Just Look at the Exchange Ratio / The City That Eats People

"Load the crossbows! Anyone who dares cause trouble again gets shot!"

Under Woken's command, the Sarkaz soldiers inserted the magazines into the crossbow platforms one after another and loaded the Originium batteries. The faint sound of mechanical bowstrings being drawn softly reached the ears of the residents of Palermo.

"Take your trouble to Lady Sicilia! We're the army of Kazdel. If you interfere with our mission, I'll eliminate you!"

At Woken's roar, the crowd fell silent. Faced with the sharp arrows before them, they became obedient and orderly. They stopped pushing and shoving, doing whatever the Sarkaz told them to do. The second airship, whose landing had briefly halted, began moving again.

At six that evening, the first airship landed near the resettlement site Kazdel had reserved. The second appeared faintly on the horizon as well.

The returning airships picked up the two airships that had previously flown to Volscian and took off once more. They still had to continue their transport mission.

At the same time, a group of enormous figures arrived in Kazdel. From a distance, they looked like a towering wall. Their eyes emitted a sinister crimson glow in the dim night, and the ground trembled faintly beneath their marching footsteps.

As he watched the Wendigo troops slowly approach, Theresica could not help but grasp the corner of Shining's cloak.

He had once failed to understand why the powerful Wendigo had been rejected by Kazdel. Now he understood. Looking like that really was a little frightening.

Chapter 86: Only the Exchange Ratio Matters

"Your Majesty."

The muffled voice came from beneath the helmet. Although the other party was bowing to him, the movement made the Wendigo's body tilt over like a mountain, creating an even stronger sense of oppression.

"Thank you all for coming from so far away. The community planned for the Wendigo is already under construction, but it will still take several days before the city is built. For now, I'm afraid you'll have to stay in the military camp temporarily."

Theresica took a deep breath and spoke with a hint of apology, but the other side gave no response.

"What's wrong? If you need anything, feel free to bring it up."

"Things on the battlefield change rapidly. Do we not need to head to the front?" the muffled voice asked.

"Not for now. It isn't time for us to commit all our strength yet."

Theresica smiled as he spoke, and the other party asked, "What are you waiting for?"

"Our temporary allies. Once they move, we can move as well."

"I understand. Where is the military camp?"

He immediately stood up and seemed eager to head straight for the camp, with no intention of lingering here even for a moment. Theresica could only have someone lead them there.

"These people really value their time."

"Well, don't let their size fool you. They're actually very considerate."

Hearing Theresica's complaint, Warfarin suddenly stepped forward. She said, "They know their appearance doesn't conform to Terra's usual aesthetic, so they deliberately avoid crowds so they don't frighten anyone. If you want to speak with them, it's best to bring only one person, or go speak with them alone."

"So that's how it is?"

Theresica suddenly understood. The next day, following Warfarin's advice, he brought only Shining and visited the Wendigo camp. Their tents were much taller than those around them, making them exceptionally conspicuous.

"Your Majesty."

"How are you? Are you getting used to it?"

He greeted them with a smile. The atmosphere was much more relaxed than the day before. The Wendigo were no longer as taciturn as they had been, and quite a few of them were pointing at the airships flying across the sky and discussing them curiously.

"Your Majesty, Kazdel has changed greatly."

"Yes. They can now accept the desert refugees settling near Kazdel. I believe the Kazdel of today will accept you as well."

The Wendigo chieftain smiled faintly. Pointing at the airships in the sky, he said, "I never expected a creation of the Sarkaz to be so popular in Terra."

"That's an airship, a civilian machine used to transport goods."

Theresica explained, "The one that just flew by is transporting war refugees from Siracusa. How could something created to make people's lives more convenient be rejected? As long as it's useful, no one cares which country made it."

"I saw that you built a camp for the refugees from Siracusa and even provided them with supplies... Are you really willing to give them such a large amount of aid?"

Looking at the Wendigo chieftain's incredulous expression, Theresica smiled and said, "I've provided even greater aid before. Perhaps you've heard about it."

"Yes, we have indeed heard something."

The Wendigo chieftain nodded. "It caused quite a stir in Ursus. Some people even held demonstrations, demanding that the Ursus authorities relax their controls on people entering and leaving the country."

"Is that so?"

Theresica smiled. What good would opening the borders do? Unless they were specialized technicians, Kazdel would not accept people from other countries.

"Your Majesty, we've only just arrived. Could you tell us how Kazdel fights nowadays?"

The Wendigo chieftain spoke with some concern. "Our way of fighting is probably already quite different from yours. If we bring those differences into a real battle, we won't be able to coordinate effectively with our allies."

"One of the reasons I came here today was to discuss this."

Theresica handed over a specially enlarged and printed document. "This contains the organizational structure of Siracusa's dispatched combat group, along with some combat requirements. You can make the specific adjustments yourselves. I'm sure no one understands yourselves better than you do."

"Please rest assured."

The Wendigo chieftain solemnly accepted the document and secretly breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed this king knew what he should manage—and what he should not.

However, Woken, the commander stationed in Palermo, hoped His Majesty would send him an order telling him what to do.

The camp's scouts advanced ahead and unexpectedly found traces of the Leithanien army.

Their marching speed was faster than previously estimated. They would probably reach Palermo in about two days, but two days was nowhere near enough time for an evacuation. By then, quite a few people would likely still remain in the city.

Should we go outside the city to meet them? Too many soldiers would die that way! But fighting inside the city would cause civilian casualties. Evacuating these people is the order His Majesty gave me!

He covered his head in pain. "Has the camp's long-range communicator still not been repaired?"

Siracusa had a beautiful natural environment, and there were many small animals in the cities as well. However, the Sarkaz had been born in Kazdel, that barren wasteland, and had no experience dealing with small animals. Thinking they could catch and roast them later, they had not dealt with the little creatures immediately. As a result, a small animal had bitten through the communicator's antenna that morning! They had now lost contact with Kazdel.

They had all come by airship and were subject to strict weight limits, so they had brought fewer spare communicator parts than usual. Who would have thought this particular component would break?

Just as they were at their wits' end, an airship slowly began to descend. Woken was about to call for people to prepare to receive the evacuees when someone stepped out of it.

"From Siracusa's dispatched combat group, Palette Squad—Oz."

The airship had not even fully landed when he jumped down.

"Woken. Commander."

After the two shook hands, Woken hurriedly asked, "Do you have long-range communications equipment? The Leithanien army will arrive in two days!"

"We know about that. Laterano already informed us. His Majesty sent us to delay the Leithanien advance."

"Just you people?" Woken thought for a moment, then said, "I'll lend you all the Casters."

"Thank you. We're only the first wave of troops."

Oz said, "We won't fight the Leithanien to the death. We'll let them into this city, then use our advantages here."

Woken's eyes widened. "Let them into the city? This is a Siracusan city! It'll be reduced to ruins!"

"Yes. That's His Majesty's order."

Oz said, "His Majesty said that he only cares about the exchange ratio. As for what happens to Siracusa's city, he doesn't care."

Chapter 87: The City That Eats People

Another report was delivered by a messenger. The deputy commander accepted the slightly crumpled sheet of paper, glanced at it, and reported to the officer.

"Sir, another attack occurred up ahead. Thirteen people died."

"Hmm, I know."

The officer waved his hand casually and continued lying in his soft private landship, closing his eyes to rest.

It wasn't that he was cold-blooded. It was simply that there had been too many minor attacks like this over the past two days—too many to count.

The Sarkaz vermin kept launching attacks on the Leithanien marching column, striking a few people before fleeing. Moreover, the casualties were not Leithanien's regular Casters, but the armed Infected being used as cannon fodder. The officer therefore let them do as they pleased.

Out of sight, out of mind. Wasn't it comfortable to lie in his private landship?

The officer shifted into a more comfortable position and enjoyed the pleasant temperature. The armed Infected outside the landship, however, were not nearly so fortunate.

They could only tighten the inadequate cold-weather clothing around their bodies and pray for the frigid early spring to pass quickly.

"We used to be able to stop and rest whenever the Sarkaz attacked. Why are we still moving today?"

"Apparently it's because of some higher-up. We were originally ordered to enter Palermo last night, but it's already this morning and we've only just seen the city outskirts sign."

The nearby armed Infected chatted while blowing warm air into their hands and rubbing them together to lessen the chill.

"If we stop to search for Sarkaz again, that fat pig in the vehicle will be done for. Compared to himself, he'd definitely rather sacrifice us unlucky bastards."

"Is that so? You sure know a lot."

"Just lucky enough to live a little longer."

The man gave a lukewarm laugh, then looked over the person beside him. "You wear glasses and look pretty educated. What do you do?"

"I'm a teacher. I teach children to read poetry."

He smiled helplessly. On his way to work one day, he had accidentally bumped into an Infected. The crystal cluster on that person's hand had cut the back of his own hand, turning him into an Infected. He had then been forcibly conscripted into the army.

"Is that so? No wonder you look so frail."

The man looked at the teacher and advised him, "I'll teach you a way to live a little longer. Don't let a Caster see Originium crystals on your body. That way, you might live a little longer."

"Oh, oh."

He nodded as if he understood, just as he was about to ask why. Suddenly, a messenger ran over, shouting as he came.

"Whole unit, pick up the pace! Charge into Palermo!"

The entire unit immediately began running. This was a disaster for the poetry teacher—physical fitness was his greatest weakness. Otherwise, he would not have become a teacher.

He planted his hands on his hips and gasped for breath. "Why are we running all of a sudden?"

"He wants to seize the credit!" the person beside him said with disgust. "Run! If we delay him from claiming the credit, we're really finished."

Whoosh—

A series of heavy howls swept over their heads, followed by successive explosions behind them.

The enormous noise was terrifying, but without an order from the messenger, no one dared stop. They could only continue running forward.

"X-axis correction minus seven, Y-axis correction five. One ranging shot!"

"Understood. Watch the impact point."

Behind an inconspicuous mound, a Sarkaz soldier covered from head to toe in weeds crouched behind a thicket, holding binoculars and carefully observing the scene ahead.

A mortar shell had just landed beside the marching unit, frightening them into confusion. But another shell immediately came down, this time striking the center of the crowd.

A cloud of blood exploded outward, and more than a dozen people fell sprawled across the ground. The Sarkaz soldier who witnessed this hurriedly contacted the rear.

"Target hit. X-axis correction one. Three rounds from the entire gun crew. Saturation fire!"

"Understood."

A brief reply came through the communicator's earpiece. Ten seconds later, a series of explosions erupted among the crowd.

"Hit!"

He reported back, but the Leithanien did not simply stand there and take the bombardment. Their Casters awakened their Originium Arts.

The Infected corpses lying on the ground suddenly turned into pure energy. Manipulated by the Casters, the energy formed a barrier in midair, and several successive shells were detonated before reaching the ground.

The Sarkaz observer could only retreat while reporting, "The shells have been intercepted. Cease fire."

"Understood."

The various reports were gathered by the communications operator and delivered together to the two officers on site.

"Report! The artillery bombardment failed. Part of the enemy force has entered Palermo from the western outskirts."

A red chess piece was placed on the western side of the city map. Oz asked, "How many people remain in the city?"

"Not many. I've gathered them all in the eastern district. They can all be evacuated today. Anyone left behind will have to evacuate on their own."

Woken's answer allowed Oz to breathe a sigh of relief. He said, "The troops aren't all in position yet, and His Majesty didn't order us to attack with our full strength. Once we eliminate this group in the western district, we'll give up the area."

The poetry teacher, running at full speed with the unit, suddenly realized that the mountains and forests had disappeared. The surroundings had completely become buildings. Looking at the towering residential apartments, he could not help feeling envious.

"After we take this place, can we live here?"

He turned toward the person who had spoken with him earlier, but he never received an answer, because an arrow pierced his heart at that very moment.