Round Fifteen: Constructed Tower

Watching 471 dash away in an instant, Moriel began to ponder how to deal with the aftermath.
The sky was already faintly lighting up, with fragmented clouds drifting, trying to reassemble themselves after the devastating explosion. The thunderstorm that had come with the lightning had dissipated, but Moriel looked up at the sky, not really believing that Yatu could be destroyed by such a powerful strike.
Without warning, a massive fire erupted not far from Moriel.
A crimson column of flame rose, growing stronger as it burned across the battlefield filled with smoke.
Moriel stepped back a few paces and bent slightly.
Gradually, a tall human figure took shape within the flames. As he stepped out, he became clearer and clearer, and the towering flame grew even brighter with his movements, before suddenly exploding like fireworks—Lord Yatu, one of the seven Supreme Archmages, appeared before Moriel in a rather comical manner.
Yatu, who was in a comfortable bed at the inn in Volk Town, woke up from his brief dream. His eyes were wide open, and he seemed fully alert, as if the person who had been snoring like thunder and grinding teeth like a drummer wasn’t him at all.
The magical mark installed on Hoffman to enable sensing had disappeared? This could only happen if the half-golem was completely destroyed. Yatu wasn’t convinced at first, but after checking again, he had to accept it. There was no mistake—the magical mark on the half-golem had been installed by him himself. Although Yatu was best known for his mastery of elemental energies and his innovative, devastating offensive spells, he had also personally supervised and participated in the development of many constructed weapons, with Hoffman being one of his creations.
Suddenly, a flash appeared behind the curtain covering the bed—as if lightning had struck inside. The moment the light faded, the entire middle part of the oversized bed, from the sheets to the frame, was burned black, and a large hole appeared in the ceiling above. Yatu, in the form of a column of lightning, flew straight out through the roof of the inn, heading straight for the battlefield, like a meteor flying backward in the sky above Volk Town.
Then he was knocked down.
Yatu’s imposing entrance was ruined by his outfit, which made him look like a clown on stage. His pajamas were torn from 471’s bombardment, and his pointy sleep cap was half-burned, revealing a mess of scorched hair. The old man had remained unharmed despite 471’s full-force attack—unless one considered his outdated-style pajamas. Although Moriel knew well that Yatu couldn’t be defeated so easily, he was still slightly surprised.
“Hmph! Laugh if you want!” Yatu glared at Moriel, who had a solemn expression. In fact, she didn’t really want to laugh, unless Yatu said so.
Moriel lowered his head, as if showing respect to Yatu.
“I led the support team and Hoffman to the battlefield as quickly as possible, but the enemy was simply too strong. If it weren’t for your timely arrival…” Moriel wasn’t really lying.

“Hmm. There’s no need for you to say that. Where’s that brat from the O’Sullivan family?” It was obvious that Yatu was furious—but unlike his usual irritability and impatience, he wasn’t acting that way now.
Morrill glanced around; clearly, none of the scouts could stand up to answer that question.
“The search teams should have split up and searched in two directions. There are only about half as many scouts here—Count O’Sullivan might be with the other team.” Morrill wasn’t lying.
Yatu also scanned the battlefield. He stared intently at the destruction caused by the forty-seven cannons, remaining silent for a long time.
“I’m leaving first. You take care of the aftermath! See if there are any survivors!”
Finally, Yatu turned away and said those words viciously.
As if awakened by a morning breeze, one of the twin suns finally rose fully above the horizon, casting its light unreservedly on this land stained with blood and corpses.
After returning to Vilco Town, Yatu locked himself in his room all day. It wasn’t until dusk that he summoned Morrill, O’Sullivan, and Dracula to his room.
On the desk in front of Yatu lay scattered maps, books, rulers, magnifying glasses, a half-eaten lunch, and various other cluttered items—clear signs that Yatu had been extremely busy throughout the day, though it was unclear what he had been doing.
“I’m truly sorry, Lord Yatu!” O’Sullivan stepped forward first. He had requested an audience with Yatu three times that day, only to be rejected each time. “I should take full responsibility for what happened to the search team. I’ll accept any punishment without complaint!”
“This isn’t the time to assign blame. It’s better to catch the murderer quickly. I’ve had enough of this boring place…” Although it was nearly dusk, Dracula still looked sleepy. Yatu’s gaze made this spoiled girl from the Council shut up for once, though she still wore a childish, annoyed expression.
Morrill stood quietly aside, secretly smiling. This was the first time in days she had seen Dracula without feeling annoyed.
“There’s no need for you to feign taking full responsibility! I must admit that I was overly confident. You subordinates also made mistakes, but the main blame lies with me!” Yatu spoke, his beard trembling slightly with each word, like a large feather duster.
O’Sullivan raised his head. Though he expected no real punishment for the heavy losses suffered by the search team, Yatu’s willingness to take responsibility so easily did surprise him—a bit. In this regard, Yatu was far better than those noisy noble officials in Vatan City who only talked without doing anything.

“Morrill did a great job! He notified me in time about the potential crisis the search team might face. If I had been there personally, this mission might have been completed successfully.” Although Yatu usually gave off an extremely fierce impression, when faced with a real crisis, this archmage known as “Thunder over Agus” showed a rare calmness and composure: “O’Sullivan, you don’t need to blame yourself too much—let’s assume what you said is true. Still, I’m really puzzled as to why you could be so careless…”

O’Sullivan’s heartbeat quickened slightly. Had this old man already discovered something? No, that couldn’t be…

“But as Dagulas said, the most important thing now is to capture and completely eliminate our enemy!” After saying that, Yatu stood up from his chair and walked over to the window to look outside. Directly in front of the window was the large construct mage tower being built by the river beside the town since Yatu and his group entered Volk Town. It seemed progress had been rapid that day—by the eve of nightfall, the nearly completed tower was filled with glowing magic beams, looking like a parade float ready for a carnival from afar.

“Disperse. We’ll move into the command tower tomorrow morning!” Yatu waved his hand back at them.

After leaving Yatu’s room, the three of them stood in the corridor, unable to leave for a moment.

“We’ll be climbing that mage tower tomorrow. I guarantee you’ll be surprised!” Dagulas said as he headed to his room. “See you tomorrow, both of you!”

Going down to the second floor, the two of them headed to their respective rooms. As he first reached O’Sullivan’s room door, O’Sullivan muttered something in a barely audible voice, as if to himself.

“Our old friend is still as lively as ever.”

Morrill turned abruptly, only to see O’Sullivan’s closed door.

“I don’t care if you use magic or your shoulders—get these construct materials to the top of the tower right now!” A low-ranking white-robed mage gave orders to Hunter in a haughty manner before returning to his superior to take further orders.

If it weren’t for the need for manpower to finish the mage tower before dawn, Hunter would have faced even harsher punishment for leaving the team without permission to visit the still unconscious Sayers.

Sayers wasn’t dead. It was said that he was the only one from his group to survive. No one knew how he managed it.

Though not dead, his injuries were severe. But the worst injuries weren’t caused by the demonized elves—they were from Hoffman’s collision, which broke four of Sayers’ ribs, leaving him in a coma. Still, this didn’t stop his status from rising in the eyes of others, as several skilled mages from the former hunter unit hadn’t returned alive. Everyone began to think that this tall mage, who resembled a bear, must have some extraordinary ability.

It seemed only Hunter knew that this guy was just lucky.

Hunter placed the liquor bought from Big Bobo beside Sayers’ pillow. The doctor said he was not seriously injured, so the first thing he would look for when he woke up would definitely be this liquor.
“Hey, be careful! If it falls, it could kill someone!” warned a mage responsible for installing crystal ball arrays with magical enhancement effects on the outer wall of the construct tower.
Hunter waved his hand and continued climbing up the unfinished outer wall stairs, carrying the pile of construct materials.
This construct tower was actually not the one they had originally planned to build. Since dawn, batches of construct materials had been urgently delivered to the construction site, and the newly arrived mages in Vatlan City worked nonstop to modify and assemble it at an astonishing speed. The original structure was transformed, reorganized, or even demolished. Everyone in Vilker Town was mobilized to work on building the new tower.
To be honest, as part of the logistics team before, he was familiar with most construct weapons, including the materials for construct towers. But this time was clearly different from before. Not to mention guessing its purpose, Hunter had never seen many of the materials before. The gradually taking shape construct tower also looked strange—it was about the same height as ordinary construct towers but nearly twice as thick. The ladders hanging on its polygonal outer wall, along with the numerous spikes and holes, made it resemble a battle fortress. It was far less smooth and beautiful than the construct towers used as strongholds before. Its dark green color also gave off a oppressive feeling. Apart from the silver, large disc-shaped plates at the top of the tower that could change angle and the huge needle-like decorations standing atop it like spears, what was even stranger was the base of the tower—it was not only wider but also showed no signs of extending underground. Even construct towers should have some depth in their foundations. It was unclear whether this tall structure placed directly on the ground could be blown over by a gust of wind.
The construct mage tower was finally completed before dawn. Hunter thought the outer defenses still needed more work. After receiving the order to stop working and evacuate the tower, he let out a long sigh—not just because he could finally end this strenuous physical labor, but also because he was utterly tired of the other mages mocking him for carrying the construct materials.
As soon as the mages finished their work, they scattered throughout Vilker Town. Some rushed back to their camps to sleep, some went to Big Bobo to drink, and others disappeared into the streets and alleys, their whereabouts unknown. In an instant, Vilker Town, which had just started to come alive, fell back into the quiet darkness before dawn.
Hunter hurried toward the lower-ranking mage barracks; perhaps Sayers had already woken up.
“Hunter!”
Hunter turned around abruptly. The darkness made it hard for him to see clearly, and only a blurred silhouette appeared in front of the hotel a short distance away.
“Commander Moriel?” Although he couldn’t see clearly, Hunter still recognized the voice. If he remembered correctly, this was the first time the commander had called him by name directly.
It was indeed Moriel. She had barely slept all night, but there was not a trace of fatigue on her face.

“What are you still doing here so late?” Moriel asked absentmindedly, seemingly still preoccupied with other things.
“Don’t you know? We’ve been busy building the mage tower.” Hunter felt extremely tired; give him a pillow and he could fall asleep right there on the street. But with Moriel beside him, he forced himself to stay alert. “Sayes isn’t in life-threatening danger anymore. I heard it was you who saved him. I really don’t know how to thank you!”
That bear mage?
He didn’t know how much of what had happened he had seen or understood, but it probably wasn’t that serious…
“Commander Moriel…” Suddenly, Hunter’s nose stung. Watching Sayes and so many of his companions struggle on the brink of death, this young apprentice mage seemed to be at his limit. “When will this war ever end?”
Moriel looked up at Hunter, tears faintly glistening in his eyes. Suddenly, she remembered those days long ago in the Red Robe Mage Guild.
“…”
Seeing Moriel’s silence, Hunter also realized he had said something wrong. He sniffled heavily. “I’m sorry! I’m going back to the camp, Commander Moriel!”
“Soon!” As Hunter turned to leave, he glanced back and found that Moriel had also turned and left.
“It’s my first time seeing it in person too. Wow, it’s spectacular!” Dagulas stood beside the railing on top of the tower, marveling as she kicked a white-robed mage who was standing too close to her off the tower.
“Why?” O’Sullivan, standing nearby, was clearly shocked.
“Hm?” Dagulas looked at O’Sullivan in confusion. “Why what?”
“Why kick him down?” O’Sullivan glanced at Moriel, who remained indifferent not far away, then leaned over the railing to look down. The white-robed mage was lying motionless on a set of stairs on the outer wall, seemingly badly injured.
“Don’t act up on my tower, Dagulas!” Yatu appeared in an arched door next to the spire at the top of the tower, which led to the interior.
“My leg cramped!” Dagulas pushed up her glasses, looking innocent. “It’s his fault for standing so close!”
It seemed that was the only reason.