Why Did You Summon Me?

Chapter 563: What The Hell Just Happened?

Translator: EndlessFantasy Translation Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation

Haydyn’s sorcerers began to search the route taken by the logistics train. While that was underway, the Pope, who was still in the Holy City, received his first bad news.

The corners of his eyes twitched uncontrollably, and he turned to the archbishop, who came with the report, and said with forced calmness, “This is an insignificant loss! Its effect on the outcome of the war is negligible. There’s no need to report something this trivial to me; I trust that Sir Aaron will be able to handle it.”

“B-but Your Holiness! Sir Aaron’s response was to order all sorcerers to search the route for any booby traps. This will take a long time and require a lot of manpower, including Master Haydyn’s men. I’m worried that this will lay over all other plans,” the archbishop quickly replied.

The upper echelon of the Church had long since decided that the sorcerers would play a critical role in the siege of Arfin, and in the defense of Fort Praxidike. If every one of them had to partake in this long and arduous search, who would be left to carry out the real mission? The plan to attack the city was going to be postponed. In fact, other operations would likely be postponed as well until the troops in Fort Praxidike could clear the logistics route.

“Don’t we also have some independent sorcerers, who were hired by the nobles?” The Pope asked, voicing the only solution he could think of.

“They were all deployed to help in the search. Our logistics route is ten miles long,” the archbishop replied. “All of this could have been prevented if we had a short-distance transporter portal to deliver our supplies. But the supervisor of that department was determined to give us a hard time.”

The Pope sneered. “Is there anything else to expect from someone that sold their soul to that devil? That Grant still harbors delusions that those demons can win this war! Tsk. No matter. We’ll ask the sorcerers to be quick with their current operation. Our plans are flexible; there is a long window of time for unexpected delays like this. We’ll allow them enough time to establish the safest route possible for our logistics teams. After all, not only does this affect the morale of our army, but it also affects how the angel will join the battlefield when they grace our defiled realm with their presence,” the Pope said.

In Arfin city, the Voidwalkers’ soldiers were still baffled at the apparent lack of result from the Archmage’s attack, completely incognizant that it had successfully derailed the enemies’ plans and tricked them into wasting their time and resources searching for booby traps that were never there. If the army knew, they would have gotten a lot more fired up.

Alas, no one could be the fly on the wall to watch the Church’s army fly into a panic. Instead, as the anticlimactic silence went on, the soldiers only became more and more daunted.

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“Psst, what the hell are you doing, Engineer Walker? Why are there suddenly technical issues, dang it?” The Archmage frantically whispered as he felt hundreds of eyes burning his back.

According to the Voidwalkers’ plan, the Archmage’s demonstration of the Void’s “magic of the next-generation” was to be the starting act followed by the EngineerWalker’s and the Blacksmith Walker’s demo to show off the Void’s technological revolution, but it was becoming clear that the show was lacking the expected pizzazz. First, the Archmage’s choice of a spell, though fitting in terms of functionality and range, resulted in an unobservable and anticlimactic end; now, right when it was the Engineer Walker’s and the Blacksmith Walker’s turn to keep the ball rolling, they were suddenly stopped by “technical issues”, causing the dumbfounded soldiers to stay back awkwardly for whatever they were supposed to see.

As a matter of fact, it was this lag between the Archmage’s attack and the Void Geeks’ demo that had allowed the Church the breathing space to learn about the first attack before coming up with a response. Otherwise, the Pope could be disappointed over two bad news in one shot.

The overcast of embarrassment was thickening. The army’s motivation was already pretty low before the performance had started, but now it had reached such a nadir that the soldiers could turn water into ice with their impassion.

“Hey now, no rushing us technicians and our delicate job! We’ll be done soon, and it’s totally the Blacksmith Walker’s fault. He was the one with the bright idea of changing some of the parts with different models right before we are up, and now we can’t get this babe started on time. Still, there’s nothing to worry about; our troubleshooting is almost complete... Oh.”

The Engineer Walker’s half-apologetic rambling was cut short by his partner, who gave him a quick sign that says everything was ready.

“Finally! Allow us to demonstrate the future of Engineering — the hybrid born from a group of pioneers who dare cross the technological frontiers of Isythre with the out-there, futuristic concepts from Earth. Behold and herald the coming of a new dawn!” The Engineer Walker announced dramatically, waving his hand to a few of his students who had opted to contribute to the war.

On cue, the students took up their positions around the strange contraption.

It was a towering weapon, spotting a long, rod-like mouth supported by two large brackets on each side. The upward angle of the rod-like mouth reminded casual observers of a very strange-looking frog staring at the sky; those who were familiar with Earth’s weaponry, however, would instantly see its semblance to a high-power howitzer. There were six of them lined up on a row, mirroring the typical number of an artillery battery in Earth warfare.

With his eyes on the real-time images captured by Tinkerbell the dragonfly drone, the Engineer Walker spat a series of numbers to a very attentive Blacksmith Walker and the students. In return, they responded by turning the knobs on the control panel, adjusting the position of the 203-mm firing mouth to the right angle.

The mouth of most land-based artilleries on Earth would probably spot 122 mm or 155 mm mouth, so one could only wonder about the Blacksmith Walker’s consideration that pushed him to adopt a size as wide as 203 mm. [1]

One by one, the students’ voices rang. “Elevation angle calibrated!”

“Shells loaded!”

“Adjustment to account for wind velocity and ballistic trajectory completed!”

“Time to give these church boys a taste of the Lord of War! Fireeeee!” The Blacksmith Walker roared as he slapped on the trigger.

Instead of the expected barrage of deafening booms, the six magically-powered howitzers let out muffled “Pop! Pop!” as if they were just six massive champaign bottles being opened simultaneously. The sound of the shells cruising at high speed became their saving grace, however, since they managed to emit a dreadful, foreboding whoosh mirroring their Earth counterparts.

The sound of the shells attracted the attention of both the Void’s and the Church’s soldiers.

“Are you hearing what I’m hearing?”

“Sounds like arrows or something...”

“Look! Over there!”

The Void’s soldiers swarmed towards the battlement on top of Arfin’s city wall and craned their necks at the sky, their eyes tracking whatever those things were along their arc before they rained on Fort Praxidike. They could even see a few clouds escaping from the wall of the fort under the pelting force.

“Er, I think we just hit them with a sort of catapult. Not that I can tell accurately; it’s too dang far from here,” an archer said, looking into the distance through his magically-enhanced eagle eye.

“Catapults? From our side? Where are they located at? Because I don’t recall any catapult capable of flinging any projectile over this large of a distance.”

“You nuts? You can see the rocks if they were being sent by catapults even from this distance with your naked eye!”

“Besides, that goddamned fort is still standing even after that attack. I didn’t even know catapults this lousy and impotent exist!’

Another chorus of the same shrill whooshes drowned out their voices as the battery fired off another round at the same target.

There were no sparks nor explosions when the shells hit; one might even mistake them for large, novelty rocks raining down from the sky. The assaults were so nondescript that even the Church, despite being the target, only discovered they were under attack after the sixth round.

“What in the name of God is this?” A crusader wondered as he studied a shell lodged deeply into a crack on the wall. One end of its body was exposed and blinking rhythmically.

“Are we, um, under attack?” Another crusader asked out loud when he noticed another shell stuck on the wall. “Is this a supersized arrow or a new weapon entirely?”

One of them even mustered enough courage to touch the projectile. He described it as being neither cold nor hot and would have been no different from pebbles if not for its rhythmic pulses.

It was so unthreatening that timid Church soldiers let out a few chuckles of relief while the more foolhardy ones jeered. “Other than that blinking light, this thing doesn’t do anything! Seriously, a magical fort like Fort Praxidike isn’t going to deflate just because of some toys like these!”

As the Church derided their enemy’s ineffective strikes, one of the dragonfly-shaped scouts was resting on the highest vantage point of the fort, its head methodically turning around to capture every data point before sending them back to the Engineer Walker.

“Yep, that looks about enough. If not, we’ll just fire a few more rounds later,” the Engineer Walker said after squaring the numbers.

He gave his final command to that particular dragonfly.

It shot into the air above Fort Praxidike and flapped its wings faster and faster until they were practically vibrating into a blur. Every single shell embedded on the wall, scattered on the floor, or buried in the earth around the fort began to blink faster and faster as if they were trying to synchronize with the frequency of the dragonfly’s wings. A low hum began to fill the air.

Then the unexpected slammed down onto the Church’s army like a truck: suddenly, loud, deafening booms erupted one after another as Fort Praxidike, previously standing tall, sturdy, and imposing, crumbled in a cascading fashion before collapsing into the ground without so much a warning.

It happened so quickly. A few blinks of an eye and a landmark was utterly wiped off from existence like a sandcastle drowned under a well-timed wave, leaving only a flatland when the water receded. Soldiers, caught without a sliver of second to react, were instantly down under the ensuing chute of mud, rocks, and bricks.

The Void’s army watched the scene unfolded in horrified awe. Before they could recover from their shock, the Archmage’s rousing voice penetrated their daze, “Open your eyes and behold! This is the result of blending advanced techniques and raw power!”

The soldiers turned to him, too bewildered to celebrate their first victory. “That was us? But we didn’t do jacks***!” Someone cried.

Instead of wasting his time giving a Physics 101 class on resonance, the Archmage continued loudly, “Our numbers may be lower than our enemies, but we that possess an advantage our pitiful opponents can never surpass, even with grossly inflated manpower: powerful, unpredictable techniques! Strategies that not only tip but flip the entire scale to our favor! The eyes do not deceive; what you’re witnessing today is but the first of our many crushing victories. From the fall of the Church’s fort onwards, you’re now a witness to a battle that rises above all others that were ever recorded in history!”

The men could not really wrap their heads around the Archmage’s words, but the commander-in-chief’s tone was at least rousing enough as his words sounded impressive. So, a few of them offered some polite applause and scattered cheers that drifted through the majority’s silence.

It became apparent that even after seeing an irrefutable proof of their side crushing their foes, the soldiers’ motivation was still below the Archmage’s liking. It rubbed the First Walker off enough that he silently grouched about the Duke’s troops being secret defeatists. Regardless, he went on in spite of the lack of roaring celebration, “Fine. Everyone, return to your post now, though I guarantee all of you that our enemies will definitely not attack us for the rest of today. As for tomorrow, well! If they have the balls to come close to us instead of walking away, I still have a lot of thrilling demonstrations of true power for all of you to see.”

Though no one could say definitely that the Church would forgo their onslaught tomorrow, it was still easy to see that they had taken an incredible toll today. All it took was one morning to lose one-fifth of their logistics and a fort they had built just yesterday. Not only that, but two million soldiers inside Fort Praxidike also became unavailable — even before they raised their weapons — due to death or grave injuries.

The worst part of the fiasco was that no one knew why anything happened. The enemies had done nothing but hid behind the wall of their little city, too terrified to even ride out of their gate, Yet it was the Church who had suffered a massive loss!

General Aaron, the Paladin Grand Cross, was rubbing his temples furtively before turning to VP Haydyn beside him. “Master Haydyn. Would you like to offer some insights as to what in tarnation has just happened?”

“M-m-maybe they managed to, uh, come up with some ways to disturb the magical fortification systems of the fort?” The sorcerer stammered. Every ounce of his previous confidence had leaked out of him and replaced by doubts and confusion.

He had heard rumors about mysterious projectiles falling off from the sky minutes before the collapse circulating among the survivors, but his mind could not connect the dot between that and the sudden fall of a one-day-old fort.

“Could it be...” the Paladin Grand Cross exhaled. “The magic you and your people used to build the fort malfunctioned?”