Chapter 417 - 398: Extreme Overload (Part 2)

Chapter 417: Chapter 398: Extreme Overload (Part 2)

Even though they were caught off guard, they still managed to construct such a flawless defense system in just a few days.

"Shorty, are we charging again?"

Stuka’s voice held a vicious edge.

"I can charge in and twist that commander’s head off."

Ola gazed down at the ironclad formation below.

To charge down again would be suicide.

Sacrificing these elite Knights and Stuka just to destroy a few docks wasn’t worth it.

Velin didn’t need dead men.

Velin needed victory. He needed cost-effective results.

"Retreat."

The word was forced from between his teeth.

"All units, retreat! Jettison all payloads and ascend at full speed!"

Stuka let out a furious, indignant cry.

It abruptly spread its wings, its abdominal muscles clenched, and a glob of white droppings smashed against the wall of water.

It was a final act of defiance.

...

「Three days later.」

「Minas Tirith, the Lord’s Mansion, Conference Room.」

The atmosphere was suffocating.

Ola sat at one side of the long table. He hadn’t even taken off his leather armor, which still carried the chill of the upper atmosphere and the stench of smoke.

The wooden mug before him was crushed out of shape, its ale spilled across the table.

"Velin, I’m out of ideas."

Ola lowered his head, his voice hoarse.

"We were utterly defeated. That bastard Hector has turned his cities into turtle shells."

At this, Ola slammed his fist on the table and added resentfully,

"I refused to accept it, so over the past few days, I led my squad to test several other coastal cities and inland strongholds. It was the same damn story everywhere! Every city has those cursed heavy crossbows set up, and the Mage towers are running detection around the clock. Hector has turned his entire domain into a hedgehog; there’s no way to get a bite in!"

Velin sat at the head of the table.

He held a damage report, his expression unreadable.

"Twelve Knights lightly injured, zero fatalities. Over four hundred munitions expended. Enemy losses... negligible."

Velin put down the report, his fingers tapping lightly on the tabletop.

"As expected."

"As expected?"

Ola suddenly looked up, his eyes bloodshot.

"My lord, do you know how much money that is? Those wasted Alchemy Bombs, and the medical fees for our injured brothers..."

"There’s a saying from my homeland: ’For every plan, there is a counterplan.’ War is just a game of moves and countermoves."

Velin interrupted him, his tone calm.

"We were winning before because we broke the established rules of engagement, taking advantage of an information gap. Now, Hector has caught on."

He stood and walked to the huge map hanging on the wall.

"Hector is very rich. He can afford to hire enough Mages and buy enough heavy crossbows. He built an entire air-defense system on a mountain of Golden Suns."

"If we continue with our current tactics, it will be meaningless."

"We’re losing on this exchange."

Tristan, who had been sitting to the side in thought, spoke up. "So, level bombing gets intercepted, and low-altitude penetration is specifically countered."

The Civil Servant posed a question that was amateurish, yet struck right at the heart of the issue.

"Why not just fly faster?"

Ola was stunned for a moment, then gave a bitter smile.

"Lord Tristan, you’ve never ridden a bird."

He pointed to his head, and then to his heart.

"Our current speed is already the limit."

"If we go any faster, the terrifying pressure would squeeze your very soul out of your skull. You feel all the blood in your body rush uncontrollably to the soles of your feet. First your vision goes black, then there’s just dead silence."

Ola rolled his eyes back in demonstration.

"We’d pass out like we’re dead. In that state, forget aiming—you wouldn’t even have the strength to pull the reins."

"And..."

Ola sighed. "Stuka can’t handle it, either. Even though the beast’s body is far tougher than ours, it’s still made of flesh and blood. If we force it past that speed, the moment we pull up, its heart would explode in its chest like a water-filled pig’s bladder."

"That’s flesh, not steel."

The conference room fell into silence.

These were the limitations of biology.

No matter how much one trained, flesh and blood had its limits.

"Limits?"

Velin suddenly spoke.

He turned around, his wine-red eyes flickering with a light that sent a chill down Ola’s spine.

It was the look he got whenever he was preparing to dissect something.

"Ola, you’re wrong."

Velin walked to the blackboard and picked up a piece of chalk.

"So-called limits only exist because the evolutionary path taken wasn’t extreme enough."

SCRATCH, SCRATCH, SCRATCH.

The chalk moved quickly across the blackboard.

With just a few strokes, a complex and precise anatomical diagram of a vascular system appeared on the blackboard.

It was the cardiovascular system of a Big Thief Gull.

Velin drew a circle over the heart and then marked it with a large X.

"A naturally evolved heart is adapted for hunting and long-distance flight. It’s all about endurance and efficiency."

"But we aren’t hunting."

Velin turned to look at Ola, the corner of his mouth curling into a mad grin.

"What we want is explosive power. A speed so fast not even Magic can catch it."

"Since its stock heart can’t handle the load..."

He clenched the chalk in his hand, its dust drifting in the air.

"I happen to know of a few avian hearts with a much greater load capacity."

Tristan’s eyelid twitched.

"My lord, you mean..."

Velin didn’t speak. He just picked up the chalk and, drawing on deep memories, began to quickly sketch in a blank area of the board.

Amidst the scratching of the chalk, a brand new anatomical sketch began to take shape.

The structure of this heart was filled with a kind of violent beauty—its ventricular walls were much thicker than a Big Thief Gull’s, the valve structures were shockingly resilient, and the thick aorta was as taut as a precision hydraulic line.

It was the blueprint of the heart of another apex predator, a bird of prey capable of a terminal dive at four hundred kilometers per hour—a peregrine falcon.

Velin tapped firmly on the heart’s main artery, his gaze intense.

"If the blood flow isn’t enough, then we add pressure."

Velin’s voice echoed in the quiet conference room, carrying a scientific fervor that was somewhat chilling.

"Send word. Prepare the [Biological Field]."

He looked at the stunned Ola.

"Go bring Stuka here."

"Ask him if he wants to experience the feeling of leaving that Crossbow Arrow, which has been eating his dust, far, far behind him."

Ola swallowed hard.

He looked at the mad lord, then at the crossed-out heart on the blackboard.

He suddenly felt that, compared to Hector’s heavy crossbows...

...the man before him, scalpel in hand, was the real monster.

"Yes... my lord."

Ola stood up and gave a less-than-standard military salute.

And in the sky outside the window...

Stuka, who was preening his feathers, suddenly shuddered for no reason.

He felt a sudden chill in his chest.