Chapter 125: Chapter 125: Silver Rain on Lamping Hill

​The rhythmic, metallic clatter of spent shell casings hitting the rocky ground sounded like a monotonous melody of death. At the crest of the hill, Dayat stood as a solitary silhouette against the bruised purple of the fading dawn, gripping his HK416-Adamantite with a white-knuckled intensity. Behind him, the figures of the Lamping villagers, led by Lunethra and Kancil, had finally vanished into the dense, protective embrace of the Eastern forest.

​He was truly alone now. His only companion was Dola—an assistant who looked more like an angel of death in her white, tattered robes fluttering violently against the biting wind.

​[Master, the second-tier cavalry units are beginning to execute a Phalanx-Arcane formation,] Dola reported, her voice as clear and cold as a winter stream. [They are no longer attacking in a chaotic frenzy. The enemy’s tactical adaptation rate has increased by 40% following the initial firearm contact.]

​Dayat offered no verbal response. He simply adjusted his sight, leaning his body into the recoil-absorbing stance. Down below, thousands of Verdia Paladins were surging forward. The ones in the vanguard were merely light infantry—conscripts and front-line fodder sacrificed to drain the defender’s energy and ammunition. However, even a “weak” Verdia soldier was a lethal threat to any ordinary human, possessing speed and strength honed by decades of mana-cultivation.

​”Dola, how much Mana remains within the Silver Thorn’s atomic structure?” Dayat asked quietly. His voice was a raspy whisper, as if every word had to crawl through a throat lined with jagged glass.

​[Adamantite Mana reserves within the residual Silver Thorn molecules are at 82%, Master. The Hybrid-Fusion protocol on the HK416 is functioning within peak efficiency parameters because we are utilizing the blade’s internal energy reservoir rather than your own Mana circuits,] Dola replied.

​Dayat nodded, feeling the cold, ancient hum of the energy vibrating through the grip of his weapon into his forearms. It wasn’t pain, but a strange, alien presence—an echo of a hero’s blade he had dismantled to create a tool of mass slaughter. The irony was not lost on him.

​”Good. Because I have no intention of holding back anymore. If they want a monster, I will give them one that will haunt their chronicles for a millennium.”

​From the valley below, a booming command of magic-amplified authority echoed across the slopes. “Archers! Rain the Aura-Piercing Arrows upon that hill! Give him no room to breathe! Smother his heresy in light!”

​In an instant, the sky—already brightening with the first touch of the sun—was blotted out by thousands of shimmering yellow dots. The Verdia Paladins were not mere soldiers; they were combat-mages of the highest caliber. Each arrow they released carried not just a sharpened iron tip, but a pressurized atmospheric envelope capable of rupturing internal organs upon impact.

​”Dola!”

​[Understood. Activating Shield: Hexagonal Expansion.]

​Dola stepped in front of Dayat, her arms extended wide like a priestess invoking a deity. In front of her, thousands of translucent, hexagonal energy plates materialized, interlocking to form a massive, shimmering dome. As the thousands of mana-arrows slammed into the barrier, a continuous, deafening roar of explosions erupted. Yellow light and violet energy collided in a chaotic display, creating shockwaves that stripped the leaves from the surrounding trees and cracked the very stones beneath Dayat’s feet.

​”They’re adapting quickly,” Dayat muttered, peering through his optic at the line of war-mages standing behind the cavalry. “They’re shifting their Mana frequencies to find the resonant point that will shatter your shield.”

​[Indeed, Master. They are a race that has lived for centuries. Their military strategy is mature and deeply rooted in the logic of war,] Dola replied. Her eyes began to flicker with unstable violet binary code. [This shield is placing a significant strain on my internal cooling systems. I suggest an immediate counter-offensive to disrupt their casting sequence.]

​Dayat squeezed the trigger. TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!

​The Adamantite-reinforced barrel spat out streaks of silver lightning. The bullets sliced through the rain of arrows, hurtling toward the mages’ position. However, the result was different this time. The mages had layered their personal barriers with a thickened Mana-Coating. While Dayat’s bullets still penetrated, their momentum was drastically sapped, merely wounding shoulders or limbs rather than delivering the instant, terminal results of his previous volleys.

​”Tch,” Dayat cursed, slamming a fresh magazine home. “They’re hardening the air density around the projectile trajectories.”

​Below the hill, General Haelir let out a cold, mocking laugh as he swung his blade of light. “Do you see that, human?! Your strange metal toys are useless once we comprehend their patterns! You are but two souls standing against a boundless ocean of light!”

​Haelir turned to an officer beside him—a new figure clad in dark plate armor with sharp, silver accents. This was Vanguard Eden, a knight infamous for his bloodlust and pathological hatred for the human race.

​”Eden, take the Iron-Oak battalion to the right flank. Pin him down. Governor Caelistra is preparing the Great Sealing Ritual in the rear. We only need to buy time,” Haelir commanded.

​”With pleasure, General,” Eden replied with a predatory grin. “I will bring you his head before the sun fully clears the horizon.”

​Dayat caught the movement on his right flank through Dola’s tactical feed. “Dola, they’re trying to flank us. How much Mana do we need for the M134 Minigun Sentry unit?”

​[Mana consumption will spike exponentially, Master. If you manifest it now, the Adamantite structure of the Silver Thorn will be depleted in less than five minutes of sustained fire. Given the enemy count is still in the thousands, this is a high-risk strategy,] Dola warned.

​”We have no choice!” Dayat gritted his teeth, his jaw aching from the tension. “If they reach this summit, the villagers will be caught like sheep in a pen.”

​Dayat slammed his hand against the earth. A violent burst of violet binary light exploded from his palm, accompanied by sparks of green electricity from the Adamantite Mana. In front of him, a massive, six-barreled machine of cold steel began to materialize. The M134 Minigun Sentry. It was mounted on a mechanical tripod base, controlled automatically by Dola through a direct neural link.

​[Target locked, Master,] Dola’s voice shifted into a flat, mechanical drone that lacked even the ghost of emotion. [Commencing area clearance protocol.]

​VREEEEEEEEEEEEE—!

​The sound of the barrels spinning up was like the roar of a mechanical dragon. A split second later, a torrential storm of Adamantite-coated lead poured down the hillside. Thousands of silver projectiles per minute swept the Verdia infantry lines like a scythe through dry grass.

​The earth on the slopes changed color to a violent crimson in the blink of an eye. Trees were shredded into toothpicks. Even the most reinforced Paladin plate armor was torn into jagged scrap metal. Vanguard Eden, who had been advancing with arrogant confidence, was forced to throw himself backward as his entire squad was leveled in seconds.

​”Fall back! Get behind the Earth-Wall formations!” Haelir screamed, his face turning a ghostly pale.

​The earth-mages immediately struck the ground, invoking thick walls of stone reinforced with Mana. But the minigun’s fire was relentless, a continuous stream of kinetic energy that ground the stone walls into fine dust within moments.

​Dayat stood behind the machine, his hands trembling from the sheer mental load of the synchronization. He watched the scene before him—a slaughter he was perpetrating with his own hands. Yet, there was no satisfaction. Only a cold, numbing void that was freezing his heart.

​”Why won’t you just stop?” Dayat whispered into the wind. “Why do you force me to become this?”

​[Master, the rear ranks are beginning to move,] Dola’s warning broke through his trance. [The Elite Paladins are stepping forward. They are not affected by the psychological intimidation of the firearms. They are synchronizing their Mana for a Total Annihilation strike.]

​Dayat looked into the distance. Behind the broken, bloodied ranks, a group of knights in shimmering gold surcoats appeared. They moved with a terrifying calm, a deliberate pace that spoke of absolute power. The atmospheric pressure around them was different—heavier, more oppressive. They were the Sun-God’s Vanguard, the true core strength of Verdia.

​The soldiers who had died until now were merely pawns. Now, the grandmasters were entering the board.

​[Ammunition reserves are running low, Master,] Dola said. [The minigun barrels are undergoing severe thermal stress. We will not be able to hold them if they execute a synchronized charge.]

​Dayat looked at his weapon, then at Dola. He noticed something that made his heart skip a beat. Dola’s synthetic face was pale, and a trickle of viscous, clear fluid was leaking from her nose—synthetic blood, or perhaps coolant.

​”Dola… are you damaged?” Dayat asked, his voice filled with sudden panic.

​[It is merely a cooling failure, Master. Do not concern yourself with my status. Focus on the host,] Dola replied, though her frame swayed slightly.

​The battle had just entered its true, horrific phase. Dayat realized a painful truth: no matter how much Earth technology he brought to bear, facing thousands of elites from a world of high magic alone was a tragic impossibility. He could kill a hundred, a thousand, but Verdia had a bottomless stock of lives to sacrifice for their “righteousness.”

​”So, this is the limit?” Dayat let out a bitter, final smile. “You really want me to be a monster, don’t you? You won’t be satisfied until I burn it all down.”

​Across the field, General Haelir raised his hand. The light at the tip of his blade was no longer yellow; it was a blinding, pure white—the telltale sign of a wide-scale annihilation spell.

​”Die along with your sins, Harbinger of Calamity!” Haelir roared.

​Dayat stood still, letting the dawn wind whip across his face—a face that had now lost every trace of its former humanity. On that hill, the final line was being tested, and the scent of death was about to become an unbearable stench.

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