Chapter 230: Have His Back

December 22nd, 625

The first day passed about how I expected it would. 

After dawn broke, the monsters came in full force. We were constantly attacked as we traveled down our retreat path and our numbers started dwindling sooner rather than later. The generals seemed to care little for their troops. There were no meaningful maneuvers made that might suggest putting up a fight. 

They just sacrificed several thousand more knights and warlocks to the clutches of the Scourge before continuing on their way. 

The first day led to the first night and after the Steeds ran out of juice we were forced to stop our retreat and rest. We had grouped with the first retreat wave after catching up to them, but neither of our groups had anything close to their original number. 

What was initially around 15 thousand troops in the first wave was now a measly 6 thousand, and our original 30 thousand strong second wave had been reduced to 19 thousand. 

We had a grand total of 25 thousand troops that stopped to camp and rest. Everyone was as tired as the Steeds. 

I naturally had to be among those who rested. I hadn’t gotten good sleep the day before so when night finally came I was exhausted. Only my Psyka had managed to keep me going for so long but even that had been drained. 

I went to sleep with Umara in our tent right beside our two Steeds, forming a small group amidst thousands. Various temporary facilities had been set up all around, which meant we’d likely be here longer than was advisable. 

Unfortunately I wasn’t destined to get any good sleep, because after only 4 hours I woke up to the incoming sounds of explosions. 

My eyes snapped open a few seconds before something came flying in and slammed into the middle of the camp. 

I recognized the Authority 10 Aura before it was snuffed out, dead. 

Umara woke up in my arms, the two of us sitting up for a few seconds as we felt the incoming tide of humans and monsters, screams coming from a mile or two away. 

The dots connected in my head, and I scowled. 

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“What?”

“Those are Treehouse troops. They’re retreating just as we are. Which would be fine and all, except now they’re bringing the monster tide on their ass over here.”

I got up, already dressed since I wasn’t stupid enough to go without protection at any point in hostile territory. Umara was the same, her hat appearing on her head as we left the tent and ran to the others. 

Everyone was already awake, Nonnen running over to me. 

“What’s the plan?”

“Evade. If we’re not careful we’ll get hit from both sides and then we won’t be going anywhere. Get everyone in a Steed. If the generals are as smart and cowardly as I know they are, they’ll be running before long. We need to be with them.”

“Copy.”

“Umara.”

I called, turning to my girlfriend.

“Yes?”

“I need to take Feiden, run recon ahead. If you feel like you need to run to keep from getting surrounded, then go. I leave the judgment to you and Nonnen. Just don’t get tied down, stay ahead of the curve.”

“Got it.”

“Stay safe.”

We gave each other a quick kiss before I looked at Feiden. We nodded to each other, my boots activating as I established a telepathic connection with him. 

“Keep up.”

“Right behind you.”

I accelerated, Feiden on my heels as we shot through the camp and left through the front, away from the enemies behind us. 

We sailed down the main path for several minutes before I went offroad and climbed a hill, stealth activated and moving as fast as my boots’ magic could take me. 

I spoke into Feiden’s mind on the way up.

[If they’re coming from anywhere, it’ll be here.]

[Copy.]

I got a quick response right before we crested the hill, looking off into the distance. 

Sure enough, I saw another monster army heading toward us from several miles away. 

“Well shit.”

“We need to get ahead of that.”

Feiden muttered, frowning at the Aura in the distance. I nodded, bringing up my Aerial. 

“Come in, Witch. Give me status.”

“I’m here. Generals are on the move. We’re following.”

“Copy. We have another army coming from the northwest. They’re trying to cut us off.”

“Should we rush?”

I was silent, staring at the army in the distance and comparing it to what we had. 

I ran the simulations in my head. The timing, the combat power, the terrain, the advantages and disadvantages. 

The generals had brought a lot of Brigadiers with them. Besides Nonnen, there had been 11 Brigadiers, all of them exceedingly valuable, even with 4 of them now dead. I didn’t know where our Marshals were but chances were they had escaped as the Treehouse fell, because they didn’t come with us.

I made the judgment.

“Stay with the Generals. We’re gonna be putting in some work today.”

“Roger. It’s chaos back at the camp. About half of the troops were forced to stay behind with the newcomers and fight.”

“How many Brigadiers among them?”

“Two.”

“Just make sure the rest get out. Burn rubber, and I’ll let you know when the army arrives.”

“Copy.”

I set down the Aerial, waving to Feiden. We shifted position, heading to where I believed would be the intercept point. 

Along the way, I saw some Scouts in the area. They were stationed at a distance from each other, always within line of sight of the next. They seemed to form a line all the way to where our forces were coming from. 

A chain of communication. I knew the Scouts were responsible for long range communication but I still wasn’t sure how. I also remembered how I hadn’t seen many lasers from Cyclops Scouts recently. 

Probably because if lasers were emitted properly, and provided no obstructions, it wouldn’t be seen except at the point of impact. So unless I was the one being targeted, I wouldn’t see them. 

Right now, I was the bane of every Scout’s existence precisely because they couldn’t see me and shoot me. It was no wonder then why I hadn’t seen any lasers in recent months. 

And if their communications were transmitted via magic laser, then I wouldn’t notice them unless I intercepted one directly. 

I stashed the theory away and took out a new weapon. 

The Mk 13 Mod 7 was a precision bolt-action sniper rifle with an effective range of 1300 meters. Chambered in 220 grain .300 Winchester Magnum and equipped with a Nightforce Advanced Tactical Riflescope, it was capable of delivering more force at a much greater distance than its predecessor, the M40. 

Enhanced with my Psyka, it would be my most effective distance shooter to date, until I could finally get my hands on the Big One. 

I kneeled down and slotted a magazine in, running the bolt and chambering a round. I looked through the scope, noticing the clarity increase as my Psyka filled it, adjusting the zoom so I could easily acquire my target. 

It only took me a second to get steady, a Scout behind my reticle and standing about 883 meters away. 

The safety came off and I fired, the bullet zipping through the air so fast that it sent a sonic clap through the hills that reverberated all the way toward the army in the distance. 

My target fell, my bullet hitting not quite where I wanted it to. I adjusted the scope while moving, finding a vantage point, a new target, and chambering a fresh round. 

Another Scout fell under the cross and when the trigger snapped back, my bullet sailed exactly where I knew it would. 

Now their line of communication was cut. I noticed the incoming army get active, some Royals dispersing and advancing beyond the pack. 

That was their first and last mistake. 

I looked at Feiden, “Let’s soften them up before our friends get here.”

“Roger.”

“Evade and assassinate. I’ll be over your shoulder.”

“Exciting.”

Feiden smiled and shot off. I repositioned as he went to intercept the army.

I lifted my Aerial while finding another vantage point. 

“Come in, Witch.”

“I’m here.”

“We’re moving to intercept and delay. Continue as you are.”

“Are you sure you don’t want help, Envoy?”

“I’m sure. Save your energy. We’ll need as many big hitters as we can get.”

“Copy. Stay safe.”

I clicked off my Aerial and slid to a halt on my new hilltop, overlooking the entire army. 

Feiden made his presence known as he ran straight toward them. I kept my stealth active while laying down, deploying the bipod on my rifle’s underbarrel and getting settled into the snow underneath me. 

Once in a comfortable position I let out a long breath, scoping in. 

Distance to the front of the army was about 964 meters and shortening as they advanced. It halted at about 890 meters when Feiden made contact. 

I saw him skip over some of the fodder and go for the Royals in the center and rear. They moved to intercept him, and I acquired my first target. 

I streamed as much Psyka as I could into the chambered bullet. I needed to hit fast moving targets from this distance, and to do that my bullets needed to be faster. Even if I couldn’t down them with a single round, I needed to make sure I could guarantee a hit on my targets. 

I warmed up my coat and felt my Crown dilate time. My Crown did more than just amplify my vision. It enhanced my reflexes, gave me greater control over my body, and gave me the ability to slightly dilate time like my coat. It wasn’t to the same degree but it was enough to make a difference especially when I used both. 

Maxwell had definitely put far more into that Crown than I had. I provided a barebones ability. He made it substantial. I was beginning to realize just how much that man had helped me back then. 

I tracked my target with my reticle, following it, using every detail in order to predict its movements. 

60% anticipation, 39% reflex. 

1% Luck.

I timed my breath, slowed my heartbeat, watched Feiden dodge an attack from one Royal, another nearby moving to follow up and stab him in the ribs, only 4.3 feet away. 

I knew he would dodge, I knew which way he would dodge, and I knew how fast. I knew how the Royal would react to his dodge, would compensate for hitting air. I knew it wasn’t really putting its full force behind the attack. They saw how Feiden was fast. I knew their evaluation of him, and so I knew their plan to surround and cut off avenues of escape. Most importantly, I knew how they would adapt to finding out how much faster he was than their initial evaluation. 

The doubt in their probing attack, the confidence in their power and skill, their pride facing a lone enemy. 

I could see it all. 

Both my eyes were wide, and the trigger snapped back with a subconscious twitch. 

The bullet sailed at a scarcely believable speed, making contact with the Royal’s head 0.113 seconds after the trigger pull. The sonic boom was resounding, the bullet having to have traveled at a speed of at least 7965 meters per second in order to cross that distance in that time. I didn’t know the equations for calculating the muzzle velocity and dropoff due to wind resistance, but it should be around 9000 meters per second. 

And it delivered as much force as it should, given the amount of Psyka I dumped into it. 

I saw the devastation it wrought on that Royal’s head while calculating the rate that I could regenerate Psyka and how fast I would let off shots like that, giving myself a plan to handle a good chunk of this force with Feiden without completely draining my spirit. 

And I pulled the bolt, chambering another round, already lining up another target. 

……

Feiden’s eyes widened, watching in slow motion as the Royal beside him, its blade snaking its way to his ribs, had its head explode. The zipping noise came with the exploding flesh, making his neck tingle in danger.

The blood splattered all over him, the force behind the body carrying it predictably, allowing him to easily dodge. 

He used the movement to put some distance between himself and the other Royals, all of them looking at their former kin, the body hitting the floor, already going cold as blood spilled over the snow. 

They were all still, and then the sound came. 

A sharp explosion that cracked through the hills. Feiden chuckled incredulously. That projectile had traveled so much faster than the speed of sound that they actually had to wait to hear the shot go off. 

One shot, from somewhere nobody could see, that instantly killed an Authority 9 Royal without any ceremony. Just like that, a high Authority combatant was dead. 

One of the Royals screamed in human tongues. 

“It’s him!”

“That wicked hunter!”

“Hidden angel!”

“The mask of the Owlykat is here! Find-!”

The words of the last Royal were interrupted when another bullet came flying, tearing through its neck and severing its spinal cord. It sagged like a puppet with cut strings, the sound echoing some time later. 

Feiden dodged a sneaky attack, the army bypassing him and heading into the hills in search of John. He didn’t worry, just focusing on the nine other Royals in front of him.

John’s voice came into his mind. 

“I have four more of those shots.”

“Copy.”

“Choose your target.”

Feiden’s head turned when he sensed an incoming Brigadier Class from the back of the army. He’d have to be quick. 

He raised his spear, pointing it to one of the Royals. Then, not even half a second later, another bullet came, killing one of the Royals lunging at him from behind. 

Feiden felt no danger despite having exposed his back to an enemy much more powerful than him, a smile erupting on his face as he dashed toward his target, moving so fast the Royal couldn’t react. 

His spear sailed with a simple thrust, space warping around the blade and compounding off his initial push. It accelerated so fast that his arms were pulled, and before the Royal could comprehend it, the blade was through its face. 

Feiden flicked his hand, the spear sliding out of the head and his legs taking him backwards. 

He sensed three Royals flank him, all of them jumping at him together. He dodged one and blocked the attack of the second. He saw the third send a bolt of poisonous mana toward him from a blindspot. 

A bullet flew straight through the bolt of magic, shattering the spell formation and making it detonate early, barely grazing Feiden. Then the bullet continued on its path straight into the mouth of the Royal he had initially dodged, making it drop limply. 

The explosion reverberated off the hills, and another bullet came and tore through the Royal that cast the bolt. 

Yet another explosion rang. 

“One more shot.”

John’s voice came, Feiden’s smile widening. 

He missed having his friend looking over his shoulder. Even in the middle of an enemy army, in the middle of a life and death retreat, he never felt safer. No knight, short of Vetsmon, could give him the same security. Nobody had his back like John. 

Few could compare to the most dangerous summoner to ever live. 

He continued fighting, the Brigadier Class arriving and forcing him to evade. He used his spatial warping in order to create distance, baiting the Brigadier Class so he could return and attack his original enemies. 

After diving back in he found an enemy, releasing an attack while he flew toward them, the blade of his spear making contact with their neck when he arrived. 

It sliced clean through. An enemy that couldn’t react or block an attack was far more vulnerable. His speed worked on the same principle that gave John his killing power. 

For most, both human and Scourge, survivability and resilience relied on being able to use one’s power to defend themselves, whether with weapon, mobility, or armor. 

Most Royals they faced had little armor, merely equipped with a basic blade, their magic, and some basic gear. It was the King Bloods that always had high quality armor and weapons. 

This meant, if a normal Royal couldn’t dodge or block an attack, concentrated strikes on vitals and gaps in armor were several times more lethal. 

Feiden wasn’t confident in taking on the sheer volume of enemies John could, but he had always known that against a single target, few could match his killing power. 

John was an exception. 

Feiden found another enemy before the Brigadier Class could get to him, feeling his stamina dwindling. Warping space with his Aura took no energy. What taxed him was the repercussions. The strain placed on his bones and ligaments was heavy, and keeping them together sapped at his Vigor. 

He thought, perhaps someone like Vetsmon would thrive with his ability. The undying nature of Vetsmon’s Aura was perfectly suited for handling the strain of warping space around the body. 

But it was known that Aura was monogamous in its path. Feiden wouldn’t be able to develop Vetsmon’s specialty and vice versa. 

But what he could refocus on was how he developed his Vigor. Instead of focusing on speed like before, he could focus on resilience, letting his Aura take on the burden of giving him speed. 

Make Vigor denser, focus it on his tendons and muscles, not to enhance his strength, but to enhance his toughness. 

Let Aura do the work. 

His blade slid through another neck, his body warping to a new location when the Brigadier Class came charging him. He baited it once more, like he had 4 times already, before heading back in. 

He attacked another Royal without so much as a glance at the other Royal right next to his target. He even disregarded when it attacked, focusing on pushing his spear through the heart of his target. 

Because he knew that John’s bullet was already sailing. 

Sure enough, that little projectile went two inches past his head and through the eye socket of the one attacking him from behind. The body recoiled, being thrown back, half the Royal’s head exploding as Feiden’s target vomited bright red blood, its heart in two. 

“Retreat.”

John’s voice came right when the explosion did, Feiden instantly backing out, appearing on top of a hill. 

His breath shuddered a bit as the spatial warping pulled on his body. Traversing longer distances was more difficult, and unfortunately the minimum strain to bear was always high, making many short warps even worse. The toll was high no matter how he did it so the best he could do was moderate, at least until he could advance and improve the density of his Vigor. 

After standing around for a few seconds Feiden swung his spear, releasing a blade of Vigor that bisected all the nearby fodder that had scattered through the hills. They were barely deserving of that much effort. 

While that happened he stared at the Brigadier-Class, dressed in moderate armor. It was seething in rage, unable to catch Feiden no matter what it did. 

Then, John appeared, taking a step toward Feiden’s side, hood over his head and Owlykat mask over his face. 

“Let’s go. I’m running low on juice.”

“Regroup?”

“Mm. It’s nothing the others can’t handle as they move.”

John disappeared with those words, the Brigadier Class lunging over from a distance. Feiden just chuckled at it before vanishing away. 

The two descended the hill and arrived at the path just as the convoy appeared in the distance. They didn’t have to wait long. 

That Brigadier Class pursued, and in response three other Brigadiers from the convoy started sprinting over, Nonnen among them, his speed the greatest.

The Brigadier Class panicked and quickly went the other way but there was no way it could escape. Feiden knew that Brigadiers could lock onto Aura exceptionally well. The only ones who could surpass them were Sovereigns and those who had broken through the Great Barrier. 

Feiden glanced at his Great Barrier on the horizon before looking over as John appeared, no longer having to worry about the enemy. 

He asked a question on his mind. 

“What will you do to break the Great Barrier?”

“That fucking thing? Not a clue. I have a feeling it’s going to take all three Authorities until 10 to answer that question. For now, I just need to focus on getting us out of this alive.”

“We seem to be doing well so far.”

“And there’s a lot that has yet to go wrong.”

Feiden chuckled, “I get what Nonnen was saying about you being pessimistic. Is that a byproduct of your experience as an Intelligence agent?”

“Partially. It’s also partially because I believe in the popular iteration of Murphy’s Law.”

“What’s that?”

“Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. I refuse to place my bets on anything other than the worst, and under those assumptions I strategize. I would generally say it’s a good way to keep your head.”

“You’ve said something like that before. Prepare for the worst, hope for the best.”

“And the only way we can do that is by gathering intelligence. Otherwise we’re blind, and we can’t know how bad it can get.”

“Like at the supply post.”

Feiden frowned as he recalled the recent memories. It was a bitter fight. He knew John lost a lot of friends but there was little time for mourning and they were a long way from having proper funeral services. The families of the fallen were still being notified in person by the personnel who handled such things. 

Regardless, that battle was clearly an intelligence failure. It was caused by the snow but every death was a result of not knowing enough when it mattered most. 

The only reason they hadn’t been definitively wiped out anyway was because John had run recon on a hunch. If he hadn’t assumed the worst, they wouldn’t be alive.

John’s mask looked as neutral as his Aura, what little Feiden could see of it. There was no emotional turbulence, just cold logic and patience. 

Feiden remained quiet, the two waiting for the convoy to pick them up. There were only four Authority 9 Royals left, and three Brigadiers had already gone to fight. They would be slaughtered, and the fodder would be simplicity to handle. 

They could continue their retreat cleanly after that, but they still had at least two days to go, and their troops were dwindling. 

Feiden was worried about what was to come later. 

He trusted John’s gut more than the man himself did, and when a Sovereign was invading, the worst was already in effect. 

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep