Round 10: Volk Town

Dusk in Volk Town.
Although at least half of Volk’s residents were part of Agus’s army, and over 90% of the transient population consisted of soldiers, the armored units streaming in from Watan City since this morning had captured the attention of the entire town.
A large area of riverbank outside the town had been completely transformed by the mages using spells like “Turn Mud into Stone” to reinforce or alter the landscape. Square iron bars as thick as thighs were erected on solid rock. The mage in charge placed his hands on them and made a few gestures; the bars began to vibrate slightly but rapidly, while the ground emitted a sound similar to a drill penetrating rock. By the time it settled, the bars were firmly embedded in the ground, becoming part of the many metal frameworks on this massive construction site.
“You—be responsible for infusing ‘Daylight Spell’ into these ten lighting stones. Get it done by sunset tomorrow! What? You don’t know the ‘Daylight Spell’? Then go help build the outer defense barriers—what? You haven’t learned the spells to activate armored materials either? So what do you know? Just magic missiles?”
Hunter endured the scolding pitifully. The mage acting as the foreman was about to say more when he suddenly sensed some dangerous presence approaching from behind. He dodged to the side and turned to see Sayers walking carefree, carrying a large bundle of rebar twenty or thirty feet long. Everyone stepped aside as he passed, and the rebar clanged against the unfinished buildings.
Sayers threw the rebar on the ground and grumbled, “What a hassle! What’s the difference between tying a knot with your hands and using a spell? They insist it won’t work! Well, I’ll carry it back now and have them use spells to move it!”
“You two…” The mage trembled with anger. If it weren’t for the fact that these two seemed to have connections with higher-ups, he would have mercilessly buried them in the foundation. “Enough! You two aren’t needed here! Since you’re so capable, go carry luggage for the adults in town! Get lost! Now!”
Volk Town’s most luxurious hotel had been completely sealed off, and even the surrounding pubs and shops were closed. Most of those coming in and out were Agus’s combat mages. Even the town mayor and head of the security force, who usually ruled with arrogance in their domain, could only stand respectfully and nervously in the hotel lobby, waiting for orders, with no one even asking for their names—just referred to as “Hey” or “That guy”—for such remarkable figures had arrived.
Sayers and Hunter rushed over, still having vivid memories of this place, especially that sumptuous breakfast.
“Hurry up and carry the luggage in! Don’t stand around getting in the way!” A mage in white robes came down the stairs. Not seeing any soldiers at first, he shouted at Sayers and Hunter, who were still lost in fond memories in the hotel lobby. As low-ranking mages doing menial work, they never received fair treatment anywhere.
“Hurry up and carry the luggage in! Don’t stand around getting in the way!” Dagulas, following behind, poked the head of the mage in white robes who was acting arrogantly in front of the lower-ranking mage and repeated his words.

The mage in white robes stumbled forward after being stabbed, catching hold of the stair railing to steady himself. Just as he was about to lash out, he turned and saw Dagulas, so he immediately obediently walked over to the suitcase as big as a hill—secretly relieved it wasn’t on a battlefield, otherwise he would definitely have been killed by this nationally recognized, most capricious commander, with his name reported as having died in a heroic battle.

“Respected Mage, I’m here, I’m here…” The mayor hurried over to help lift a square package that didn’t seem too large, but found it incredibly heavy, so he could only drag it along half-pulling, half-towing—

“Please don’t drag my toiletries across the floor.” Count Yuri O’Sullivan entered, wearing white gloves and a walking stick made of black ironwood, followed by the hotel owner, who was just as sweaty as the mayor.

“The room must be spotless. I’ve brought my own sheets and other supplies. Go to the town and find two proper girls to help me tidy it up. The balcony should face the sunrise. Pay special attention to dinner—I don’t eat anything too spicy, too salty, too sweet, or too sour. Something light will do. Oh, and I give you one hour to replace the toilet and bathtub in my room with new ones. If I find you cheating me on this, it won’t just be closing down…”

O’Sullivan kept making various demands as he walked, showing that circumstances can change a person’s mindset and personality, but habits are hard to change. In a sense, he seemed in a good mood: “Who are you two? What are you standing next to my luggage for? Oh, beautiful Miss Dagulas—”

O’Sullivan stepped forward quickly, took Dagulas’ delicate hand, and gave her a proper kiss of respect: “It’s great that you could join this military operation too. I’ve long heard of your excellent performance in the northern theater and your seamless cooperation with Lady Morriel. I’m really looking forward to seeing even better performances from you…”

“Hehe, you’re really good at talking, Count O’Sullivan.” Dagulas covered her mouth with a laugh and glanced sideways at Hunter and Sayers, who were standing there in shock: “But war is always unpredictable—especially when accidentally injured by your own people!”

Then she swayed her waist and turned back upstairs, it was unclear what she had wanted to do by coming down.

“Be smart, you fools.” Morriel walked around from behind the luggage with a blank expression, scaring the two inexperienced mages—why were these high-ranking figures so elusive and erratic?

“We’re not here for a spring outing, and we’re not facing just a royal guard that only knows how to march in step.” Morriel passed by them as if talking to herself: “Don’t you think bringing so much stuff is too cumbersome? Where did Mr. Hoffman arrange it?”

“It doesn’t matter. After all, Master Yatu isn’t planning to travel lightly either. Speaking of which, it’s been a long time since one of the seven highest council mages has led an expedition personally…” O’Sullivan said with a smile. “As for Hoffman, he’s too big and prone to anger, so he can’t be left too far away—so we had to settle for him staying in the backyard for now.”

“I just hope we can get started soon and not waste time on these tedious carpentry tasks.”
Moriel also headed upstairs. “Master Yatu is on the third floor, right?”
Watching these important figures pass by in a blur, Hunter and Sayers didn’t know where to put their hands or feet. With that rock-giant-like super monster—someone no one could afford to anger, someone deadly—how could these two fragile little mages protect themselves?
“Listen, Hunter, it’s no big deal. Look at these nobles and archmages, along with all that luggage. They’re just going through the motions to meet public pressure. With such a fuss, which fool would willingly throw themselves into danger? We just need to scare those reckless elf monsters into staying hidden—that’s strategic deterrence! We’ll be safe, no need to worry!” Sayers reassured Hunter in a very experienced tone, though his hand gripping the wine bottle cap trembled slightly.
“Yeah, it must be Commander Moriel who nominated us for this mission. He’s such a good person; it’s definitely a safe task with quick promotion, right? Maybe you’re right!” Hunter stared at Sayer’s face, searching for evidence to back up his words.
“Is that so? But I heard it was Commander Daguras who nominated us. And I heard she doesn’t get along with Commander Moriel. Could it be she’s trying to get rid of us, Moriel’s confidants?”
“Shh, be quiet. Even the highest archmage of the Council is here—something that bad definitely won’t happen. Um, an archmage… how could they just go through the motions? They must eliminate the enemy completely! Good heavens, we’re going to war! Don’t lie to me, Sayer!”
“Ugh, whoever it is, why nominate us two unknowns for such a disastrous mission… Let’s just go to Dobobo and drink our fill. Who cares about judges or commanders?”
“Are you trying to die? Stay in the inn instead!”
“Stop it. Do you think there’s room for someone like you in the inn? Come on…”
“Do you have something to do? If not, leave.” Moriel encountered the mayor, who had sneaked in under the pretense of helping carry luggage, at the corner of the stairs leading to the third floor.
The mayor was stunned at first, then a stream of smooth but mechanical compliments poured out of his mouth.

“Hm? Oh, esteemed Lady in Red! You visited our town a few days ago, didn’t you? Were you satisfied with your room? I never expected the Supreme Archmage of this council to grace us with his presence! It’s truly an honor… I was just about to go up and ask if the Archmage needs anything else… The dinner will be ready soon. Perhaps he could first relax in our unique hot spring baths, which are very helpful for relieving fatigue. Ah, and I can arrange for maids to massage him and you as well! Rest assured! They are all trained, highly skilled, and very clean…” The town mayor was extremely nervous—how could he not be? He blurted out all the flattery he had prepared to offer the Archmage to this female mage in red, as if rehearsing. This would be the most glorious, important, and courageous moment of his life. If he could win the Archmage’s favor, he might be able to leave this hellhole, take a position in Vatan, and even dream of obtaining a noble title—

“Leave this place.” Moriel looked at this pitiful man drenched in sweat, feeling both amused and annoyed. “If you say even one word of this script in front of Master Yatu, your wife will be able to remarry by tomorrow. Stay away from this place, stay away from the mages. Now turn around and go home. You’re not needed here, understand?”

The mental pressure in Moriel’s tone made the mayor abandon all his dreams and flee in panic. Perhaps he was destined to remain just a minor town mayor, dealing with all the armies, officials, and other important figures who passed through, then imposing on those poor locals the same feelings they imposed on him, trying to act tough like them, slapping them a few times—though these days, the bigwigs didn’t really do slapping anymore…

In the largest room on the third floor—created by connecting three large suites together—Yatu, the Supreme Archmage of the council, with a beard that reached his temples mixed with his lion-like messy hair, threw his dusty robe onto a leather chair, which made a heavy sound, suggesting it contained some kind of spellcraft materials.

He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, the intricately embroidered fabric straining tightly over his muscular arms. The title “Thunder Over Agus” aptly described this Archmage ofTransmutation magic, famous for his violent methods and mastery over various elemental energies. Some even compared him to the first Earl of O’Sullivan—though this made him uncomfortable. He considered himself not a reckless warrior but rather a wise mage, though he had a stronger physique than most mages. He preferred to be called an Archmage with a body as strong as steel, not something like a “tower of magic.” Order mattered.

A strong physique was essential for whatever he did—that was his motto.

Yatu stretched widely and walked around the room to relieve the muscle fatigue from the long journey. He could easily use high-level teleportation to reach his destination, but unless it was absolutely necessary, he preferred the usual way of traveling. The room seemed small. Yatu didn’t notice the extravagant and overly ostentatious decorations, which tried to show wealth but failed to hide their crude, country bumpkin vibe; he just found it small and low—though until the command tower was built, he had no choice but to make do.

Someone knocked on the door.

“Come in!” Yatu unbuttoned his collar, revealing his cast-iron-like chest, and plopped down on the large sofa. He spoke in a cold, irritable tone, not really angry at the person outside, but just his usual manner.

It was indeed that girl. Yatu thought as he watched Moriel push the door open.

“Lord Yatu,” Moriel said politely, “please give instructions on the next steps.”

“Huh? Next steps?” Yatu stared at Moriel with his bell-like eyes, while she looked at him calmly and indifferently.

“The next steps are to find those unlucky kids who are committing murder and arson, and just kill them all!”

“……”

Moriel actually thought that having Yatu in charge of this military operation to hunt down those forty-seven was the best outcome. He was violent and fierce, but lacked cunning tactics—if it were someone like Kant or Areisha, who were old foxes, who knew how much trouble they might cause? One Draculaus was already enough of a headache.

“Alright, alright, don’t come to me with the details!” Yatu waved his hand impatiently. “You guys take care of it first. If you can’t handle it, then we’ll talk! I have some other things to do. That’s it!”

In Moriel’s room, a semi-transparent map of the Tanori Plains hung above the round table. Some red dots were scattered irregularly across the plains, like drops of blood.

“Judging from the distribution of the attack sites…” O’Sullivan mused, “to be blunt, these enemies are quite tricky.”

“That’s right. Their marching speed is very fast, even faster than the Empire’s reconnaissance cavalry.” Moriel snapped her fingers, and a small tower-shaped image appeared over the location of Villek Town on the map, with light green circles spreading out from it. “Although we’re currently in a strategic hub on the Tanori Plains, our actual control area is only this big—given the enemy’s combat strength, it’s difficult to mobilize enough troops to trap them beyond this range.”

“Why not ask Miss Moriel to predict the enemy’s next move? Then we can gather them all and wipe them out at once, right?” Draculaus’s almost mocking sarcasm went unheeded, but she didn’t seem to care.

“It’s not entirely impossible to find them. In the area east of Villek Town, aside from military outposts, most small settlements and independent manors are now deserted. A few larger villages are also under heavy guard—although this puts us on the defensive in the war against the Night Elves, it also narrows down the enemy’s range of operations. We can send scouting parties north and south, centered around Villek Town,” Sullivan suggested. After all, among the three of them, he was the proper soldier. “We need to hunt them like prey—discover them, chase them, and deliver the final blow. We must not fear sacrifice; snakes lurking in the darkness are far more terrifying than lions going berserk…”

He stroked the lifelike carved eagle on his cane. “The more ferocious and cunning the beast, the more skilled hounds are needed. Even in such times, deadly archery is relatively secondary. We must rely on hounds to track the prey and withstand their counterattacks…”

Sullivan smiled at Moriel and Daguras. “Distinguished ladies, Sullivan is willing to serve as a hound at your command.”

“That’s quite dangerous…” Daguras laughed, covering her mouth.

Moriel said nothing, her expression unchanged.

“Hmph. These ignorant brats.” Yatu stood behind the large window adorned with bright red patterned velvet curtains, watching Sullivan walk away down the street, and snorted in disdain.

It was the same long journey, yet the boy’s clothes were so clean—his seams were even clearly visible. Yatu couldn’t understand it. If he had seen Sullivan’s wardrobe, he would have understood why there were four sets of clothes in total.

He was fiddling with Sullivan’s exosuit weapon. The incredibly sturdy Atlas disassembled and reassembled in his hands like a Rubik’s cube, at a speed no slower than Sullivan’s original user. Moreover, the weapon’s forms were not limited to knives and dual guns, showing just how skilled Yatu was in controlling it.

Finally, Yatu casually threw the blue-glowing black gun onto the sofa.

“I thought it would be something special… Boring! Just junk that weaklings cherish!”

Although the council’s archmages decided to grant an exception and return Atlas to Sullivan—after all, the emperor’s face had to be saved, and they couldn’t use the need for exosuit development as an excuse anymore—they managed to get Yatu, the commander of this operation, to temporarily keep it. The emperor’s face certainly couldn’t be ignored either.

But finally, it was within Sullivan’s reach. At least now he knew from whom he could retrieve what he had lost for so long.