Chapter 604 — Daily Life at the Edge of the Waste

In the safe interior of the kingdom, attacks by aberrants were thrilling tales in the mouths of bards—accompanied by exaggerated descriptions and romanticized plots, telling trite stories of knights rescuing princesses. But beyond the Black Forest, on the sole defense line at the edge of the wasteland, attacks by aberrants and similar monsters were simply daily life.

On the southwestern section of the wall around the Typhon camp, soldiers in black armor and battlemages in robes stood ready in strict formation.

Massive ballistae had been wheeled into position between the merlons; runestones glowing with magical radiance were set up in the rear section of the wall. Soldiers were adjusting the angles of the ballistae, while mages communed with the magical power pre-stored in the runestones, adjusting their own states. Heavily armored warriors in specially forged steel plate had formed battle formations along the wall between the ballistae: three to a group, one in front raising a shield, one behind holding a steel spear in reserve, and the last wielding a longsword, ready to support at any moment.

Gao Yang and the others climbed the wall together with Luo Yan Augustus. Amber gazed into the distance and saw, to the southeast, on the corrupted plain beyond the great wall, a horde of red monsters wreathed in ominous smoke and cloud charging forward at accelerating speed, smoke billowing at their sides, the earth beneath their feet growing ever more corrupted.

Gao Yang, meanwhile, took note of the Typhon soldiers standing ready in good order, noted the ballistae and battle runestones they employed, noted their distinctive "three-man battle formation."

Facing aberrants whose innate constitution far surpassed ordinary people, these Typhon soldiers and mages appeared exceptionally calm—clearly they had dealt with such situations more than once—and that distinctive "three-man battle formation," in Gao Yang's estimation, was likewise an effective means of countering aberrants: by the standards of cold steel, at least.

The shield-bearers with their heavy shields could hold off an aberrant's assault for a short time, giving the spearmen a chance to grievously wound those conspicuous monsters; the swordsmen could circle behind while their comrades entangled the creatures and strike at the aberrants' weak points, or reinforce shield-bearers locked in hard fighting. The three-man squads were staggered in their deployment, ensuring that even if large numbers of aberrants mounted the wall, they could be delayed, divided, encircled, and eliminated piecemeal, with each squad able to support the others at any moment.

And all these soldiers carried backup crossbows. Though such weapons inflicted very limited damage on aberrants, given sufficient numbers—combined with the great ballistae on the wall and the magic of the battlemages—they were still enough to threaten those monsters that wielded ranged magic.

Such an army would be equally effective against humans; indeed, given sufficient numbers, aided by city-grade shields, and with enough battlemages, they would pose a considerable threat even against Cecil's magic-drive legions.

Even as Gao Song observed and pondered, the aberrants entered the Typhonians' range.

At a single command from the commander on the wall, battle erupted in an instant.

The wall-defense ballistae, long since charged to full power, released their deep, thrumming booms; massive bolts—heavy enough to grievously wound a low-tier superhuman knight in a single strike—flew into the distance in an instant, bursting sprays of blood mist among the aberrants. And amid the ceaseless volleys of bolts were mingled fireballs, lightning, ice, and other spells from the mages: the Typhon mages in their battle robes stood beside the runestones in the rear section of the wall, drawing extra magical power even as they continuously produced lethal effects, bombarding the monsters in the distance. And whenever a mage's mental focus wavered or their casting efficiency dropped, a reserve caster immediately took their place, maintaining the magical suppression upon the wall without pause.

Out on the distant plain, those crimson monstrosities—some shrieking, some babbling in frenzied tongues—began to drop one after another. Yet a number of them, buoyed by their monstrous vitality, kept pressing toward the city wall. Some among them raised both hands high, and orbs of energy steeped in terrible corrupting power took shape, then after a brief delay came screaming down upon the Typhonian camp.

A shimmering shield of magic rose from the battlements, blocking the corrupt energy of the aberrations. Amid the faintest tremor of that barrier, the distance between attacker and defender shrank further still; the Typhonian soldiers who carried heavy crossbows as their secondary weapons immediately spanned their bows, and bolts blessed with holy water and kindred enchantments poured down like a torrential rain upon the surviving monsters.

By the look of it, these attackers could not even climb the walls. The Typhonian "three-man battle formation" never even had the chance to raise shields or draw swords—after all, there were only a few hundred of them, and in a place this close to the Gondor Wastes, this counted as a remarkably "relaxed and comfortable" assault.

Gao Yang and Luo Yan Augustus stood quietly upon the wall, watching the blasphemous, corrupted creatures become one by one mere wreckage upon the plain, swiftly evaporating and dissolving away. Neither man showed any inclination to act himself, and those around them likewise appeared calm and unruffled.

This was only a "routine" assault. On this land such attacks came every few days, and whether Typhonian or Ansud, the people had long since grown used to them.

As he watched the monsters being steadily annihilated, Gao Song's intuition was suddenly stirred. He lifted his head and looked at Luo Yan Augustus, who stood beside him.

The Typhonian Emperor was gazing quietly into the distance, his line of sight passing beyond the battlefield, beyond those aberration monsters now nearly all reduced to wreckage, fixed upon the direction of the Gondor Wastes, motionless and unwavering.

His gaze was deep and restrained, his whole figure like a solemn, weighty sculpture of black obsidian.