The twelve leading court archmages, forced into desperation, joined forces to cast a defensive spell. However, their efforts were obliterated by the overwhelming force of black ice pillars, which smashed through their defenses with ease. Fortunately, the archmages managed to avoid a catastrophic backlash that would have left their heads blown apart, though they did not escape unscathed—each bore significant injuries. Anastasia single-handedly triumphed over the Vollachia Empire's twelve strongest spellcasters. But it wasn't over yet. The black ice pillars continued to rain down upon the mage battalion. The court archmages, overwhelmed and unable to counter, had no choice but to open teleportation portals and flee the area under the pillars' onslaught. Teleportation, however, is an advanced and complex spell. Out of the mage battalion of over 20,000, fewer than 500 could proficiently use it. As a result, 20,000 pairs of eyes watched in despair as a colossal black ice pillar, larger than a mountain, descended upon them.
Boom!
A deafening roar shook the heavens. The ground quaked as if it had turned into a springboard, trembling violently. After what seemed an eternity, the tremors subsided. As the dust settled, a thick mist of blood spread around the base of the icy mountain. Only a small number of mages who used teleportation and other means survived. Almost the entirety of the empire's mage battalion had been crushed into pulp beneath the ice mountain. Upon learning of this catastrophe, the Grand Marshal was nearly driven mad. Through painstaking effort and countless backdoor deals, he had outmaneuvered numerous rivals to become the supreme commander, expecting an easy campaign to gather accolades. Instead, right at the start, he was handed an enormous disaster by Ryou. The Vollachia Empire's most elite Knights and a battalion of 20,000 mages were utterly annihilated. The Grand Marshal could easily imagine the emperor back home oiling the guillotine and tightening the ropes, waiting for him to place his head under the blade.
"Marshal, what are your orders now?" asked an anxious aide. The other officers and advisors, equally distraught, looked to him for answers. If the marshal was doomed, none of them could expect to escape the emperor's wrath either—his guillotine had more than one blade. After a tense pause, the grand marshal spoke in a low voice, "Full assault."
"W-what did you say?"
The adjutant, fearing he had misheard, quickly asked again.
"I said full assault, you fool!"
The grand marshal roared, his face flushed with rage, bloodshot eyes glaring.
"Charge! Leave no reserve forces! Strike with everything we've got! Anyone who retreats will be executed on the spot by the enforcement squad!"
Like a gambler on a losing streak, the marshal threw all his remaining chips on the table in a desperate bid to reverse his fortune. His only hope was to defeat Lugunica's forces, storm the capital, and destroy Lugunica entirely. Only by presenting such an achievement might the emperor consider sparing his life. Thus, a bizarre scene unfolded before Ryou. Despite the destruction of the Vollachia Empire's most elite forces, the enemy didn't retreat but instead launched an all-out charge. Faced with such a determined enemy, Ryou couldn't help but feel a sense of exasperation.
"Is living such a terrible thing?" he muttered.
"Since you're so eager, I'll help you meet your end."
"Ready… aim… fire!"
With a wave of Ryou's hand, a barrage of black crossbow bolts shot forth like a storm of death, raining down mercilessly on the imperial forces. History proved that with the advent of firearms—especially rapid-firing machine guns—sheer numbers lost their significance. The repeating crossbows wielded by the soldiers of the Deathwing Legion operated much like modern automatic rifles, with magazines holding fifty bolts and reloads taking mere seconds.
Wave after wave of imperial soldiers charged toward Lugunica's defenses, shouting battle cries: "For the empire!"
"Long live the Emperor!"
With bloodshot eyes and faces filled with fervor, they advanced, shields raised or dual weapons in hand. In the age of cold weapons, high morale could often decide battles, overcoming even overwhelming odds. Unfortunately for the Vollachia Empire, Ryou had fast-tracked this world's military history into the era of firearms, bypassing traditional transitions. In the era of firearms, morale mattered, but superior weaponry mattered more. Thousands of imperial soldiers surged forward, only to be mowed down in droves by the relentless storm of crossbow bolts. Every second, hundreds fell.
The battlefield seemed divided into two worlds—one of life and one of death. On one side lay the barren desert; on the other, a blood-soaked landscape littered with corpses. Imperial soldiers fell like wheat before the scythe. Cries of agony rose from the ground, while vultures circled above, cawing hungrily. The Vollachia Empire's strategy of using sheer numbers to overwhelm Lugunica's defenses was shattered. After two hours of brutal fighting—better described as a one-sided massacre—the battle ended. Of the 200,000 imperial soldiers, 150,000 were dead or injured at the hands of the Deathwing Legion. Not a single one reached Lugunica's defensive line. The closest corpse lay 500 meters away, its outstretched hand frozen mid-reach as if grasping for salvation.
When the imperial soldiers realized they couldn't breach Lugunica's defenses, their morale collapsed. Like an avalanche, the once-proud elite troops of the Vollachia Empire threw down their weapons and discarded their armor in a desperate bid to flee faster. Some even tripped others to use them as human shields, disregarding the fact that these were their comrades mere moments ago. Under Ryou's orders, the Deathwing Legion showed no mercy, firing at the fleeing enemies. Before Lugunica's defenses, 500 meters out, the desert transformed into a macabre carpet woven from blood and flesh.
Witnessing the grim aftermath, Ryou's expression remained indifferent. War, indeed, is cruel—but only for civilians. Soldiers who step onto the battlefield must be prepared to die. The enemy had no room for mercy; if they had reached Lugunica's defenses, they would have slaughtered the Deathwing Legion just as mercilessly. This was war. The retreating soldiers merely managed to delay their demise for a moment. Using the enchanted boots, which granted speeds comparable to a warhorse, the Imperial troops who attempted to flee were swiftly overtaken by Ryou's command. What followed was another massacre. In an instant, 20,000 more soldiers were slain from the ranks of the 50,000 retreating troops. The remaining 30,000 surrendered, dropping their weapons and kneeling in surrender.
The battle resulted in a resounding victory for Lugunica. The 200,000-strong Imperial army was nearly annihilated—most were killed or captured. The devastating losses included the near-total destruction of the 20,000-strong mage corps, significantly setting back the Vollachia Empire's magical capabilities. Among those killed were 12 court magicians, and even high-level mages who used teleportation to escape met grim fates. Ryou, anticipating their actions, deliberately refrained from letting Anastasia use dimensional lock spells to secure the battlefield. Instead, he baited them into casting teleportation magic, allowing Anastasia to disrupt the spatial stability in the vicinity. The consequences were catastrophic for the Imperial mages: some were trapped in spatial turbulence, others in dimensional rifts, and many suffered grotesque deaths, such as partial teleportations or being shredded by spatial storms.
Only two court magicians skilled in spatial magic and a handful of lucky survivors made it out alive. Out of over 500 high-ranking mages, fewer than ten remained.
The word tragic barely captured the severity of the disaster. With the destruction of the mage corps, the Vollachia Empire's entire magical system would likely need to be rebuilt, a process estimated to take centuries, assuming the Vollachia Empire could maintain its strength. However, it was evident that a certain ruthless chancellor wouldn't pass up the chance to crush the already weakened Vollachia Empire further. When the marshal, stationed in the rear, received news of the complete annihilation of the 200,000 troops, he calmly smiled and drank poisoned wine, taking his own life.
Lugunica had achieved a decisive victory. But it wasn't over. The Vollachia Empire had tried to invade Lugunica, and Ryou, a man known for his vindictiveness, wasn't about to let them off lightly. Thus, Semiramis's Sky Garden aimed its cannons at the Vollachia Empire's territory, unleashing a series of light blasts. These strikes, as precise as a sword, obliterated five major military camps and three enormous fortresses within the Vollachia Empire, resulting in over 300,000 casualties. One of the blasts even targeted a military camp adjacent to the Imperial capital.
At the time, a grand ball was being held in the Imperial palace to celebrate the coming-of-age ceremony of Princess Lamia, the Jewel of the Empire. The palace was filled with nobles and young elites, eager to impress the unmarried princess. As the light blast struck, leveling the nearby camp and even collapsing part of the city wall, the ball was at its height. The princess, dancing gracefully with a young noble who was a duke, an exceptional mage, and a swordsman unmatched in the capital—found herself interrupted by the sudden catastrophe. The chandelier above swayed violently before crashing down, crushing an unfortunate noble beneath it. While chaos erupted, Princess Lamia remained calm, directing arriving guards to evacuate guests. In stark contrast, her dance partner—a figure admired by many—screamed like a frightened woman and fell to the floor. Disappointed, the princess shifted her focus entirely to disaster relief, leaving the once-promising young man behind.
Soon after, news of the Vollachia Empire's crushing defeat reached the capital, along with Ryou's ultimatum: a demand for a vast sum of holy coins and precious materials as reparations, under the threat of continued bombardment. Enraged, the Emperor tore the ultimatum to shreds and ordered the arrest and execution of the grand marshal's entire family, erasing their prestigious lineage. Three days passed without a response to the demands, prompting Ryou to launch another wave of retaliatory strikes. This time, the targets included several major cities' garrison troops and the Vollachia Empire's navy. The Vollachia Empire's navy, developed over a century at an enormous cost of resources and manpower, was utterly obliterated. Building a navy was no simple task—it required expertise in warship construction, shipyard facilities, and years of training for skilled sailors and captains. Yet, with a single blast, Ryou reduced the Vollachia Empire's navy to ruins, reversing over a century of progress.
The Emperor, upon learning of this catastrophic loss, coughed up blood and fell gravely ill. Hidden cracks in the Vollachia Empire's façade began to surface. Most of the Emperor's sons died under uncertain circumstances due to the fierce struggle for the throne.
Princess Lamia, the youngest and most beautiful, the Vollachia Empire's sole legitimate heir if no male offspring were born. Marrying her meant securing the Vollachia Empire itself. The Emperor's health rapidly deteriorated under the weight of successive disasters, leaving the Vollachia Empire on the brink of upheaval. Hidden undercurrents of turmoil began to rise.