Chapter 283: First Encounter

It was only a short while after leaving the Adrian Territory that the York Territory’s legion encountered the slowly advancing Fishmen.

At a glance, the Fishmen stretched endlessly, densely packed, their pressing cries sounding grating to the ears.

Among the Fishmen, the most striking sight was a high platform propped up by some unknown construct. Upon this platform floated a Fishman Explorer.

Three pairs of violet eyes gazed at the eastern expedition’s army. His entire body was a dark purple, a dorsal fin stretched from the top of his head down his back. He had no nose, and his chin seemed to recede backward, hiding his mouth. He bore two pairs of arms—one pair thick and muscular, the other thin and frail. In one of the stronger hands, he held a curved sword. The weaker pair trembled before his chest, fingers twitching as if manipulating something unseen. His legs floated, faint remnants of fins still clinging to them.

Around the high platform, six gigantic Deep Divers slowly rose from the ground. Their heavy steps shook the earth, trampling Fishmen beneath them without care.

Julian raised his hand, and the York Territory’s legion halted in unison. They showed no fear, no terror, even when facing endless Fishmen.

Riding a steed, Bishop Claudy moved to the very front, accompanied by warriors carrying the Lord’s Throne and the Sacred Cross.

Claudy drew in a deep breath. He could smell the fishy stench wafting from the Fishmen.

His heart tightened with unease.

He was not a seasoned warrior of a hundred battles. The greatest conflict he had ever followed was the slaughter led by Knight Wolf, and even then, he had merely trailed behind Priest Nyx.

But now, as a bishop, it was his duty to inspire the warriors with Blessings.

Golden light gradually lit within his eyes. He opened the Holy Scriptures of the Lord against his chest with one hand, raised the Sacred Cross high with the other, and chanted loudly.

Since the ringing of the New Year’s Bells, those granted the Lord’s gift could now hear these words of blessing.

Yet how much of the Blessing they received depended on their inner piety.

Claudy did not know how many of these recently returned warriors were truly devout. But it was not his concern. On the battlefield, his only duty was to recite the Divine Word with all his might, to drive away their weariness, and bestow the Lord’s Blessing upon them.

As the York Territory’s legion—the vanguard—halted, the two Earls’ legions moved to guard the flanks. High above, a Dragon-Eagle wheeled, uneasy. On the back of it, Richard noticed a group that had appeared within the army’s protection without his realizing.

Around seventy figures, cloaked entirely in black robes, unsealed the wooden tubes in their hands. A dark, sticky liquid flowed out, dripping onto the ground. It spread as if alive, merging together into a massive Magic Array.

Richard could smell the cloying scent seeping from the liquid.

“This is magic.” Beneath him, Crulud’s voice trembled as he relayed the message. “Refined from the blood of Dark Creatures. High-density magic power. Not pure, but undeniably potent—far richer than the magic in my own blood, many times over.”

“But at this concentration, at least ten elite-level Dark Creatures would have to be refined for a single tube.” Crulud’s voice carried fear.

The Monastery’s classification of Dark Creatures was never fine-tuned. They were aligned with warriors: first-rank trash, second-rank ordinary, third-rank elite, fourth-rank commander, fifth-rank lord.

Elites matched humanity’s Upper Warriors. The black-robed men below had poured out the lives of at least seven hundred third-rank elites.

Seven hundred elites—seven hundred Upper Warriors. That was a strength even a Viscount’s territory could scarcely muster.

Richard clicked his tongue. “Seven hundred elite-level Dark Creatures… what are they preparing to do?”

Crulud urged, “Perhaps we should descend. As the commander of the Adrian Legion, you ought to lead your army at the front.”

Richard refused. “Marl is commanding the legion. What use would I be? Besides, you are a Dragon-Eagle. Once on the ground, you’d lose your advantage. What, do you want to run on two legs?”

Crulud muttered, “It wouldn’t be impossible.”

Richard shook his head. “No. Running on the ground wouldn’t be imposing enough. This is a grand occasion. Everyone must witness the prestige of an Oath Knight. Perhaps other knights will admire my gallant figure and come to my territory, wishing to become Oath Knights themselves. After all, there are many Wild Knights roaming about.”

Crulud dared not argue further. Below, the Magic Array activated.

The dark-red blood gleamed with pale-blue radiance. The black-robed figures tossed aside their wooden tubes, raised their hands, and chanted in raspy syllables. Richard watched as six massive timbers emerged from shadow, solidifying into reality, floating above them.

“This structure… could it be three Giant Catapults?” Richard muttered, remembering the time the Fishmen nearly smashed through his territory, when the Solov Fortress’s catapult unleashed its devastating might.

But these three appeared to be even more formidable.

Crulud dipped lower, cautious.

The colossal beams towered higher than the Fishmen’s platform. Their outer surfaces were etched with runes, gems embedded at key nodes. Tightly stretched sinew ropes hung inside, thousands of them.

The bases remained obscured.

Suddenly, the runes lit upward in sequence. Crulud shuddered violently, feathers and scales bristling. He dove, hugging the earth, so swiftly Richard nearly toppled off.

Yet Richard made no reproach. His gaze was fixed on the catapults.

The gems flared, glowing like orbs of light. Magic surged through the ropes woven from Dark Creature sinews. The orbs shattered, the ropes snapped taut, and something massive was hurled skyward.

Richard saw it clearly now—enormous sling-bowls carrying giant stone spheres, runes carved deep, gems studding their surface.

Three massive spheres shot into the heavens. Richard’s eyes followed them, recalling the night he and Marl first arrived at the Fog Fortress, when his elder brother, Earl Raul, was still alive.

That night, glowing “orbs” had risen into the sky.

“And then… they will shatter, raining destruction upon the land.” He muttered.

As he spoke, the three spheres blazed like Morning Stars, then erupted with thunderous force. Countless streams of light rained down into the packed Fishman ranks.

Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!

Explosions roared. Smoke blanketed the front. The ground quaked beneath their feet. Richard felt Crulud trembling more violently than ever.

“So much magic power… Did they drain an entire Earl’s territory of magic? For just this one strike? Such reckless waste.” Crulud shivered.

Richard could sense his fear.

Crulud, a magical beast, was flesh and blood infused with magic. To see such power squandered shook him to his core, as if his very essence was being plundered.

In ancient memory passed down his bloodline, there were people who captured magical beasts to drain their power—almost killing the very land itself.

Richard patted Crulud’s back gently. “It’s all right. They are our allies, our companions. And besides… I am here.”

Crulud gave no reply, only curling his tail and folding his wings, pressed flat to the ground.

The tremors subsided, the smoke cleared. The Fishmen’s towering platform was gone. The ground lay pitted and cratered. Not a fragment of Fishmen remained—their bodies pulverized to dust.

“Hah! Hoo!” The York Territory’s legion roared as one, raising spears in layers, marching forward.

As they advanced, mounds of earth bulged. From within clawed their way the Deep Divers, scarred and bleeding, yet roused to greater savagery by their wounds. With a roar, they charged.

From the craters crawled Fishman Hunters and Fishman Warlords, bearing injuries but alive. The expendable Fishman Servants had served their final purpose—shielding their masters from annihilation.

Marl approached Richard, lowering his voice. “The rabble have been mostly cleared. The Deep Divers and the Explorer are wounded. The three legions will handle the rest. Your task is to kill that Explorer.”

“Remember—not only must you kill him, but you must do it swiftly. The faster you slay him, the greater our chance of victory. And you must make it thunderous.”

Richard nodded, patting the cowering Crulud.

Marl cast a glance at the Dragon-Eagle. “They were useless, so they became useful—turned into magic. Now tell me, are you useful?”

The calm tone made Crulud shiver. He sprang up, spreading his wings, crying out as he soared skyward.

Marl looked to the apprentices.

Their projection had vanished. They sat gasping on the ground, drinking from flasks of crimson liquid.

“So this… is what magic can accomplish…” Marl murmured. He straightened, Holy Scriptures in one hand, Sacred Cross in the other, and chanted loudly.

Across from him, Jeremiah also began to chant Blessings.

Even though the two Earls’ legions were considered elites, compared to the York Territory’s troops, they still lagged far behind. Thus, it was only natural that York’s warriors charged in the vanguard.

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