Between White Wolf City and the Girislav camp, the two armies spread out their formations. The prince and Landen Gallop each rode to the front lines for one last bit of pre-battle courtesy.
"You don't mind if I give it a try, do you?" With a wave of Landen's hand, a Mage Hand pulled the musket from the prince's waist and pulled the trigger at Landen's breastplate.
Bang— Flame burst from the muzzle, and white smoke instantly billowed through the air. The black iron pellet shattered against Landen's chest. A gleam flashed across the front of his breastplate, and it did not even leave the faintest mark on the armor.
The prince and the knights on both sides froze. That shot had not even broken the defensive Magic Array built into the armor.
"Oh, black powder..." Landen muttered to himself. The Mage Hand casually returned the musket to Durosong's waist, then, unable to keep its hands to itself, patted the gun case.
"The power of this gun of yours isn't much. I'm afraid it couldn't even handle a low-level Magic Beast."
To Durosong's surprise, Landen had actually seized the firearm from his opponent's waist and fired a shot at himself.
Yet that near-suicidal shot, aside from satisfying Landen's curiosity and shattering the prince's hopes, had no tangible effect whatsoever.
"My lord, you didn't come here in person just to mock me, did you?" Durosong asked gloomily, touching the gun at his waist.
"How could that be? I'm here to tear down your home." Landen did not hide anything. "Gallop Plains has already been unified. I want a buffer zone between myself and Girislav, my neighboring country, so I can only dismantle your camp. This has nothing to do with whether you detained the Northwest Count, whether you sheltered the remnants