Chapter 313 - 308: Mutual Probing

Chapter 313: Chapter 308: Mutual Probing

Ola’s battle-ax slammed onto the stone bricks, the shock numbing his palms.

The Knights exchanged glances.

"My Lord Baron, the Countess..." a young Knight began in a low voice.

"Shut up!" Ola roared. "Get back to your posts! And watch your horses!"

The Knights didn’t dare say another word. They reined their horses around and returned to their formation.

Ola stood alone at a battlement, his chest heaving like a caged bear.

He watched the Multi-Armed Race Warriors moving slowly on the beach below and clenched his fists.

’My hands are fucking itching for a fight.’

Barrett leaned against a battlement on the other side, his gaze locked on the beach.

"One hundred," Barrett said to the Centurion at his side.

"Yes, sir. Exactly one hundred, a full company," the Centurion replied, his hand resting on the horn at his waist. "They’re moving slowly. The sand is making them sink."

Cash heard the roars of frustration from his clansmen around him.

They were used to moving unhindered in the water. This soft land made their entire bodies uncomfortable.

"Hurry up! Don’t move like newborn soft-shell crabs!" Cash urged in his race’s tongue.

"Sir, they’re within three hundred meters," the Centurion reminded Barrett in a low voice.

"Wait," Barrett said, lowering his bastard sword and raising a spyglass. "Let them get closer. To that spot."

On the beach lay a fallen, rotting log. On the side facing the harbor, someone had drawn an inconspicuous white line.

The archers were already in position.

They drew arrows from the quivers on their backs and dipped the tips into a large cauldron beside them.

The cauldron held a thick, black liquid that gave off the pungent smell of oil and sulfur.

It was a new product from the labs—a long-lasting accelerant.

Velin wanted to use this opportunity to test the marine race’s resistance to fire.

"They’ve crossed the line," the Centurion said.

Cash strode past the white line, paying it no mind. His full attention was on the city walls.

’Why haven’t the land-dwellers attacked yet? What are they waiting for?’

"Ready," Barrett said, raising his hand.

The archers nocked their oil-soaked arrows. Soldiers in the front rank used torches to light the fuses on the arrowheads.

In an instant, hundreds of points of fire lit up along the wall.

"Loose!"

Barrett’s arm chopped down.

Hundreds of flaming arrows shot from the strings, raining down on the Multi-Armed Race’s formation.

Cash heard the sound from overhead.

He looked up to see a storm of fiery meteors falling from the sky.

"Tidal Shield!" he screeched in his race’s tongue.

The Multi-Armed Race Warriors reacted. A few Casters plunged their limbs into the sand, muttering incantations. A visible barrier of water vapor rapidly formed above their heads.

Arrows shattered against the vapor barrier. Flame met water with a series of HISSES as clouds of steam billowed out.

The Multi-Armed Race Warriors were largely unharmed.

However, the flames from the Alchemy Potions didn’t disappear.

Pulled by gravity, most of the accelerant flowed down the outer surface of the Magic Water Shield and onto the sand, forming a constantly burning ring of fire.

More fatally, much of the alchemical mixture, doused but not destroyed by the steam, turned into thick, black droplets that seeped through gaps in the shield.

These droplets landed on the sand and became incredibly sticky, severely hampering their movement.

"What’s going on?! What is this fire?!"

"My feet! This cursed sand!"

In the chaos, a Warrior tried to move quickly but was sent sprawling by the sticky ground, their body twisting unnaturally as they fell.

Though the flames were held at bay, their mobility was crippled!

The formation of the Multi-Armed Race fell into disarray.

On the wall, Ola’s eyes went wide, his face a mask of delighted surprise.

"Haha! A beautiful sight!" Then, as if searching for something, he looked up toward the third-floor command post.

A red flag was raised high and waved.

He snatched his battle-ax and roared at his Knights, "What are you waiting for? It’s feeding time! Charge with me!"

The massive gate in the side of the wall rumbled open.

Ola led the charge, a crazed bull at the head of the stampede. Behind him, five Knights thundered, their spirits just as high for battle.

"Crush them!" Ola roared, raising his battle-ax in a thunderous cry.

Before they departed, the iron-shod hooves of all the warhorses had been coated with a special ointment concocted by the alchemists.

This ointment nullified the stickiness of the alchemical mixture, allowing them to charge as if on solid ground.

Hoofbeats thundered against the ground, a deafening roar. They ignored the ring of fire and cut straight into the chaotic line of the Multi-Armed Race.

Cash could only watch as the iron monsters bore down on them.

He tried to raise his bone spear, but the stickiness underfoot robbed him of his strength. Even a simple parry became hopelessly clumsy.

Wielding his battle-ax, Ola was the first to carve into the enemy formation. He easily split a Multi-Armed Race Warrior, carapace and all, in two, drenching himself in dark green blood.

The Knights’ charge was like a hot knife through butter.

The battle was rapidly turning into a slaughter.

Just as Ola broke through the enemy line, ready to lead his Knights in a second charge and crush the survivors—disaster struck!

Several enormous tentacles erupted from the wet sand beneath them!

The tentacles writhed like giant pythons, snaking toward the Knights’ warhorses.

The warhorses shrieked in terror, rearing up to try and escape the subterranean assault.

Several Knights were thrown from their saddles, dragged beneath the sand by the tentacles in an instant, leaving only spreading pools of blood behind.

Ola’s mount shied violently. With a furious roar, he used all his strength to control the reins while simultaneously swinging his battle-ax, severing a tentacle wrapping around his horse’s leg.

By the time he managed to calm his men and reform their ranks, the bizarre tentacles had already vanished back into the sand, as if they had never been there.

Most of the Multi-Armed Race Warriors on the beach had used the opportunity to retreat toward the sea.

"Forget them! Press the attack!" Ola, burning with fury, was about to lead another charge.

Just then, a cool, imperious command sounded directly in his mind.

[RETURN, OLA!]

It was a command from Countess Diana, sent via the [Hive Matrix].

Ola jerked his warhorse to a halt and looked back toward the wall.

Confused, he asked back.

[WHY, MY LADY COUNTESS?! THEY’RE RIGHT THERE! LET ME SLAUGHTER THEM ALL!]

Diana stood at a battlement on the wall, her expression grave. The sea breeze stirred her golden braids.

She gazed down at Ola.

[THOSE WARRIORS ARE BAIT. A DISTRACTION.]

Ola froze, stunned.

Then, from behind the city, five Dragon Eagle Knights took flight, heading straight out to sea.

Diana’s final warning echoed in his mind.

[UNAS’S REAL ARMY IS MOVING TO ATTACK THE OUTER FORTS.]