In Terra, I Have No Books to Read

The Leithanien infected, whose physique was still quite robust, was pushed back a small step by the momentum of the arrow and hit the wall, then collapsed powerlessly into the ditch.

The poetry teacher was so terrified he was pressed to the ground. The once quiet, almost deathly silent city suddenly came alive. Arrows whizzed past his head with sharp whistling sounds as they cut through the air. He didn't even have the courage to lift his head to see what was happening.

He could only hear his colleagues shouting incessantly about enemies being everywhere, but it seemed like he was shouting in all directions at once.

The accompanying Arts Users wanted to change the situation. He shouted out various commands, and then... he was gone.

The poetry teacher, still lying on the ground, saw the man's head fall in front of him. An arrow had struck the top of his head, but due to the angle, the arrow didn't stay in but instead ripped off his skull.

The sight of the red and white combined organs made his stomach churn. However, the first thing to lose control was his urine. The shrill symphony formed by the various screams was audible even with his hands covering his ears.

'I'm just a teacher! Why did I have to come here! Why did I have to come to such a cannibalistic place!'

Lying amidst the corpses, he repeatedly questioned himself as if doubting reality.

Chapter 88: The Witch King is Gone

"This poem was created during a low point in the author's life..."

He pointed to the writing on the blackboard, explaining it word by word, doing his best to ensure his students could clearly understand the knowledge. But for some reason, he felt a chill all over. Looking at the children before him, he stopped his explanation and prepared to get down from the podium to close all the classroom windows.

"It wouldn't be good if you caught a cold. You children are so prone to fevers..."

A sudden sense of weightlessness struck him. He opened his eyes. The classroom and the children had vanished. It was pitch black all around, and a strong smell of blood rushed into his nostrils.

'I... I... I'm still alive?'

A bone-chilling coldness spread from his crotch in the breeze, but he was so overjoyed he almost cried, feeling no disgust because so many people wouldn't have the chance to experience this coldness.

He continued to lie there amidst the piles of corpses for a while longer. After repeatedly confirming that no one was nearby, he cautiously crawled in the direction he had come from. Along the way, he even stripped a weapon and a set of armor from a corpse, so as not to be called a deserter if someone found him.

"I have to go back... I have to go back to my post!"

He didn't want to stay here. He cursed as he crawled, "Why were the restrictions on infected people loosened! Why! Why did that person have to touch me when they didn't touch anyone else! Why! If I can go back, and I see that infected person... I will definitely kill him!"

Fueled by a twisted determination, he crawled for an unknown amount of time before suddenly seeing a fire and hearing the sounds of conversation in Leithanian.

He quickly got up and ran towards the light, explaining his identity to the patrol.

"I'm under Lord Alex's command, I was stunned by a magical blast! When I woke up, it was already night!"

Hearing that he indeed had a Leithanian accent, the patrol confirmed the situation with their superiors and said to the poetry teacher:

"Alex has been transferred after achieving military merit in capturing the city. His unit suffered heavy losses and has been disbanded as a supplementary force. You are now part of our unit. Prepare for tomorrow's battle."

With that, the patrol left, leaving the teacher slumped powerlessly on the ground. He stared blankly at Palermo in the darkness.

"Tomorrow... I have to go in there again?"

"Your Majesty."

In the dead of night, the door to his chambers was suddenly knocked upon. At first, he was a bit puzzled, but when he realized someone was calling him, Theresica rushed out in his pajamas.

"What is it?"

"Kazimierz was successful. The Nearl family, along with their inside contacts in Leithanien, took down the Witch King."

The night duty communication officer handed him a piece of paper. Theresica took it in disbelief.

A Witch King, described as incredibly powerful in books, was dead so cleanly and decisively?

He felt a sense of doubt, but the paper clearly stated that the Witch King was dead. It also included a photograph of a Leithanian lying on the ground, having fallen from a height, his death gruesome.

"Order Wendigo to depart for Palermo!" After a moment of thought, he still issued the order. "Notify the troops there to lift the combat restrictions."

"Understood!"

The communication officer scurried away. When the order reached the frontline troops in Palermo, dawn was already approaching.

Sunlight spilled into the city. Although there were no Siracusans here now, every corner was filled with Sarkaz and Leithanians. Yet, under these circumstances, Palermo remained deathly quiet.

The Sarkaz were waiting for airships to transport more of their allies, while the Leithanians? Their officers were cautiously debating within their private quarters.

"The Witch King is dead?!"

"Now, a twin has appeared from who knows where, claiming to be the Twin Empresses and has seized all political authority!"

"No! We have to go back quickly!"

"How do we leave?! Retreat is not a victory march!"

The Leithanian Arts User corps were true professional soldiers; they could distinguish between retreating and falling back. However, the armed infected, who came from all walks of life, could not.

Leithanien's positioning for them had always been as bullets to be fired sooner or later. They were the strong foundation of the Leithanian Arts User corps, and also an unexpectedly fatal weakness.

There was a high probability that these infected would scatter during a retreat, and without them, it would be as if the Arts User corps had lost its supplies.

At this point, even the family enforcers from Siracusa could pursue and utterly defeat them, let alone the ferocious Sarkaz.

After much deliberation and finding no other solution, the Leithanian officers could only order a fight here. Moreover, by holding this place, they would have a rear to deal with the current internal strife in Leithanien.

The peaceful city instantly became lively. Sarkaz mortars and Leithanian magic exploded in turns. One side finished, and the other began.

The city was enveloped in smoke and dust.

The mortars, with their stable firing and fixed trajectories, greatly aided the Sarkaz here.

Arts Users in Leithanien need to visually target their enemies to effectively launch precise long-range attacks. However, the Sarkaz only need to send one person to infiltrate near the Leithanien positions to guide artillery fire.

Artillery shells landed in the Leithanien crowds, while their retaliatory magical bombardments hit buildings, achieving little more than adding to the ruins.

Furthermore, with almost all Sarkaz troops in the city equipped with semi-automatic crossbows, the Leithanien infected paid a heavy price for every meter they advanced.

The panicked Leithanians nervously scanned every opening, needing to block any hole they saw to feel at ease.

But this had almost no effect.

Behind empty windows, on balconies... there were Sarkaz semi-automatic crossbowmen everywhere. Once within range, the Leithanians faced an attack from a hemispherical field of fire. Only the extremely lucky Leithanian archers would have a chance to fire the first arrow, and whether it hit was another matter.

By the time a Leithanian fired an arrow, the Sarkaz had already returned a dozen. What was most devastating to the Leithanians was that they had to stand and bend over to reload their crossbows, while the Sarkaz could do it lying down.

How was this even possible?

No one could answer this question. Every time the Sarkaz ambushed the Leithanians, the outcome was almost always a complete annihilation. Therefore, the Leithanians were still trying to guess the size of the Sarkaz forces.

Meanwhile, combat reports from the Sarkaz side, with kill ratios of 1:20 or higher, arrived at Theresica's desk like snowflakes.

At first, he would read them, but then he stopped bothering, as he ran out of commendatory phrases.

However, the combat reports weren't always so uniform. Today, there was a special report, brought back from the front lines by a dedicated courier.

In a dark room, a blurry figure was projected onto a screen. Looking at the indistinct shadow, Theresica's eyes widened.

"Isn't that a Papal Knight! How is it flying in the air?!"

Chapter 89: Skylark

Terra did not yet possess any photo processing technology, so the picture presented to him was completely genuine.

However, Theresica wished it were fake, so he could sleep soundly. Now, he was restless, his mind filled with the image of a Papal Knight flying through the air.

"My god! A flying Gatling gun! This is a dimensional attack!"

"This is terrifying."

Images of attack planes strafing the ground kept flashing through his mind, and he was the one being strafed.

Theresica rested his head on Yelena's head, then pinched her Catus ears to cover his face, trying to escape reality for a moment.

Just before, he had been excited about the Wendigo returning to Kazdel, thinking he could become a local power player on Terra. But now, after seeing what Laterano had pulled off, all that joy vanished.

Theresica had witnessed the terror of air forces firsthand on Earth.

He calmed his nerves and quickly summoned Zeppelin, asking him to look at the photo together, then asked:

"Zeppelin, do we have anything that can move as flexibly in the sky as Laterano's Papal Knights?"

"Drones?"

"And do you think drones can take down a Papal Knight?"

Zeppelin shook his head, then cautiously leaned in and asked, "Your Majesty, have we gone to war with Laterano?"

"No, but we need to prepare for the future!"

Theresica didn't believe that a treaty could permanently solidify the relationship between the Sarkaz and the Sankta. If the time came to break it, the treaty would just be a piece of paper.

Staring at the photo, he found it strange that he seemed to be the only one worried about this; everyone else seemed unfazed by the picture.

"Zeppelin, don't you think there's something terrifying about this photo?"

Upon hearing Theresica's words, Zeppelin took the photo again and looked at it carefully for a while.

"Does Your Majesty think there's a problem with this photo?"

"A huge problem! As long as they aim their firearms from the sky, everyone on the ground is finished! And we can't hit them at all!"

Theresica felt immense military pressure. Seeing his tense expression, Zeppelin suddenly realized.

"Does Your Majesty believe the Papal Knights can fly like drones?"

"Otherwise?"

Hearing this, Zeppelin suddenly laughed, "Your Majesty, although the Papal Knights can ascend into the sky, this is merely an illusion. They can only perform long-distance leaps, not flight."

"Is there a difference between the two?" Theresica asked, somewhat bewildered.

"Yes, drones have continuous propulsion and can change direction freely in the air; that's flight. Papal Knights, however, only have the ability to propel themselves upwards and then begin freefall. They cannot provide their own propulsion to correct their direction, so it can only be considered a leap."

Zeppelin explained the difference, but Theresica was still uneasy. He said:

"I need something that can fly in the air and has the capability to launch a certain level of attack."

Zeppelin faithfully jotted down Theresica's request on paper and then asked, "Your Majesty, we already have drones that can do this."

"Those are too small, and their attack power is too weak," Theresica said with a hint of disdain in his eyes. "If we had a large aerial attack platform, wouldn't we be able to easily sweep away our enemies!"

"But... if we enlarge them, our Arts Users won't be able to control them."

"Then they won't be controlled by Arts Users; they'll be directly operated by people, just like the land vehicles."

Theresica stated decisively, "You go and create a design blueprint as soon as possible."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Seeing Theresica's firm attitude, although not fully understanding why, Zeppelin nodded.

The design plans came out quickly, and Zeppelin brought a blueprint that very evening. However, what was presented to Theresica was a giant cubic box, with a cantilever extending from each of its four sides, each fitted with an air propeller engine.

"Good... work."

Theresica forced a smile onto his face. He had envisioned a helicopter, but he hadn't expected Zeppelin to bring him such a contraption.

He had originally thought Terra had extensive drone production capabilities, so creating this shouldn't have been difficult! Turns out, he was completely wrong.

Taking a deep breath, Theresica didn't say much more and immediately began to influence Zeppelin.

"Zeppelin, look, when a box like this flies over the enemy, its front is more likely to be attacked... How about we modify the front and make it a rectangle? Shrinking the frontal projection will make it a bit harder for the enemy to hit."

"But if we change it to a rectangle, it won't be controllable. It's difficult to balance the four propellers like this."

"Then don't use four! Install a large enough one on top of this thing to provide lift."

"But that would create a torque on the fuselage. We've designed similar drone plans before, where the fuselage would spin out of control..."

"Then add a tail fin and a small propeller on top of it to counteract that force."

With the wealth of Earth's experience, Theresica could find solutions to every problem Zeppelin raised. This almost drove Zeppelin mad.

Your Majesty, are you Your Majesty? Or a technician?

He had lost all say in the design, but Zeppelin didn't dare to feel the slightest bit displeased. After all, Your Majesty truly provided solutions for every issue he brought up, and they weren't outlandish ideas!

By morning, a brand new design plan was completed. Looking at the blueprint, now named "Helicopter Design Plan," Zeppelin felt as if he were in a dream.

He had been summoned here by Your Majesty, only to listen the entire time as Your Majesty explained what needed to be modified, and then, acting as a draftsman, he gradually changed it to Your Majesty's satisfaction.

"Zeppelin, can you produce it?"

"Yes."

Zeppelin nodded, admiring the blueprint. He said, "I must remind you, Your Majesty, this is a beautiful machine, but we currently don't have any weapons suitable for it."