Ch.246Pride (4)

Until just a moment ago, the situation was nothing short of the worst possible scenario.

That fallen angel Dobiel, who could fly at least several times faster than me, kept widening the distance between us, forcing a completely one-sided battle by launching ranged attacks from positions where I couldn’t strike back.

No matter how hard I tried to close the distance, his speed was incomparably faster and more agile than Gus’s, and his ranged attacks, while blockable, would cause at least severe injuries if I were to take a direct hit.

I was confident I could slice him up within 10 exchanges if I somehow managed to get in close, but the problem was that I couldn’t even approach him in the first place—it was truly a maddening situation.

To make matters worse, I had to consider the possibility of that fallen angel rampaging through the village, which further limited how aggressively I could act.

Each of Pride’s minions is a master of wicked schemes and plots, so they could easily resort to taking hostages. As a result, I ended up stuck in a frustrating war of attrition, unable to make any decisive moves.

[Lord Kamil! I-I’ve arrived! Lord Corin is with me too!]

‘….?!! Well done, Gretel!’

That is, until Gretel’s telepathic message reached my mind.

Gretel, one of the 24 members of the Basilisk Squad. The massive transport golem armor “BASILISK.” And Corin, who had been reborn as a chimera knight.

I was overjoyed at the arrival of these variables that could turn the tide of this drawn-out, seemingly endless battle. But surprisingly, contrary to my expectations, these “variables” weren’t the end of it.

[F-Father and big sister are here too…! Droop stayed behind to protect the village….]

‘That’s excellent news!’

Although they lack flight capabilities, they’re still mid-tier fighters. And no matter how high-ranking that angel might be among mid-tiers, he has clear limitations.

Just as I’m not particularly skilled in extreme long-range combat, that creature is a hexagonal type specialized in aerial combat, which means there are certain battlefield environments where he can’t easily maintain an advantage over me.

So, I quickly conveyed my intentions while continuing to counter the attacks that kept coming my way.

Explosive sounds reverberated fiercely as I intercepted the black light spears, and occasionally, Pride’s black magic spells mixed in, aiming directly for my neck.

Of course, my Inquisition-issued equipment that prevents corruption and the magical defense from the “Ogre’s Hide” are formidable, but even so, avoiding such magic entirely is always the surest path to gaining an advantage in battle.

One might think this would lead to another one-sided war of attrition with the engagement dragging on, but this time, there were several distinct elements at play.

Elements that I had been keeping in reserve, as using them immediately would reduce their surprise effect, but were ready to be deployed in an emergency.

“—Fire!”

Like, for instance, the shells and fireballs that began raining down on that angel’s head the moment I gave the command.

※ ※ ※

Naturally, no matter how advanced the technology of this era might be in some respects, it’s impossible to precisely bombard a human-sized target from hundreds of meters away.

In fact, it would be more accurate to say that such technology hasn’t been developed even in modern times.

Even self-propelled howitzers that control all variables with computers and load propellant charges down to “0.N” grams have unstable hit rates. How accurate would muzzle-loading cannons be, where gunpowder is loaded by eyeballing it?

Obviously, such long-range bombardments aren’t meant for pinpoint strikes but for wide-area coverage, and artillery units rarely focus their firepower on a single individual.

Especially if that individual is flying around at speeds of up to 20m/s and constantly changing position—wouldn’t it be foolish to try hitting them with ordinary howitzers rather than anti-aircraft guns?

So under normal circumstances, no matter how impressive the bombardment capabilities of the armed container might be, using it to directly take down a single fallen angel would be virtually impossible…

But what makes it possible is Gretel, the sub-pilot of BASILISK and pilot of the “magic user specialized unit.”

Her computational abilities, which allow her to execute witch school magic, rival those of a decent computer, and when using various mystical means, she can improve accuracy in ways that science cannot.

While she can’t achieve the “guaranteed hit” of fate-based abilities—the pinnacle of accuracy-enhancing powers—she can certainly manage “fate guidance,” and even without that level of precision, she can elevate the fire control system to almost mechanical levels of accuracy.

However, at this moment, there seems to be no need for such overwhelming precision.

The fundamental goal is to block the enemy’s escape routes and interfere with his path. This does require some precise control, but the precision needed here is far different from the usual kind.

What’s required for area denial through wide-area attacks is simply a broad impact zone and lethal power. The target shouldn’t think they can withstand the hit; they should instinctively try to avoid it out of fear for their life.

Thus, the angel, exposed to the flaming shells flying from beyond, seemed to be wary of the bombardment and tried to fly away, only to find his retreat paths blocked by the wall of fire that had formed.

“—Now!!”

And naturally, with his retreat paths blocked, the dice had rolled in my favor.

What formed was a straight path. One target in sight. My instincts peaked as my thirst for slaughter made me drool, and as if responding to this, my mental image pulsated, harmonizing all factors into one.

My muscles swelled as if someone had pumped them up, and as the pulsating mental image amplified to its extreme, the world became tinged with emptiness.

All I could see was the enemy. All I could perceive was myself. With everything else vanishing from my world, I moved ■■, my skin wrapped in a storm of murderous intent.

Cutting through the wind and slicing through the incoming spears, I flew at full speed, as if ■■ and I had become one.

And then—

[—■■■■!!]

‘….Huh?’

As if trying to stop me belatedly, it unleashed a power not unlike a desperate struggle, but its effect was enough to pull my consciousness back from the mental image to reality.

In the air, fallen angels flaunted their blasphemous forms one by one, while on the ground, beasts that were once human but had been horribly twisted revealed themselves one after another.

Beasts with developed jaws and sharp teeth. Beasts with abnormally grown forelegs. Beasts with tongues that writhed like tentacles. And beasts so grotesquely distorted that they defied description.

Though different in form, they all somehow felt human in essence, and all had sprouted hideous wings on their backs, suggesting flight capabilities.

These were the end results of souls sold by Pride’s followers—expendables created to die in place of fallen angels, who are relatively fewer in number compared to other demon lords’ minions.

In a sense, they were a high-low mix that constituted Pride’s true fighting force. As about 3,000 of these creatures revealed themselves, “they” appeared with an even more intense presence.

Unlike the fallen angel Dobiel, who was covered in armor, these were naked beings—Pride’s minions who openly displayed their corruption, fallen angels.

Among them, four who were powerful enough to be called mid-tier naturally formed a formation, as if escorting Dobiel.

And Dobiel, who had stopped fleeing and was now hovering in place with feigned dignity, uttered a few words of blasphemy toward me.

[You, maggot. Do you truly believe you can survive here alone?]

Gus, who understood the word “alone,” bristled and hissed in anger, but I simply calmed him down while sighing at their boundless arrogance.

And then, right after.

—KWAAAAAANG!!!

Three cannon shots rang out from the distance, and then, to my delight, they landed right beside me.

“—Lord Alzar!”

“Kamiuuuu—!!”

“I’ve come to help… son-in-law.”

My incredibly reliable and dependable subordinates? comrades had arrived, riding the fired shells.