Unwilling Defeat(3)

“She’s level 15 at most.” The young great mage had extraordinary confidence and calm, coolly shoving Salwyn’s hand away as he spoke without holding back, “My magic does not lie. Someday in the future, Sir level 12 mage, you will believe this.”

The emphasis on his level caused Salwyn to feel miserable. As a level 15 great mage at about the same age, this fellow’s status was actually slightly higher than his own. As someone from the Sequoia Kingdom, he didn’t have to acknowledge a prince of the Iron Triangle Empire. If not for Salwyn’s own reputation as a war artist, the young great mage would long since have been offended by these words and grown hostile. The audience near the commander’s carriage looked united, but they were anything but. A fair number of people here could tell that the situation was not going well.

More than two thousand of the opponents had died on the opponents’ side, but they themselves had lost more than a thousand. This turned a 1:2 battle into almost 1:4. The frontlines could crumble at any point, while those hated black knights were assembling once more behind their opponents. It wasn’t just ten this time; all of them had converged. Sinclair evidently wanted to end her opponent in a decisive assault.

“Retreat!” Salwyn send out his last command, his mouth tasting bitter as he did. This failure would become the largest blemish of his military career, one that was difficult to clean off. He’d lost an entire legion of imperial knights and 500 elite infantry; it was a huge blow to the Empire’s strength. All of the paladins and battle priests being wiped out would also deal a great blow to their ally in the Sequoia Kingdom, the Church of Valour. The death of a level 16 priest, a saint paladin, and numerous mages was far beyond the loss of the knights.

What he found most difficult to accept was that the great mage was still insisting that demon was level 15, because ‘magic tells no lies.’ These words had come from a future grand mage, so he couldn’t even doubt them!

When the horse carriage started to pull back, Salwyn swept his eyes over the battlefield one last time. He suddenly had the urge to curse. That woman had dealt with a dozen heavy knights in that moment, she was a restless killing machine! She’d even taken out the powerful priest and sacred knight before this… if this was the battle power of someone who was merely level 15, he would gouge his own eyes out.

Salwyn really wanted to ask if this genius’ brain was filled with magic or dead yeast. Nobody below level 18 that he knew of could achieve such results on the battlefield. He was willing to swear on his royal ancestors that no matter what level the demonic girl was, her battle might definitely reached level 18.

With retreat being called, many of the nobles realised the situation was not ideal. They left immediately, their personal guard forming tens of streams that headed out in different directions. As for the soldiers still engaged in the brutal battle, they were ruthlessly abandoned.

This was a very common sight in war. More soldiers could be recruited if they died, and if that didn’t work one could employ mercenaries. However, once a lord was taken as a slave they would likely be beheaded. Even the best case scenario would be paying a huge ransom, so why not just use that money to employ new soldiers instead?

Sinclair suddenly shrieked in the distance, her voice so sharp it resonated through the sky. The giant manticore carried her into the sky, its tremendous body that was tens of metres long moving at a speed unbelievable for its size. It charged into the battlefield, pursuing Salwyn.

There was no lack of powerhouses amongst the retreating troops, so there was only a slight panic. Salwyn and the level 15 mage launched disjunction spells at the same time, two balls of dark green locking onto Sinclair and flying towers her like bolts of lightning.

However, the girl merely jumped and teleported over to the defensive line that blocked her way to the carriage, beginning a massacre. This time, her figure no longer flickered in and out of existence, instead becoming a black tornado that tore through the formation in a storm of blades that took four or five lives every time it spun.

However, the two balls of light changed direction in mid-air, still aimed at her. She raised her arms and grabbed two of the guards, tossing them towards the spells. One immediately turned green all over, crumbling apart in the blink of an eye.

The other was noticeably sturdier and with better reflexes. His energy poured forth to protect him, wearing the disjunction spell away. The green light that could take lives grew much milder, eventually fading away, but the soldier was seriously injured as well. He spat out blood and lost his consciousness. The two disjunction spells had affected Sinclair as well, causing a pale green to rise on her face, but she continued charging nevertheless.

The priest atop the roof of the carriage ended up activating an intricate and elaborate divine scroll. An enraged roar rang out as Neian’s symbol appeared in the air, divine power surging around the giant symbol and forming a great destructive force. The priest guided this power, pushing it towards Sinclair.

This was a grade 7 spell: Word of God. It was normally used to affect an entire area, but the priest guided all of the damage towards Sinclair. She actually spat out a mouthful of black blood and fell backwards, crashing towards the ground.

The manticore roared out, tearing a few warriors who wanted to take advantage of the situation apart. It protected her well until the girl managed to groan and grab its fur, climbing onto its back. She stared coldly at the priest atop the carriage, but didn’t continue her attacks. The priest seemed terrified under her steely gaze; it was all he could do to stay upright and not move, but even so the hand on his sceptre trembled slightly.

Salwyn took a look around, seeing nearly a thousand elites escorting their masters as they fled in a hurry. He couldn’t help but want to curse once more. Were these soldiers under his command, and if the two on the carriage could have attacked earlier instead of just standing there and criticising the situation, saying things like ‘magic does not lie,’ then the results of the battle might have been far different.

It was a pity that there was no place for ifs in the world.

The rest of the soldiers were still fighting to the death. Although they were already abandoned, their faith and honour still compelled them to battle until the end. They knew this girl was a representative of demons, killing her slaves as she wished. Even if they became her slaves, they would meet the same pitiful end. Besides, they were not the refugees of the Bloodstained Lands who had no future— they were soldiers with families and homes. Between a pathetic life and a glorious death, they chose the latter.

The valiant soldiers held the enemies back, allowing their lords the time to leave. However, they would not be remembered by anyone except their families.

Sinclair was stood quietly atop the head of the manticore. Just a moment ago she seemed as frail as a broken doll, but now she seemed to be much better as her aura strengthened without end.

Salwyn had gotten one thing right. Although Sinclair was merely a level 15 assassin, she was also a grade 3 rune knight with a grade 4 rune like Dark Sacrifice that allowed her to be far stronger than others. A total of three grade 3 runes in addition to that made her comparable to a saint of Norland. And in Faelor, the standard of a saint dropped to level 16 from level 18. In addition to all that, the regenerative abilities of Dark Sacrifice amplified her might in large scale battlefields.

Just as Richard had concluded, the power of runes was a decisive difference between Norland and Faelor.

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