Chapter 73: How Thieves Change Battles
It was afternoon. Heavy, dark clouds had already begun to blanket the city of Serenia.
General Wilthorn observed the city from a distance. He shielded his eyes with his hand as he stared into the horizon. Soon, it would be time for them to launch the assault.
But even that impending attack was of no real consequence. He was one of the select few who understood that grim truth.
For the forces of the CEF, those marching into battle at this very moment, their entire effort was merely a diversion.
"A new era," he murmured.
All external communication from Serenia had already been severed. Yet, individuals from within had been covertly speaking to them from the very start. Religious figures, members of the clergy, and common citizens alike had reached out. It was, after all, impossible to erase the fear of divine wrath from a small city, particularly when confronted by the dread of Corruption.
"Oh, holy saint," he prayed. "Forgive us for our transgressions. All of this is simply the way of the world, the destiny written by the hand above."
Everything was predetermined. That was the conviction Wilthorn clung to these days. It provided him immense comfort, serving as his shield against madness.
Once the clock struck three, it would be time to commence.
But before they could initiate the strike, a figure appeared upon the outer walls of the city. The individual possessed unmistakable red hair.
Sentries immediately began raising signal flags from the vanguard. Within minutes, urgent reports flooded back to the General.
"Deploy the Wyvern Knights ahead!"
An ordering flag rose near his command post. At once, the riders began to mount the wyverns stationed along the overlooking mountain ridge. The warriors stood fully prepared for the conflict.
And so, the clash began.
Dozens of wyverns soared in unison from the ridge, launching themselves directly toward the city walls.
The lead knight rapidly closed the distance. His wyvern banked low, swooping directly toward Adam.
A dense sphere of concentrated mana began to coalesce within the beast’s maw.
Intricate magic circles materialized in the air behind Adam. His allies had been incanting their spells long before they even revealed themselves.
A massive pillar of solid ice erupted from the magical array, hurtling directly toward the incoming wyvern. Simultaneously, a host of adventurers, knights, and guards surged from the city streets into the open sky, the majority riding flying mounts of their own.
Avian creatures of all sizes ascended to the clouds, from colossal eagles to even a blazing phoenix. Mounted securely upon their backs were the formidable Reinvelt Knights.
The defenders charged forward, and a few daring knights managed to leap onto the backs of the enemy wyverns. As spells and projectiles crossed paths from every direction, the knights maneuvered swiftly to subdue the enemy riders while a continuous barrage from the ground kept the flying beasts at bay.
Those bastards!
Behind Adam, dozens of soldiers, knights, and guards assembled and marched in perfect coordination.
Defending the walls was one thing, but how were so many common citizens taking to the sky in the first place?
Using magic to enhance his vision, General Wilthorn issued his next directive. Another signal flag was hoisted, prompting the wizards of the CEF to assemble and pool their immense mana.
Expansive ritual mats were unfurled across the earth, heavily embedded with glowing magic stones.
This was a massive spell chain, woven on a scale far beyond what a single mage, or even a dozen masters working together, could ever hope to manifest.
A colossal magic circle, rivaling the size of entire buildings, formed overhead. A brilliant beam of golden light shot into the heavens before dispersing into a devastating rain of energy, all of it crashing down upon the city.
Yet, matching magic circles had already materialized on the defensive side, fully prepared to neutralize the incoming deluge.
A fierce volley of magic erupted between both factions as the CEF initiated a full-scale advance from every direction. They pressed forward by land and air, supported by wizards at the rear. Heavy catapults rolled toward the city walls, unleashing their massive payloads.
Colossal cannonballs struck the stone walls, exploding violently upon impact.
The first signs of structural damage appeared. The true siege of the city had officially commenced.
And yet, somehow.
Every single time they raised their tactical flags, they were met with an immediate response.
"Sir! The wyvern knights have been thoroughly blocked!"
"Sir! The northern regiment has been completely intercepted!"
"What?! Are our secret orders leaking? What is happening out there?"
Each flag represented a highly specific maneuver. Beyond that, numerous other lines of communication were operating across the battlefield, yet, inexplicably, none of their secure channels yielded any tactical advantage.
The defenders of Serenia prepared a countermeasure in the exact amount of time it took the CEF to formulate a spell. Had that been their only obstacle, it might still have been manageable.
The specialized siege teams.
The mobile, smaller units.
To the north, the south, and every other direction where they attempted to dispatch stealth squads to flank the city, every single group was systematically intercepted.
It felt as though the enemy could read his mind, anticipating his every tactical decision.
It was utterly impossible.
Wilthorn felt his knees tremble. This should not be happening. The CEF was widely regarded as the most secretive military organization in the world, with their tactics and training manuals strictly classified.
Even assuming the reconnaissance unit that went missing in action within Serenia after relaying intelligence had been captured and interrogated, they could not possibly possess such comprehensive foresight. A war of this magnitude was fundamentally different from the localized corruption incidents that Bishop Reed and his team were typically dispatched to handle.
Furthermore, the military personnel involved were trained under entirely different protocols.
Overwhelmed with rage, Wilthorn hurried back toward his command tent.
That was precisely when it happened.
Just outside his tent, amid the deafening thuds of magical artillery colliding in the distance, a peculiar sound reached his ears.
A low, resonant bass note. It was music, sounding deeply ominous and unsettling.
Instinct screamed that something was terribly wrong.
The melody was emanating from directly inside his tent.
He rushed across the threshold.
His command chair was turned completely away from him. Two of his deaf wizards were kneeling on the floor, their hands bound high above their heads and their mouths gagged tightly. Their terrified eyes locked onto him.
"What is this?" General Wilthorn whispered, unable to conceal his shock.
A small music box sat on the center of the wooden table, groaning softly with each passing second. He took a cautious step forward.
"W-what are you..."
The leather chair slowly swiveled around.
I calmly raised my gaze from the book I was reading and looked directly into his eyes.
"Who are... you...?"
He seemed entirely unable to comprehend the situation, but that was precisely how it played out. It was a remarkable sight, witnessing the absolute shock in his eyes, the palpable terror, and the uncontrollable trembling.
It had been a long time since I had last witnessed such genuine dread, and a profound sense of satisfaction spread through my chest.
Without uttering a single word, I rose to my feet, stepped closer, and gently placed his ledger back onto the table.
The book slid smoothly across the wood and stopped directly in front of him.
Tucked neatly within the pages was a single card.
It bore the single, elegant letter "P."
"Phantom...?"
At that exact moment, his entire world went dark.
