Lance Charge on the Arkship, but No Mount

As long as these crops could be planted here on a large scale and solve their food shortage, they could recruit more troops and strengthen their forces. Their ultimate goal no longer seemed so far out of reach.

Standing on the deck of the landship and leaning against the railing, Ino let the cold predawn fog wash over him. Droplets soon condensed in his hair. A damp, freezing chill quickly seeped in, making him deeply uncomfortable. Yet he did not retreat to his room. He continued looking north, where his friends were, where the people he admired were, where their cause lay. For that cause, he had to learn everything he could here.

He took out his notes from a small bag, opened them, and began reading carefully. He did not possess a photographic memory, so this was the only way he could memorize all these key points. Besides, he had discovered that memorizing things in the morning was always easier.

"Acute shock in a patient should be treated by..."

"Emergency treatment for comminuted fractures..."

"Cleaning and suturing extensive open wounds..."

"First aid for cardiac arrest..."

Ino was so absorbed in the notes in his hands that he failed to notice someone approaching. Only when a large hand patted his shoulder did he suddenly come back to himself.

When he turned around, he saw Skov's Originium-marked face.

"Studying so early in the morning? You're really diligent. Most of the operators aren't even up yet. You could get some more rest. If you don't sleep enough, your head will get foggy."

"Aren't you diligent too, Uncle Skov? You got up this early as well. And you're studying mechanical repairs, so you have to go to the factory too, right?" Ino looked at Skov's oil-stained work uniform. He had changed into it first thing in the morning, making his plans obvious.

"Maybe. But I'm slow to begin with, so I have to work harder than everyone else. I've already forgotten a lot of what I learned yesterday, so I could only come here early to memorize it again." Skov smiled and waved the thick leather-bound notebook in his hand.

"Uncle, how do you think Lord Claude and the others are doing? Before I came here, I heard that Ursus would organize a retaliatory force. I'm really worried about them..."

"There's no use worrying about it here. We can only pray that we finish our courses soon and hurry back to help. That's the only thing we can do right now..." Skov lowered his head and flipped through his notebook. Though his clothes were covered in gasoline stains, his hands were very clean, and he had not dirtied the pages. The thick leather cover was already marked by plenty of wear.

For a while, the two fell silent and quietly continued memorizing.

The sun slowly rose from behind the mountains, piercing the fog and illuminating the entire deck. Warm sunlight fell across Ino's face. It was a little dazzling, but more than that, it was warm. He rubbed the corners of his eyes and checked the terminal watch on his wrist. It was already time for class. Just as he was about to stand, Skov suddenly called out to him.

"Hey, Ino, wait. Take this with you."

As he spoke, he handed over a plastic-wrapped box of food. It looked colorful and, unexpectedly, rather appetizing.

"I ran into a little Sarkaz girl on the way here. She heard I hadn't eaten breakfast and gave me this, saying it was nutritious. What a kind girl. There are so many good people in this place! She gave me too much anyway, so you should have a portion too."

"Thanks, Uncle. I'll work hard." Ino's heart warmed as well. The kindness of a stranger lifted his mood. He accepted the boxed meal and put it in his bag, intending to eat it at noon. Then he waved goodbye to his companion and hurried toward his teacher Kal'tsit's laboratory.

At noon, Kal'tsit looked at the colorful boxed meal in the white-haired boy's hands, and the corner of her eye twitched slightly. But when she looked at Hibiscus beside him, she opened her mouth and ultimately said nothing. It's not poisonous. He should be fine after eating it, and it is indeed nutritious.

The Rising Reunion Movement: The Approaching War

When the townspeople woke that morning, they discovered that the sky had suddenly darkened. When they looked up, they saw a magnificent sight unlike anything they would ever see again in their lives. A towering land battleship nearly blotted out the sun, casting the entire town into its shadow. Its massive tracks rolled over the animal sheds outside town, crushing the livestock within into pulp.

The owners of the sheds stared at the devastation in despair, yet did not dare make the slightest sound. They all knew what that battleship represented. It represented the army of Ursus, the power of the Ursus Empire. No one dared defy the Empire, not even with the faintest hint of dissent.

A shrill alarm sounded, and the massive land battleship began moving again. Even from hundreds of meters away, its broad tracks sent violent tremors through the ground. To the Ursus soldiers aboard, they had merely replenished supplies here before immediately departing.

What they did not know was that before they had even left, someone had already rushed the news onward at full speed. It took only two days for the report to reach Claude's desk.

A slender finger tapped against the paper, its nail trimmed short. Yet from its slow rhythm, it was clear that Claude was not worried by the news. He was merely thinking, calmly and effortlessly considering how he should deal with this expected enemy.

Beyond this room, the entire camp had become busy. Freshly baked bread was wrapped up and stuffed into the soldiers' packs. Crossbow firing mechanisms, limbs, and strings were carefully inspected. Every kind of melee weapon was painstakingly polished and coated with maintenance oil. Damaged armor was replaced whenever possible, and patched as best as it could be when it was not.

The entire organization moved like a machine. At a single command, it began operating in perfect order. Everyone became a gear, a spring, a lever, even lubricating oil. This machine now gave off an ear-piercing roar, ready at any moment to grind anything to dust.

Centaurea pushed open Claude's door. She found him sitting at his desk in thought as usual. Even though they now faced a powerful opponent, not a trace of negative emotion could be seen on him. It was as though this were nothing worth mentioning.

A golden-brown pie was held out before Claude. He took it, then turned to look at Centaurea. Her neat bangs covered her forehead, revealing the bright eyes beneath. Those beautiful pale-gold eyes were now watching him intently. Claude took a bite of the pie. It was filled with potato and meat, the kind that filled the stomach easily.

"Do you already have a definite plan? This time, it's a proper land battleship with two regiments aboard." As Centaurea spoke, she casually wiped the grease from her fingers onto Claude's cloak. Claude noticed his companion's little gesture, but did not care in the slightest.

"A plan? Yes, I have one. But when the time comes, we'll have to risk our lives. And not just a little." Claude finished the pie in two bites, then wiped his hands clean on his cloak. It was certainly convenient, though it would probably need washing afterward.

"I'm not afraid of risking my life. This is how we make our living. I'm only afraid we'll risk our lives and still fail to get it done." Centaurea sat on the desk and looked down at the documents before Claude. The long hair at her temples fell over the tabletop, exposing her slender, graceful neck.

"The odds of success are assured. The moment they ventured alone into the snowfields, we had already won half the battle. The remaining half depends on us."

Claude's finger tapped a gorge on the map. This was the only route into the snowfields. The roads elsewhere were completely beyond what a landship could handle. They would definitely pass through here, and the steady stream of intelligence over the past two days had confirmed his prediction.

The war machine's overwhelming firepower made it impossible for them to approach that behemoth on open plains. They could only resort to other methods. The one fortunate thing was that their organization had quite a few powerful fighters. Whether it was Patriot, Talulah, or even Claude himself, if they could board the battleship, they had ways to destroy it.

"Then now, let us hunt this giant beast."

Claude marched through the forest. The powerful legs of a Kuranta allowed him to easily push through the snow, while behind him followed a crossbow squad and three hundred elite heavy infantry.

That was right. Claude had trained those three hundred men as heavy infantry from the beginning, though they were still far from being true legion heavy infantry. But no powerful army could be forged through training alone. It had to be tempered and culled on the battlefield. Just as sponge iron had to be refined in a furnace and hammered again and again to drive out its impurities until it became steel, an army also had to endure this kind of brutal trial before it could become truly powerful.

The battlefield was not far from the camp. Before long, they reached one side of the gorge, which was thick with white birch trees. Standing on high ground, Claude used the telescope in his hand to observe the approaching behemoth in the distance. The huge war machine was already clearly visible, and he could make out its structure. That meant it was no longer far away.

He pulled a radio from his chest and issued his order.

"All squads, attention. All squads, attention. Withdraw from the front slope immediately. Move to the rear slope and take cover from the battleship's artillery."

"Understood."

"Yes, sir."

Claude jumped down from the tree and made a gesture. The troops behind him immediately followed him out of the woods on the front slope.

Just as he had expected, when the battleship was still several hundred meters from the gorge, it stopped. Then the Originium cannons of all sizes aboard swung toward the forests on either side. In the next instant, a storm of explosions savagely plowed through the birch woods.

The terrain here was far too dangerous. Any commander with even a little common sense would investigate it, or at the very least use firepower to determine whether enemy forces lay in ambush. Claude had concluded that, given the Ursus army's usual arrogance, they were very likely to use their precious Originium shells to sweep this obstacle away directly.

Perhaps the enemy commander was smugly anticipating the moment the bombardment ended, expecting to see the bodies of guerrillas lying in the forest. But he was doomed to be disappointed. With intelligence already in hand, Claude had long made thorough preparations.

Once the bombardment ended, they would quietly return to the defensive positions prepared in advance and wait for the battleship to enter the gorge completely. Then Patriot would cripple its tracks, Talulah would use her searing heat to melt an opening in the ship's armor, and Claude would lead the heavy infantry through their defenses.

Because their equipment was more than a generation behind the enemy's, the process would inevitably cause substantial casualties. But Claude had long prepared himself for that. On these snowfields, almost nothing could match a land battleship's mobility. Today, on this most suitable battlefield, they had to destroy or seize it at any cost.

The bombardment would continue for a while yet, so they waited quietly in the snow on the rear slope. Claude looked at the soldiers, their faces solemn and anxious. They were clearly under immense pressure. This was their first time facing such a war machine. Anyone would feel pressure.

Claude remembered his first encounter with a griffin. It had been extremely dangerous because of the griffin's bloodthirsty nature. Most injuries and even disabilities during taming occurred during that first contact. At the time, he had merely been a recruit who had never seen battle, but as the son of a grand duke, he had to fulfill his duty and face the naturally savage griffin.

Though that griffin had only recently hatched from its egg and was still a tiny thing, its neck feathers had not even grown in yet, leaving pink skin exposed and making it look rather ugly. Yet it still had sharp claws and a powerful serrated beak. Every year, many recruits were bitten by griffin hatchlings, some even left disabled.

The night before his first meeting with Hart, Claude had also tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep as he worried about what awaited him the next day. His father was the grand duke of Korkos Territory, at the northernmost edge of the Empire, renowned throughout the Empire for his martial prowess. If even the son of such a man could not tame a griffin, it would surely disgrace his family's honor.

Back then, he had been so agitated and helpless that he even lit the magic crystal lamp in the middle of the night and reviewed the notes he had made, going over every point about interacting with griffins.

When the recruits assembled the next day, Claude arrived with dark circles under both eyes. As he watched the recruits ahead of him get bitten by griffins one after another and dragged away by the instructors, he grew more and more nervous. This was only the first encounter, and there would be several more afterward. Only if all of them failed would one be removed from the legion reserves. But he could not accept the risk of failing even once.

When his turn came, his luck was terrible. He was assigned the largest griffin hatchling among all the others, and it was also the fiercest and most aggressive one. The moment he saw a hatchling as powerfully built as a tiger, he could not help asking the instructor.

"This is a hatchling?!"

Yet this was also the beginning of his bond with Hart. After exhausting effort, he had forced Hart to the ground with sheer strength. They wrestled for nearly an hour until, utterly exhausted, Hart finally gave up resisting and let Claude scratch beneath its chin.

He had also proven his honor before everyone else, proving that he was not some incompetent man who relied on his father.

Back then, he had been just like these soldiers. Faced with an enormous challenge, anxiety was inevitable. But this was a trial they had to overcome for themselves. Only by passing through it could they become a truly powerful army.

The smell of gunpowder drifted over. The birch forests on both sides of the gorge had been utterly destroyed, leaving only broken trunks and branches scattered across the ground. Claude stood and drove the butt of his lance heavily into the earth, drawing everyone's attention.

"Come with me, my soldiers! Let us catch that big fellow."

No one cheered, but everyone was visibly invigorated. They silently followed that tall figure.

The Rising Reunion Movement: For a Chance at Victory

Beneath the drifting smoke, soldiers clad in white camouflage quickly entered the trenches dug in advance. They quietly waited for the massive war machine to drive into the gorge. Everyone was tense with anxiety. They did not know whether the enemy commander would drive his vehicle into such dangerous terrain. Though this was the only route for the attack, if the enemy withdrew now and all their efforts came to nothing, a great amount of resources would be wasted for nothing. No one wanted to see that happen.

The general in his heavy overcoat stared at the gorge with his one remaining eye. Though it looked highly dangerous, he had absolute faith in his vehicle. No matter what despicable tricks the rats lurking in the shadows used, they could never bring down such a mighty war machine. He had absolute faith in his girl, so much so that he had not even brought along the accompanying legion.

Still, to be safe, he had expended one-fifth of his ammunition here. Seeing the two birch forests reduced to level ground, he concluded that no one inside could possibly have survived. Only then did he relax and give the order to advance. The huge Originium-powered engine unleashed surging energy, driving the massive battleship into the gorge. It crushed the stones and earthen mounds in its path, leaving behind a broad, smooth road.

The Ursus soldiers standing ready above did not lower their guard easily. They still manned their Originium cannons, aiming at every place where enemies might emerge. They might have scorned this enemy, but the basic discipline of excellent soldiers made them wary of the perilous terrain.

The broad tracks slowly entered the gorge. The soldiers, still taut with tension, suffered no attack at all. This made them relax slightly, until a startled cry came from the ship's bow.

The one-eyed general frowned. Before long, a soldier came to report.

"General! A group of soldiers is standing directly in our path!"

The report deeply surprised the general. Someone actually dared stand in the path of a landship? What were they trying to do? He held out his hand, and his adjutant passed him a telescope. After quickly adjusting its settings, he soon saw the group ahead.

Every one of those soldiers wore extremely heavy armor and carried a great shield. Yet the most eye-catching was the warrior at their front. Some Ursus soldiers might not recognize him, but the general certainly did. He knew exactly what that being was capable of. His achievements and reputation had shone like the sun in the era of the previous Emperor, when the general himself had only been an ordinary captain.

What made cold sweat immediately break out on the general's back was the sight of several towering blood-red altars behind that being, radiating ominous power. He nearly screamed himself hoarse as he gave the order.

"All artillery! All artillery! Destroy them! Destroy them for me!!"

The soldiers immediately swung the Originium cannons around at the command, but they were already too late. Patriot raised the halberd in his hand high overhead, ominous dark-red power coiling around his body. Like a vortex, that power gathered toward the halberd in his hand, forming a massive beam of dark-red light.

Terrifying pain erupted within his body, pain enough to render even the strongest warrior incapable of moving. But to Boccas at that moment, it was still within what he could endure. He could almost clearly hear the Originium crystals growing inside his body. A thick, metallic sweetness filled his throat. Every ounce of his strength flowed into this strike, along with all the power gathered in the altars.

This attack would certainly inflict grave damage on his body, yet he did not hesitate in the slightest. Such an opportunity was once in a thousand lifetimes, and he welcomed it gladly. Ignoring the worsening pain, he still gritted his teeth and drove his power onward, squeezing out every last scrap of strength remaining in his body.

His boots slammed heavily into the ground, blood seeping from beneath them. Patriot's entire body was splitting apart, splitting under this terrifying, unprecedented power. He twisted at the waist and finally hurled the halberd in his hand with all his might. The surrounding air seemed to be sucked dry in an instant. A massive sonic boom erupted, lifting the snow from the ground in an entire sheet and exposing the black frozen earth below. The gorge itself seemed to wail beneath that blow.

The horrific strike slammed into the landship's tracks, producing a violent roar that made everyone's ears ring. A huge cloud of dust rose from the ground, throwing the soldiers preparing to fire into disarray and smashing their heads bloody.

When the dust settled, everyone saw that the seemingly ordinary halberd had completely torn through the tracks. The heavy, precise mechanical structure had twisted into a mangled mass, unable to move again.

Boccas could no longer stand steadily. He braced himself with the shield in his hand and did not fall to the ground. His armor and clothes were soaked through with blood that seeped from all over his body. The Shieldguards hurriedly moved to protect their commander, but after taking two breaths, he stubbornly stood again and reached for another halberd. Then he took the lead, advancing toward the landship that was now completely immobilized.

Meanwhile, Claude was sprinting forward, launching the charge that had always been his. Seeing the Originium cannons beginning to recover, he drew a throwing spear from behind his waist. Just as he had said, it was time to risk their lives. Behind him, countless soldiers spread out in loose formation, doing their best to reduce casualties. Seizing this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, they desperately surged toward the battleship. Every meter they now advanced would once have cost dozens or hundreds of lives, but now it cost them nothing.

The distance closed rapidly until only one hundred meters remained. Claude drove his Originium Arts with all his strength. He had never used this skill like this before. Now he was squeezing out every shred of his mental strength, making lightning coil and roar around the throwing spear in his hand.

He could clearly feel the terrifying power on the spear struggling to break free of his control. Yet he suppressed it firmly, even coldly, allowing it to build higher and higher. Only when the blazing current turned his gauntlet red-hot and the smell of scorched flesh rose from his hand did he calmly hurl it.

The throwing spear wrapped in golden lightning carved a golden trail through the air, blasting one cannon muzzle and its operators into the sky. One attack after another destroyed cannon after cannon. But the dozens of remaining guns aboard the landship finally reacted and began firing back at full force.

Fierce shells fell among the charging warriors, sending nearly ten people into the air as fragments of flesh and bone. Shattered organs and clods of dirt rained down together. Yet not a single person hesitated. Everyone charged forward without regard for their lives, because they knew that only by reaching the enemy could they have a chance of surviving. As shells continued to fall, the final hundred meters alone inflicted grievous casualties upon them. Claude and Centaurea, relying on their powerful speed, were the first to reach the landship.

The two approached the shattered tracks and used their powerful leaps to climb rapidly upward. Only after climbing onto the tracks and truly reaching the armor did Claude put down the person he had been carrying on his back.

That person was Talulah. According to the plan, after Patriot crippled the landship, Claude would use his powerful mobility to carry Talulah close to the hull and open a route for the main force.

Without a word, scarlet flames began coiling around Talulah's body, leaving even the tracks beneath her feet showing signs of melting.

Claude took out the remaining throwing spears and viciously drove them into the landship's armor. Then he leaped up, using the sturdy shafts as footholds to charge toward the deck above. Their task was to eliminate every gunner.

The chance to truly reach victory was now in their hands.

The Rising Reunion Movement: A Brutal Battle of Offense and Defense

Talulah looked at the heavy steel armor before her. This thick plating was a powerful defense that would normally make any army balk, but the powerful bloodline of a Draco now surged through her veins, granting her the power to challenge it. The blade in her hand glowed with heat so intense that even the air warped around it. That violent yet noble bloodline flowed within her, allowing her to create terrifying heat around herself with every breath.

She simply thrust her sword forward, and the heavy steel plate was cut open as easily as butter. The cut exposed a blinding white glow, melting and flowing like wax. Gripping the hilt, she swept the sword sideways. Wherever its blade passed, steel turned to molten metal like cream and flowed across the ground. Before long, a tall opening was revealed.

Within that scorching heat, Talulah seemed to exist in a separate space. Not even the tips of her hair caught fire.

Without the slightest hesitation, the slender girl was the first to step into that space, where molten iron still flowed like a hell of lava. She began attacking upward from the lowest level of the battleship. Behind her, the casters of the Yeti Squad used wind and snow to cool the molten iron. Then heavily armored warriors poured in after them in formation.

Though the battleship's armor was not perfectly smooth and had seams running across it, they were nowhere near sufficient for climbing. There was not a single proper handhold, so Claude could only create his own. The spearhead wreathed in lightning was driven into gaps in the armor by tremendous force. With one throwing spear after another, he fashioned a crude ladder across the smooth plating.

His long, powerful legs stepped on the shafts, bending the alloy spears, before he forcefully leaped upward. The instant he began to fall, he drove another throwing spear into a seam and repeated the process over and over, climbing rapidly up the smooth surface. A white figure stepped onto the throwing spears he left behind and followed close after him.

What a dangerous climb it was. They leaped across a smooth surface taller than any building, where the slightest mistake would leave them smashed to pieces. Yet because their companions had created such an enormous commotion, not a single Ursus soldier noticed them.

Just as he was about to leap onto the deck, Claude suddenly grabbed a throwing spear and suspended himself in midair. His companion did not ask a question. She silently stopped behind him. He reached out and grabbed several metal pipes above him, then a powerful current surged violently into them. A surveillance camera rotating back and forth above suddenly burst with small arcs of electricity, spewed black smoke, and was completely disabled.

"At least we won't be discovered right away."

His body dropped, then he used the spear shaft's excellent elasticity and the strength of his arms to fling himself directly onto the deck.

His iron boots struck the deck with a sharp clang. Before an Ursus gunner could react, an arrow nailed him to the wall. The sounds of bowstrings trembling rang out in succession as the few soldiers remaining on deck were shot down one after another. None of them had time to react or sound the alarm.

The petite white-haired girl lightly leaped onto the railing and stood steadily atop it. The cold wind of the battlefield stirred the corners of her smoke-blackened clothes, making her seem as light and lively as a white dove. Claude met her eyes, then nodded. The two headed in different directions.

"Where is the captain's cabin?"

Claude appeared to be talking to himself.

"...Go down through Automatic Door Two, then turn left at three intersections. That should get you there, if this model of land battleship hasn't changed its layout..."

Immortal Black Snake spoke in Claude's mind with a hesitant tone.

Claude ignored the creature. His lance suddenly pierced through the wall beside him, and when he pulled it back, blood stained its tip. He advanced through the passage at an unhurried pace. Relying on his sharp hearing, he occasionally thrust his lance through the bulkheads, killing enemies stationed in the various compartments.

He turned left, then left again. Suddenly, chaotic footsteps surrounded him as a group of Ursus soldiers in black clothes and black armor charged at him through the passage. Even while sprinting, they maintained a tight formation. But in this narrow corridor, their numerical advantage was doomed to be useless.