Chương 80: Fishing

General Marlowe was afraid. He watched as before him, five hundred courageous men of the Canum garrison crashed into the first row of goblins pouring through the crumbling ruins of the defensive walls. The air quickly became filled with the sound of clashing metal and frenzied screams. The skies above were grey, covered in menacing stormy clouds.

"General! No signs of the Elder Centipedes charging up another attack," the ranger next to him reported, his eyes glowing with a vision enhancement skill.

"It appears they need time to recharge their mana — or perhaps they're out of energy altogether." A wave of relief, however meager, washed over General Marlowe. That had been his biggest worry: that Canum would be bombarded and obliterated from afar by blasts of lightning from the three Elder Centipedes. The defensive walls of Canum were constructed of solid granite and reinforced with an outer layer of mithril.

Expensive, but Canum was an agricultural stronghold, which meant the royal government spared no expense in ensuring its security. Nothing short of an adamantine-tier attack should've been capable of making even a dent. It was why Canum didn't have that many active soldiers or stationed adventurers; theoretically, the walls should rebuff any attack long enough for external reinforcements to arrive. Yet, the Elder Centipedes' attacks had torn through the once-great walls of Canum like tissue paper.

Lightning so strong that even now the air was still charged with residual electricity, making the hairs on General Marlowe's skin stand straight up. Or perhaps that was the fear coursing through him.

"Damn it," he said through gritted teeth.

"Where are the high-tiers? Are they hungover again?" What Canum didn't have in numbers, they made up for in quality. There was always a half-dozen orichalcums and one adamantine-tier adventurer in employ year-round. General Marlowe disliked them, rowdy, rude, arrogant nobles that they were, but he respected their power. Right now, they were Canum's only hope– A scout rushed up to the General.

"Sir," he panted.

"I received a report from the gate guards. The high-tiers – they took their steeds and fled before the battle even began!" General Marlowe's blood ran cold.

"Come again?"

"They abandoned us!" The scout spat, his vivid blue eyes bright with unshed furious tears.

"They ran away as soon as they caught sight of the monsters, those blasted, worthless cowards!" Smoke and embers rose from burning buildings and were scattered by the wind. Shields shattered to splinters and blood splattered the ground. The garrison's line held firm – not a single man had yet fallen – but they were slowly being pushed back by the endless waves of goblins.

It was only a matter of time before the monsters broke through, and when that happened, every last man, woman, and child in the village would be condemned to an agonizing death. If they weren't already. General Marlowe took a deep, shuddering breath. His mouth tasted of iron. He had bitten down on his tongue. He was afraid. Not for his own life. He was afraid of failing – failing his people, failing his city, failing his duty.

"General," the ranger whispered. His face was pale.

"Without the adventurers, we can't… we're going to…" He swallowed.

"This will be Canum's end." General Marlowe was silent for several long moments. He didn't have time to be afraid. His eyes hardened, and in a single fluid leap, he boarded his mighty steed and drew his gigantic longsword.

"Then," he said, his voice simultaneously as fragile as glass and strong as iron, "let it be the most magnificent end in Luminarche's history." With that, he turned and rode into the fray. His men saw him as soon as he neared, turning in surprise.

"MY SOLDIERS, FIGHT!" General Marlowe roared.

"SHOW THEM OUR STRENGTH! SHOW THEM OUR COURAGE! SHOW THEM OUR HUMANITY! FOR CANUM!" And five hundred voices thundered in response.

"FOR CANUM!" His men pressed forward with renewed energy, buoyed by the presence of their general joining the frontlines. General Marlowe crashed into the goblins like a battering ram, his warhorse trampling two underfoot before they even knew what was happening. His muscles strained as he swept his longsword in wide, powerful arcs, taking out multiple goblins with every swing. The world became a hazy blur. Swing, stab, block, swing, swing, swing. As he fought, he found his mind drifting away from the battle.

He thought it would be clouded with rage by the high-tier adventurers' betrayal, but instead it was occupied by mundane thoughts, though no less important. Far more, in fact. Had he told his wife he loved her when he left home that morning? Had he been a good husband and father? Had he hugged his children enough? A throwing knife lodged into his horse's eye. Lucky shot. His horse cried out in pain.

It didn't panic – it was too well-trained for that – but it was distracted long enough for another dozen stone arrows to sink into its flesh. General Marlowe cursed and jumped off his horse as it fell with a pained neigh. He didn't even have time to grieve his longtime companion; he immediately joined his soldiers on foot. Then, he frowned. Why were the goblins pulling back?

"GENERAL!" the ranger screamed. Somehow, General Marlowe heard him. He turned to see the ranger pointing at something in the distance. General Marlowe followed his finger. His heart sank. One of the three Elder Centipedes had finished recharging its mana. A massive ball of crackling lightning was forming between its sharp mandibles. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. It was aimed right at them. His men noticed and panicked.

"Scatter!"

"Retreat!"

"Get out of the blast zone!" General Marlowe didn't bother moving. There was no point, after all. Man could not outrun lightning. With a heavy sigh, he lowered his sword and accepted his fate. … Had he hugged his children enough? Of course not. How could it ever have been enough? An indescribable sound tore its way out from General Marlowe's throat, loud and inhuman. A noise of pure emotion, an ardent, desperate plea to the heavens itself. Help us. And the heavens responded.

General Marlowe's eyes went wide as a massive rod of ice descended from the sky above, so fast it was barely a blur. Fifty meters tall and a dozen meters wide, the rod landed right atop the Elder Centipede's head and crushed it to pieces. Gore blasted outward, the thick chitin of the exoskeleton acting as shrapnel and shredding the surrounding goblins in droves. A moment later, an ear-splitting boom echoed across the sky – the sonic boom of the ice. Instantly, the entire battlefield fell silent.

His men stopped in their tracks from where they were fleeing, turning around in confusion. Their mouths gradually fell open in awe. Behind, the ranger's eyes were rapidly flickering between glowing and not glowing, as though trying to make sure his skill was working. The goblins didn't seem to have the intelligence to comprehend what they were seeing. They just stared dumbly at the rod of ice pinning their ally. Several of the goblins riding atop the centipedes had lost their balance and fallen off.

The centipedes didn't notice; they, too, were trying to make sense of the sight with their numerous beady eyes. General Marlowe swallowed.

"What?" The heavens elaborated. Two more rods blasted down, taking out the remaining two Elder Centipedes in a similarly one-sided fashion. The Elder Centipedes didn't have any time to react. One second, they were glancing around wildly; the next, they had pillars of ice piercing through their skulls. The air was dry, General Marlowe noticed. His lips were cracked. His skin felt itchy. It felt as though he was in a Valarian desert, with zero moisture in the air. Wait.

Was it just him, or did the world seem brighter? General Marlowe looked up. The clouds were gone. In its place were hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands of spears of ice.

"Almighty Goddess," he said in a murmur. The ice spears lanced down. The ground became dotted with countless growing shadows. The goblins and centipedes panicked, scattering from their formations as they tried to evade, but… How could one possibly evade the rain itself? In less than a minute, the battle was over. All the monsters had been slain, skewered by the spears. The entire battlefield was covered in frozen stakes. General Marlowe and his five hundred men were silent. Above them hung a clear blue sky.

Andevar Baker gaped at Levi. Levi was still hovering in the sky above, a calm expression on his face as he regarded the scene of destruction he'd just caused. For the Goddess's sake, he looked almost bored! Like single-handedly decimating an entire army was an everyday occurrence! And why the hell did Liliya have a look of such pleased vicious satisfaction on her face? For several moments, Andevar just stared. He didn't know how to react. He could scarcely believe his eyes. Was this a dream? Then, he laughed.

He laughed and laughed, tears of unbridled exhilaration and relief streaming down his cheeks. It felt like an unbearable weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

"Hey Levi!" Andevar shouted before he could stop himself. Levi glanced down at him, question in his gaze. Well. In for a bronze, in for a gold. Andevar whipped his arm across the air.

"You missed a spot!" Levi furrowed his brow. He looked in the direction that Andevar was pointing. Then, his lips curled in amusement.

"So I did," he said, his voice clear despite the distance.

"My apologies." The air thrummed with mana as another spell formed above them. Then, it streaked forth with blinding speed. Right toward where the adventurers had ridden. Adamantine Knight Rudeus urged his horse to go faster. The landscape around them was a streak of colors as he and his men fled at top speed. They had already crossed the plains and entered a nearby forest, a green canopy overhead.

"Hey, boss," one of his men, a mage, spoke up uncertainly.

"Won't we get in trouble for abandoning our post?" Rudeus scoffed.

"No adventurer would fault us for running away from a doomed invasion. Besides, Canum is a city of farmers. There's nobody important living in it, just a bunch of commoners. All replaceable. The worst we'll get is a fine or two – and that's assuming there's even anyone left alive to tell them we fled."

"Well, there's always those three adventurers…" Rudeus blinked. Then, he cursed. Shit, that was right. How had he missed that? He'd been too panicked earlier when he spoke to them, but… If those three adventurers did somehow manage to escape as well, then they might report them. Should they go back and… clean things up? No. Too risky. It didn't matter, anyhow. Like he had said earlier, there was no way they'd get punished too heavily.

Incidents like this happened all the time; unless someone truly important was killed, then nobody would care. Not the Adventurer's Guild, not the Royal Sentinels – maybe the Holy Church, but they didn't involve themselves with adventurer affairs to begin with. Their escape was in the clear. He told his men as such.

"But what if those three adventurers were important?" another spoke up. Again, Rudeus went silent. Then, he shook his head.

"Doubt it. No self-respecting noble would go on a quest with a lowborn commoner, much less let him speak for them. Those two are probably from military families at best."

"The girl and boy were dressed very well…"

"Wealthy merchant families, perhaps," Rudeus conceded.

"It matters not. Lighten up, man. We'll be fine–" Pain flooded his mind. Rudeus gasped in a mix of shock and agony as a biting cold erupted across his stomach and chest. It felt like jumping into a lake in winter, except the cold came from the inside rather than the outside. He looked down and froze, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. There was an ice hook in his chest. He stared down at it for several moments. It was large, about the size of a watermelon, piercing his stomach and hooked around his ribs.

Around him, his men cursed, similar hooks in their chests. The hooks were connected to a thin thread of mana. Rudeus followed the line with his sight. It seemed to lead up to the sky above. What in the… Then, the thread pulled taut. Rudeus didn't even have the time to scream before he was yanked off his horse and into the sky. His men followed him, several of them letting out screams of surprise and fear. Rudeus himself was terrified, though he tried not to show it.

He drew his sword and tried to sever the thread, but it was like trying to cut solid adamantine. Before he knew it, he was high above in the clouds, their still-fleeing horses little dots below them. They hurtled through the sky at breakneck speeds. Their high Constitutions worked against them; if they were lower-leveled, then their ribs would've been ripped right out of their chests. Instead, they were durable enough for their bones to hold firm. It didn't help the pain, though. Were the monsters doing this?

How were the monsters doing this? The pain became too much. Or perhaps it was the lack of oxygen from the high altitude. Whatever the case, Rudeus blacked out for several moments. When he came to, he found himself dangling a few meters above the ground, still suspended by the hook in his chest. Blood dripped to the ground below. His men groaned in pain around him, in varying states of consciousness. Two of them were puking their guts out. Please don't let it be the goblins, Rudeus prayed as he looked up.

Anything but the goblins. His wish came true. It wasn't the goblins. Instead, it was the three adventurers from before: the commoner, the girl, and the gaunt-looking kid who was now sporting an impressive cloak. The commoner grinned at them, looking unbearably smug. The girl's expression was emotionless, but Rudeus caught sight of her fingers twitching.

"Welcome back," the kid said. He smiled, his grey eyes flickering with something dark and murky.

"I don't believe we were finished talking yet." Belatedly, Rudeus realized that although they were right next to Canum, he couldn't hear the sound of battle. Had the monsters overrun the city already? He glanced over, and his eyes widened. The battlefield had become a field of ice flowers that bloomed atop mounds of goblin and centipede corpses. It took a second glance to realize that those ice flowers were countless spears. Rudeus looked back at the kid.

This time, he saw the faint glimmer of mana threads that connected to his fingers. He swallowed. Perhaps the goblins would've been the better alternative.