Chapter 315 Percy
More than eighty soldiers from the royal city disappeared silently into the night, and like ghosts, they scattered and rushed towards the increasingly visible city walls of the Ironthorn Territory at a speed far beyond that of ordinary people.
They were no ordinary soldiers; they were sorcerers, warriors, and, more importantly, rigorously screened and brutally trained killing machines, long since bereft of utter mercy. Clearing a small town of only a few hundred people was as easy as breathing for these battle-hardened butchers. The power of a mid-level apostle or higher was enough to make them a nightmare for ordinary humans.
The defenses of Ironthorn Territory seemed laughably lax. This land, so far from the center of power, had been peaceful for too long, and the night watchmen dozed against the cold stone walls, sometimes even falling unconscious and breathless in their sleep without even a warning.
The slaughter began. There was no thunderous thud of warhorses' hooves, no roars and cries of killing that ripped through the sky. There were only short, muffled groans in the night, the tearing sound of sharp weapons sliding across flesh like ripping silk, and screams of terror that were quickly strangled in the throat.
Men who raised sickles in the night to try to resist, women holding their babies trying to escape, old people and children huddled in the cellar, covering their mouths and noses and shivering... The Royal City Army's massacre was extremely efficient. They carried out orders silently, as if what fell from their hands were not human lives, but stalks of ripe wheat.
The Silver Helmet Knight did not participate in the carnage on the front lines. He stood atop the city wall, his cold gaze sweeping across the Ironthorn Territory, engulfed in blood, wailing, and chaos. He wanted to ensure that no survivors escaped, lest they thwart the Queen's plans.
In front of the Brody family's mansion, an old man, still draped in his lingering robe, stumbled out, only to be struck dead by a warrior who had been waiting outside. He clutched his bleeding throat, eyes wide open, and finally collapsed unwillingly.
Behind him lay the corpse of a woman dressed as a noblewoman, sprawled in a pool of blood. Further away lay panicked maids and attendants. A young maid, clutching a two or three-year-old child, knelt on the ground, tears streaming down her face as she pleaded desperately. The next second, a pierced hole pierced her chest, silencing the child's sobs and the woman's screams.
"Report, sir." The adjutant appeared beside Winster Wharton and reported in a deep voice, "Seventeen members of the Brody family and their servants have been executed. This includes Ghost's mother, uncle, aunt, and their children. Ghost's father died of illness in his early years and is not among them."
"Very good, continue cleaning up the scene and make sure there's no living creature left here after daybreak," Winster replied expressionlessly, his brow slowly furrowing. Everything was going smoothly, and they would be done soon. But the Silver Helmet Knight couldn't help but feel something was amiss... What, exactly, was wrong?
The ghost's mother, the ghost's uncle, aunt, and their children... children?!
"Wait!" He grabbed the adjutant's wrist and asked sternly, "Where's Percy Brody?!"
He was answered with a blank look: "What are you talking about? Who is Percy…"
The adjutant's face gradually twisted, flowing down like a melting oil painting.
Winster Wharton suddenly opened his eyes, gasping for breath. The severe pain from the depths of his soul made him roar loudly, and he almost fell to his knees.
Not far away lay the walls of Ironthorn Territory, a silent behemoth in the twilight. Densely dotted with torches, they shone like the furious eyes of a great beast in the night. If memory serves, by the time the Brody family had been dealt with, the faint glimmer of dawn had already appeared on the horizon. Now, all that was visible was a deep darkness, a pale moon hanging high overhead, as if it were the deepest hour of night.
A cold sweat instantly broke out on Winster's back. He saw the eighty Royal City soldiers he had brought with him, muttering to themselves like possessed men, swinging their weapons recklessly. Even if they severed their comrades' necks or were pierced through the chest by their own, they still did not awaken these men, who seemed to be haunted by a nightmare.
In front of this chaotic army, there was only a black-haired boy. An illusory chain of light appeared on the chests of all the soldiers in the royal city, connecting to the ring on the black-haired boy's raised right index finger.
"Percy Brody!" Winster roared, unleashing his silver spear without hesitation and charging at the young man. The tip of the spear, like a streaking meteor, pointed directly at Percy's heart. Undoubtedly, this magical artifact was the source of the strange illusions that enveloped the entire battlefield. He needed to destroy both the caster and the ring!
Facing the Silver Helmet Knight's bone-piercing murderous intent, if it were Percy Brody two years ago, he would have stood there in a daze, just like when he faced the Kraken, and would have completely forgotten all the spells he learned in school.
However, the devilish special training of a certain god took effect. The magic fluctuations of the Silver Helmet Knight became particularly clear in his eyes, and every move seemed to be slowed down several times. This gave him enough reaction time to avoid the silver spear and even take the opportunity to counterattack.
The duel between the two powerful Lord Prayer-class warriors stirred up a terrifying wave of energy, causing fluctuations in the spell supply of the spellcasters. Many of the Royal City soldiers who were deeply trapped in hallucinations suddenly showed struggling expressions on their faces, as if they were about to wake up.
This ring almost harmed his brother, but it was a magical tool given by God after all, and was undoubtedly a good thing. Since it was not confiscated by his brother, Percy naturally studied it a lot in his spare time.
He had excellent grades in Magical Equipment Application, but he was still only a student, so reconstructing a magic tool transformed by the power of three gods was a bit of a struggle. However, since his brother had entrusted him with the task of protecting Ironthorn Territory, Percy didn't want to disappoint him, nor did he want to run off to some annoying golden-haired person for help. Perhaps because his soul had once been imbued with divine power, he actually managed to make some subtle changes to the ring, transforming it into a powerful magic tool that used residual divine power to weave illusions. Technically, it was only half successful, with the drawback being instability, not to mention that he was now facing a Lord's Prayer-class sorcerer of a higher rank and more experienced than him.
The Silver Helmet Knight, whose attack hadn't yet landed, remained calm. He took a slight step back, his cold, ruthless eyes fixed on Percy. The aura of death instantly gripped the young man, and his instinctive fear made him swallow hard.
He was very familiar with the hair-raising fear of near-death experience. But for his brother's sake, no matter how cruel the certain god was, he wouldn't actually kill him. That bastard golden-haired man would only make his life worse than death—and now this man could actually take his life at any time.
Calm down, Percy. He kept repeating to himself, his brother said, you are the head of the Brody family, and anxiety will lead to wrong decisions.
...That's right, you are the head of the family, and you have your blood relatives and people behind you. You can't let the bloody and cruel massacres in the illusion happen again in the Ironthorn Territory. You are not qualified to be a child trembling under the wings of your brother - it was your brother who protected this land before, and now it's your turn.
The Silver Helmet Knight raised his lance.
But to Percy's surprise, his target was not Percy, but the Ironthorn Collar behind Percy.
The cold silver spear suddenly erupted with an extremely blinding light, the destructive energy concentrated at its tip far exceeding that of the previous test strike. Like lightning crashing from the clouds, Winster Wharton's spear tore through the air, shrieking and hurtling towards the walls of Ironthorn Territory, reflecting a gleam of death in the eyes of the citizens guarding the walls.
He couldn't kill Percy Brody immediately, but he could easily destroy what the young warlock was trying to protect!
"No--!"
Percy's heart felt as if pierced by an ice pick, and his pupils rapidly dilated with extreme fear.
This was impossible. The letter from little Bartman clearly told him that the primary target of this group of people was him and the Brody family. Now that he was standing in front of the Silver Helmet Knight, how could they choose to lose sight of the main goal?
This blow was enough to destroy the city wall and kill all the people who came to help. It was Percy Brody who told the people of the bandits' attack, and they trusted him. So the old people, women and children of Ironthorn Territory hid in the cellar, and the remaining fifty or so young men climbed the city wall with torches and weapons to try to help him.
——They were the only sons, husbands and fathers in this city, and he personally sent them to the dangerous front line.
Time seemed to freeze at this moment.
Percy cut off his connection with the many royal city troops on the battlefield without hesitation. He had no time to think about the impact this would have on subsequent plans. The power in his body surged at an unprecedented speed until he turned himself into a curtain of light that shot up into the sky. He did not hesitate to rush towards the shot that seemed to be about to destroy the world.
...He might die.
No, he would definitely die. That was a full-strength attack from a powerful Lord Prayer level warrior who was stronger than him. If he was hit head-on, he would definitely die.
His brother's smoky gray eyes were watching him quietly. "You are not my kindred spirit," his brother said coldly and rationally. "Percy, the People's Party is a political party formed by a group of people to liberate all oppressed people and to fight against the injustices of the world... As for you, I only hope that we will never face each other with swords in the future."
——But I want to be your fellow traveler!
The young man clenched his teeth. Amidst the bloody taste deep in his mouth and the excruciating pain in his soul, he plundered and squeezed out all the strength from his innermost being, along with the very will that drove him toward the spearhead of death. In that moment, the hallucinatory gaze of his brother overcame all fear, even the limits of his own abilities. He was no longer a caster, but a living embodiment of an idea.
"boom--!"
It wasn't the clang of metal and stone, but simply the deafening, terrifying roar of pure energy colliding. The very earth seemed to shake, and a turbulent torrent of energy swept in all directions like an uncontrolled hurricane. Most of the torches on the city walls were instantly extinguished. Near the impact point, the solid stone walls even groaned under the weight, sending rubble and dust flying and cracking like spiderwebs. A blinding ball of light instantly engulfed Percy, briefly swallowing the incredibly deadly silver light.
An extremely gentle morning light appeared on the horizon.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
