Chapter 9: The Big Players
The direct combat strength of forces like the Holy See and alliances far surpassed that of ordinary armed forces by multiple orders of magnitude. While before, Neo had only speculated about such concepts, witnessing them firsthand gave him a direct sensory experience, making his understanding suddenly clear.
Neo silently compared himself: without any weapons or equipment, he was over 98% confident in defeating any soldier from the Holy See or the duchy, and even against non-commissioned officers rated around level 8, he had over 70% confidence in winning in a direct fight. Based on his skills as an excellent craftsman and the information he had, he roughly estimated that the enhancement from their weapons and equipment was between 15% and 25%.
What was most terrifying wasn’t how these professional soldiers were highly trained, well-equipped, and elite—rather, it was their “clockwork-like” team combat capabilities. Through careful observation of these soldiers’ performance, Neo concluded that a group of ten men (excluding non-commissioned officers) could overwhelm him completely; even if he fought desperately, it would be hard for him to kill even one of them. In simpler terms, they were virtually impregnable.
This realization reminded Neo of an old saying that had persisted for thousands of years: “A sword master cannot defeat a swarm of crossbowmen!”
As times progressed and military tactics evolved, traditional combat methods like cavalry charges, archer support, and infantry assaults had disappeared. Rumors about unstoppable magic-crossbows and sword masters failing to escape seemed buried in the dust of history. Yet now, Neo understood that this concept still existed, merely under a different guise—its essence remained “an individual facing off against a state machine, with failure being inevitable.”
With Neo’s experience, he could assess combat situations without even engaging in a fight. He knew that victories like his recent campaign against bandits would be nothing but a joke against these people; even if his strength level increased by 10, he would still be the one to lose.
“As a lone tiger cannot defeat a pack of wolves!” His father had once said, and after witnessing the formidable presence of these elite troops, Neo deeply understood this truth. It reminded him that the path he had chosen was perilous, requiring caution and discretion. At the same time, he became even more eager to build his own team and return to the pack!
Neither the Holy See’s troops nor the duchy’s forces realized how their grand arrival had profoundly impacted the heart of a young werewolf. And even if they had, none of them would have cared. They were already surrounded by a dazzling aura, adored and revered by countless people—they were accustomed to this glory, drawing attention, and indeed, they deserved it.
Now, faced with a group of country bumpkins whose clothing was even worse than that of beggars in big cities, the soldiers from both sides lacked even the desire to show off. Their only interest was to fight against those well-armed, confident opponents and see who was the real hero and who was the coward.
More and more soldiers flocked in from all directions, efficiently and swiftly. The sounds of footsteps and clashing armor filled the air, but not a single word was spoken. There was silence everywhere. The valley had enough space to accommodate these over two thousand people. The two forces took up advantageous positions and formed their battle arrays, like two fierce tigers preparing to fight. In an instant, the shadows of war enveloped the valley. The sight of so many weapons made the people hiding in their tents in awe.
Yet…
Nio somewhat dismissed the military strength of both sides. Or rather, it wasn’t exactly dismissal; in his view, the momentum of these elite forces wasn’t top-tier. Their strength could be compared to that of tigers, lions, bison, or bears, but it certainly didn’t resemble that of his favorite—wolves. Fierce, brutal, and menacing!
Wolves didn’t have any particular advantages among carnivores, and they weren’t like jackals or hyenas that scavenged leftovers. As for teamwork, it wasn’t a wolf-exclusive skill—lion prides and hyenas also coordinated. To be fair, each had its strengths, all based on the advantages of their own species. Even if wolf packs were skilled, their abilities were limited. What made wolves powerful was their ferocity, both toward enemies and themselves. Nio believed that these people, including the Kratz werewolves, were only fierce toward others but too kind to themselves—such people couldn’t be considered top-tier.
Some rude people had joked that the Church’s troops were a group of sexually eager “passive” soldiers, with even their beards, chest hair, leg hair, and armpit hair shaved clean. Nio hadn’t yet been able to verify this claim, but the Church’s soldiers indeed maintained an impeccable appearance. Their radiant battle armor was forged from coral cold steel from the Hemonian Abyss. Besides having excellent performance metrics, this material also possessed natural water-element properties, giving it a distinctly clean appearance.
Unlike the armor worn by the three major factions, even ordinary Church soldiers wore double-layer full-body armor (with inner locks and outer plates), along with long cloaks. Needless to say, the craftsmanship was superb. Nio estimated that it would take at least half a month for two skilled blacksmiths to craft a set of such armor, working over 16 hours a day—if materials were available. This showed just how exquisite their armor was.
Another hallmark of the Church’s army—“holiness”—was perfectly reflected in these priests. On their silver-gray matte armor, the light crystals weren’t just decorative; they were also practical devices for activating magic arrays. These arrays kept the wearers enveloped in a milky white holy light, known as the Holy Light Shield. Its gentle, sacred glow not only inflicted blinding, near-burning effects on all dark-themed targets but also served as a distinct identifier for the Church’s forces. To this day, no non-Church faction had been able to replicate this effect, as the control over the magic arrays lay with the user, representing faith itself.
The armor was magnificent, adorned with holy light, exuding dignity and efficiency, as well as a heroic presence. These priests resembled guardians from a pure land, inspiring admiration and reverence. Neo didn’t know that this force had only been established in recent years as part of the Church’s image project. Its slogan was: a warrior order composed of outstanding believers from all over the world. In terms of faith and military capability, they represented the lowest entry barrier for joining the Church’s forces.
The Kratz Werewolves were one of the first werewolf clans to join the Frey Alliance and were among the few clans that valued bloodline purity. Two of the elite warrior units under Duke Ensbas were made up of Kratz Werewolves. Neo guessed this might be one of them, though he wasn’t sure whether it was the Stormfangs or the Fangs.
For Neo, the armor worn by these Kratz Werewolves was a new type—comprising a helmet, chest plate, waist guard, arm guards, leg guards, and boots, a six-piece set with reinforced arms and boots. It was clearly designed specifically for werewolves, covering only the most critical areas while highlighting their wildness and courage. What surprised Neo the most was detecting traces of fine gold in the mixed metals used in the armor.
Sorcerers used silver, while fighters used gold. Setting aside those extremely rare materials that were so scarce they couldn’t be mass-produced and often had serious flaws, silver and gold were recognized as the highest-grade metals in this world, corresponding to two major classes of warriors. Their advantages were countless, and naturally, their prices were staggering.
In fact, the Wildset worn by the Kratz Werewolves wasn’t only expensive; its original versions were meant for the “Chosen Ones,” featuring magic spell arrays inscribed on the inner surface of the armor—true magical equipment. Even after derivatives were created for general use, they still counted as semi-magical equipment.
Using magical or semi-magical equipment on werewolves might seem like an exaggeration to most people. But if they knew it was magical equipment designed for fighters, especially those specializing in brutality, they would be stunned and wonder, “Advanced applications of elemental energy and spell arrays—such technology isn’t exclusive to the Church, is it?”
Regardless, the facts were clear. As a level 4 shaman, Neo could sense the fluctuations of elemental energy emitted by these sets. He had to admit he was very interested in them—interested enough to take them off and study them closely.
“No wonder! No wonder they dare to show off in front of the Church’s army. They really haven’t disgraced the Frey Alliance, known for its wealth. A bunch of arrogant warriors!” Neo marveled in secret as he observed them. When it came to wealth and resources compared to the Church, which had a legacy of thousands of years, only the Frey Alliance, which had broken through the technological barriers long controlled by the Church through science and technology over the past few centuries, could pull off such things. And this time, they succeeded brilliantly—showing not just practical but also equally impressive magical skills. “Outperforming you in your own domain!” The principality had done just that.
Of course, for most people on both sides, they have no interest in such technical rivalries; what matters to them is momentum, military appearance, and imposing presence. The priests maintained the iron discipline characteristic of the Holy See in producing combat forces, with each one having an extremely solemn and serious expression. In contrast, the werewolves were more arrogant in demeanor. Their formation was not only aesthetically pleasing but also perfectly suited to leverage the werewolves’ speed and high attack capabilities. As for their expressions, they were more varied—many showed snarling faces, while others made exaggerated gestures. Though not as majestic as the priestly legions that resembled an army of angels, they possessed a vibrant energy and fierce wildness, which was a notable strength in its own right. By this time, two airships had arrived over the valley and were gradually descending. These vessels, combining magical and mechanical power, represented the highest level of technology mastered by the dominant race in this world. As mere passenger ships, they measured 1.5×0.7×0.4 kilometers in length, width, and height respectively, and could carry up to 7,000 people along with magical-powered fighters—truly deserving the title of aerial fortresses. The sheer scale of these giants created an overwhelming sense of pressure, especially for the people in the migrating groups. Witnessing airships of this caliber would be a topic of conversation for a lifetime. The prince’s commander made a grand entrance first—the King of Kabban Eagles. Its thickest feather shafts were as thick as an adult’s wrist. It was said that this creature could easily lift a bison weighing around 2,000 pounds to an altitude of 10,000 meters. Riding such a beast, aside from questions of whether it was an overkill and whether there was enough space for air knights to maneuver, just the maintenance costs alone—Nio estimated that Baron Bafas, even if considered wealthy in the southern regions of the Erdreth domain, would face severe financial strain if he tried to keep such a creature. From this comparison, the economic disparity between Baron Bafas and Grand Duke Ensbas became clear, leaving Nio with little but an exclamation mark in his mind. The rider on the King of Kabban Eagles seemed determined to play the role of a nouveau riche to the fullest. This eagle was equipped with heavy armor whose gold content was as high as 90%, with the remaining 10% being the rarer wind-type magic metal. Even more astonishing was that the armor was adorned with exquisite patterns, clearly the work of a master craftsman. From an artistic standpoint alone, its value was likely enough to make any major merchant in the Erdreth domain flee in shame. Nio even wondered that if such armor were put up for sale, it might be enough to change the surname of the entire Erdreth domain! If the rider was already so extravagant, its owner was undoubtedly the epitome of the saying “there is no such thing as the most expensive—only more expensive.” Nio didn’t know how to describe this person. Simply put, he could recognize that everything about this individual, down to even the buckle on their cloak, was top-quality, but he didn’t know exactly how good, as he didn’t recognize any of it. If someone told him that this person came from another dimension separate from the Emira world, Nio would believe it—this person was truly extraordinary!
What amazed Neo the most was that such a collection of rare treasures failed to create something gaudy or vulgar. On the contrary, this person’s attire reached a level of elegance that was simple yet refined; at first glance, it didn’t seem particularly eye-catching—so how could it give off such an air of luxury? Only upon closer inspection did he realize that true emotion is nothing ordinary.
If there really are people in this world who receive endless adoration, Neo thought this person must be one of them. Handsome to an extreme degree; powerful—Neo couldn’t even estimate his true strength, which meant he was likely at least level 13 or higher; young, appearing to be around 18 or 19, with a youthful vitality that couldn’t be faked by age; compared to him, Neo felt his own mindset was already that of a middle-aged man! As for his status, the lion emblem embroidered on his cloak gave some clues—Neo thought of a famous figure from a principality, the younger brother of the current Grand Duke of Ensbass, a noble of royal blood from the Holy Kingdom of Ode, one of the Four Handsome Men of Frey, a genius swordsman (with countless other titles omitted)—Victor Cilios Greenhill.
“It seems the rumors aren’t reliable. If this royal celebrity were truly a playboy, how could he be assigned such a task?” Neo’s attention turned to Victor, who moved with grace and composure. He wanted to see how this prince would handle the tense situation, especially since they were facing troops under the control of the Glorious Church, Emira’s most powerful force.
“What’s everyone thinking? Isn’t this the proper way to welcome guests in Sanvest?” Victor’s voice had a deep, magnetic quality, unique and pleasant to hear. He spoke softly, yet even Neo, over a hundred meters away, could hear him clearly, as if he were speaking right beside him.
Hiss!
Victor spoke casually, but his subordinates carried out his orders with precision. The sound of thousands of clawed blades being retracted together created a unified, loud noise—indicating that the Kratz wolves executed Victor’s commands instantly, without hesitation or any slack.
Neo hadn’t expected Victor to have such strong control over his troops. His personal guards, who had fought alongside him for years, might not be exceptional at this, but Neo had never heard of Victor leading even a single battle, not even military operations like suppressing bandits—never!
“How does he win the hearts of his soldiers, making these proud warriors revere him like a god?” Neo realized that Victor was indeed a person worth delving into.
The weapons were withdrawn, but that was merely a courtesy. After all, the Kratz wolves’ battle formation remained intact—should a fight break out, it would take just one word.
At that moment, the commander from the Church side also arrived. Landing a airship at low altitude took time, and this commander descended on a flying steed—a Holy Light Pegasus with silver dragon bloodline, thick limbs and muscular build, a true powerhouse among horses. Only the Church in Emira possessed such flying steeds; there was no other. Just that alone demonstrated their supreme superiority—nothing else, not even wearing gold and silver, was necessary.
Perhaps it was fate that brought about this starkly contrasting encounter. Compared to Victor, this commander of the Church was extremely plain—his cavalry’s saddle and bridle were made of hemp, and he wore washed-out, faded hemp clothes, the kind typically seen on students at lower-level martial arts schools and farmers in the fields. He was clearly an old man, with white hair and beard, his face covered in wrinkles—frown lines, crow’s feet, and forehead lines—all present. His skin was a dull yellowish-brown, lacking any presence; he was only straighter-backed than other elderly people of his age. The only highlight about him might have been his eyes—clear and bright, with such purity one might find it only in children under five.
The old man held a holy cross in his hand; its material was unclear—seemingly wood yet also stone—smooth and polished. It was hard to tell how many times it had been touched or used over the years, but it certainly had a worn appearance, with no extra decorations. Only a divine character was inscribed at its core: Heaven (in Chinese characters, regular script).
Quintus, the wielder of the Heavenly Sword and a holy monk—known by few and referred to with little—was enough to make the duchy’s forces, even if doubled in number, seem insignificant.
After dismounting, Quintus did three things: he gave a slight nod in return to Victor, who bowed to him; he waved his hand to signal to the priests what to do; then he glanced at Neo. That glance made Neo shift from denying to doubting the concept that “a gaze can kill.” Though he didn’t feel like he was being “stared to death,” the effect was so real that Neo felt as though an indescribable force was penetrating his mind, as if he had been struck by the legendary “Eye of Truth”—after that glance, no secrets could remain.
At that moment, a loud bird call came from the sky. At first, it seemed distant, as if miles away, but in an instant it became close at hand. This bird call had the effect of the mental magic “Sound of Intimidation,” shaking people’s minds. To Neo’s surprise, given his willpower, he failed the will assessment—meaning the bird call had successfully affected his thoughts. If he tried to cast a spell now, its success rate would drop by 20% to 30% due to this interference.
Not only humans but also animals were affected. Even the King of Carban Eagles and the winged horses with silver dragon blood lowered their heads, not to mention the rest. Neo saw the humble horses and household dogs nearby lying there like mud, trembling uncontrollably.
Then, a flame appeared in the sky, with dozens of ribbon-like tail fins glowing like rainbows and flames. The flame was incredibly magnificent, with the silhouette of a giant bird faintly visible within it. Surrounding it were countless clouds of blue light—light clouds formed by wind elements.
“A phoenix!” Neo murmured, staring unblinkingly at the bird that had arrived in the sky.
“Phoenix,” a loanword—phoenix for the male and huang for the female. The phoenix refers to the female version of this sacred bird. For those who believe in nature, it is a creature akin to a holy beast, a messenger of nature, and a high-ranking shaman or druid among birds and beasts. The phoenix is tasked with purifying defiled lands with lightning and fire. An adult phoenix, like an adult dragon, belongs to the sacred realm.
When the phoenix arrived, all airships, priests, clawed werewolves, royal nobles, and sword saints paled in comparison. Especially when people saw someone descending from the phoenix’s back, the entire place fell dead silent. This scene was no less astonishing than seeing someone riding on Quintus’s shoulders while he called himself a “old slave.”
Who could it be? Who was so amazing as to ride such a supreme sacred beast? Among the three major factions, plus the Church, even the reclusive elves and orcs and other races—no one had ever heard of someone like this. Where did they come from?
This person was quite composed, walking through the two armies with a smile, showing no signs of discomfort. More than two thousand proud warriors and fierce soldiers suddenly became foolish fools. It wasn’t because the woman riding the phoenix was a stunning beauty—after all, no one cared about her appearance. Even if she were ugly as a goblin, countless people would still adore her.
“Good day, my lords. I’m Aurora A. Rodriques, from Phoenix City…” The phoenix’s owner greeted the commanders of both armies kindly and immediately explained her purpose: she was here to pick up her good friend Milien to visit the Rodriques family estate in Asia.
Visit? Coming to pick someone up by riding a phoenix? That was certainly an extremely dramatic way to do it!
Even a fool could see that this seemingly harmless girl chose this moment to ride the phoenix here for a purpose far beyond the surface. But so what? Phoenix City was the political and economic center of the Frey Alliance—the richest, largest, most prosperous city in all Aemera, with numerous “mosts.” Now, a phoenix had flown out of Phoenix City—what did that mean? A sign! A sign capable of overshadowing even the disaster of Edrith being invaded by dark forces.
Any sensible person present could guess that this incident would likely become even more complicated and difficult to handle with the appearance of this phoenix.
“Hey! Wake up! You’ve drooled on the ground. That girl can’t possibly be yours. Save your energy and think about how to overcome this difficulty! Do you know? If you don’t leave now, next year on this day might be your death anniversary, and this place will be your grave.” After mocking him, she added a threat. The speaker was Gladith Klingental, who wasn’t very well-liked byNeo.
Neo was quickly regaining his composure from shock. Moreover, he kept five separate thoughts running at once—even in a situation as chaotic as this, it was impossible for his mind to go completely blank.Neo quickly realized that Gladith, who had been acting strangely these past few days and refused to go to the Valley of Refuge with Valentina and the others, surely wasn’t bored enough to invent such nonsense at a time like this.
“Miss Lais, I don’t quite understand what you mean. Please speak plainly.”
“Even if this Phoenix Lady could summon a real dragon, it wouldn’t save the lives of the members of the migration party, because the people from the Church will leave in no time, while on the side of the duchy, it’s Victor who will arrive!” Gladith said this with great certainty, especially when mentioning Victor, her expression as if she were talking about a demonic king…