blaring sound of a horn filled the forest.
*
This was a situation where no plans could exist.
We didn’t even have the minimum luxury of time to strategize anything.
However skilled and experienced our soldiers may be, none of them had the experience of riding a giant golden sphere and flying through the sky at speeds far exceeding 300 kilometers per hour.
Most of the soldiers were just barely managing to hold on to their weapons while tumbling dozens of times mid-air, ensuring they didn’t hurt anyone else.
None of them had thought about how to behave upon encountering Maltiel, except for one individual.
“All rise!”
The golden sphere we were riding in plunged into the mountainside. Broken branches and crushed fallen leaves littered the ground beneath us, and my robes were covered in dirt.
I felt like my stomach was about to flip, and nausea kept rising while I struggled to breathe.
“We must keep Maltiel tied down.”
Alter Heinzel, leaning on a huge staff that matched his stature, descended the slope. Despite this chaos which most soldiers would have difficulty handling even once in their lives, Alter, who is over eighty, was the first to get up.
I felt awe watching Alter Heinzel descend the mountain path. How could someone so advanced in age be so robust?
“Take command.”
Alter glanced at me while descending the mountain path.
His steadfast gaze and eyes were so intense they couldn’t possibly belong to someone over eighty.
The piercing, cold, and powerful gaze induced an inexplicable heart-pounding sensation in anyone who saw it.
“I’ll act as the lure, use me as you see fit.”
That was all he left me with.
“…What?”
“One point. Deficiency. Unity and compression.”
Alter took his position atop a fallen tree and raised his staff.
Magic power concentrated at the top of the massive staff and began to transform into bright lightning.
“General, give the order.”
Rex pulled me up by the arm, which was sprawled on the ground.
The sight of the massive staff gathering lightning reignited my frozen thoughts.
“Bolt.”
Leaves burning around Alter were scattered by the wind. In an instant, flames erupted from his staff into the sky again.
The moment I grasped the current situation, lightning erupted from the end of Alter’s staff. Soldiers started rushing down the mountain path to protect the mage.
Then I was reminded of Alter’s words to me.
“I’ll be the bait. Use me as you see fit.”
“Stop!”
Alter clearly communicated his intentions to me.
“All personnel, take cover behind the trees! Draw the Grand Marshal down!”
There was no time for deep considerations. The staff had already emitted lightning, and the Grand Marshal would soon lunge at Alter’s neck.
“…”
The soldiers, who were hastily rushing downhill to guard the mage, immediately halted their steps upon my words, disappearing into the shadows.
Events were already unfolding.
Now, aligning our movements with this old man’s action was the best course.
“Rex, Artifact!”
I didn’t understand why Alter could move so boldly. If I had been slower in regaining awareness by even a second, he would’ve lost his life. His actions felt almost reckless.
Such childishness.
Yeah, it’s somewhat rude to say this about an old man over eighty, but Alter’s actions were brimming with imprudence.
That fiery gaze of his, unafraid of anything, appeared once more in my mind. It didn’t feel like the gaze of an elder in his twilight years who had achieved extraordinary accomplishments, something no one could deny.
‘From here on, it’s improvisation.’
Alter’s role was the drumbeat. He signaled the start of the music with a lively clang of cymbals and anchored the ‘beat,’ setting the rhythm.
Now it’s my turn. Whatever sound I add upon the rhythm he created is entirely up to me. After all, I am the general, and thus the commander of this battlefield.
“All forces, strike all at once with the sound of the horn! Our opponent is the Grand Marshal; do not miss this opportunity!”
I’m not quite sure what kind of music we’ll produce.
It could end up as an unpleasant cacophony, or perhaps an excellent jazz tune might emerge.
One thing is certain: hesitation is forbidden.
Fear and anxiety will only cause us to lose the opportunity. Light stays in its place but briefly, and we must seize it.
There’s no time to question if I truly have the qualities of a general to command these soldiers.
Right now, moving my hand in sync with the drum is all that’s left to choose. Every other choice would be wrong.
Boom!
Subsequently, a monumental shock began shaking the ground beneath my feet. Trees uprooted from somewhere above were tumbling and colliding with others.
Scorching leaves were flying in every direction, and the black light emanating from Maltiel’s hands was moving toward Alter’s head.
“Gets in the way.”
The moment the black fist intended to extinguish the old giant’s head…
Huuuuuu!
The horn sounded its blaring cry.
