The Skeleton Soldier Failed to Defend the Dungeon-Chapter 257: Without Any Cost (21)

"..."

I gazed up toward the sky. Two men, dressed in silk garments, were suspended gently in midair. As they looked down on us, their faces twisted into sharp, unnerving expressions.

Mages...?

Their faces were far too young for men who'd supposedly spent decades studying arcane secrets. Twenty-five would be a reasonable guess. The contrast between them was striking.

One had broad shoulders and a solid, well-proportioned build, resembling a knight more than a mage. A long staff hung from his waist like a sword. The man on the left had pale skin and long, jet-black hair, glossy as ink. Robust and strong physique, embodying the pinnacle of physical vitality. Yet, something was off.

His posture was warped—slightly hunched and twisted—as if something malformed was hidden beneath the surface. On its own, his features could be considered handsome. However, framed by that shadow and twisted expression, he radiated an aura that instinctively made me want to escape.

The red-haired man glared down with eyes full of contempt. "To think arrows actually struck them... Pathetic. Pathetic excuses for mages."

The long-haired man contorted his elegant figure into a slouch, giggling. "Hehehehehe..."

Shriveled. Yes, that was the word. His spirit felt shrunk, as if withering somewhere deep inside, warping his stance along with it.

Tap.

It felt as though the sound echoed in everyone's ears. He treaded across nothing as if on solid ground. Floating in the sky without wings was unnatural. Isaac once told me that flight consumed a tremendous amount of mana. After all, unlike reinforcing a shield with Force Shield, it defied the very logic of the world.

Even now, no standard arcane form had been established to materialize flight efficiently. It was purely a feat of raw individual ability, akin to rapidly and endlessly casting a fire spell capable of burning dozens at once.

Of course, the allied army didn't know that. They had probably assumed the two were late arrivals. Stragglers. Not even the officers seemed the least bit impressed by them.

Fresh from felling dozens of Azure's mages and crushing skulls, they likely saw this as just another repeat.

"Rout the survivors! Fire!" the officers barked their commands at the sky without hesitation. "Your friends are already dead! Kill the stragglers too!"

I knew that was a mistake. Actually, I had no idea what the right order would've been. Not like I was anywhere close to the command center to correct them.

Tick!

Twip-twip!

Twitch-twitch-twip!

Thousands of arrows were loosed at once, filling the air. A wall of projectiles swept forward, dense enough to pierce even the most evasive bird. Briefly, the sun was blotted out. That was when a strange madness crept into the clear breeze. The soft, crisp wind suddenly changed, its very essence twisting.

The broad-shouldered man drew the long staff at his hip and swept it through the air. "Go insane."

Fwaaash!

A wave of wind rose, reversing the entire storm of arrows. Thousands of bolts flipped midair and came crashing down onto the allied army.

"What the, what's happening?!"

"Shields! Raise your shields!"

"Get your shields up, now!"

Thud-thud-thud-thud!

A single person had redirected a hail of arrows to ravage an entire army. Thousands of arrows rained down, slicing between shield gaps, puncturing exposed feet. Some even pierced through weaker shields altogether. Units without large shields were wiped out instantly. Their throats, their hearts, skewered.

It wasn't even an offensive spell, just the wind. Yet, that single gust was enough to tear apart and weed out thousands. We could do nothing but watch that absurd spectacle unfold before our eyes.

"How disgraceful," said the red-haired man coldly. "I left it to them to see what they could do, and they couldn't even kill twenty thousand. If you're going to be called a mage, you should at least take down a thousand elite troops."

"Hehehe... But more of my tower's mages survived," said the long-haired man, grinning.

"You're proud of raising cowards who ran away?"

"Raise? Please. They're just errand boys. And hey, running away is what mages are best at, right? Isn't that obvious?"

"Shut up. Let's just get started."

I had only picked up the entire conversation through maxed-out Detection. The 100,000 soldiers down here hadn't heard a single word.

"Now now, everyone! Quit whining about a couple of arrows and pay attention!"

Was that voice amplification magic? No, it felt like something stronger. It sounded like someone whispering directly into each listener's ear, clearer than reality. Even the giggling breath was vividly present, amplifying discomfort.

"Front, back, left, right! Your precious comrades, who've shared life and death with you, now bring you the grand spectacle of a mass self-destruction event! Thanks to overwhelming support, we've already sold out all 100,000 seats in advance!"

No one had figured out the mage's intention yet. Regardless, those with sharper instincts were already recoiling. Each phrase from that lunatic monologue was absurd, but it wasn't just nonsense. Every word twisted the flow of mana around us. Like a spell chant, except without the arcane forms. He was creating his own magic, line by line, word by word.

Particles in the air began to shift. The very medium of the wind shook.

"An agonizing hell unlike anything you've ever felt! Now, take a deep breath... inhale!"

FWOOOOSH!

A gale so strong it made the armored soldiers stumble. With it came an invisible white powder, so fine it was almost imperceptible, spreading rapidly.

The first wave hit about two thousand soldiers. Some unwitting ones had followed the eerie command and inhaled deeply. Others, more cautious or defiant, held their breath or covered their mouths with cloth. Yet, it made no difference.

"Aaaaaargh!"

All two thousand vanguard soldiers screamed as if their throats were being ripped apart. They clawed at their skin, stabbing into their own exposed muscles. They beat their own bones until they cracked, then tore them out with their bare hands. In a frenzy, they tore themselves apart starting with the softest tissues, as if trying to rid of every last nerve ending as fast as possible.

Crunch! Snap!

The iron men, who had played a crucial role in the allied army's victory, were no exception. Not even their terrifyingly thick metal armor could keep the white powder from seeping inside. Once it touched them, they too were consumed by madness. Humans were crushed beneath machines weighing several tonnes. Their bones shattered and organs ruptured, scattering gore across the field.

What were they seeing? What were they hearing? What were they feeling?

What kind of agony could drive someone to slice their scalps and flay their own limbs? A descent into the depths of hell—no description could be more apt. Some of the white powder reached me, seeping into the pierced parts of my armor.

Naturally, it had no effect. I had stepped aside just in case, but it had proven to be unnecessary. My lack of reaction was almost laughable. The same couldn't be said about the masses. Just a single round of dispersal, yet the result was absolute. Two thousand. Four thousand. Then ten thousand dead.

Floating proudly in the sky, the executioner smiled in delight, as if impressed by the success of his experiment. "Ahahahaha! A glorious mass suicide! This is nothing like scattering it over some little village! The scale is on a whole other level!"

His laughter reached the ears of the dying, resonating through their eyes, ears, and lungs, saturated with the white powder. The allied soldiers no longer had any strength to be offended. They were too busy screaming in agony, every single nerve torn apart.

"Shall I leave about half of you alive? If you all die here, we'll be looking at a mass aerial cremation. That's no good, is it? The empire strictly forbids public sky cremations, you know! Wahaha!"

"Since when did you care about laws?"

"What? Of course I don't! But you all down there better do!"

"You seem excessively cheerful for a simple field trip, Eland, Tower Master of Innocence. If you love it so much, why didn't you deploy to the capital from the start?"

"Hahaha! You've got it all wrong. You can't conduct these kinds of grand experiments in the capital. Who knew war could be this fun?"

The mages made no effort to turn off their voice transmission spell. Their revolting exchange echoed across the field. To soldiers still untouched by the white powder, it was another form of sadistic torture. A mental violation before the physical came.

Hunching over and grinning eerily, the black-haired man pulled out another pouch from his belt. "Regretfully, we ran out earlier, but I've brought a good supply this time! Behold, this is Iscariot, the madness spore! Twenty years of research by me, the Tower Master of Innocence, Eland! Let it shred your nerves delightfully! Haha!"

Fwoooosh!

A powerful gust of wind carried the dense white powder across the battlefield. I stared up at them, who showed no signs of magical fatigue. Fifty meters above the ground. Too far to reach with a sword. Arrows were also useless. No shield could possibly block the sheer range of that drifting white powder. Breathe it in, and one'd be finished. Of the 110,000 troops, nearly 30,000 were dead or dying in madness. The front line had been annihilated.

There's no way we can hold out.

Should I run and hide? Or try to help the crumbling allied army?

But how?

Those mages floated fifty meters above ground.

"R-r-run! Run away!"

No matter how strong the enemy, as long as they were on the ground, there was always a chance. A fool's chance, a desperate gamble. Someone could even hurl themselves at a wall of iron or a golem for a heroic death. Yet this enemy was in the sky.

No chance of dying with honor. No hope of even trying to kill them. Even being killed solely depended on the enemy's whim.

"Run... just run..."

No officer could bring themselves to reprimand the soldier who spoke those words. Above, those floating demons sneered down at the remaining eighty thousand troops.

"Aw, come on! What's with that pitiful tone? The real fun's just beginning, my darling guests! Now, for your next gift, this one's triple strength!"

Another thick cloud of powder poured out of the mage's sack, carried on a howling wind.

"Retreat! Retreat!!"

The allied army broke. Soldiers trampled each other in their rush to escape, yet not a single one could outrun the wind.