Chapter 67: The Chaos of War (Part 4)

Countless sprays of blood and shreds of clothing, mixed with fragments of skin, scattered like fireworks around the man in an instant.

This was not the result of the fireball that had suddenly launched him upward. As he cast the fireball behind his back, the glow of battle aura lit up his body, and the explosion's shockwave only altered his position without causing him actual harm. It was all because the arrow had grazed beneath him, narrowly missing his back.

The arrow itself was two or three meters away, but the white glow surrounding it merely brushed past his back. Yet, the body that even an explosion couldn't harm instantly crumbled under the deafening roar as the white glow passed by, shattering like torn fabric scattering in all directions. Had his position been a mere inch lower, or had the arrow's trajectory risen just slightly, his entire back would have been torn apart, much like a wyvern's wings being shredded to pieces.

But it was precisely that one inch that saved him. He was injured, but not dead. Moreover, he had successfully dodged rather than parried, leaving him with energy to counterattack. In that split second, the roles of hunter and prey were completely reversed. A green fireball formed instantly in his hand and flew toward the exhausted temple knight.

Welleskayy, despite his utter shock, did not panic. Though he had exhausted himself with that full-powered arrow, his griffin mount was still capable. The green fireball, though fast, was noticeably slower than his arrow—after all, it was over a hundred meters away. He squeezed his legs against the griffin's sides, and it beat its wings to dodge.

But just as the griffin began to move, the man's hands conjured two more green fireballs simultaneously. With a loud shout, he hurled them toward Welleskayy.

Even for low-level magic, firing three consecutive fireballs in such rapid succession was a feat even for grand mages. But this wasn't the most shocking part for Welleskayy. What stunned him was that these two subsequent fireballs didn't follow a straight trajectory—they curved in the air, coming at him from two different angles. Their paths were identical to the curved trajectory of the arrows he had just fired.

The fireballs spun rapidly, their speed and force causing them to curve slightly in mid-air. The air around them howled from the rotation. Though purely magical in nature and lacking the battle aura imbued in Welleskayy's arrows, the curvature caused by their spin was even more pronounced and precise. The two fireballs, flying from opposite directions, converged on the same point—the griffin's position.

Welleskayy had to admit that his opponent was an incredibly formidable adversary. This was a foe whose adaptability, tactics, and ingenuity were all of the highest caliber, capable of cornering him into near-despair despite having inferior raw power. With his internal energy depleted and his muscles strained, Welleskayy could no longer draw his enchanted bow to counter the green fireballs. And with such a coordinated pincer attack, dodging on a griffin without extreme maneuverability was impossible.

He couldn't dodge. He couldn't counter. His only option was to flee.

The temple knight's judgment and decisiveness were unmatched. From shock to assessing the situation to finally deciding to escape—all of it happened in the blink of an eye. As Welleskayy leapt from the griffin's back, falling only four or five meters, the two fireballs struck the griffin squarely.

With a muffled explosion, the griffin didn't even have time to cry out before its massive body was consumed by green flames. The flames, like wax melting in intense heat, dissolved its form in an instant. The green fire spread outward, accompanied by the characteristic stench of death magic, moving faster than Welleskayy's descent.

Welleskayy sighed and raised his left arm, summoning the Sacred Guard Shield. Though it couldn't cover a large area like his griffin, it could at least shield the space above him. A crystalline white barrier appeared just in time, blocking the green fire surging down toward him.

Meanwhile, far below, the arrow Welleskayy had fired with all his strength finally struck the forest, almost beyond the range of visibility. Countless thick trees were cut down and flung aside, carving out a visible path of destruction through the woods.

Activating the feather fall enchantment on his Glory Armor, Welleskayy looked toward his opponent, who was also descending roughly 100 meters away. Their gazes met. The man's eyes were sharp, like a predator about to claim its prey. Then, from his robes, the man pulled out a magic scroll, unfurled it, and unleashed a white thunderclap bomb that roared toward Welleskayy.

The speed of this Thunderclap Bomb, compared to the previous arrows and fireballs, was almost leisurely. Welleskayy could see its trajectory clearly, inching toward where he was falling. Yet, all he could do was watch it approach. The green flames above him pinned his Sacred Guard Shield in place, leaving him no way to adjust his defenses. Nor did he have any means to change his mid-air position or intercept the Thunderclap Bomb.

All he could do was twist his body in mid-air to meet the crackling sphere with his back.

The Thunderclap Bomb struck with a deafening roar, shaking the sky. Below, the other griffin riders instinctively looked up. They saw Welleskayy sent flying by the shockwave, his body trailing blood that sprayed through the air like a macabre firework, mingling with the green flames as they scattered across the sky.

Welleskayy felt as though his back had been shattered entirely—bones, muscles, everything blending into an indistinguishable mess. His internal organs seemed on the verge of spilling out of his throat along with the blood. Yet he understood that he was gravely injured but not dead. If there was any armor in the world capable of withstanding such an advanced magical attack, it was the Glory Armor imbued with holy power. The back of his armor had only dented under the impact, not shattered.

But Welleskayy knew he was defeated. No matter how advanced the healing magic on his armor was, he no longer had the strength to draw his golden battle bow. The blast had hurled him hundreds of meters away, and he doubted he could even stand up, let alone return to the battlefield.

From the forest below came the constant cries of griffins in agony. Suddenly, in the distance, a roar even louder than the Thunderclap Bomb's explosion erupted. It drowned out every other sound in the forest, carrying with it pain, rage, and a feral bloodlust. It was unmistakably not human.

Amid the roar, the metallic clang of weapons clashing briefly rang out before an object broke through the treetops and shot into the sky.

Welleskayy, furthest from the scene, was the only one who could make out what it was: a massive war lance. Its surface bore marks of heavy impact and slicing damage, so much so that it was bent and distorted beyond recognition.

Welleskayy knew exactly whose weapon it was and what its flight into the air signified. Anger, anxiety, and sorrow surged in his heart like a tidal wave.

Just as his foot touched the branch of a large tree during his fall, a wave of nausea hit him. Blood gushed uncontrollably from his mouth, and his vision blurred. He toppled from the branch, crashing to the ground below.

Time passed.

When Welleskayy slowly regained consciousness and opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was the ceiling of a tent, illuminated by the flickering glow of firelight. Above him, a massive griffin emblem adorned the fabric. It was night, and this tent seemed to be the command tent of the main Alrasian forces.

"You're awake, my lord." A voice sounded nearby. Welleskay turned his head with great effort to see the young holy warrior, Jarvis.

"Where is Ederick?" Welleskay asked. The searing pain in his back made it clear that this was neither a dream nor heaven.

Jarvis shook his head and sighed. "I'm sorry. By the time we arrived, it was already too late... Lord Ederick's body has been brought back, but the Glory Armor has been taken by the orcs."

Welleskay felt as though anger and grief had pierced his body like a red-hot sword, the sharp, searing pain burning through every muscle and bone. His body and expression convulsed uncontrollably.

Jarvis remained silent for a moment before continuing, "News has just arrived from the northern forces of the Kingdom of Judah... Lord Christian and Grand Mage Jennie have also fallen."

"What?" Welleskay sprang up from the bed but immediately collapsed back down. Blood continued to seep through the bandages on his back. He could no longer feel the weakness or pain of his body; he still struggled to rise, his face contorted in anguish.

How is that possible? What happened?"

"They were both lured away from the main army, each leading a small contingent to pursue the enemy... but fell into an ambush. According to the survivors, the one who killed Lord Christian was an unarmed man, presumably Grutt. As for Grand Mage Jennie, there were no survivors, but judging by the traces of countless magical explosions left on the battlefield, it was likely Theodorus."

"This place is nearly a thousand miles from Orford. Why would the two leaders of Orford come so far forward to the allied forces' front line alone?"

"From the very beginning, their strategy was designed to lure you out, my lord. The ambushes at the front lines were likely traps specifically set for the temple knights, a plan meticulously crafted to ensure success."

"So it was just as you predicted. We were indeed too careless," Welleskay sighed deeply, closing his eyes. The immense anger and grief were finally contained by his steely will, but what replaced them was an overwhelming sense of helplessness and exhaustion.

"Even though His Holiness and Lord Lancelotee repeatedly warned us, we were still careless."

The young Holy Warrior's face remained stoic, showing neither joy nor sorrow. He simply nodded and said calmly, "Orford's strategy of feigning weakness misled not only the allied forces but also the morale of the army. Under such circumstances, the actions of the leaders were somewhat forced. However... the leaders did underestimate the enemy. If they had carried a few top-tier magical scrolls with them, perhaps... the situation might have been different."

Welleskay fell silent, sighing bitterly. "You're right. We were careless."

Although top-tier magical scrolls were considered precious items for ordinary soldiers or mages, they were trivial for Celeste. However, temple knights rarely carried such items, relying instead on their exceptional martial skills and combat experience to reach the pinnacle of their craft. Carrying magical scrolls or tools was something only novices like Talice would do, behavior that seemed almost childish to them.

But now, their pride as warriors seemed pitiful in hindsight. If he had a magical scroll like his opponent during the aerial battle, victory would have been assured. Among the stored magical scrolls in the Glory Fortress, something like a Thunderclap Bomb was considered a low-grade item. If Ederick had also carried magical scrolls... Welleskay felt his chest tighten and refused to think further, knowing it was futile.

Jarvis said, "I've already submitted a report to His Holiness and Lord Lancelote. The losses we've suffered this time are far too great. I've suggested... transferring command of all allied forces back to the generals of their respective nations."

"Why?" Welleskay asked. "Their armies are their own, and their overconfidence will only lead to rash, disorganized actions, giving Orford opportunities to exploit."

"These losses highlight a major strategic disadvantage. The confusion in command led to this result. And we know far too little about Orford. With no way to infiltrate spies, we are almost entirely in the dark about them. According to reports, Grutt used a teleportation scroll to escape after killing Lord Christian. Survivors from the griffin riders near Ederick's battlefield also reported seeing the blue light of a teleportation scroll. This suggests... Orford may have established its own teleportation magic array. Their proximity to the Saundfest Mountains makes it convenient to acquire the Star Eye and Star Fragments."

"What's even more unknown is their combat power and possible tactics. For example, their wyverns outfitted with dwarf-crafted ballistae can completely suppress griffins at long range. The orcs' combat style differs from humans, allowing them to employ unconventional methods. Orford also boasts extraordinary tacticians and strategists. Our prior combat experience may no longer apply and could even become a hindrance to our thinking. To achieve victory, we must at least probe their capabilities and tactics, forcing them to reveal their methods."

"Your suggestion to return command is to use them for probing?"

"Not only that. The deaths of the three leaders have severely undermined our credibility among the allied forces, making command even more challenging. Instead of clinging to command and risking further failure, we should let them act independently. Once they've suffered enough setbacks and realize Orford isn't as easy to defeat as they imagined, it will be easier for us to regain control."

"'Suffer enough setbacks'? How severe? Thirty thousand soldiers dead? Fifty thousand?" Welleskay stared at Jarvis. Though weak, his gaze was sharp. "You intend to send tens of thousands of soldiers, who fight for the glory of the Lord, to their deaths just to probe the enemy?"

"In war, there's no way to avoid casualties. And I believe this is the most effective method for now." The young holy warrior answered calmly, his face expressionless in the dim firelight, as if carved from stone. "Rest assured, my lord, the allied generals are all battle-hardened. Moreover, with a total force of 100,000, and Orford having only a few thousand, no matter the losses, they won't face total defeat. After these failures, their arrogance and recklessness will diminish, and they'll finally heed Celeste's commands."

"In any case, I won't agree to your suggestion," Welleskay grunted, shaking his head. Though he knew this might be a viable plan, he couldn't accept it.

Jarvis shrugged and said, "I'm only informing you as a formality. I've already sent the proposal to Celeste…"

Welleskay said sternly, "His Holiness won't agree to it. There must be another way."

Jarvis said nothing more, merely saluting before leaving the tent.

Ten days later, Celeste's decree finally arrived. His Holiness ordered: All Temple Knights within the allied forces must return to Celeste, and command of all troops would be returned to the generals of their respective nations.