The Witch King Is Gone / Skylark

The fairly sturdy Leithanien Infected was forced back half a step by the arrow's momentum. He struck the wall, then collapsed helplessly into the ditch.

The poetry teacher was so terrified that he threw himself flat on the ground. The city, which had been so quiet it was almost dead, suddenly came alive. Arrows flew over his head with sharp, grating whistles, and he did not even have the courage to lift his head and look at what was happening.

All he could hear were his colleagues shouting incessantly that there were enemies somewhere, though it sounded as if they were shouting toward every direction at once.

The Arts User accompanying the group tried to change the situation. He shouted out a series of orders, and then... he was gone.

Lying on the ground, the poetry teacher saw the man's head fall in front of him. An arrow had struck the top of his head, but because of the angle, it had not remained embedded. Instead, it had torn off his skull.

The combination of red and white organs made his stomach churn violently. But the first thing he lost control of was his bladder. The mournful symphony formed from countless screams could still be heard even when he covered his ears.

I'm just a teacher! Why did I have to come here? Why did I have to come to a place that eats people?!

Lying among the corpses, he kept questioning himself as though he doubted reality.

The Witch King Is Gone

"When this poem was written, its author happened to be at the lowest point in his life..."

Pointing at the writing on the blackboard, he explained it word by word, doing his best to make sure his students understood the material clearly. Yet for some reason, he had been feeling cold all over. Looking at the children before him, he stopped lecturing and prepared to step down from the podium to close all the classroom windows.

"You'll catch a cold if you don't. You children are always the ones most likely to come down with a fever..."

A sudden sensation of weightlessness struck him. He opened his eyes. The classroom and the children had vanished, leaving only pitch-black darkness around him. A thick smell of blood rushed into his nostrils.

I... I'm still alive?

An icy chill traveled up from between his legs in the breeze, but he burst into tears of joy without the slightest disgust. After all, many people would never have the chance to experience that kind of cold again.

He continued lying among the pile of corpses for quite some time. Only after repeatedly confirming that there was no one nearby did he cautiously crawl in the direction from which he had come. Along the way, he stripped a weapon and a piece of armor from a corpse, so no one would call him a deserter later.

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

He did not want to stay there. He crawled along while cursing. "Why did they have to relax the restrictions on the Infected?! Why?! Why did that man have to touch me when he could have touched anyone else?! Why?! If I can get back, and I see that Infected... I'll definitely kill him!"

Some twisted motivation supported him as he crawled for who knew how long. Then, he suddenly saw firelight and heard bursts of conversation in the Leithanien language.

He hurriedly got to his feet and ran in that direction, explaining his identity to the patrol.

"I belong to Lord Alex's forces. I was knocked unconscious by a spell attack! When I woke up, it was already night!"

After hearing that he did indeed have a Leithanien accent, the patrol confirmed the situation with their superiors. Then they told the poetry teacher, "Alex has been transferred away after earning merit by capturing the urban district. His forces suffered heavy losses and have already been disbanded as a reinforcement unit. You're part of our forces now. Prepare for tomorrow's battle."

After saying that, the patrol left, leaving the teacher to collapse weakly onto the ground. He stared blankly at Palermo.

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

"Your Majesty."

In the middle of the night, someone suddenly knocked on the door of his bedroom. He was initially puzzled, but after realizing that someone was calling for him, Theresica immediately ran out in his pajamas.

"What is it?"

"Kazimierz has succeeded. The Nearl family, together with Leithanien's spies, killed the Witch King."

The night-duty communications officer extended a sheet of paper. Theresica accepted it in disbelief.

The Witch King, whose overwhelming strength had been recorded in books, had really died just like that?

He was somewhat skeptical, but the paper clearly stated that the Witch King was dead. A photograph was attached as well, showing a Leithanien who had fallen from a great height and died horribly upon hitting the ground.

"Order the Wendigo to depart for Palermo!" After thinking for a moment, he issued the order. "Notify the forces there to lift the restrictions on the use of force."

"Yes, Your Majesty!"

The communications officer hurried away. By the time the order reached the frontline forces in Palermo, dawn was already approaching.

Sunlight spilled across the city. Although there were no longer any Siracusans here, every corner was filled with Sarkaz and Leithanien. Yet under these circumstances, Palermo remained deathly quiet.

The Sarkaz were waiting for airships to transport more of their allies over, while the Leithanien officers were cautiously arguing in their private quarters.

"The Witch King is dead?!"

"Some twins have appeared out of nowhere, claiming to be the Twin Empresses, and they've taken all political authority!"

"No! We have to hurry back!"

"How do we leave?! A retreat isn't a victory march!"

The Leithanien Arts User group consisted of genuine professional soldiers. They could distinguish between retreating and falling back, but the armed Infected, who came from all walks of life, could not.

Leithanien had always regarded them as bullets that would be fired sooner or later. They were the foundation of the Leithanien Arts User group's strength, but also its unexpected fatal weakness.

There was a very high chance that these Infected would scatter completely during a retreat. Without them, the Arts User group could be considered to have lost its supplies.

At that point, even Siracusan family enforcers could chase down the Arts Users and beat them senseless, let alone the vicious Sarkaz.

After considering the matter from every angle and finding no solution, the Leithanien officers could only order their forces to fight here. By occupying this place, they could also secure a rear area to deal with the current turmoil in Leithanien.

The peaceful city suddenly became lively. Sarkaz mortars and Leithanien spells exploded in turn. When one side finished singing, the other took up the song.

The city was instantly shrouded in smoke and dust.

The mortars, which could fire steadily along fixed trajectories, were a huge help to the Sarkaz here.

Leithanien Arts Users needed a clear line of sight to their targets to launch precise long-range attacks effectively. The Sarkaz, on the other hand, only needed to send one person to infiltrate the area near the Leithanien positions and guide their artillery fire.

Shells repeatedly landed among the Leithanien ranks, while the retaliatory spells repeatedly struck buildings, achieving almost nothing beyond creating more ruins.

Moreover, nearly every Sarkaz soldier in the city was equipped with a semi-automatic crossbow. The Leithanien Infected had to pay a tremendous price for every meter they advanced.

The panicked Leithanien frantically inspected every opening. Whenever they saw a hole, they had to plug it before they could feel safe.

But this was almost entirely useless.

Behind empty windows, on balconies... Sarkaz semi-automatic crossbowmen were everywhere. Once the Leithanien entered their attack range, they faced a hemispherical zone of attack. Only an exceptionally lucky Leithanien shooter had any chance of firing the first arrow—and whether it hit was another matter.

When a Leithanien fired one arrow, the Sarkaz had already sent a dozen back. What drove the Leithanien to despair most was that reloading their crossbows required them to stand and bend over to draw the strings, while the Sarkaz could do it lying down.

How were they doing this?

No one could answer that question. Every time the Sarkaz ambushed the Leithanien, there was an extremely high chance of a total wipeout. As a result, the Leithanien were still trying to estimate the size of the Sarkaz forces.

Meanwhile, battle reports claiming kill ratios of over one to twenty poured into Theresica's hands like snowflakes.

At first, he still read them. Later, he stopped bothering, because he had run out of ways to phrase the commendations.

The battle reports were not all identical, however. Today, there was a special report, personally brought back from the front by a designated courier.

In a dark room, a blurry figure was projected onto a screen. The moment Theresica saw the indistinct silhouette, he widened his eyes.

Wasn't that a Papal Knight?! How could he be flying in the air?!

Skylark

Terra still had no technology for processing photographs, so the picture before him was completely genuine.

Yet Theresica almost wished it were fake. Then he might still get a good night's sleep. Now he could neither sit nor stand at ease, with nothing but the image of a Papal Knight flying through the air filling his mind.

Good heavens! A rotary machine gun flying through the air! This was practically a dimensionality-reduction attack!

This was terrifying.

The image of an attack aircraft skimming the ground refused to stop appearing in his mind. The key point was that he was the one being strafed.

Theresica rested his head on Yelena's head, then used her Catus ears to cover his face. He wanted to use this method to escape reality for a moment.

Earlier, he had been thrilled that the Wendigo had returned to Kazdel, thinking he could become a local king in Terra. But after seeing what Laterano had pulled, all that joy instantly vanished.

Theresica had seen how terrifying air forces could be back on Earth.

After calming himself down, he quickly summoned Zeppelin and had him look at the photograph as well. Then he asked, "Zeppelin, do we have anything that can move through the sky as flexibly as Laterano's Papal Knights?"

"Drones?"

"Do you think a drone could shoot down a Papal Knight?"

Zeppelin shook his head, then cautiously leaned over and asked, "Your Majesty, are we at war with Laterano?"

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

Theresica did not believe that a single treaty could permanently bind the relationship between the Sarkaz and Sankta. If the time came to violate it, the treaty would be nothing more than a scrap of paper.

Staring at the photograph, he felt somewhat puzzled. It seemed that he was the only one worried about this. The people around him did not seem to find the picture remarkable at all.

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

After hearing Theresica's words, Zeppelin took the photograph back and studied it carefully.

"Your Majesty, what problem do you see with this photograph?"

"There's a huge problem! If he mounts a gun in the sky, everyone on the ground is finished! And we can't hit him at all!"

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

"Your Majesty, do you think the Papal Knight can fly like a drone?"

"What else would it be?"

Hearing this, Zeppelin suddenly laughed. "Your Majesty, although Papal Knights can rise into the sky, that's only an appearance. They can only make long-distance jumps, not fly."

"What's the difference?" Theresica asked, somewhat blankly.

"There is a difference. Drones have continuous propulsion and can change direction freely in the air. That's flight. Papal Knights only have the ability to launch themselves into the air, after which they begin freefall. They cannot provide their own propulsion to correct their direction, so this can only be considered a jump."

Zeppelin explained the difference between the two, but Theresica still felt uneasy. He said, "I need something that can fly through the air and has the ability to launch attacks of a certain degree."

Zeppelin faithfully wrote down Theresica's requirements with pen and paper, then asked, "Your Majesty, we already have drones that can do this."

"They're too small, and their firepower is too weak." A hint of distaste showed in Theresica's eyes. "Wouldn't it be wonderful if we had a large aerial attack platform that could easily sweep away the enemy?"

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

"Then don't have Arts Users control it. Have someone operate it directly, like a landship."

Theresica spoke decisively. "Go work on it first. Produce a design as soon as possible."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Seeing Theresica's firm attitude, Zeppelin could not understand why, but he could only nod.

The design was completed quickly. That very evening, Zeppelin brought over a blueprint. However, what appeared before Theresica was a huge cubic box, with an arm extending from each of its four sides. Each arm was fitted with an air propeller engine.

"Good... work."

Theresica forced a smile onto his face. He had envisioned a helicopter, but he had not expected Zeppelin to bring him something like this.

He had originally thought that Terra possessed extensive drone-production capabilities, so building something like this should not have been difficult. The result proved just how spectacularly wrong he had been.

Taking a deep breath, Theresica said nothing more and immediately began influencing Zeppelin.

"Zeppelin, when a box like this flies over the enemy, wouldn't its front be the easiest part for the enemy to attack? Let's modify the front and make it rectangular. If we reduce its frontal area, it'll be a little harder for the enemy to hit."

"But if we make it rectangular, it won't be controllable. It'll be difficult to balance the four propellers."

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

"But that would create torque on the body. We designed a similar drone before, and the body spun out of control..."

"Then add a tail and install a small propeller on it to counteract that force."

With the wealth of knowledge he had gained on Earth, Theresica could find an answer to every problem Zeppelin raised. It nearly left Zeppelin dumbfounded.

Your Majesty, are you really the emperor? Or are you an engineer?

He had lost all authority over the design, but Zeppelin did not dare show the slightest displeasure. The problems he raised were genuinely answered by His Majesty one by one, and none of the proposed solutions were flights of fancy!

A brand-new design emerged that very night. Looking at the blueprint now titled "Helicopter Design," Zeppelin felt as though he had stepped into a dream.

He had been summoned here by His Majesty, only to spend the entire time listening to His Majesty say how each part needed to be modified, then serve as a draftsman and alter each section bit by bit until it satisfied His Majesty.

"Zeppelin, can we produce it?"

"We can."

Zeppelin nodded as he admired the blueprint. "But I must remind you, Your Majesty: this is a beautiful machine, but we currently have no weapon suitable for it."