The moment the massive explosion occurred, Master Albert felt his vision turn white; the entire world was ripped apart. The [Dimension Door] Magic Scroll was triggered. The spell model instantly formed, and the power of spatial distortion enveloped him forcibly dragging him away from his original position. In that moment, he saw Archmage Angus frantically trying to cast a spell but the dazzling white light from the heart of the explosion had completely consumed Angus’s figure.
The next second, the spatial transformation was complete. He was teleported to another parallel street one hundred and fifty meters away—a street he had just run through. Before he could even steady himself, a terrifying indescribable force struck him from the rear.
“Boom——!!!”
The deafening roar felt like it was tearing his soul apart, immediately followed by the ground violently shaking beneath his feet, making him stumble and nearly fall. The brick-and-stone buildings on both sides of the street were covered in spiderweb-like cracks under the visible shockwave, like sandcastles hit by a strong gale. Amidst the grating sound of breaking stone, the entire building collapsed. A deluge of bricks, shattered wood, and glass shards rained down on him like hail.
“Damn it!” Albert instinctively raised his left arm to shield his head, simultaneously casting [Shield Spell] on himself, trying to construct a basic defense. “Bang! Bang! Bang!” Countless debris slammed into the translucent shield in front of him. In moments, the shield’s defense was completely exhausted. The tremendous impact still made him wince in pain, and a head-sized brick smashed violently onto his left arm, which was shielding his head.
“Snap!” A crisp sound of bone breaking rang out, and searing pain shot up his left arm.
“Ugh!” Albert groaned. The force of the impact slammed him backward several steps. He finally collapsed onto the rubble covered ground. He felt his left arm was broken, hanging limply at his side, completely useless.
Smoke and the acrid smell of gunpowder smoke engulfed the entire street. Visibility was frighteningly low. Albert ignored the excruciating pain in his arm. He struggled to climb up, covered in ash and rubble. His white beard and hair were matted with black dust, and his magnificent Mage Robe was ripped in several places. He looked like an old beggar who had crawled out of a trash heap.
He coughed violently, looking up toward the direction of the explosion. A massive mushroom cloud, mixed with flame and thick smoke, was slowly rising, obscuring the sky. Even from one hundred and fifty meters away and through the obstruction of layered buildings, he could still feel the devastating residual energy.
Albert’s heart sank. He knew he had survived purely by luck. In the final moment before the detonation, his instinct felt the deadly magical fluctuation, prompting him to instinctively tear open the [Dimension Door] Magic Scroll he carried. That scroll which intended to save his life in the direst of moments had been used up just like that.
But what about Angus? And the other three supporting Mages? Were they still alive?
Albert tremblingly activated his communication wristband. “Angus! If you hear me, answer! Angus!” “Fernand! Where are you?” “Roy?!” The communication wristband was silent. The four lights representing Angus, Fernand, Roy, and the other Fifth-Circle Mage who had rushed to help had extinguished.
Dead. All dead. Four Highland Mages, including one Seventh-Circle Archmage, had been utterly wiped out in that single, earth-shattering explosion by that Saxon barbarian using a method Albert had never think of! Angus… he was a Seventh-Circle Transmutation Archmage! a pillar of the Highland Mage Corps and a precious strategic asset to the Empire! Just… gone?
A mixture of rage, fear, and sorrow instantly surged into Albert’s heart, making it hard to breathe. He couldn’t comprehend how things had escalated to this point. They had only come to hunt a low-level Spellcaster who stole a detonator. How had it turned into this?
That Saxon man, how did he do it? How did he know that street had a trap? No… it wasn’t an ambush; it was a trap he had personally set! He used himself as bait, actively luring five Highland Mages into that death trap!
“Lunatic… that man is an absolute lunatic!” Albert muttered with a tremor in his voice he didn’t even notice. He remembered the tragedy of Seville again, and the legend of the ‘Mage Killer’ that circulated within the Highland Mage Corps. Before, he had scoffed at it. In his view, it was likely fabricated by the surviving, terrified Highland Mage.
But now, he not only believed it; he had personally experienced it. The hunt had been misguided from the very beginning. They thought they were the hunters and the Saxon was the prey. Yet, in the end, they were the prey, meticulously lured into a trap and finally hunted down by the opponent!
“No wonder that surviving fellow switched to the Protection school of magic after returning to the Mage Tower… Now I understand.”
A hurried sound of footsteps interrupted Albert’s thoughts. He violently looked up, warily scanning the direction of the sound. A unit of Britannian infantry was running out of the smoke, their faces filled with panic. They paused when they saw Albert standing in the middle of the street like a demon, then recognized his Mage Robe.
“It… it’s Master Albert!” an officer shouted excitedly. “Master! Are you alright? What was that explosion? Was it a Saxon Magic Crystal Cannon?”
Albert did not answer their questions. He merely gave the routed soldiers a cold look, then turned and began walking, limping with his broken arm toward the core area of South Amiens. He was in no state to deal with these common soldiers. He had to return to the command post immediately and report everything that had happened to Field Marshal John French.
No, not just report. He had to make a decision—a decision that concerned the lives of all the Highland Mages who had followed the Expeditionary Force to this land.
“We must… we must evacuate immediately!” Albert mentally screamed as he walked. The tragedy of Seville could not be allowed to repeat itself in Amiens! The blood of the Highland Mages could not be shed in vain for these foolish Gauls any longer!
As he walked, he reactivated his communication wristband. This time, he used his highest authority as the mission leader to issue an order that shocked every Highland Mage still fighting in the city.
“Attention all Highland Mages, this is Albert! Immediately terminate your current combat mission, abandon your positions, and execute an emergency retreat! Converge on the Expeditionary Force Command Post at the South City central plaza! Repeat, immediately terminate your mission and execute an emergency retreat!”
He knew that once this order was issued, the Britannian Expeditionary Force’s defense line in Amiens would completely collapse. Without the Mages’ support, the under-manned infantry and Armored Knights could not possibly stop the Saxon assault.
But he no longer cared. The lives of the Highland Mages were far more precious than Gallic soil. Furthermore, this mission, which was labeled ‘assistance’ but was actually ‘battlefield research,’ had yielded its conclusion. He had enough content to report back to the Highland Mage Corps leadership. Albert realized the situation was far worse than the leadership had indicated before departure. Or rather, both the Highland Mage Corps and the Empire’s high command had underestimated the rapid progress of Saxon military technology.
Leaving aside the fact that the enemy’s Armored Knights already possessed technology capable of overwhelmingly defeating their own Armored Knights in combat, the threat posed by the Armored Airships was also severely underestimated. The Empire’s leadership and the Highland Mage Corps had always viewed it as a clumsy ‘aerial artillery platform’ that could be easily destroyed by Mages using [Disintegrate] or other high-level attack spells. But the current situation showed that this ‘aerial artillery platform’ was capable of threatening every unit on the ground, and its own Magic Shield and anti-air weapons were fully capable of killing approaching Mages. Exchanging multiple High-level Mages for one airship was simply not cost-effective.
The tide of the war had completely changed…
Field Marshal John French felt like he was going insane. In just one morning, the battle situation had undergone a complete reversal and heading in the worst possible direction. First, the Saxon Armored Airship appeared, disrupting his Mages’ guidance of the Magic Crystal Cannons and covering the enemy’s ground forces’ breach of the northern outer defense line. Then, the eight High-level Mages led by Master Albert suffered heavy losses in their engagement with the Armored Airships. Although one Saxon airship was eventually downed, it cost them five Mages, including one Sixth-Circle Mage… Moreover, the crashed Saxon Armored Airship had directly destroyed eighteen Magic Crystal Cannons across three positions, not to mention the large number of infantry casualties who were unable to evade the crash.
The constant barrage of bad news left him dizzy and breathless. He was anxiously awaiting news from Master Albert, hoping the Seventh-Circle Archmage could lead the counterattack and recapture the railway bridge, or at least destroy it to stop the subsequent Saxon forces.
Just then, the command post door was violently pushed open, and a Dispatch Officer stumbled in.
“Field Marshal! Master Albert… Master Albert is back!”
“What?” John French’s spirit lifted, and he quickly asked: “What is the situation? Is the bridge recaptured?”
However, when he saw Albert walk into the headquarters, the look of pleasant surprise instantly solidified on his face. The Master Albert before him bore no resemblance to the profound, composed Master he usually saw. He was covered in dust and bloodstains, his magnificent Mage Robe was torn, his face was pale as paper, and his left arm hung limply, clearly broken. The other Highland Mages who had returned from different fronts after receiving the general assembly order were also stunned to see Albert in this state.
“My God! Master Albert, what happened to you?”
“Medic! Call a medic quickly!”
After a moment of frantic activity, a medic rushed over and began examining Albert’s injuries. “Fractured humerus, but thankfully no penetration of the skin. He needs setting and rest. His recovery depends on his own constitution…” The preliminary diagnosis gave everyone slight relief—at least the Seventh-Circle Mage would not die on the spot.
John French rushed over to Albert. Looking at his disheveled appearance, the anxiety in his heart intensified. “Master Albert, what exactly happened? Where is Master Angus? And the others?”
Albert did not answer immediately. He simply looked up at John French with a cold, vacant stare the Marshal had never seen before.
“Field Marshal John French,” Albert’s voice was hoarse and low, “I need you to immediately order the recall of all Highland Mages I have not yet contacted from other fronts.”
“What?” John French was stunned. “Recall all Mages? Why? Now is when we need them most!”
“Because if they don’t retreat now, they will all die here,” Albert said, word by word. “Angus and three other Mages… they have all perished.”
“Boom!” The news struck John French’s head like a bolt from the blue. Silence descended upon the command post. Everyone looked at Albert in disbelief.
Master Angus perished? He was a Seventh-Circle Transmutation Archmage! And four Highland Mages in total, just gone?
“This—this is impossible!” John French cried out in disbelief. “What exactly happened? Was it the Saxon airships?”
“No, not the airships.” Albert shook his head, a flash of deep hatred and terror in his eyes. “It was that ‘Mage Killer.’ We all walked into his trap.”
He quickly recounted a brief summary of everything that had just happened. When they heard how the Saxon Captain had used himself as bait to lure five Highland Mages into a street filled with Magic Crystal Bombs and detonated the trap, everyone in the headquarters gasped.
“Field Marshal, I must now exercise the right of discretion granted to me by the Highland Mage Corps and the Imperial War Department in emergencies.” Albert’s voice was firm and allowed no room for negotiation. “I will lead all surviving Mages to immediately evacuate Amiens and retreat to a safe rear area. We cannot afford any more losses.”
“No! Absolutely not!” John French roared hysterically: “You cannot leave! If you leave, how can we fight this war? How can Amiens be held?!” The Expeditionary Force was already at a massive numerical disadvantage, only barely holding the line due to the fighting power provided by the Highland Mage Corps. If the Mages collectively withdrew, it would be a catastrophic blow that would collapse the entire defense line instantly!
“Fight?” Albert sneered, his laughter filled with self-mockery and sorrow: “Field Marshal, can’t you see? This war was unwinnable from the start!” He pointed to the map, which the Expeditionary Force staff were constantly updating with enemy positions. “We are outnumbered four-to-one! Our Armored Knights are virtually helpless against their Armored Knights equipped with some kind of new weapon! And they have the aerial advantage provided by that Armored Airship!”
“Now, even our Highland Mages have become their prey! How many losses have we suffered in just one morning? This is the worst defeat the Highland Mage Corps has suffered since its formation!”
(End of this Chapter)