Chapter 432 - 432: At His Mercy

Gregory Murt was a fourth-mantle knight and a commander within the Inevir army. He had been ordered to do a reconnaissance and destabilization mission in their enemy kingdom, Norvaegard.

They crossed the border through the mountains dressed as bandits. They were going to pillage the nearby village, but of course, their main purpose was information and whatever valuables they could find.

He was planning to kill a few civilians, but no women or children. Yet before his men could take a single step toward the village, a young man appeared and demanded their surrender.

What happened afterwards was a nightmare; that's the only way to make sense of the situation.

His men, numbering more than a hundred, were being incapacitated with ease. There was the young man in front of them who was beating them by using the flat side of his sword.

He was doing that while making sure not to kill his opponents. Then there was the other young man who was even more aggressive.

He was also trying not to kill his opponents, but his way was more violent, as he was breaking the bones of his opponents.

Yet the most terrifying one on the battlefield was the one he could not see. There was an unknown number of people shooting at them with incredible accuracy.

Every shot struck an arm, a leg, or the hand holding a weapon. Whenever a mage attempted to cast a spell, a bullet struck either the mage or the staff being used.

The shooters were not simply firing into their formation. They were choosing each target.

Gregory tried to determine their numbers by listening to the gunfire. He had encountered Norvaegardian rifles before and knew that their users needed time to reload between each shot.

He also knew that they used several formations that allowed them to maintain continuous fire while the other soldiers reloaded.

Even so, those formations possessed a recognizable rhythm. The soldiers in the first line would fire before lowering their rifles to reload. Those behind them would fire next, creating continuous volleys until the first line was ready again.

No matter how disciplined the soldiers were, there would always be a short pause between each group firing. Gregory could not hear that rhythm now.

The shots did not arrive in volleys. They came individually, each one fired precisely when someone exposed himself.

It felt less like a unit following commands and more like a single mind observing the entire battlefield.

A few mages were using a detection spell to locate the attackers. They remained behind the surviving shield bearers and combined their mana, creating several translucent eyes above the trees.

The magical eyes swept across the slope. Their vision passed through the dense foliage, revealing the figure hidden beneath it.

"What do you see?" Gregory asked the mages.

"There's only one shooter, a man with silver hair and ruby red eyes."

When Gregory heard that description, he immediately knew who the shooter was. Only one person possessed both that appearance and such terrifying ability: the Ruby-Eyed Monster, Lucen Thornehart.

Gregory had read numerous reports about him. The heir of the Iron Duke, the Dragonslayer, the young man known throughout Norvaegard as the Ever-Victorious.

Some of the stories surrounding him had sounded exaggerated. Gregory had assumed that they had been embellished by Norvaegard to create a symbol for its people.

As he watched his men fall one after another, he realized that the reports might have understated how dangerous Lucen truly was.

"What else can you see?" Gregory asked.

The mages continued observing the slope through the magical eyes.

"He's using unique magic that seems to make him create those so-called rifles from mana," the mage answered. "Several of them are floating around him without anyone holding them."

"Can you attack him from here?"

"He's too far for any of our spells to reach him." The moment the mage finished speaking, a rubber bullet struck his forehead and knocked him unconscious.

The remaining mages flinched as their companion collapsed. Gregory looked down at the unconscious man. A dark bruise was already forming upon his forehead, but he was still breathing.

'Too far for our spells, but not for his weapon.'

The bullet had passed through a narrow opening between two shields. Even at that distance, Lucen had struck the mage precisely enough to incapacitate him without killing him.

Gregory looked at the battlefield and gnashed his teeth. His soldiers were being incapacitated one by one, while on the enemy side, not one of them was hurt.

The disparity in skill was large, but the biggest problem on the battlefield was Lucen's control of the field. As long as Lucen kept on shooting them, they had no hope of winning.

'We need to advance enough for the mages to hit Lucen Thornehart. Once Thornehart is suppressed, we'll be able to deal with the other two.'

Gregory looked toward the mages maintaining the detection spell. Lucen's greatest advantage was not merely his range. It was his ability to see the entire battlefield and select every target with terrifying precision.

That precision could be taken away from him. "Mages, create a smokescreen! Shield bearers, tighten the formation!"

The mages redirected their mana. Thick grey smoke poured across the ground before rising between the trees, gradually swallowing the soldiers from view.

The shield bearers moved closer together while the wounded were pulled toward the center. Gregory positioned the remaining mages behind them. The sound of gunshots finally stopped.

The silence continued as the smoke thickened. Gregory's soldiers began advancing toward the slope, guided by the mages.

For the first time since the battle began, Lucen had stopped attacking. Gregory almost allowed himself to feel relieved.

It was at that moment of momentary relief that a single gunshot echoed through the forest.

The projectile passed above the formation without striking anyone. For a brief moment, Gregory wondered if Lucen had finally missed. The bullet detonated in the air. Compressed wind erupted from it.

The blast tore through the smokescreen, twisting the dense smoke into a spiraling column before scattering it between the trees.

Branches bent beneath the sudden gale, and several soldiers stumbled as their shields were nearly ripped from their hands.

Within seconds, the formation was exposed once again. Blue light shone upon the distant slope.

The floating rifles opened fire first. Their mana-formed rounds hammered the soldiers' shields, shattered weapons, and blasted the ground around their feet. Every impact forced the soldiers to move, creating gaps in their formation.

Lucen worked the bolt of the physical rifle in his hands and chambered a rubber round, and he pulled the trigger.

The rubber bullet passed through one of the newly created openings before striking a mage in the forehead and knocking him unconscious.

Lucen chambered another round while the floating rifles maintained their barrage. The mana rifles kept the soldiers under constant pressure, while Lucen used his physical rifle to place rubber rounds precisely where they would incapacitate their targets.

A second shot rang out. Another rubber round passed between two shields and struck a soldier behind the knee, forcing him to the ground.

Gregory stared toward the distant figure. With aura sharpening his eyesight, Gregory saw that Lucen was calmly continuing his attack on them; there was not a single hesitation in his movements.

Seeing that young man who was more than half his age, Gregory understood that this person was going to be one of the biggest obstacles in the upcoming war with Norvaegard.

Yet that was not what frightened Gregory the most. He examined the soldiers already scattered across the battlefield.

Some had been struck in the head and rendered unconscious. Others had bullets lodged in their arms or legs. Several had their weapons shattered while they were still holding them.

Despite their training, fear had begun to spread through the formation. Soldiers kept their shields raised even when ordered to advance.

Each time someone gathered mana, raised a weapon, or stepped beyond a shield, a shot immediately punished the mistake. His men were no longer thinking about the mission. They were waiting to discover who Lucen would choose next.

Lucen was in total control of the battlefield. The only reason Gregory and his men were still alive was that Lucen had chosen to keep them that way. If he changed his mind, none of them would leave the forest.