Chapter 421 - 400: The Grim Reaper Has Come

"How are you feeling?"

Six thousand meters up in the sky, Ola pulled off his frost-covered Goggles and roughly wiped his face.

Stuka's voice echoed in his mind. The great bird was currently gliding smoothly on the air currents. Its pure white feathers were pressed so tightly against its body by the rushing air that they resembled a white carapace, outlining the rock-hard contours of its blood-gorged muscles.

"Couldn't be better!"

Ola grinned, revealing a set of stark white teeth. There were no whites in his eyes, only a sea of churning crimson.

The Icarus Potion was taking full effect. Right now, he felt like he could kick down the gates of hell themselves if they stood in his way.

Though he couldn't see them, he couldn't help but picture the new toys attached to Stuka's belly.

Four slender, black iron tubes with special fins on their tails were mounted there.

They were a new toy developed by Velin specifically for this kind of suicidal dive—the "Screamer."

"That big square down there, is that Hector's granary?"

Stuka banked slightly. Its golden pupils contracted to pinpricks, locking onto the matchbox-sized black dot visible through a gap in the clouds.

Ochs Fortress.

It was an inland fortress built against a mountain, one of the largest grain depots in Hector's territory and the veritable stomach of the entire coastal defense line.

"That's right."

Ola put his Goggles back on, pressed his body tight against the saddle, and cinched the safety harness.

"It's stuffed with wheat and jerky. Velin said that since Hector gets such a kick out of turtling up, we're going to smash his shell and kick over his food bowl!"

"Kicking over food bowls? I like the sound of that."

Stuka let out a short cry.

"Alright, boys, listen up!"

Ola's voice, trembling with excitement, traveled through the hive terminal and into the mind of every Knight.

"Follow me. Don't fall behind, and don't slow down. If anyone dares piss their pants on the pull-up, you'll be scrubbing toilets for a month when we get back!"

"Roger that!"

A beastly roar erupted over the communication channel. The hundred Sky Knights, also high on the potion, were in a state of extreme agitation.

"Countdown."

"Three."

"Two."

"One."

"Yeehaw! Here comes the reaper!"

Stuka abruptly folded its wings.

It didn't spiral down as it had before. Instead, it became a stone, plummeting vertically toward the ground.

Gravity took over.

The sound of the wind vanished.

In its place was a soul-rending shriek.

"SCREEEEEEE—!!!"

It was the scream of the bombs cutting through the air as they fell at extreme speed—a declaration from Death itself, carried on the high-velocity airflow.

...

Ochs Fortress. The city walls.

The midday sun was a bit dazzling. It washed over the fortress's layered, gray-white granite walls, giving them a reassuringly solid look.

Garrison Commander Rolf leaned contentedly against a crenellation of the watchtower, a mug of rye beer in hand. The biting mountain wind whipped his bearskin cloak about, but he felt no chill. On the contrary, he found the wind carried a scent of iron that seemed to blow all his troubles away.

"Sir, the wind is a bit unpredictable today. Should we have the crossbowmen check the winches again?"

The adjutant behind him was wringing his hands nervously, his eyes darting to the sky from time to time. Ever since news of the fall of Black Stone Port had arrived, the young man's face hadn't regained its color.

Rolf scoffed. He turned and slammed his mug down on the stone parapet, gesturing at the mountain-backed behemoth before them.

"Kira, get a grip. Open your eyes and take a good look at what we're standing on."

Rolf's large hand swept in an arc. "This is Ochs Fortress! A place of a hundred years of glory for the Hector Clan! We're backed by the Broken Teeth Mountain Range and face an open valley. In all of history, not even the wolf-rider legions of the Ten Thousand Beasts Court, who laid siege for three whole months, could pry a single stone from these walls!"

He pointed to the most prominent structure in the center of the fortress, a massive domed building.

Its roof gleamed with a strange, silver-gray luster in the sunlight. It had just been fitted with anti-magic metal plates within the last week, each one worth a fortune.

"See that granary? It's filled with ten thousand tons of wheat and dried meat—enough to feed thirty thousand frontline troops for an entire year! It's the 'stomach' of our defensive line. To protect this stomach, the Marquis spared no expense."

Rolf pulled his adjutant to the edge of the wall, pointing at the dense network of defensive installations below.

"Every fifty meters! A heavy Dragon-Hunting Crossbow every fifty meters!"

Following his finger, one could see the wide city walls lined with menacing metal beasts, their heads raised to the sky. Crossbow Arrows as thick as a child's arm were already nocked, their specialized armor-piercing spiral tips glinting under a coat of Demon-Suppressing Black Oil.

It wasn't so much a wall as a forest of steel thorns.

Soldiers moved between the massive crossbows. Most were veterans recently recalled from the Northern Territory, their eyes sharp and their movements efficient. The fortress was garrisoned with five thousand elite troops at full strength, and even the stables were packed with heavy cavalry, ready to charge at a moment's notice.

"But sir... I hear those birds can fly..." Kira still said, uneasy.

"Fly? Let them fly!"

Rolf pointed contemptuously at the tallest Mage tower above them. There, three Middle-Tier Mages in purple robes sat around a detection Array, the crystals atop their Magic Staffs emitting a constant, faint glow.

"Three Middle-Tier Mages! Working in shifts, 24/7! If a single fly comes within five kilometers, the Arcane Magic alarm will shriek louder than your wife. And when you add this impenetrable web of Crossbow Arrows..."