Ambush and Genius

Gray Rock Plane, once a primitive and mysterious wilderness, had now become a brutal hunting ground.

The Indigenous Coalition displayed organization and intelligence far beyond what Noren Academy's apprentices had imagined.

They were not merely scattered natives, but well-trained hunters. Every trap and every ambush targeted the apprentices' weaknesses.

"Damn it! It's those natives!"

"Do we have any recovery potions left? My spiritual power is almost depleted!"

"Damn it! Why isn't the escape ring working?!"

"This place... there's no way out!"

Similar cries of despair rose and fell across the Gray Rock Plane.

As the traps continued to prove effective, the apprentices quickly realized they had become prey.

The native hunters lurking within the bushes wore camouflaged animal hides and carried poisoned bone spears and bows, as silent as venomous snakes.

They knew the terrain well, often using point tokens or rare materials as bait before launching surprise attacks the moment the apprentices lowered their guard.

A single unexpected volley of poisoned arrows was often enough to instantly leave these inexperienced apprentices paralyzed or slowed.

Then the native warriors would charge out, the enhanced power erupting from their bodies making them incredibly fast. Their metal spears could easily pierce the apprentices before they could form their shields.

Many scattered apprentice teams were caught completely off guard during the initial assaults.

The Flight Spells and escape rings they relied on failed one after another amid strange spatial fluctuations. Stripped of their means of escape, the apprentices were like trapped beasts in cages, gradually worn down beneath the natives' hunt.

Broadcasting Wizard Artifacts were filled with intermittent distress signals, which soon fell silent.

"The shield's energy is running low! Only ten percent remains!"

"My staff is out of uses! Damn it, why are these natives so tough?!"

In a narrow canyon, a team of eight apprentices had their backs against the cliff wall, barely holding back the charge of native knights.

The energy of their Wizard Artifacts was rapidly running dry. Several artifacts sustaining the shields emitted crisp cracking sounds as they reached their limit before finally shattering.

Their Magic Potion supplies visibly dwindled, while the spiritual exhaustion brought on by the intense battle surged over them like a tide. Their spells became sluggish, and the power of their wizardry was greatly diminished.

These apprentices were all senior students. When they had heard the emergency broadcasts, they had scoffed at the new apprentices and these natives alike.

After another five years of study, these Combat Department seniors had long recognized their own shortcomings. More or less, they had each conducted in-depth research into several offensive or defensive spells.

Though they still could not independently construct the corresponding Wizardry Models, they were far stronger than the newcomers.

Thus, they had been confident in their ability to deal with any attack they encountered.

And indeed, during the first few attacks, the native squads that had crumbled so easily had confirmed their assumptions.

Their string of easy victories gradually made them overlook the danger, and without realizing it, they ventured deeper into an even more deadly trap.

Now, these senior apprentices were pale-faced, cold sweat streaming down their foreheads.

Though they had undergone practical combat tests before, they had never truly faced a life-or-death war of attrition with no way out.

Compared to the predicament they faced now, the practical tests arranged by the academy had been child's play!

Every spell could easily take an enemy's life. Corpses had already piled up like mountains before their eyes. Yet enemies kept charging at them without end!

Why weren't they afraid?!

Why didn't they retreat?!

Their former confidence had been ground away beneath the unrelenting pressure, replaced by obvious exhaustion and anxiety.

"Captain, how much longer can we hold out?" a young female apprentice asked tearfully.

Her spiritual power had already run dry, leaving her only able to fight back with physical weapons. But against those knights in crude armor who were nevertheless extraordinarily fierce, her swordsmanship seemed utterly powerless.

Besides them, several other apprentice teams had also entered this area, all lured in by the dazzling pile of point tokens within the valley.

But now, under the enemies' unceasing assaults, the apprentices were forced to abandon their strategy of fighting separately. They began gathering on their own in easily defended terrain, such as towering cliffs or narrow caves.

They formed temporary alliances and barely established defensive lines, jointly resisting wave after wave of native attacks.

Yet even so, apprentices fell with every clash.

The wounded grew more numerous, the potions fewer, and an atmosphere of despair hung over their hearts like dark clouds.

Without any surprise, once the last apprentice's spiritual power was exhausted, the cries of battle in the valley finally ceased, leaving behind only a hellish sea of blood.

Though the losses were immense, for the natives, they were a price they could bear for the sake of revenge.

As time passed, more and more apprentices fell into the traps.

For a time, the entire wilderness became a blood-soaked purgatory of despair.

However, there were exceptions in this "war." Geniuses continually emerged, breaking through the traps laid by the natives and making names for themselves on the battlefield.

The two most renowned among them were like dazzling stars, illuminating the dim heavens.

Miss Augusta, the academy's favored prodigy with a level-nine lightning-element talent, was currently leading her team across the plane, unbeatable and unhindered as though no one stood in her way.

Her power was like that of a deity controlling lightning descending upon the battlefield, every strike accompanied by devastating thunder.

"Do these insects think they can win with numbers alone? Foolish."

With a light tap of Augusta's slender fingertip, a blazing white torrent of lightning roared forth like an enraged dragon.

The native ambushers hundreds of meters away, along with their concealment runes and mental interference totems, were instantly vaporized beneath the violent lightning. Charred trails twisted across the ground.

Clad in lightweight Thunderlight Armor, she flickered through the battlefield, every advance striking precisely at the natives' vital points.

The knights attempting to surround her often failed to even approach before being pierced by the lightning snakes dancing in her hand, turning into charred corpses.

As Miss Augusta's reputation grew ever more resounding, the Indigenous Coalition took notice of her. More than once, they deliberately set traps for her that could be called certain death.

Once, they turned an entire canyon into a massive magnetic interference zone. Runes capable of triggering chain explosions were buried beneath the ground, cursed totems that could weaken a wizard's power floated in the air, and hundreds of elite knights and Shamans in heavy armor stood ready, hoping to wear her down through superior numbers and terrain.

"Heh, childish tricks." Augusta merely gave a contemptuous laugh, and violent lightning tore everything apart.

She summoned a colossal pillar of lightning that pierced heaven and earth, directly blasting apart the rune formation on the ground and destroying the totems in the air.

Then lightning surged across her entire body as she transformed into an uncapturable bolt, tearing the entire ambush force apart with overwhelming force. Wherever the lightning passed, there was only scorched earth and trembling natives.

She did not spare much attention for the defeated natives. Her eyes held only one target—the next high-value point token.

To her, these natives were nothing more than small fry obstructing her path to glory.