Lance Charging on the Arkship, but Without a Mount

The Rising Reunion Movement: Chapter 93: Where Did the Horse Come From??

It was already late. Hellagur was preparing to take his leave, but Hart had no intention of going. She gripped the doorframe with all her strength, desperately resisting her father's attempts to pull her away. Her powerful fingers even sank into the wood along with her nails, producing a piercing creaking sound. Seeing Hart's face flushed red from holding back, yet still stubbornly refusing to leave, Claude could not help but speak up.

"It's already this late. Why don't you stay here tonight? There are plenty of rooms here. I'll have someone arrange them for you."

Hellagur wanted to decline, but Hart's eyes immediately lit up as she looked at him pleadingly. The stern expression on Hellagur's face lasted only a few seconds before softening. He sighed, worried about his willful daughter, but still said to Claude,

"Then we'll trouble you, Mr. Claude."

"Please don't stand on ceremony, Mr. Hellagur. You are Hart's father, and I will give you my complete trust. From now on, you may come and go from this city hall freely. If anything happens at your clinic, you may report it to me at any time."

Claude made him a solemn promise. He never made promises lightly, but once he did, he always fulfilled them. So far, there had not been a single exception. The city hall gradually fell quiet in the dead of night. The soldiers' shouts seemed to come from a thousand miles away, faint and indistinct. Yet Hellagur could feel the weight of those words even more clearly. He had once been a general himself, so he naturally understood what such a promise meant.

He gave Claude a solemn nod, showing that he understood his promise.

After a long voyage, Chernobog finally reached its intended destination. To bring the city to a stable stop, its speed had to be reduced gradually. The deceleration process alone took four full days. During that time, a large number of technicians had to work in close coordination, following a series of complicated procedures to slowly reduce the speed of the mobile city's movement mechanisms.

The Reunion Movement soldiers experiencing this process for the first time did not know what was happening. Thus, when the violent shaking began, they all thought a Catastrophe had struck and scrambled out of bed.

Char also sprang up at once. He did not even have time to put on his armor. He simply grabbed his axe, threw open the door, and rushed outside. His duty was to protect his general. The general might not need his protection, but to Char, it was the most important thing in his life. He had no idea what was causing the violent shaking, but he had to get his general out of the building.

He reached the general's room at top speed and pounded anxiously on the door. Strangely, it took quite a while before Claude came to open it. After learning why the soldiers had gotten up, Claude did not know what expression to make. However, he had more troublesome matters to deal with at the moment, so he gave Char a few instructions and told him to calm the soldiers down.

After learning the reason, Char was no longer anxious. Just as he was about to leave, though, he suddenly stopped in confusion, pricked up his ears, and listened carefully.

"Was that an illusion? Why did I hear hooves striking the ground just now?"

But he soon stopped paying attention to it. This was the general's room, after all. What could possibly be wrong? He should hurry and carry out his orders. He could not let those people form up outside in the middle of the night and wake all the nearby residents.

Let us turn back the clock thirty minutes. Claude had been sleeping soundly in his bed. A third-rank transcendent could fully control their body, so they would not make the little movements ordinary people did in their sleep, nor would they make any unusual sounds. They were quiet to an excessive degree.

At that moment, Claude's arms and legs were entirely tucked beneath the blanket as he lay flat on the bed. There was not a single fold in the blanket, as though it covered a corpse. Only his calm, long breathing drifted through the room.

Yet Claude was having an extremely strange dream, strange enough that he thought that Black Snake had returned to cause trouble again. After many knights reached the third rank, they suppressed their mental activity so they would no longer dream in their sleep. Claude did not approve of that practice. In his view, dreams were meant to relax the mind. People were not machines. Suppressing soldiers too harshly would deal a heavy blow to their mental health.

So although he was dreaming, Claude clearly knew that he was inside a dream. He suddenly realized that he was galloping across a vast grassland. That in itself was nothing unusual, but he was shocked to discover that what raced across the plains was not his armored legs.

When he lowered his head, all he saw were long horse legs covered in black fur, along with black hooves trampling the grass as they sped forward. He stopped involuntarily and examined himself carefully before realizing that he seemed to be a horse now.

At a thought from him, a vast lake appeared out of nowhere on the grassland. He walked to the lake and used his reflection in the water to observe his current appearance.

What entered his sight was an exceptionally majestic warhorse. Its developed muscles rolled beneath smooth, lustrous fur like silk as its body moved, radiating a terrifying sense of power. The long mane on its neck nearly hung down to its chest, fluttering softly in the prairie breeze. Its four long, sturdy legs stood rooted in the earth like wooden posts. Above its long, muscular neck sat a perfectly proportioned head. Golden lightning gleamed in its spirited eyes, spilling from their sockets and crackling through the air.

If Claude had encountered such a horse back when he was a knight, he would have willingly paid thousands of gold coins for it. He had never seen such an extraordinary warhorse. But if he himself had turned into one...

He carefully searched his sea of consciousness and confirmed that no unlucky Black Snake was causing trouble. Only then did Claude relax and treat the scene as a particularly unusual dream. Setting aside the strange sensation, his current state was quite novel. He could not resist galloping across the grassland again.

Once he calmed down, he realized just how much horses had sacrificed for the sake of running. Every inch of this creature's body had been designed for that one purpose. As it ran, there was not the slightest sense of obstruction. Even the wind that passed by seemed to sing for him. In that exhilarating sprint, he crossed one stretch of wilderness after another and left the setting sun behind at the horizon.

This kind of free, aimless running was addictive. He did not know how far he had gone. There was no such thing as endurance in a dream, after all. Then a violent knocking at the door suddenly woke him from his dream.

The Rising Reunion Movement: Chapter 94: Oh No, I Became a Mount!

Claude was awakened by the knocking, and his expression immediately turned serious. Unless it was necessary, his captain of the guard would never wake him while he was asleep. There had to be an emergency. He immediately got up and started toward the door, but after only two steps, he suddenly heard hooves striking the floor behind him.

He turned around in surprise and saw an utterly bizarre sight. The majestic horse from his dream was standing right behind him, and it had turned its head in exactly the same way he had. The extraordinary warhorse was so large that it nearly filled the entire room, yet its movements were incomparably stiff—just as stiff as Claude's.

For a moment, even the air seemed frozen. Only the lightning spilling from the warhorse's eyes crackled in the air.

Claude had no idea how such a huge horse had appeared in his room without making a sound. Its behavior was incredibly strange, and within his domain, it felt like a stone—without any trace of life. That was why he had not noticed it when he got up.

As Claude stared at the warhorse, all sorts of thoughts flashed through his mind as he analyzed and sorted them. Then a spark of insight exploded in his mind. The possibility astonished him, but it was also the most credible explanation at the moment. He tentatively moved his ankle, and the black warhorse indeed began shifting its hooves as well.

Claude suddenly felt something wondrous, as though his body had split into two. Whenever his mind issued a command, both bodies moved together. At that moment, he seemed to be both a person and a horse, with two legs and four hooves.

He tried to control this sensation and merge the two bodies into one. The majestic black warhorse before him gradually turned translucent until it finally vanished into the air. Only then did he return to his usual state.

The knocking became even more urgent. To keep Char from breaking down the door, Claude could only open it first. After opening the door, he finally learned why Char had panicked and why the soldiers had assembled in the middle of the night.

He rubbed his brow helplessly. This really had been his oversight. He had not arranged for anyone to tell the soldiers what to watch out for once the city arrived. But he had a more important problem to solve now. Where had that horse come from? If he did not figure it out, he would not get any sleep tonight. Thus, he could only instruct Char to call the soldiers back.

Only after shutting the door did Claude resume his experiment. He recalled that strange sensation from earlier and tried to find the warhorse within his mind. It was not difficult. It was as though he had mastered a special ability overnight. The black warhorse gradually took shape before him.

He could not resist reaching out to stroke the strange creature, but the warhorse also lifted one of its hooves at the same time. Claude frowned. It seemed that any thought he formed would be carried out by both bodies. If that was the case, many of his thoughts would be impossible to realize.

He began trying to control both bodies at once, making the warhorse refrain from following whenever he moved. It was extremely difficult, like splitting his mind in half, and it brought intense pain. But Claude's tenacious will drove him onward.

Thus, a strange scene unfolded in the room. One man and one horse made bizarre movements beneath the light of the two moons outside the window. Their actions looked deeply unsettling. If anyone had been lucky enough to witness the scene, it would surely have left an indelible impression on them. The sound of hooves stamping the floor also rang out endlessly from the room.

The moon slowly sank, and the morning sun began to shine upon the earth. At last, Claude achieved his goal. Looking at the warhorse before him, which no longer mimicked his movements whenever he moved, he finally let out a long breath.

Staying awake all night did not affect him much. He still looked full of energy. Claude curled his lips into a smile as a bold idea suddenly came to him. But it could not be done indoors, so he pushed open the door and walked outside.

The moment he stepped out, he happened to run into Talulah, with Margaret beside her. The two women were about to greet Claude when he excitedly called for them to come outside with him, saying that he had found something interesting.

The two of them had nothing pressing to do, so they followed Claude out. Claude walked briskly, but he went to the logistics department first.

"A beast saddle? General, what do you need one for? We don't even have any pack beasts here."

Skov stared at Claude in surprise. The other man had rushed in just now and immediately demanded a beast saddle along with all the matching equipment.

"Just go find one. If there isn't one, make one. Don't worry, it'll definitely be useful."

Claude kept them in suspense, leaving the three people beside him confused.

The Reunion Movement did not actually have the kind of beast saddle Claude had described, since most pack beasts were used to transport goods. Their saddles were naturally unsuitable for riding, so one had to be made on the spot.

Fortunately, with the industrial equipment in the city, making a set of tack was very easy. They used leather to make the seat and filled it with elastic composite material. Before long, they had produced an excellent set of equipment. Considering the issue of weight, the saddle itself was made from black composite material, ensuring sufficient strength while remaining lightweight. Skov had even added golden scrolling patterns to it, lending the entire set an air of elegance.

Then, beneath everyone's expectant gazes, Claude gathered his focus and began summoning the warhorse.

Sure enough, the moment the black warhorse appeared, it drew cries of surprise. Not only the three of them, but several passing soldiers were drawn over as well. They whispered among themselves as they stared at the majestic creature. Claude picked up the saddle from the ground and swiftly fitted it onto the warhorse.

Only then did he turn around. Seeing everyone's astonished expressions, he could not help laughing. The warhorse beside him also let out a neigh, snapping the stunned group back to their senses. Yet Claude smacked his forehead in annoyance.

"Lost control again..."

Before anyone could question him, he put his foot into the stirrup and swung himself into the saddle. Only when he reached out and grasped the reins did he realize they seemed unnecessary. He did not need reins to control the warhorse. The horse would move according to his will anyway.

Come to think of it, does this count as riding myself?

The Rising Reunion Movement: Chapter 95: My Beloved Horse (Definitely!)

Claude sat firmly in the saddle and guided the warhorse forward. Its heavy hooves struck the lawn as it began trotting at an unhurried pace. Claude skillfully lowered his body and urged it to accelerate. The warhorse's long legs moved faster and faster, while its long mane fluttered in the wind.

The logistics department was located beside a stadium, so Claude directly rode the horse into it. The enormous warhorse charged through the stadium gates with astonishing momentum, leaving passersby staring dumbfoundedly in the direction he disappeared.

Meanwhile, Claude was astonished by his incredible speed. At full gallop, the black warhorse was not inferior to any mechanical vehicle. It was even faster than most vehicles, and even now, he did not feel the slightest sign of exhaustion.

That was right. The warhorse consumed his stamina. Since it seemed to be something split from his soul, it ultimately meant that he himself was still doing the running—just much faster than before. What surprised him even more was that the horse had real mass. Its hooves left prints in the turf, proving that it possessed a terrifying weight.

With his weight added to that of the warhorse, if they struck an enemy at their current speed, the impact would be unimaginably terrifying. This was precisely why knights were unstoppable on the battlefield. So long as they maintained their formation, they could use their overwhelming momentum to break through enemy lines and open a breach for their side.

The Human Empire's aerial knights were undoubtedly the rulers of the battlefield, but their numbers were few. The true backbone of the Empire's knights, the main force responsible for tearing apart enemy lines, was still the traditional shock cavalry. Claude's legion had quite a few such knights, after all. There were fewer than ten thousand aerial knights in total, and the First Legion naturally included other branches as well.

These knights were equipped with the pinnacle of Imperial alchemical technology: alchemical warhorses. These creatures were cultivated in alchemical vessels from the embryo stage onward, with every stage of their growth meticulously regulated. Even every bone in their bodies was replaced with sturdier materials. The result was those enormous beasts, each capable of wearing heavy armor and carrying a fully armed knight while charging at speeds over eighty kilometers per hour. They never tired, feared no pain, and could be called the finest shock mounts.

Claude had once been very interested in those powerful war beasts, but ultimately abandoned the idea for no other reason than Hart's jealousy. Still, controlling a griffin was not all that different from controlling a warhorse, and this horse moved according to his will besides. There was no difficulty at all.

On a whim, he guided the horse to leap onto the nearby stands and walk along the narrow edge. Its four hooves landed precisely on the edge, only three inches wide, without making a single mistake. It moved across the dangerous high platform as though walking on level ground. Then, relying on muscle memory, he pulled the reins, and the warhorse leaped directly from the ten-meter-high stand. The instant it landed, it stamped several deep pits into the ground.

With a light squeeze of his legs against the horse's flanks, the warhorse sprang from the ground, jumping three or four meters high before landing lightly again. He enthusiastically controlled the warhorse as it performed all sorts of movements across the field, while Talulah and Margaret, who had followed him, watched his strange antics.

A handsome black knight sat atop a majestic black warhorse. They looked so harmonious together. Knight and mount were linked by thought, achieving perfect coordination in every movement. The sight was filled with a breathtaking attraction. Soldiers and civilians alike were unconsciously drawn over, while the soldiers voluntarily formed a cordon to keep the civilians outside.

Everyone stared curiously at the black beast. It looked vaguely familiar, yet no one could say exactly what it was. Still, the creature's beautifully coordinated limbs drew involuntary admiration from them, especially its glossy black fur glittering beneath the lights and its powerful body. It possessed a beauty that transcended race.

"Alright, it's time to test the next thing."

As he spoke, Claude drew a spear from behind him and joined its two sections together, forming a lance more than three meters long. He tied the warhorse's reins to the saddle so that he could use the lance with both hands. Then he took the winged helmet at his waist and put it on. He called over a soldier, gave him a few instructions in a low voice, and patiently waited where he stood.

Breathing inside a helmet was always somewhat inconvenient. Much of the moisture exhaled from his mouth and nose would bounce back from the helmet, and his voice would sound especially loud. The narrow viewing slit before his eyes was an essential sacrifice made for defense. Ordinary people found it difficult to wear a helmet all day, but it posed no problem for Claude. Moreover, whenever he put on a helmet, he entered a unique state. His mental focus became intensely concentrated, and his mind grew more active. It was more like a form of psychological suggestion.

Soon, a steel target was placed on the field. A strong soldier hammered it deeply into the ground, and everyone else withdrew, leaving the entire field to Claude.

The sports field was five hundred meters long. Claude looked at the steel target at the far end of the track and urged his warhorse forward. The horse started slowly on the rubber track, but it went from slow to fast in only a few seconds. In the blink of an eye, it became a black whirlwind.

At that moment, Claude did not tuck the lance beneath his arm. Instead, he raised it overhead and controlled it with both hands. This technique was suited for striking down at enemies from above. His feet pressed into the stirrups as he firmly pinned himself to the saddle, locking himself and the warhorse together.

The five hundred meters vanished in an instant. The warhorse had not even reached its maximum speed before it passed the target. At the exact moment, Claude thrust out his lance. The lance drove downward without the slightest obstruction, directly piercing through the steel target and pinning it to the ground. He then shifted the butt of the lance forward from above his body and used the horse's speed to pull the blade free in a single motion.

Relying on pure force, his lance had effortlessly pierced the steel target as if tearing through a sheet of thin paper. He had not even felt much resistance. This was the terrifying destructive power brought by the warhorse's massive weight and incredible speed. In the past, even a casual strike from him could never have achieved this.

Although he did not know why he had undergone such a change, it did not seem like a bad thing for now.

He swung down from the warhorse. The instant his feet touched the ground, he strangely felt unreal, as though the warhorse had practically become his legs.

A pair of fair, slender hands marked with calluses rested on the warhorse's bridge of the nose. Margaret stared intently at the animal before her. It looked remarkably like an Ancestor—not quite, perhaps it was another form of ancestral manifestation. When people on this continent fully activated their Originium Arts, a phantom sometimes appeared behind them, but no phantom had ever taken physical form.

"Want to try riding it?"

Margaret turned around at once. Claude was looking at her with a mischievous grin.

The Rising Reunion Movement: Chapter 96: A Horse Riding a Horse?

Chernobog was an extremely unusual city. It was not driven by Originium energy, but powered by the mysterious Sarcophagus. This spared it the troublesome Originium contamination issues found in ordinary mobile city reactors. When its engines, which had run for an entire month, began to slow, they did so far faster than ordinary Originium-powered engines.

The massive city came to a stop in a valley. This had long been its chosen mooring site. It was not only sufficiently hidden, but could also receive various supplies from neighboring Kazimierz.

Workers were busy throughout the city. Every time the city completed a move, it had to undergo a major inspection to prevent problems the next time it began moving. This concerned the lives of everyone in the city, so no one dared to be careless. The entire city entered a state of martial law, with fully armed soldiers patrolling everywhere against potential saboteurs.

The white-haired Kuranta girl sat atop a billboard. This was the tallest building in the city, and with her exceptional eyesight, vast areas of the city lay fully exposed before her. During the city's journey, in order to prevent any remaining supporters of the Ursus Empire from causing trouble, Centaurea had been assigned to patrol the city and eliminate that possibility.

The job was extremely demanding. Although every unit of the Reunion Movement cooperated with her, the city was simply too large, and inspections took a great deal of time. Thus, she had barely seen Claude these past few days. Claude had plenty of work himself, after all. There were countless matters in the city requiring his attention every day.

But today, her task was finally over. The city had reached the Reunion Movement's base, and a large number of soldiers would be sent in to maintain order. Once that happened, she would no longer need to work herself so hard every day.

She stood and stretched lazily, causing her thick fur cloak to slip from her arms. Centaurea slung her longbow across her back and began brushing dust from herself. Next, she intended to return to her dormitory, clean herself up properly, and then go find Claude.

She fastened the cloak made from the beast Claude had hunted back over her shoulders, then could not help looking toward city hall in the distance as she murmured to herself,

"I wonder what Claude is doing right now. He must be working very hard."

"Isn't this your Originium Arts manifestation, Claude? How am I supposed to ride it?"

The knight was clearly astonished. In her view, an Originium Arts manifestation possessing physical form was already shocking enough. Yet other people could actually use it?

"Just get on. I can control it."

At that moment, Claude was like a boy who had found something fun and wanted to share it with others.

In the end, her trust in Claude won out. Margaret copied Claude's actions, putting her foot into the stirrup before somewhat awkwardly swinging herself into the saddle. She then looked around curiously, as if she had never seen the world from such a perspective before.

"Generally speaking, to ride one of these well, you only need to keep your balance and avoid falling off. It sounds simple, but it requires strong physical coordination. Still, I don't think that'll be a problem for you."

As he spoke, Claude began guiding the black warhorse. Under the operation of his will, the warhorse slowly began walking forward. Margaret learned very quickly, as though it were an instinct in her body. Her hands took hold of the reins, and she began skillfully guiding its direction.

As the warhorse began racing around the field, an irrepressible smile appeared on her face. Kazimierz knights were called knights, but they basically had no mounts. They relied entirely on the powerful legs of the Kuranta to carry out all kinds of tactical missions. Even for an outstanding knight, controlling a mount was still a novel experience.

Talulah, also curious, stood before Claude and watched Margaret ride the black creature. The two had the same ears and tail, which looked a little strange at first glance.

After running continuously for around ten minutes, Margaret finally stopped, still wanting more, and guided the warhorse to halt beside them.

"I wonder what caused this phenomenon. If we could replicate those factors, it could have enormous potential..."

Talulah began thinking aloud. With this warhorse, Claude's combat power had increased by more than a single level. If every Reunion Movement soldier could do the same, it would be an extraordinary breakthrough in their military strength.

Claude knew nothing about it either. The only information he could offer was that he had had a strange dream. Thus, they quickly stopped wasting their minds on it. Without enough information, no amount of thought would accomplish anything.

Claude reached out and stroked the warhorse's long mane. Its smooth, warm texture felt like fine silk. It did not look like a creature made of flesh and blood at all, but rather a meticulously crafted work of art.

The warhorse made no response. It was more like a machine now, a machine that moved when given commands. Its eyes, obscured by lightning so that their true appearance could not be seen, added an air of mystery to it.

Claude removed the saddle, reins, and other equipment, then dismissed the warhorse. Aside from the hoofprints left in the grass around them, there was no evidence that a fine warhorse had ever galloped there.

"Alright, we've played enough. I still have quite a bit of work to do, so I need to get to it."

Claude slung the saddle over his shoulder and waved goodbye to his companions.

The Rising Reunion Movement: Chapter 97: Powerful Yet Declining Ursus

Saint Petersburg, the greatest city of Ursus. A city built from steel, stone, and the unyielding spirit of the Ursus people. No city had ever possessed such an imposing appearance. Towering black buildings seemed ready to pierce the clouds, not to mention the massive black walls that seemed to connect heaven and earth. They were covered in countless artillery pieces, enough to make even a battle-hardened general shudder at a glance.

In the morning, the enormous golden bell at the city's center began to ring. Its clear peal passed through the clouds and echoed throughout the city, waking everyone still asleep. Yet within the most exalted and noble building of Ursus—the Emperor's palace—there was not the slightest clamor of human voices. Because of its master's restrained fury, it had fallen into a strange dead silence.

The palace guards began opening the massive gates. The operation of metal hinges and mechanical connecting rods produced considerable noise. The engines ran at full power, finally opening the two-meter-thick metal gates bit by bit.

Fully armed black-clad soldiers marched out in neat formation. The sound of their heavy combat boots striking the ground was perfectly uniform, carrying a distinct rhythm. Like a sheet of black cloth, without the slightest distortion, they moved beyond the city walls and began relieving the comrades who had stood watch through the night.