146: Magic Battle on a Snowy Mountain
Even though they numbered less than a hundred, there was no reason to underestimate them.
They had survived the avalanche, whether by skill or by luck.
There might be some regular soldiers and militia who had survived, swept downstream, but we didn’t have the forces to pursue them. If they managed to make it down the mountain, they would serve as a wonderful advertisement, spreading fear and despair.
But these… we would crush them here.
The ones climbing out of the avalanche, clad in matching white armor, were undoubtedly the Order of Evangel.
The Holy Kingdom’s elite.
Fanatics who did not acknowledge the existence of demons.
“Master, I’m going.”
Liz, in her black leather assassin’s garb, looking as if she would freeze to death in the snowy mountains, spoke, her presence as faint as a flickering shadow. If she hadn’t called my name, I wouldn’t have even known she was there.
“…Liz. If you come back safely, I’ll shower you with affection.”
“…Um, could you please not say things that would make me want to come back less?”
Liz pulled her scarf up, covering her nose and mouth. She closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them, the light was gone. Her red scarf twitched.
“—I’ll look forward to it.”
She disappeared over the steep stairs, her movements light and weightless.
The Second Army, the Dark Knights, led by Bridget, and the Third Army, the Beastman Army, led by Lathus, were already deployed to meet them.
I’d heard they’d each selected two hundred of their elite.
This fortress could only accommodate about five hundred people, so we were vastly outnumbered.
Demons were, on average, stronger than humans—but against these superhumans, that was a small advantage.
If we had faced the full force of the Order of Evangel and the Holy Knights, we would have been annihilated.
I was sure they were exhausted from their journey, but they still had the numbers. And with that many militia, who knew how many had been killed.
So, we had to reduce their numbers, thoroughly.
The specially designed avalanche-inducing trap, [Avalanche], had completely fulfilled its purpose, devastating the enemy army.
The operation was a success—I could already speak of it in the past tense. Strategically, Listrea had won.
But…
There was no guarantee that Liz, Bridget, and Lathus would return alive.
The fog of war was always present, and in that fog, great commanders had fallen, and overwhelming numerical advantages had been overturned.
“Master. Are you alright?”
“Rebecca. I’m fine. I can at least… stand here.”
I nodded at Rebecca, who had climbed up to the rampart with Samarkand.
Wearing a mask, I felt a little of what it was like to be undead. Since it was difficult to convey emotions, they used words and clear gestures.
—I was a figurehead.
My job was to be a battery, a switch, for the trap. A simple job that anyone could do.
But to break the enemy’s morale and raise our own… that was a job that only the Lord of Disease, the one who had woven this web of intrigue, the heartless monster and enemy of humanity, could do.
The remaining forces charging up the mountain were probably aiming for me.
A strategic victory was no longer possible. —So, they would try to reach me, to kill the Lord of Disease.
If they believed that, if it made them even a little careless in their fight against the others, fewer would die.
Almost everyone had opposed this, but I had insisted.
My army was full of softies, but we all had a role to fulfill.
“Rebecca-sama. I entrust our master to you.”
“Leave it to me. You can focus on the attack until it becomes a melee.”
Rebecca nodded, and Samarkand looked at me with his crescent moon eyes.
“My master. Your orders.”
“Yes. Release restraints. —By contract and by trust.”
The goat’s horns twisted and lengthened. His black fur seemed to dissolve into a pale white at the tips. His eyes glowed with a crimson light.
A true demon.
“Let’s see what a greater demon can do.”
“Yes… I will redeem myself.” He seemed to have been bothered by his previous failure to protect me. Perhaps I’d done him a disservice by giving him such menial tasks.
As we spoke, the enemy entered the range of our offensive magic.
The battle began.
““““[Lightning]”””””
Samarkand and the other mages on the rampart all chanted in unison, unleashing a volley of lightning bolts, the de facto standard of offensive magic… and the weakest of the three.
It had been chosen by a process of elimination. Fire magic, the most common, was also the most easily countered, and the explosion from a [Fireball] could kick up a cloud of snow, blinding us. [Blizzard] was unlikely to be effective, as the enemy was likely to have resistance to cold.
The lances of blue lightning shot across the snowy field, illuminating the dark, overcast sky.
Defensive magic was deployed, and the lightning was deflected by the translucent barriers.
But their advance had slowed, and their already limited mana—their stamina—was being drained.
The lightning and the barriers were locked in a stalemate.
Then, one of the lightning bolts broke through, and several of the enemy were struck. They had probably resisted, but offensive magic was an absolute force. They collapsed, their armor crackling with electricity, the bodies inside likely charred.
That lightning bolt had been unleashed by Samarkand.
“Impressive.”
There was no reply, as he was in the middle of a magic battle, but his short, lovely goat tail twitched. My subordinates were rather easy to read.
Another [Lightning] bolt pierced their defenses, but the enemy was not so easily defeated. Offensive magic could kill a hero, but to not be killed by offensive magic was also what made a hero. And the Holy Knights were renowned for the strength of their defensive magic.
A whistling sound. It grew louder, and a cry of warning went up.
“Evasive maneuvers! —Evasive maneuvers!”
A large boulder fell into the center of the enemy army, which had scattered, abandoning their charge.
Several who had been unable to get away were crushed, along with their defensive magic, by the sheer mass.
I looked up and saw a white shadow in the sky.
A dragon’s life—especially Lital-sama’s—was more valuable than ours. So, they couldn’t risk a close-quarters battle, where the dragon’s strengths—its fire, its claws, its fangs—could be used.
But this was the best they could do to support us.
If the boulder had landed a little off-target, we would have been the ones crushed.
And Lital-sama circled lazily, far above, beyond the reach of magic and arrows.
While I knew her role in this battle was to drop a single boulder, the enemy didn’t. They didn’t know what she would do next.
They had no choice but to close the distance, to engage in a melee.
The exhausted, outnumbered side was forced to choose. And of course, that was what we wanted.
The worst-case scenario was for them to retreat. Even for our elite, a game of cat and mouse in the snowy mountains was unpredictable.
“Cease casting! All units, draw your swords!”
Bridget’s clear voice, though she was of the same rank as Lathus, now commanded the entire army, her voice ringing out over the din of battle.
It was the signal that the magic battle was over.
