Legend of the Arch Magus: Havoc

by Michael Sisa

  The other people inside the Grand Hall stopped and stared in their direction.

  “Where are you now? You’re not dead, are you? Hey, answer me right now! Damn it!”

  The so-called Master kept spouting words one after another that Lui could not even muster up a reply.

  Lark smiled wryly at his brother. “Master can be quite grumpy at times, but he’s a gentle person. Go on, ask him your questions.”

  The gemstone glowed and a voice far louder than before echoed. “Why don’t you answer me? I swear, if you’re not dead, I’ll kill you myself once you come back here, you shitty kid!”

  In less than a minute, Lui and Lark became the center of attention in the Grand Hall. Numerous people approached them and watched the situation unfold. Some were even laughing as the so-called master spouted curses one after another. Lui could not even respond as the threats came out in droves.

  When Lui finally got ahold of himself and was about to utter a reply to the so-called Master, the gemstone lost its glow. The communication was cut off.

  Lui frowned. “What happened?”

  Lark sighed and scratched his head. “The old man probably failed to control his temper and broke his communication crystal. We must have called at the wrong time. He’s probably drunk, you see. But he’s a nice person when sober, so please understand.”

  Everything transpired so smoothly that Lui almost lost his doubts. He really did believe that someone was speaking with him all the way from Blackstone Town and that person accidentally broke his communication crystal.

  “So you have a Master back in Blackstone Town,” Sword Saint Alexander chimed in. “Is he the one who taught you magic and advised you how to govern the town?”

  Lark politely bowed to the Sword Saint. He saw the question as a perfect opportunity to solidify the existence of a fabricated master in Blackstone Town. “Yes, that’s right, Master Alexander.”

  The Sword Saint stroked his beard. “And may I know the name of such esteemed Senior?”

  Lark paused for a moment, looking conflicted whether or not to reveal the name. Eventually, he replied, “I’m afraid not. Master wishes to remain anonymous at this time. Just revealing his existence here is already crossing the line. I’m sorry, but I cannot tell you anything more about him than that.”

  The Sword Saint easily accepted this reasoning. “How regrettable. I would love to meet him sometime in the future.”

  The Sword Saint did not question Lark any further. Seeing the Sword Saint’s response, Lui did not pursue the matter of the so-called Master’s identity any further. He looked at Lark, engraving into his mind the image of his brother who he had not seen for a long time.

  “You’ve really grown,” Lui said, eventually. “Father, he… Maybe if he talked to you back in the capital…”

  Lui sighed and shook his head. “No, it doesn’t matter.”

  Lui sighed again. He grabbed two nearby goblets filled with wine then handed one to Lark. “You’ll be seventeen soon, two months from now. A fully-fledged adult. But before that, please, let’s survive this war.”

  Lui raised his goblet. Lark did the same. They made a toast to their victory against the Empire.

  VOLUME 4: CHAPTER 14

  [Behemoth City]

  While the officers at Akash City were having a feast, envoys from the Dwarven Kingdom arrived at the capital. No one knew how they reached the place undetected; they suddenly appeared out of nowhere and boldly announced their arrival to the guards.

  Hearing this news, King Alvis immediately ordered the guards to grant the envoys entry into the capital. They were ushered into the royal family’s castle, with King Alvis greeting them right at the gates.

  “Welcome!” King Alvis greeted the envoys with utmost respect, despite his status as the King of the country. “Although the visit’s sudden, we’ve prepared a small feast in the Grand Hall.”

  King Alvis noticed the several rows of carts behind the three envoys. He could not see how only three dwarves could move almost a dozen carts on their own. Was the rumor right? That they suddenly appeared out of thin air?

  “Gulan, envoy of His Majesty, King Lerenon Blood Mithril Rugard,” the Dwarf introduced himself. “Behind me are my two personal guards.”

  Gulan quickly scanned the exterior of the King’s castle. He frowned for a moment. His expression seemed to say that the castle looked decent, but was way below the standard of the Dwarven Kingdom.

  “As for the feast, that will be unnecessary,” said the envoy. “We can’t leave the Capital of Rugard for too long. The century-old wines, the gold. Let’s get straight to negotiations.”

  The guards of King Alvis, along with his ministers, almost scowled upon hearing this statement. It was downright rude, condescending. The dwarves looked at the humans as though they were insignificant creatures unworthy of their time.

  King Alvis was not fazed by the remark in the slightest. He smiled and nodded, “Of course. Then, this way please.”

  The group were led straight toward the wine cellar in the underground chamber of the castle. Upon arrival, the leader of the dwarves frowned.

  “It’s small,” he said upon entering the room. “Is this it?”

  There were five shelves of wine inside the chamber, each filled with various wines dating back centuries. The leader of the dwarves grabbed one of the bottles and uncorked it, not bothering to ask permission from the King. He drank half of it down in one go then licked his lips. He stroked his long, braided brown beard as he stared at the bottle.

  “Not bad,” he mumbled, voice gruff. “But not enough for us to meddle with the affairs of mere humans. You say this is over a century old? I’m afraid that a three-decade-old wine in Rugard tastes a bit better than this one.”

  A common dwarf would be ecstatic upon tasting wine of such quality, but it seemed not to be the case for envoy.

  King Alvis and the ministers exchanged knowing looks. They were afraid that at this rate, the negotiations would break down before they even started.

  “Thirty-thousand gold coins,” said the King. “If the wines aren’t enough, our Kingdom is willing to pay a hefty sum of thirty thousand gold coins.”

  It was a lot of money, even for King Alvis. This was especially true now that they were at war with the Empire. Parting with such an amount of money would be a terrible blow against the Kingdom, but it was still nothing compared to losing the war.

  Hearing the offer, the envoy paused. He looked up and started to ponder. He mumbled, “Thirty-thousand gold coins, huh? Well, it’s true that we’re in dire need of funds, especially now that the Second Prince…”

  Although the words of the envoy were muffled at the end, King Alvis was able to connect the pieces of the puzzle together. He heard from the previous envoy that the Dwarven King was planning to abdicate the throne next year, and the Dwarven Kingdom was currently in the process of selecting the heir to succeed him.

  But unlike humans, the Dwarven Kingdom’s method of selecting the heir was not so simple. The next king should be recognized by the Dragon and the Oath of the Protector should be renewed by the next generation. The reason the Dwarven Kingdom, who did not like meddling with human affairs, answered their call was probably due to this.

  “Thirty-five thousand,” the leader of the envoy raised five, stubby fingers. His height only reaching the chest of King Alvis.

  One of the ministers whispered to the King. “Your Majesty! Isn’t thirty-five thousand too much?”

  Another one added, “This dwarf keeps on crossing the line! What do they think of the Ki—”

  “Enough,” the King said calmly. “Thirty-five thousand is too much, even for the royal family. We are currently at war with the Empire. The upkeep of the soldiers, the weapons, rations. We’ll be needing the funds if we want to keep our borders intact. Please understand.”

  “King, you don’t understand.” The envoy shook his head. “The weapons of the Dwarven Race are capable of tilting the tides of war. Wha
t you’re buying isn’t weapons, but the survival of this Kingdom itself. Hey, take that thing out.”

  One of the dwarves took out a head-sized metal ball from their bag and handed it to their leader. The leader raised the black iron ball and showed it to everyone.

  “This thing here can kill everyone in this room in an instant,” said the envoy.

  Hearing this, the guards of the King immediately unsheathed their weapons and pointed them at the dwarves.

  “These bastards! You dare threaten the King?”

  “Your Majesty, please stand back!”

  Before the guards could surround the dwarves, the King immediately ordered them to fall back. “It’s fine. The envoys meant no harm.”

  But the guards did not sheathe their weapons. They continued pointing their swords at the envoys.

  The King realized what the envoys were trying to arrive at. “So… those iron balls. They’re the weapons the dwarves decided to lend our Kingdom for this war?”

  The envoy nodded. “That’s right. Weapon made exclusively in the Dwarven Kingdom. We’ve brought a thousand iron shells with us, and there will be a thousand more once the payment on your side’s finalized.”

  The dwarf handed the iron ball back to his men. He straightened his furred cloak. “I heard of the so-called mana bombs you used against the Empire several months ago. Impressive thing, indeed. Even the higher ups of our military wanted to get their hands on one of them and study it.”

  The dwarf stared straight into the King’s eyes. “May I know why the Kingdom’s not using it against the Empire? Now of all times?”

  “There’s no use hiding it anyway,” the King sighed. “The main ingredient in creating the mana bombs. Our country doesn’t have enough of them to continue the production of those weapons. We can produce several dozen, but that’s the limit of the Kingdom. The amount of main ingredient is limited and we’ve gathered everything we could these past few months.”

  “Main ingredient?” The dwarf cast a curious look.

  “We cannot reveal what, I’m afraid,” said the King. “And even if you happen to discover all the ingredients needed to create it, it’ll be next to impossible to recreate the runes engraved in the shells without proper guidance.”

  The main ingredient to the mana bombs were actually mana stones. And only those of middle-grade and above at that. It was the same reason why Lark suddenly couldn’t find any mana stones in the capital. Everything of decent quality had already been bought by the royal family.

  “Such a shame. If you were willing to divulge the information about those weapons, we could even compromise and cut the Kingdom of Lukas’ payment in half.”

  The King smiled wryly. No ruler would be foolish enough to reveal the production methods of their trump card.

  Even though the envoy was condescending and arrogant, at the end of the day he was still a mere envoy. But his statement that they could significantly lower the price in exchange for the blueprint meant that the Dwarven King was behind this. He probably received orders from the higher ups to get as much information about the unknown weapon, straight from the King.

  What a greedy nation.

  King Alvis was sure that the Dwarven Kingdom held weapons far more powerful than the mana bombs. Their country was so powerful that, for the past century, no one dared to wage war with them—even the Empire.

  “Interesting. A magic formation engraved inside iron shells. A feat difficult to achieve, even by our craftsmen.” The dwarf stroked his beard once again. “Not impossible, but difficult.”

  Silence fell as the dwarf pondered. “The iron shells we’ve loaded inside the carts are similar to the so-called mana bombs by nature. At least, if what I heard of the mana bombs is true.”

  The dwarf cleared his throat. “Then, how about this? We’ll demonstrate the might of our iron shells, you demonstrate to us the might of the mana bombs. I really want to see it myself—how the humans managed to create weapons so powerful they could rival the dwarves’. And in exchange, we’ll settle for the meager sum of thirty thousand gold coins. How about it, King?”

  The King and the ministers looked at each other. It would not do much harm, since it shouldn’t be possible for the dwarves to copy the production method merely watching a demonstration.

  The King nodded. “The forest near the outskirts is a suitable place.”

  The dwarf grinned. “Lead the way.”

  Escorted by almost a hundred guards, the King and the envoys went to the nearby forest. The dwarves were first to demonstrate their weapon.

  The King expected them to use a catapult or something similar to propel the iron shells, but to his surprise, the leader of the envoys simply threw it in the air. The strength behind his throw was colossal, and the iron shell flew into the air as though it was fired by a ballista.

  Who was this dwarf? The strength he displayed was akin to the Kingdom’s strongest knights. While the King and his ministers were having such thoughts, they heard a loud explosion in the distance. The ground momentarily shook.

  The group went toward the place where the iron shell struck. The tree it hit directly was blown to smithereens, and numerous iron needles struck the surrounding trees like a porcupine. It seemed that after the explosion, hundreds of iron needles flew out of the shell. If it were to be used in real battle, it was easy to see how effective it would be in incapacitating their enemies.

  One of the curious soldiers was about to touch a needle and inspect it when the envoy shouted, “Don’t touch it, human!”

  The soldier flinched and froze.

  “Unless you want to die from the poison of a yellow-spotted mazama snake.”

  Hearing this, the soldier turned pallid. Sweat flowed down his forehead as he slowly backed off.

  “It’s poisoned?” said the King.

  “Of course,” spat the dwarf, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “The needles are dipped overnight in yellow-spotted mazama snake’s poison. It can kill a wild boar in mere seconds. I doubt mere humans can survive such potent poison.”

  The King’s eyes widened for a moment. A single iron shell was this dangerous, and the Dwarven Kingdom was willing to provide them with more than a thousand of them?

  The envoy was not lying when he said that their weapons were capable of tilting the tides of war.

  “King, your turn,” said the envoy. “Show us the mana bomb.”

  The King nodded. “Of course.” He signaled the soldiers to prepare to launch the weapon.

  First, they loaded it on a small catapult they’d brought. After receiving the go signal, they fired it into the sky. The mana bomb shot into the sky before falling down. Upon impact, a deafening boom reverberated. The ground shook violently and the animals in the forest whined. Flocks of birds flew out of the trees. Thick, black smoke swirled up into the sky.

  The leader of the dwarves quivered. Without uttering a word, he suddenly ran toward the place where the mana bomb landed. Reaching the place, he skidded to a halt. He held his breath and his eyes widened at what he saw.

  There was a small crater on the ground where the bomb landed, and the trees surrounding the crater were all blown to smithereens. Furthermore, the other trees which survived the impact were on fire. From the scale of damage alone, the mana bomb far overshadowed the iron shells of the Dwarven Kingdom.

  As the dwarf continued staring at the burning trees, the King and his men finally caught up and arrived at the scene. The King was still huffing, his wrinkled skin a bit paler than before, when the dwarf asked him a question. “The mana bomb. Who created it? This weapon, its destructive force reminds me of the Dragonewts!”

  The King did not reply. Instead, he also looked at the burning trees. The crater. The smithereens. King Alvis looked at the sky. Thick black smoke continued swirling up. He remembered the young man who handed them the blueprint of this weapon.

  The Commander of the Third Army. Lark Marcus.

  He had been receiving regular r
eports from Mikael so he knew the current whereabouts and status of the army. He’d even received reports of the First Army’s arrival to Akash City, along with the remnants of the Yorkshaire and Marcus Army.

  King Alvis did not know how Lark did it, but it was an ingenious feat, regardless. He could not believe that in a short period of time, Lark Marcus had been able to capture a walled city, convert it into a stronghold, and gather his remaining allies in the Western Front.

  The soldiers stationed at the front lines were doing their best to protect the Kingdom.

  As their King, I should double my effort, he thought.

  The Second Army was currently in a deadlock with the Imperial Army stationed in Yan City. King Alvis decided to use the weapons provided by the dwarves to finally break the stalemate.

  VOLUME 4: CHAPTER 15

  The Second Army was camped in Louan Plains, an area previously infested with monsters.

  Inside, his tent, Arzen Boris read the reports from his men. It had already been several weeks since the siege of Yan City started. They’d tried dozens of times to reclaim the city, but each of their attempts were thwarted by Commander Amubal of the Empire, the so-called Man-Eater. The demoted general who suffered a crushing defeat against the Yorkshaire Army several months ago.

  “Another failure, huh?” Arzen rubbed his throbbing forehead. Black marks encircled his eyes.

  They’d lost contact with the scouts they’d sent out a day ago.

  “Tell Mokuva to come here,” he said to one of the soldiers.

  “Yes, Commander!” the soldier saluted and went out of the tent. A few minutes later, he came back with a frail-looking man who could easily be mistaken as a girl at first glance.

  “You called for me, brother?” said Mokuva.

  “Commander,” corrected Arzen.

  Mokuva stared at his brother for a moment, then bowed his head. “Of course. It’s Commander. My apologies, Sir.”

  Arzen sighed. “It seems that I’ll be needing your skills. It’s been more than a month since we left the capital. I heard from a reliable source that that damn Lark Marcus has already reached the Western Front with his entire army intact. And can you believe this? He managed to capture the walled City of Akash!”