Chapter 560: Behold, One of Earth’s Finest Tactics!

Translator: EndlessFantasy Translation Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation

Noirciel, the reason for the conflict, was now in better shape. Although she was still in a hypnopompic state, the excruciating pain she felt a few days ago, which caused her face to pale, was gone. The tent used to house her had long since been upgraded to a fortress, which was reinforced by many formations.

The angel was hovering in midair, within a complex formation with patterns that greatly resembled those on the angel-summoning ritual complex. It facilitated the critical process of Noirciel’s soul and Divine Energy compression.

Within Noirciel’s body was a vessel that the Alchemist had created just for her. It was a bead bracelet the size of a fist, inside which was a black box. This black box was a sub-dimension, where the angel’s Divine Energy was getting sucked into.

If a regular person were to see the black box, they would think it is a weapon of destruction. Only the Scholar Walker was allowed to entered Noirciel’s fortress, as it was he that created and supervised the entire process. Even Attie and Laeticia were not allowed to enter, so they could watch from outside.

According to the Archmage’s calculations, the first phase of Noirciel’s mind-transfer could take ten days, and if the Church and their gods did not attack in this period, the first phase would be completed smoothly, with Noirciel safe from harm. Right after the phase’s completion, Noirciel would be transported to Da Xue via a transporter portal. After that, only thin air would greet the angels when they arrive.

Three days later, the Pope received another revelation: the angels would arrive in three days. The Voidwalkers’ luck had run out.

It was on that day that the Church expected to wrap up its war preparations. Militia from many nobles across the continent would arrive and join the Church, increasing the number of its force to twelve million. Food, water, and other resources would be ready by then.

When that day arrived, the Church would be unstoppable.

The day after the Pope received this revelation, the Church’s army marched out of Canningham and into a transporter portal, arriving at a small town close to Arfin city. From the town to their target city was only a day’s journey, so this town was the best place to set up a base.

“Ooh. That’s quite a lot of cannon fodder,” the Archmage said when he received Umbra’s latest intelligence report. Although he did not seem concerned, Tisdale was panicking.

She could not help it. The Voidwalker had only been able to gather an army of one million; this number included those that were still on their way. Most of the militia on hand were mercenaries that Vidomina’s father hired and troops previously stationed at the border. Not only did the Church have twelve times the manpower that the Voidwalkers had, but the angels had yet to descend. This reality shook Tisdale’s confidence tremendously. Although she had faith in the powers of the Voidwalkers, she was afraid of the enemy, especially because Baiyi was not around to lead them, this time.

“Calm your nerves, Dale. This war will serve as a lesson on how the number of an army isn’t an assurance of victory,” the Archmage said gently. “Though, I must say, by gathering and organizing so many people in just two days, the Church has exceeded my expectations.”

“Well, it’s an organization too big to fail at this sort of thing. However, they’re getting help from the Sorcerers’ Association, and how a mystery to me,” Tisdale said. “They were reluctant to help at first, weren’t they? All of sudden, they did a one-eighty and offered the Church their full support, even providing them transporter portals. Isn’t VP Grant in charge of those portals? I thought he was on our side. Did… Did something happen to him?”

“I believe this is the ‘concession’ that he mentioned,” the Archmage murmured.

Grant had been keeping the Archmage up to date on news regarding the secret transporter portal. He had mentioned before that he had to keep the project a secret from others in the Sorcerers’ Association, making them think that he had lost the drive to become president. Many thought that he was dropping out of the competition.

For whatever was worth, this apparent concession from Grant’s part had given both the Church the influence and pressure to complete its war preparation in a shorter amount of time and the Voidwalkers the secret transporter portal they needed to bring Attie’s steppe calvary to Arfin instantly.

Speaking of the nomadic horsemen, the Archmage had decided that the time to utilize them should be much later after the enemy’s first assault. They were going to be the Voidwalkers’ surprise attack, after all.

“Follow me,” the Archmage said, leading Tisdale up Arfin’s city wall to the battlement. The Northern Duke’s soldiers stood in their stations on the rampart dutifully, marking their attention to the two newcomers with respectful bows.

The Duke had to sit out of the battle due to his health issues, and so he transferred the right to command to his daughter, who then relished it to the Archmage. As a result, these soldiers knew, by knowledge and instincts, that this particular Soul Armature who bore all of the marks and air of a leader was their commander-in-chief.

Nevertheless, most of them secretly held no hopes to win the war against the Church; words, albeit in incomplete pieces, were that their enemy severely outnumbered them. The idea of fighting against a hugely unfair number easily shook their resolve, and soon, anxiety and doubts over their chances quietly but rapidly spread through the army. Many were covertly discussing their fleeing options among themselves, a good deal of them had penned their will to their loved ones, and some even wrote letters to their family instructing them to gather a sum of money to be exchanged with the enemy when they were “inevitably” held hostages.

Fortunately, the army’s accompanying staff officers were as meticulous as they were severe, effectively preventing a mass exodus of soldiers before the war had even started.

As the army’s highest commander, the Archmage knew about these underlying sentiments. He just did not think it warranted any overreaction.

“What are you trying to do, Royal Gramps?” Tisdale asked.

“I’m going to boost our army’s morale personally. I got inspired by a historical figure on Earth. To calm his doubtful men, a famous commander played his musical instrument in the tallest tower to show how at peace he was because he had just the right artifice for the incoming peril. It worked! Not only did it placated the army, but it also terrified his enemies!” [1]

“It was a masterful scheme invented by a genius tactician,” the Archmage added. “What a man, what a man! He was smart, as cunning as a fox, and is such a natural in ripping people for their stuff. Then, when he died and turned into an einherjar, he’s so powerful that he could do whatever he wants, but nobody ever talks about it. Five stars, I tell you. Five-star character. Unprecedented.”

“Wait just a minute. I don’t remember the last few parts.” Tisdale pointed out. Of course, she knew who that master tactician was from the books Baiyi had brought back from Earth, but she was positive that that was no mention of him being really good at ripping people for their blunders or even becoming an einherjar. “And um, Grandpa? I don’t think he was playing the violin…”

“Hush, child. No need to get worked up on trivialities. What we’re after are the spirit and the underlying principle behind his tactic,” the Archmage said, dismissing her suspicion with confidence. “I’m many things, including a formidable general and fighter with extraordinary feats of conquest bar none, but I don’t actually know how to motivate my soldiers. I never got the chance to practice that skill, you know? Back then, my soldiers automatically get super pumped and motivated just by seeing me in the battle…”

As he bragged, the Archmage set his violin on his shoulder and readied his bow before pulling out a fiddle as though it was his pro-gamer move.

The relatively quiet air around a vacated city was suddenly shredded by a banshee-like screech, which then spread across the empty buildings and streets through someone’s amplification magic.

The soldiers were visibly quaking in fright as the thought of a terrifying monster spawning from somewhere deep in Arfin brewed in their already unrest mind. But thankfully, the cries of that unknown monster ceased several minutes later as the other Walkers broke into the tower where the shrieks came and put a stop to that auditory torture.