CHAPTER 63

  THE RIPPER OF GALENHALL

  When Hans asked when they were scheduled to depart for the front lines, Reina wanted to say, "Now." However, knowing they needed to prepare, she gave them an hour. After all, the Reverend stronghold was just a resting point; the majority of the Clandor army was gathered at the Negoi River, gearing up for the assault at Galenhall.

  Just like everyone else, the Parv side was also preparing, but they were locked in a heated argument. “I told you, I’ll not carry any baggage with the order,” Homar insisted, ignoring Hans. And, Sierra agreed with the bow knight, adding, “Hans, child, you promised you’d be with the rear guard, support team, remember?”

  “Just give me a second, will ya?” Hans managed to calm them down. “Who says I’m joining the assault at Galenhall?” Everyone looked puzzled, so Hans explained, “I’m a long-range mage too, you know. And now we also have the longest-range knight,” he pointed to Homar.

  “But even if I can penetrate their barriers. Defeating a mage in his own territory is suicide, Mister Hans.”

  “Yeah, I know. We learned that in the first year too. But what if I can provide you with a small interval of weakened defences? Can you get an arrow in?"

  “Of course. All I need is a moment,” Homar replied, explaining the artilleries. “They have four aimed at us, and I think that’s all there is in Galenhall. Mages tend to flee quickly. They’ll run the moment they see the artillery gone. If you can create an opening, I can destroy the—"

  “Tch, are you on something or what? Why would you try to destroy our precious weapons that the council is generously handing over?” Hans chided. “You just need to send my 'something' with the arrow inside. That’s the plan, and to achieve this, I don’t even have to leave the rear."

  Homar agreed and left to manage the griffin order. The moment he vanished from sight, Chris and Delimira pounced on Hans with questions. “So, what are you going to send in?”

  Hans remained mysterious. “Something fun,” was all he said. Amid acting smug, his eyes searched for the calm and silent Rudolf who was staring hole in his head. “What?” Hans questioned. “Aren't you going to say something?”

  “You've grown up. Now you're responsible for your own screw-ups, not us. So make your own decisions, Prince of Parv.”

  “You won't let it go, will you, Grandpa? Just call me what you used to,” Hans stressed. This had gone on long enough and was becoming irritating.

  “No can do, Prince of Parv,” Rudolf sulked.

  “Ah, dang it. Give it a rest, geezer,” complained Hans, stomping off towards the next transfer circle, followed by the rest.

  “Zoom!” The transfer circle stretched again, and within a moment transported them to the Eastern Frontier, nearest to the Galenhall stronghold. “There are two other places where battles are ongoing, right, Commander Homar?” Hans asked.

  “Yes, in the north, House Highborn is battling together with mercenaries and Winters' company. They are currently dominating and pushing the council back. The same is true in the south, where Ikrani and Stormad of Clandor are pushing the southern frontiers. The mid is the only place doing poorly.”

  “Well, we are here, aren't we? Let's change that,” Hans said confidently. His gaze grasped the entirety of the captured stronghold of Galenhall. But something caught his mind, and he asked Homar cautiously, his voice muffled, “But why isn't the INGRESS working? OSIRIS shows we are connected, but I tried calling INGRESS and there was no response.”

  “Do you take elves as a joke, Mister Hans? They are the epitome of magic. They can block anything as they wish. They must have deployed spatial interference above us. So even if Clandor is within our range, we can't use INGRESS.”

  They were in the middle of their conversation when a voice from behind halted their discussion. “So you came?” Both Hans and Homar turned to respond. Hans recognised him. “Sir Bernard, I thought you were up north. Why are you here?” he asked, while Homar remained silent.

  “Why are you here?” Bernard asked, emphasising, “Did you forget what happened in the Deadlands? Why do you come here willingly?”

  Hans chuckled a little. “There's a saying, Mr. Bernard: 'Keep your allies close and enemies clo—'"

  “No, it's all wrong. Keep your allies close and your enemies fucking far away, Prince. That's the right way to do it.”

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Pft, you’re funny, Sir Bernard—” Hans began, but Homar interrupted, “Time to go, Prince Hans. You shouldn’t converse with traitors; their bad habits might rub off on you.”

  “Still the sharp tongue, Homar?” Bernard responded, his tone laced with sarcasm.

  “My aim and my tongue strike true. I never liked Samson, but he was the king we needed. Don’t provoke me,” Homar warned, pushing Hans further away. “Let’s move, Prince Hans. Do it for my sake, or this alliance might crumble right here and now.”

  Hans heeded Homar's advice and put some distance between himself and Bernard. However, he didn't have the luxury to dawdle, as the pivotal moment was fast approaching. He was eager to showcase, prove that his words weren’t just a child’s boasting.

  He stood way back, together with all the powerhouses. The warlords of Utar, Sunfall, and Grimgar, while the warlocks of Clandor remained cautiously observant. Everyone was curious to see what the thirteen-year-old imperial had up his sleeves.

  “Can you really strike that far? It's almost sixty kilometres,” Homar whispered skeptically.

  “There's only one way to find out,” Hans replied with a mischievous grin before bellowing at the top of his lungs, "Beanstalk!"

  A powerful tremor rippled through the ground where the army stood, and beneath Hans, the earth quaked violently. It seemed as though something colossal was about to burst forth, and indeed it did. With a mighty eruption, a gigantic beanstalk, straight out of fables, shot up toward the sky. Hans swiftly seized a tendril and ascended along with it.

  “Commander Homar, GET READY.” Hans's voice shifted midway through the sentence, and as swiftly as he ascended, he descended in a massive form of Elderwood. His hand gripped the top of the beanstalk, which resembled a catapult bucket but was significantly larger and deeper than anything they had in any army.

  The onlookers who were eager for surprises found themselves astonished, while others became more cautious. Hans was flaunting his strength and was the future ruler of a nation which was already ridiculously strong. This raised concerns among those witnessing his display.

  Even people from both the South and North watched in awe from their respective locations. Hans had been secluded for the past year, so they were unaware of how much this young imperial had grown. However, he seemed determined to prove his lineage, and he did not disappoint.

  A colossal monster held the gigantic beanstalk, as if a fable had sprung to life. But Hans's display of power went further; he dragged the top of the beanstalk's bucket far behind him, while his other hand stretched over the bucket as if he were trying to fill it with something. His hand hovered over the catapult bucket, causing several seeds to rain down, quickly filling the bucket with SeedBullets.

  Yet, Hans needed something to bind them. He conjured something that left a bitter taste in the Elves' mouths: the day seed, a sacred item they worshipped and was nearly impossible to obtain unless gifted by the royal family. However, Hans summoned it effortlessly, and as the day seed mixed with the seed bullets, they began to merge into a singular entity.

  "PHOTONISE," Hans commanded, and as if in response, solar energy converged into a nature's cannonball.

  Hans raised his head, adjusting the aim of the beanstalk towards the right. With a swift motion, he let go of the beanstalk, causing it to launch his bright cannonball with incredible speed toward the Galenhall stronghold.

  People waited to see the clash between the warlocks’ barrier which not a single mana weapon of theirs succeeded in breaching.

  “COMMANDER HOMAR. AIM.” Hans commanded, pointing his freed hand forward as he conjured his ace several meters above the air to the east. "Shriek!" An ear-piercing sound echoed, a name known only to those who had faced Undead Samson—a force which even the undead king was wary of, the night seed.

  “SEND IT TO THE GALENHALL.” Hans cried as he absorbed the green monster and transformed back into human form in an instant.

  Homar looked no further; he had the target in his sight, and just as the huge cannonball hit the barrier, it shattered several of their runes like stones aimed at the glass. A spiderweb crack showed a small opening for Homar’s arrow to pierce the crying seed inside the barrier before it healed itself.

  “Now what?” Homar's curiosity mirrored that of the others around him.

  “Now, we wait... Deli,” Hans called for Delimira, who swiftly joined them.

  “Vision, please,” Hans requested, and Delimira's eyes transformed, slitting to share her sight with Hans.

  “Oh! It's started,” Delimira exclaimed; people were still screaming, running. Ah! He got his head chewed off, ooh, this one too, yikes, this is gruesome,” she detailed in vivid colours. The Clandorian mages had finally succeeded in projecting a far-sight spell, granting them a view inside the Galenhall.

  The scene inside was nightmarish. A malevolent presence, pure evil incarnate, preyed upon every living thing within the Galenhall, devouring heads before cruelly dismembering its victims. The warlocks, previously focused on repairing the barrier, abandoned their efforts and turned to evacuation, realising the dire threat within. The once-protective barrier now transformed into a prison, trapping them with the monstrous entity. Some mages managed to escape, but the crying seed feasted on those left behind, consuming every living soul in its perimeter.

  “People run from things they don't understand,” Hans remarked, his demeanour calm as the tentacle monster within the stronghold ceased its rampage and died down on its own due to not meeting its fill further.

  Turning to his Clandorian allies, Hans continued, "Well, there you have it—the Galenhall stronghold. Now, the cleanup is your responsibility. There will be a lot of blood to wipe—

  “So, you meant literal cleaning up when you said 'clean up.' I thought we'd only handle the strong ones while the others 'clean up' the mess,” Homar chuckled, his hand covering his mouth. He then asked, “What do you call this thing?”

  “The Vegan Carnage,” Hans proudly declared.

  “There's nothing vegan about that thing, kid,” Homar remarked, feeling a chill from Hans for the first time. He then turned back and taunted Reina, “We have done our job. Now Galenhall is all yours with four of our artilleries. This is a Parvian courtesy. You are welcome.”