“This is just wearing us down! If this keeps up, we can’t win!” The Captain of the Starlight Lily of the Valley’s face flushed red, unsure if it was from anxiety or fear.
That group of mysterious Masked Men and the magical beasts seemed to have reached some kind of agreement, working together in an attempt to wipe them all out in these waters.
“Who exactly are those Masked Men… There’s absolutely no information on them in the Arks Database!”
All of their strongest forces had been pinned down.
There was barely any ice left; even with the most advanced Magic Ark’s firepower in human hands, both the Gold-armored Knight and the Guard Squad on board were being pushed back step by step, suffering heavy casualties.
On the ice, human corpses and those of magical beasts were piled together, reduced to ash in the flames.
The Brave under siege was gradually losing ground, and even the Silver Deer, pure white all over, was battered and covered in wounds, one of its antlers snapped clean off.
The aged Captain looked at this doomsday-like scene and let out a long sigh.
He’d dreamt countless times of his own death, but never had the endings in his dreams been as terrifying or hopeless as what lay before his eyes now.
In the cabin, the passengers who had no ability to fight and couldn’t take part in the battle were already sobbing uncontrollably. Peering through the tiny windows, it was as if they’d already foreseen their own deaths.
This was supposed to be a Strategic Ark headed to support the War Zone.
“Ah, I really didn’t expect my life would end here after all.”
A middle-aged man with a stubbled face carried his Recorder and slowly walked past the Captain.
Being a War Correspondent was a dangerous job, but this man had been in the field for a long time.
He used his own life to record information about the magical beasts in humanity’s war against them, then brought that information back to the Newspaper Office, so that the papers could help people familiarize themselves with these monsters, letting humans mentally prepare in advance and improve their survival chances upon first contact.
He dreamed that one day, he would be able to record information about every magical beast and share it with all humanity. But… the magical beasts never ceased; every day, new ones he’d never seen before were born.
Humans could never know all the magical beasts, just as, at the age of fourteen, he hadn’t known that the Goblin attacking his Village was actually a weak creature that feared fire… He’d woken from nightmares countless times, then stared blankly at the pitch-black, moonless Sky. If someone in the Village back then had known that information, would the ending have been different?
The Captain didn’t stop the War Correspondent who left the ship alone and walked toward the magical beasts.
He was thinking that maybe, one day, magical beasts would disappear from the world. He would retire with honor, return to his old hometown fishing Village, and enjoy his twilight years. He’d have filial sons and daughters, lively and mischievous grandchildren…
“R-report, Captain! All the messages we’ve sent out have been intercepted by the enemy! The distress signal can’t get out of these waters at all!!” The skinny Vice Captain came running and tumbling over, panting as he delivered the bad news.
There was no time to think about those things now. The Captain glanced at the magical beasts already closing in on the Ark, turned, and drew a Magic Inscribed Machete from the Weapon Rack, heading down the corridor the War Correspondent had just taken.
As he walked, he said, “Just do your job. You don’t need to report everything to me anymore.”
The mighty Ark, as grand as a skyscraper, teetered on the brink of collapse. Ashes drifted through the Sky. The water, scorched by the Dragon-type Magical Beast’s breath, was burning fiercely.
The old Captain, wielding his blade one-handed, beheaded any magical beast that slipped through the defenses as he moved.
His body was clearly aged, yet he could still swing the Magic Inscribed Machete with the ferocity of a young man.
Some monsters he could cut down with a single blow; others took several trembling strikes. His once-pristine Military Uniform was slashed in several places by the claws of magical beasts, Red Blood soaking through the white lining.
On the way, the Captain came across the War Correspondent again, but this time the man was lying on the ice, a group of fang-toothed eels gnawing at his body. His bony hand still clung tightly to the delicate Recorder, Brown Eyes wide open, staring lifelessly at the Sky.
“Damn beasts!”
The old Captain cursed inwardly, rushing forward to hack at the monster’s spine. With a single swing, he carved off the entire head.
Black ichor splattered everywhere. After dispatching the few beasts gnawing on the corpse, the old Captain continued on toward the direction of the Gold-armored Knight and the Guard Squad, where the battle was fiercest.
“This old guy’s got some strength left in him.” The skinny Vice Captain wiped the sweat from his brow, then turned and yelled in the direction of the Magic Secondary Cannon, “How much longer until it’s loaded?!”
“The Magic Crystal Stone is already loaded! Powering up now—just two and a half minutes… no, one minute left!” The Commander of the Turret shouted back in response.
Blades and spears clashed violently, sending shrill thunderous noise through the air.
Rotissa’s arms were going numb, but in the next instant she invoked her Authority, reverting her state to how she felt after a perfect rest aboard the ship.
Relying on this extraordinary recovery, she was able to hold her own in the fight against more than ten Masked Men.
However, the leader in the metal mask had been evading her strikes all along, as if secretly communicating with something or someone.
After fending off the surrounding Masked Men, Rotissa looked up toward the Elf Girl. Under the combined assault of several Eighth Rank Monsters and the Dragon circling above, the Elf Girl seemed unable to hold out much longer.
Weaker magical beasts were flooding toward the Ark, crashing into the Defensive Line held by the Gold-armored Knight.
The situation looked grim.
A shadow flickered through Rotissa’s dark red eyes. She no longer conserved her stamina, forcibly ramping up her Authority to unleash power exceeding even the Eighth Rank for the first time.
The force of Reversal was silent, formless, and colorless. In an instant, several Masked Men were caught off guard. Some of their bodies shrank and withered, collapsing to the ground as decrepit elders; others reverted to the appearance of eight-year-old children.
Taking advantage of the enemy’s stunned moment, Rotissa immediately lunged toward those affected, finishing them off.
Other Masked Men trying to help suddenly found their legs mired as if trapped in a bog, able only to watch helplessly as their comrades died beneath the Brave’s Spear.
“What a magnificent power…”
Black Mask, standing off to the side, remarked in a tone of admiration. He was not afraid, merely shaking his head lightly. “What a pity such power is wasted in a place like this. Too wasteful…”
Somewhere unseen, it seemed as though a deity who ruled the Wheel of Fate was sneering in mockery.
Suddenly, Rotissa felt a chill spread across her entire body. Every nerve was taut, screaming at her: Run! Run now! If you don’t, you’ll die! Don’t worry about the people on the ship anymore!
But… how could a Brave ever run away!
Rotissa took a deep breath, steadying her heartbeat.
Suddenly.
Light footsteps sounded behind her, neither hurried nor slow, as if every step landed on piano keys—graceful and unhurried.
Cold sweat slid from Rotissa’s grip on the spear, bright as pearls.
Black Mask looked at Rotissa, but his gaze settled on the figure behind her, his tone calm:
“Lord Demon King, for something this trivial, is it really necessary for you to come in person?”
“I didn’t want to come, but the Wheel of Fate shows you’ll all die here, so I had no choice but to come.”
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