With a thunderous boom, several knights' lance strikes sent Ingram skidding back several meters. The lead knight who had dismounted now wore a face dark with anger.
With a hero taking point and shield-bearers driving in from all sides, the knights pressed the encirclement tighter. These Carian warriors had clearly learned how to overwhelm an enemy through sheer numbers.
In the brief instant Ingram froze, he suddenly felt the pressure on his shield ease. A trace of confusion flickered through him, and he immediately glanced back.
The newcomer wore a sorcerer's robe. His tall frame was thick with muscle, and a sharply pointed hood sat atop his head. It was the battle sorcerer from the Haima Conspectus.
"You're only showing up now? Why didn't you just hide in the academy for the rest of your life?"
The Associate Preceptor of Haima frowned, clearly too indifferent to bother responding to the impotent fury of such a fool.
The academy's noble sorcerers had been paid, and they were willing to help. That alone should have earned gratitude.
He raised his staff high as magical power surged violently from the glintstone.
Gavel of Haima!
The deep blue radiance in the battle sorcerer's hands flared to a blinding intensity, instantly condensing into an enormous hammer of magical power. The crushing pressure it radiated bore down on the knights.
What!?
The knights stared in shock. At the same moment, Nolan rushed forward, lifting the Promised Claymore glowing with golden light to block, only to see the massive blue hammer crash straight toward him.
As expected of a battle sorcerer. In terms of raw killing power, this Associate Preceptor of Haima was unquestionably stronger than Geralt or Roman. But Nolan was no longer who he used to be.
He braced himself, gripping the blade with both hands and forcing the hammer back head-on. The Associate Preceptor stumbled two steps backward, astonishment flashing across his eyes.
The Carian knights were just about to press their advantage, lances thrusting forward, when the Cuckoo Knights had already closed in around them. Left with no opening, they could only abandon the attempt.
The wall of flame crumbled under the turbulence of magical power. The searing grease burned away bit by bit, and the blaze slowly began to die out.
Vice Commander Ingram of the Cuckoo Knights stood beside the battle sorcerer. He first glanced at the grim expression on the sorcerer's face, then his attention was seized by a sudden cry of alarm.
"Look—what's that!?"
The enemy was formidable, and the knights dared not turn their heads outright. They could only steal a glance from the corner of their eyes.
Within the full moon, a faint, flickering afterimage was rushing toward them at tremendous speed.
The massive body stretched more than ten meters long. Gray-green scales shimmered with an eerie sheen in the moonlight, and sharp barbs ran from its spine all the way down its long tail.
That was… a Flying Dragon!
A violent gale howled as it descended. This was a bloodline cursed and cast aside by the Ancient Dragons. Its enormous wings blotted out the moon as it dove toward the royal domain.
"The Glintstone Dragon," Smarag!
Nolan tightened his grip on his sword. He recognized it at once—the academy's captive aerial weapon. In the blink of an eye, the Flying Dragon plunged down from hundreds of meters in the air.
Its wings spread wide, its colossal form eclipsing the moon. The feral dragon head let out a roar as brilliant blue flames gathered within its maw.
This creature fed on the corpses of sorcerers, and its body was steeped in magical power.
The oppressive presence of its massive body bore down from above. Nolan was just about to draw out his staff.
Glintstone flames surged straight toward them, as though it had no concern whatsoever for the lives of the Cuckoo Knights or the Haima sorcerers below.
Just as the Golden Needle Knight was about to teach it how dangerous it was to casually turn one's attacks into magic, another Flying Dragon swooped in to block the path—its body heavily encrusted with glintstone crystals.
Boom!!
Two torrents of dragon breath collided violently in midair. The scattered magical flames burst apart like countless frenzied spirits, writhing wildly and bathing the lakeside crowd in a sickly blue glow.
As the flames slowly dissipated, the second Flying Dragon opened its massive jaws, lined with razor-sharp fangs.
A chilling surge of magical power rapidly gathered within its mouth, condensing into a greatsword exuding icy vapor.
It clamped down on the blade with its jaws and began hacking madly in rapid succession.
Blades of freezing energy tore through the air. Smarag beat its wings furiously, retreating a hundred meters in an instant to escape the incoming magical sword waves.
"It's Lady Adula. Her Highness the Princess truly watches over us. The full moon's radiance stands with Caria!"
Someone in the crowd cried out in excitement. From the tone alone, it was clearly a Carian soldier.
"Ignore them. Don't forget, the war is far from over."
Nolan swung his wand, releasing a ripple of magical power. The Cannon of Haima, descending along a curved arc, was forced back midair.
Thops's Barrier!
The spell was essentially complete, though it had yet to be widely adopted within the Carian forces.
This invention had finally met someone who recognized its value. The former "Bluntstone" had been invited into the stronghold, becoming an accomplished sorcerer in service to the royal family.
The shell had been meant for the Associate Preceptor of Haima and the Vice Commander of the Cuckoo Knights. Sensing danger, the two dodged without hesitation, and the shell crashed into the Cuckoo ranks instead, cries of agony erupting at once.
In truth, the fight between the two dragons was both simple and monotonous, hardly worth watching.
One clamped a magical sword in its jaws and hacked wildly, while the other did everything it could to keep its distance, constantly gathering magic shards in its mouth to fire back.
Or they simply slammed into each other head-on, fangs, claws, and tails tearing and lashing without pause.
The battle spread from the sky all the way down to the lake's surface. Their power sent up towering sheets of water, wave after wave.
It looked like a grand aquatic spectacle. Unfortunately, the shrimp and crabs in the lake paid the price. Had any fishermen been present, they would have made a fortune.
"What kind of sorcery is that?"
Associate Preceptor Igor of the Haima Conspectus frowned. But after a moment's thought, he remembered that the Carian royal family had long possessed means to counter magic, and his surprise faded.
"The Haima Conspectus claims to seek peace, yet it's the one launching a war. I wonder what your forebears would think," Nolan said coldly.
"War is fought for a longer-lasting peace. The forebears would understand. Ingram, kill him with me."
Igor snorted. His opponent's strange abilities had severely restricted his combat strength, forcing him to seek help from the despicable Cuckoos.
Ingram surveyed the lakeshore, strewn with charred corpses. Some bodies were mangled beyond recognition, barely alive, little different from the dead. With fewer than three hundred soldiers still fit to fight, he drew his Claymore without hesitation.
"Kill them all!"
Knights and sorcerers surged forward, trampling over bodies that carpeted the ground.
Why wasn't that so-called hero leading troops on the front line? What was he doing patrolling here? Wasn't that beneath him?
Ingram cursed under his breath, cast a glance toward the crimson sky to the south, then tightened his grip on sword and shield and charged ahead.
That was where the fortress stood, shrouded in a sea of fireclouds. Fierce shouts and clashing steel echoed through the air.
The Cuckoos had mobilized in full, even the sorcerers forced onto the battlefield. There was no way Caria could hold on this time.
As the thought crossed his mind, the sky suddenly flared bright. A streak of blue light blossomed like fireworks overhead.
"That's a signal from the front lines. Damn it. We can't keep dragging this out. We have to finish them quickly."
Ingram ground his teeth, making the call in an instant.
A force led by a hero was nothing to underestimate. Leaving them unchecked was far too dangerous, and the enemy was never going to let them pass unopposed.
Nolan looked toward the figures closing in.
The ordinary soldiers were no real threat. But with the Vice Commander of the Cuckoos, a battle sorcerer, and a host of knights surrounding them, breaking through to the fortress could very well shatter the defenders' resolve entirely.