Chapter 221

The Fall
The ceaseless roar of gunfire showed no signs of stopping.

Horses, terrified and writhing in agony, threw off their riders or collapsed with their entrails spilling onto the ground.

It was a hellish scene.

The Empire's proud cavalry suffered devastating losses before they could even reach the trenches.

Their heavy armor was meaningless. The armor that had protected them all their lives was almost useless against bullets.

One cavalryman screamed, clutching the bloody stump where his arm used to be.

"Charge! Don’t falter!"

That was all the count could shout. If they retreated now, the casualties would only worsen. Their only option was to storm the enemy trenches.

But as the cavalry neared the trenches, they were met by barbed wire. It had been laid relentlessly, blocking the horses' advance, and standing still meant certain death.

The infantry that arrived later were horrified by the gruesome sight before them. Some even lost their minds and lashed out in a frenzy.

An unimaginable scene of carnage spread across the battlefield—men torn in half, headless cavalrymen. The disoriented Imperial Army had completely lost its ability to fight in an organized manner.

They had to charge. The devils before them had to be destroyed. Everyone screamed as they rushed toward the trenches, only to be cut down by gunfire and entangled in barbed wire.

In stark contrast to the frenzied Imperial soldiers, the Arland army remained calm. Their many machine guns worked in perfect coordination, laying down suppressive fire wherever a breakthrough seemed possible.

The charging enemy was so easy to hit it was almost comical. The Arland soldiers whistled as they mercilessly cut them down.

When half of the ten thousand cavalry and ten thousand infantry that had left the fortress were lost, the Empire's will to fight finally shattered.

"Retreat!"

"It's over! Run for your lives!"

The soldiers who, moments ago, had charged forward in terror now regained their senses, only to realize how many of their comrades had fallen. Overwhelmed by an uncontrollable fear, they turned and fled.

Count Eltar survived.

"This… this isn't war! This is… this is madness!"

There was no honor, no pride of knights, only the hellish battlefield that defied all logic. The M2 Browning heavy machine gun, when turned on human targets, inflicted catastrophic damage.

Limbs were torn off, heads blown apart. The count had never seen such horrific carnage.

He vomited on the spot, retreating as he did so.

But even the Arland army had been cornered. Had the Imperial soldiers pressed on with their charge, they might have reached the trenches.

After the Imperial soldiers had all fled, the Arland soldiers emerged from their trenches and slaughtered the survivors. They took no prisoners. Everyone was to be killed.

"That was close."

"If they'd kept charging for just ten more minutes, they would've broken through. Well, assuming they had the guts to keep coming after all that."

Had the Empire ignored their losses and forced their way forward, the Arland army would have suffered heavy casualties too. But that chance was gone. Aircraft were now approaching in the sky.

"About damn time," one soldier muttered.

And with that, the Granzur Fortress came under aerial bombardment. Watching the distant explosions and rising smoke, the kingdom's soldiers cheered, some even jumping for joy.

Meanwhile, Count Eltar, in retreat, watched helplessly as the fortress was bombed.

The once-imposing Granzur Fortress, the largest and most formidable on the continent, had lost its protective barrier and was now hopelessly vulnerable to aerial attacks. The massive ballistae mounted on the walls launched their bolts skyward, but they struck nothing. Of course they didn’t. They had never trained to shoot at fast-moving aircraft.

The fighter planes, following their mission plans, destroyed the armories and food storage. Randomly dropped bombs also destroyed the magical communication devices. Even the griffon stables were obliterated.

The griffon, emblazoned on the Imperial flag, symbolized the Empire's might. Their elite griffon aerial force had been held in reserve for the war with Arland, ever since they had once been completely annihilated by the rock-throwing Cynthiana. They had been stationed at Granzur Fortress as a rapid-response force, but the griffons were wiped out before they could even take flight.

The fortress was engulfed in flames. The fighters, after dropping their bombs, casually strafed the walls with machine gun fire. Soldiers exploded into red chunks of flesh amidst screams.

The bombardment lasted for about an hour. Count Eltar survived, having hidden in a private room within the fortress, trembling in fear.

When the gunfire and screams finally subsided, he emerged to find soldiers sitting lifelessly on the ground or desperately trying to free comrades trapped under rubble. Some tried to extinguish the fires, but morale was at rock bottom.

"How many survived?"

"The command staff… are all dead. The devils’ bombs hit the command post directly. The armories and food stores also suffered catastrophic damage. The griffons… they're gone."

The only commanding officer left was Eltar himself.

"Request reinforcements from the front lines immediately!"

He now bitterly regretted not deploying the griffons after the first attack. But the griffon corps, as a symbol of the Empire, could only act under direct imperial orders. This structural flaw had turned disaster into catastrophe.

"The communication devices were destroyed."

"Then send messengers! We’re clearly the main force here!"

Messengers were dispatched at once. Eltar spent the rest of the day trembling in fear.

Meanwhile, the Arland Kingdom army received multiple waves of reinforcements, expanding their fortifications.

And then… the field artillery arrived.

Earth golems dragged heavy artillery from the transport ships and secured them in designated positions. The fortification work continued through the night.

The next morning, Count Eltar awoke to the sound of thunderous explosions. His face pale, his body trembling uncontrollably.

"Messenger! The enemy is bombarding us with artillery!"

"Then fire back! Drive those devils off!"

At his desperate orders, the messenger shook his head.

"The enemy's artillery is firing from their position—beyond the range of our weapons. We cannot retaliate."

The Arland artillery were what one would call heavy artillery. The Empire, in contrast, relied on primitive muzzle-loading cannons. Moreover, their gunpowder was more expensive than what feudal Japan had in its warring states period, so they had few cannons to begin with. To make matters worse, over half their storage warehouses had burned down in the bombing, leaving them with precious little gunpowder.

The rain of shells battered the once-mighty Granzur Fortress, smashing through the walls of stacked stone. The thick ramparts crumbled one after another.

Whenever the shelling paused, aerial bombardments followed. Any remaining warehouses or barracks were consumed by flames. Worst of all, these air raids came every two to three hours.

Count Eltar attempted a desperate counterattack by sending the remaining cavalry out through the Empire’s side gate, ordering them to strike the trench positions from the rear.

But it ended in failure.

Mass-produced tanks were stationed behind the Arland lines, lying in wait for them. Moreover, aircraft were patrolling the skies, making it impossible for the cavalry’s approach to go unnoticed.

When tank cannons and mounted Gatling guns tore the cavalry to shreds, the Empire’s defeat was sealed. With this reckless counterattack, the fortress' main defensive force—the cavalry—was annihilated. The infantry and heavy infantry suffered devastating losses as artillery shells and bombs rained down on the fortress.

The continent’s greatest fortress would fall in just two days. But the Arland army refused to accept surrender.

“We are not permitted to take prisoners. And the same goes for accepting surrender.”

“Prisoner treatment is regulated by treaty…”

The envoy sent by Count Eltar spoke nervously as he negotiated with the Arland officer. Though the attacks had temporarily ceased, they made it clear they would resume immediately if they sensed any suspicious movements.

“We have no treaties whatsoever with the Central Nations or the Empire. Don’t think you can force your Central rules onto us.”

Besides, it was laughable for the Empire, infamous for disregarding such rules, to bring them up now.

In the Central Nations Alliance, war was treated as a kind of sport.

The involved parties first held talks, seeking compromise. If negotiations broke down, they would agree upon a battlefield and troop limits. Battles were rarely allowed in cities; open plains were used instead. Troop numbers had no upper limit, accounting for national power disparities.

However, the Empire had never once honored these rules. And, much like Earth, their behavior was tolerated because of their overwhelming national power.

In this world, three nations were considered great powers: the Magic Kingdom, the Imperial State, and the Empire. All three frequently disregarded the rules, but the Empire was by far the worst.

Of course, the Imperial State was arguably more despicable, using covert believers to destabilize nations from within—a tactic conveniently not prohibited by treaty.

“So, is it the Empire’s way to invoke rules you yourselves ignore? In that case, we have no issue reducing your fortress to ash.”

“Still, we are merciful. We will not accept surrender, but we will grant you one hour. Leave the fortress in that time. We will simply destroy your puny fortress.”

With that, the Arland commander dismissed the envoy.

Tears welled in the envoy’s eyes as he hurried back to Granzur Fortress. The once-comforting stronghold now billowed with black smoke, and its walls crumbled everywhere.

There would be no reinforcements. Even if they arrived, their supplies had been burned. Further fighting was impossible.

The envoy reported the outcome to Count Eltar.

“… So it’s hopeless.”

“They refused to listen. In less than an hour, they’ll resume their attack and completely destroy this fortress.”

With a weary expression, Count Eltar stood.

“Retreat. We’re withdrawing back into Imperial territory.”

That day, the Empire lost Granzur Fortress, once considered the largest and strongest on the continent. With barely any supplies and only a meager amount of food, they fled.

The Arland army subsequently advanced into the fortress, looting whatever supplies remained. Then, they planted large amounts of explosives throughout the stronghold, reducing Granzur Fortress to an unrecognizable ruin. What was left wasn’t even a functioning fortress, merely a crumbling ruin.

Meanwhile, with Alicetia…

“Something’s wrong, Mr. Coote. The royal capital is right in front of us.”

Three days earlier, Alicetia had departed the capital—yet here it was, right ahead of them. She had taken the wrong road and ended up right back where she started.

“My Lord, I believe we should’ve simply stayed on the straight path.”

“No, my instincts were telling me to turn.”

Those instincts, it turned out, were her homing instincts.

Expressionless, Alicetia glared at the map.

The road from the capital to the border was a single straight path along the highway. While there were several junctions along the way, all she needed to do was stay on the main road. But her homing instincts had kicked in, leading her astray.

For the past two days, Alicetia had been making plans for the Empire war with Coote and Helios, and with time to spare before any actual fighting, she hadn’t been in a rush. As a precaution, she had simply set out about a week early.

In fact, the armed airships had just returned to the capital for resupply, and it would still be several days before they were ready to drop mana reactors on the Empire’s forces.

“Maybe… maybe the capital’s moving.”

“It moves?”

“It’s a world of swords and magic. I wouldn’t rule it out.”

Despite being the one introducing science and fluffiness into this sword-and-magic world, Alicetia didn’t seem to mind the contradiction.

Note: Floating islands do indeed exist in this world.

“I believe, My Lord, you simply took the wrong path. This time, allow me to guide us.”

“Okay. Please do.”

Shortly thereafter, Helios led them off the highway and straight into an orc den. An enraged Coote turned the wild orcs into meat, then thoroughly beat Helios until he was groveling in apology. It was clear now that Helios was, indeed, an idiot.

It would take several more days before Alicetia realized the simplest solution was to ride on Helios’ back.

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