The Lord Who Levels Up by Devouring - Chapter 242
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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 242. An Impregnable Fortress (1)
The battlefield transformed into chaos in an instant.
The cavalry swept away by the archers of Whitewolf Territory crumbled helplessly.
A few soldiers survived.
But it meant little.
They floundered in confusion.
Urgent reports echoed from all directions.
“Cavalry formation collapsing!”
“The flank is sealed off!”
Bellock clenched his teeth.
His battlefield experience was far too vast to panic at this.
He needed to regain his composure.
This was not yet defeat.
He had to reorganize the lines and counterattack.
“Rear infantry, advance! Form a phalanx!”
At Bellock’s roar, the soldiers moved.
The soldiers of Whitewolf Territory began their advance.
“A full frontal assault? In this situation?”
Bellock let out a hollow laugh.
It was madness.
To push forward directly without the mobility of cavalry—it was suicide.
Only reckless berserkers with no grasp of tactics or strategy would attempt such a thing.
Bellock’s hollow laugh faded quickly.
“What—what is this?!”
“Aaaaaaaagh!”
The mercenary phalanx was annihilated where it stood.
The rear archers drew their bowstrings in unison.
Patapatapatapatapak!
A deluge of arrows descended, blotting out the sky.
The soldiers of Whitewolf Territory raised their shields in perfect synchronization.
The result of countless drills—a flawless execution.
Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud-thunk!
Every arrow bounced off the shields.
“Impossible!”
Bellock screamed.
But his cry was swallowed by shrieks of agony.
“Aaaaagh!!”
“Hold the line! Hold—gaaaaah!”
Screams engulfed the battlefield.
Screams engulfed the battlefield.
Whether it was walls reinforced with steel or anything else.
They crumbled pathetically, sliced through like tofu.
Bellock’s face twisted in horror.
“This, this is impossible!!”
The weapons wielded by none other than the soldiers of Whitewolf Territory.
As if they were aura blades, they sliced through steel like tofu.
Through this, each and every soldier of Whitewolf Territory possessed combat prowess rivaling Masters.
In other words, every single soldier was a Master!
Whitewolf Territory was such a place!
Bellock found himself stepping backward involuntarily.
At that same moment, a man with a menacing appearance—a Grand Master—hurled himself into the heart of the mercenary formation.
“Slaughter every last one of these bastards!!”
A roar erupted from his throat.
Terror rippled across the battlefield.
The man swung an enormous axe.
Crash!!
In that single blow, a dozen soldiers were sent flying into the air.
“Gahhhhh!”
“Hold the line! Hold it!!”
But the formation had already collapsed.
Centered on that man, the soldiers of Whitewolf Territory seized and shattered the enemy’s formation.
The sight of a Master army sweeping across the battlefield was overwhelming itself.
“What, what exactly is that….”
In this case, numerical superiority became meaningless.
The difference in troop numbers determines victory or defeat on the battlefield only insofar as both sides possess equal weapon performance.
Against one thousand Masters, such a principle held no sway whatsoever!
The front lines shattered into fragments.
Through the gaps, the soldiers of Whitewolf Territory surged forward.
…Soldiers?
No, they were not mere soldiers.
Practical combat experience, systematic training.
Overwhelming battle instinct.
Elite beyond even regular military standards.
Therefore, they were not soldiers.
An elite knight order.
Moreover, an unprecedented order of knights, every one of them possessing Master-class combat prowess!
“This is insane…! Is this even a war that makes sense!!”
It was utterly unbelievable.
Yet the front had collapsed.
The flanks were being pushed back as well.
The formation could no longer be maintained.
Before Bellock’s eyes, everything crumbled helplessly.
“Hold on! It’s not over yet!!”
Bellock screamed as if denying the reality before him—
“Ughhhh!!”
…But even Bellock didn’t last long.
* * *
Flames engulfed the rooftops.
Thick black smoke blanketed the village.
Dreck kicked open the front door of a civilian dwelling.
The door shattered and swung open violently.
An empty house.
Not a soul stirred within.
Dreck searched every corner of the dwelling.
But there was nothing.
Clothing, provisions, valuables—all had vanished.
“…They’ve already fled.”
Dreck ground his teeth and gripped his sword hilt.
Then he gestured out the window.
“Search every other house. If anyone remains, drag them out. Men can be killed, but if you find any Elves, do not kill them.”
His subordinates scattered with sinister purpose.
Dreck paused to catch his breath.
Dreck had risen from the impoverished ranks of the Borderlands.
He had made his living through plunder and battle, and soon came to be called the “Mad Dog of the Battlefield.”
This moment was no different.
Dreck had been pillaging and burning villages throughout the Whitewolf Territory.
-Please, spare me…!
A scream echoed from outside.
There was still a territorial resident who hadn’t managed to escape.
As I stepped outside, the subordinates dragged someone roughly from a house.
A woman cradling a child in her arms.
It seemed the child had prevented her from fleeing properly.
The woman trembled, her arms wrapped protectively around the child.
Dreck approached and lifted the woman’s chin with the tip of his sword.
She was not an Elf.
But she was quite beautiful.
Terror filled the woman’s eyes.
A smile spread across Dreck’s lips.
“Take her.”
“What about the child?”
“Who the hell has a taste for brats?”
“This one reeks of milk. It’s a bit much….”
“Then throw it away.”
The two subordinates forcibly twisted the woman’s arm and snatched the child from her grasp.
“No, please! Please don’t!!”
The woman’s anguished cry tore through the air.
But the subordinates paid her no mind.
They hurled the child to the ground.
Or rather, they were about to.
Pshhh—!
A sound like air escaping filled the silence.
Blood erupted from the subordinate’s neck.
His eyes went wide as saucers before he collapsed.
The remaining one spun around reflexively.
But an arrow was already lodged in his chest.
Both corpses crumpled simultaneously.
“…?”
Dreck’s expression twisted with confusion.
The other subordinates around him stirred uneasily.
Through their ranks, a shadow-like figure flitted past.
One subordinate’s head was severed clean.
Before it even hit the ground, another subordinate collapsed, spraying blood.
“Enemies!!”
Only then did Dreck cry out.
But the silent shadows slaughtered his subordinates without mercy.
Dreck’s men fell one by one, their blades never even drawn.
In that instant, a shadow descended upon Dreck.
Dreck swung his sword.
Clang!
Metal shrieked against metal.
A shock reverberated through his arm, numbing it.
“Ugh…!”
Dreck gritted his teeth.
He lifted his gaze to identify the shadow’s true form.
A slender frame.
Pale white skin.
And pointed ears.
‘An Elf?’
It was an Elf.
The shadows slaughtering his subordinates were all Elves.
‘Why…?’
The Elves are extraordinarily cautious about taking life.
Even if someone were wicked, they would not kill them rashly.
They merely warned and forced retreat.
But now was different.
“Gaaaahhhhh!”
“C-counterattack—aaaahhhhh!”
Screams erupted from all directions.
The Elves showed not a shred of hesitation or reluctance in taking life.
‘Could it be….’
I had heard of them before.
Elves who would sever life without hesitation to protect the forest.
Guardians of the woods and instruments of slaughter.
The Forest Wardens.
These were precisely the ones standing before Dreck.
“Your footsteps have defiled our forest.”
“Leave not even a shadow behind.”
Schwick—!
Dreck’s head shot skyward in a spray of blood.
* * *
Boom! Boom boom…!
S-save me!!
Gaaaahhhhh!!
Tremors shook the Snowy Plain.
And screams carried on the wind.
“It appears to have begun.”
The assault and plunder upon Whitewolf Territory.
Robert Segan withdrew his gaze.
Robert Segan.
A master of tactics and strategy.
He was a frontier officer of nomadic origin.
Yet his defense of Grahen Pass in the Borderlands, where he reversed a power disparity exceeding threefold, became doctrine in several military academies.
It was no accident that Robert Segan now commanded the vanguard.
Robert Segan gazed upon Whitewolf Territory.
The Castle Wall, obscured by the blizzard, was as impenetrable as a tortoise’s shell.
The tortoise within seemed to have no intention of emerging.
“So they mean to hold the defensive.”
A sound judgment.
Ordinarily, defense could overcome even a threefold difference in troop strength.
But now the disparity was a staggering tenfold.
The difference in combat power was a staggering hundredfold.
Of course, this held true only when both sides possessed equally matched weaponry.
In that regard, the Castle Wall defending Whitewolf Territory was precisely what one would expect.
“Truly, this bears the hallmark of Dwarven craftsmanship.”
It was no mere stone barrier.
It stood as hard as if forged from steel itself.
No matter how overwhelmingly superior the numbers, the wall could not be breached in a single assault.
“Siege weapons are ready, sir.”
Upon hearing the report, Robert Segan turned to observe the preparations behind him.
Catapults, battering rams, and more.
Numerous siege weapons stood ready, awaiting their deployment.
“Fire them all.”
As Robert Segan issued the command, his soldiers moved with perfect synchronization.
Whooooom···!
The surge of magical energy erupting from the catapults reverberated through the air.
Twang! Whoosh—!
And from dozens of catapults, massive boulders were hurled skyward.
These stones, virtually indistinguishable from bombs, flew with precision toward the Castle Wall of Whitewolf Territory.
Crash!!!!
Boom boom boom!!!
A deafening roar that shook heaven and earth.
The sheer destructive force was staggering.
A thick veil of snow and dust obscured the view.
“No matter how masterfully the Dwarves built it, it cannot withstand this.”
Even a wall of steel could not endure such overwhelming power.
“All units, advance!!”
Waaaaaaahhhhh—!!
At Robert Segan’s command, ten thousand vanguard soldiers roared and charged forward.
They surged through the swirling snow and dust toward the shattered Castle Wall of Whitewolf Territory.
As the dust and snow gradually settled—
“…?”
“…?”
Confusion etched itself across every face.
Not a single exception existed.
“The Castle Wall….”
“Why is it intact?”
The Castle Wall of Whitewolf Territory stood unblemished, as though nothing had occurred.
Not even a scratch marred its surface!
“What in the—!!”
Robert Segan’s face contorted with profound bewilderment.
Bewilderment swiftly transformed into undisguised shock.
And for good reason—the siege weapons that had just hammered the Castle Wall.
They were not primitive siege engines that merely hurled massive stones or swung iron weights.
Magical siege weapons.
The latest armaments, secretly supplied by Langritd Magic Tower.
The catapults fired not stones, but magical projectiles.
The battering rams bore inscriptions that amplified shockwaves, capable of shattering even steel gates in a single strike.
Robert had marshaled every weapon and unleashed a devastating bombardment upon the Castle Wall.
There was no way to defend against such an assault!
Dwarven craftsmanship?
Even so, it would struggle.
I acknowledge that Dwarven engineering is unmatched across the Continent.
But those siege weapons were infused with the arcane mastery of Langritd Magic Tower, the Continent’s greatest.
That made them the supreme force—rivaling Dwarven craftsmanship in every way!
“But… how is this… how is this possible…?”
Robert’s eyes contorted with shock.
* * *
The Capital of Battenberg Kingdom, Battenberg.
The Conference Room within the Royal Palace at its heart.
Every minister gathered there sat stunned.
The messenger’s report was the cause of their astonishment.
“Whitewolf Territory is….”
“Achieving consecutive victories?”
Silence enveloped the Conference Room.
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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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