novelraw Chapter 912: Massacre (2)
Chapter 912: Massacre (2)
Chapter 912
***
"Man... Did you hear the news?" a guard asked his fellow sentry, shifting his weight.
They stood atop a small watchtower of some sort, positioned strategically inside the towering gate that surrounded their settlement.
The structure was quite high, enabling them to see far beyond the massive gates shielding their town from external harm.
Behind them, the daily life of the town unfurled.
Carriages rolled across the cobbled ground as the streets opened up a few dozen metres away from their watch post.
Sellers called out to passers-by, urging them to inspect their wares, while families walked around quietly and calmly under the afternoon sun.
A few dozen metres further into the heart of the territory, a massive mansion stood prominently on elevated land, overlooking the commoners.
"What news?" a second guard questioned the first.
There were five guards in total within the tower; two of them maintained a diligent watch over the horizon, while the other three were lazing about, drinking from open bottles.
Each of them was a mage, though their discipline had clearly waned.
"That Lord Cedric of town Kiten is dead?" the first guard replied.
One of the drunk guards looked up, his eyes glassy.
"Dead? Really? Hahaha... the Lord’s wishes have finally been granted after so long."
A fourth guard lifted his bottle with a mocking smirk.
"Now all Lord Bale has to do is swoop in and take control over the town. Soon, we will be more powerful than any other settlement in the region."
The first guard looked ahead worriedly, his grip tightening on his spear.
"Why do I feel like the lord has a hand in this?"
The third guard shrugged indifferently.
"Who cares? This sort of thing happens on a daily basis, so why worry? If he manages to seize control of the town, the lord will be much richer, and our pay could finally be upgraded."
The second guard scratched his chin as he peered up at the heavens.
Something was bothering him; the sky looked quite different than it should at this hour.
A hint of unnatural darkness, maybe?
Squinting as he studied the gathering clouds, the second guard whispered,
"Why do I feel like a storm is coming?"
CRACKLE! BANG—!
A massive pillar of lightning screamed down from the sky almost immediately, causing the guards’ eyes to widen in sheer horror.
The ear-shattering bang rang out for miles as every single person in the vicinity was forced to clap their hands over their ears to block out the roar.
BOOOOM—!
The pillar of white-hot lightning crashed into the watchtower with vengeful force, shattering the stone and wood, turning the entire structure to splinters.
The three drunk guards were caught completely unaware as the high-voltage sparks electrocuted them from the inside out.
Foam spilled from their mouths as their nervous systems overloaded.
Their bodies went limp instantly, falling amidst the burning debris of the once-towering post.
The other two guards who had been keeping watch were quick enough to react, wrapping themselves in the earth element to lessen the impact of the strike.
But their defensive measures didn’t mean they avoided the fall.
"Wh—what’s that?" the first guard pointed upward as they free-fell through the air.
Something—or someone—could be seen descending from the sky.
As the figure neared, his features became slightly visible.
Flapping red robes whipped in the wind, and a strange wooden mask obscured his face—a mask that looked like it was made for children participating in a festival of scares.
He landed on the second guard’s head smoothly as the man fell backward.
Brown eyes burned with a cold, lethal intensity from behind the wooden slits.
The figure glanced down at the man he stood upon.
Instantly, flames crackled around his feet, consuming the guard and turning him to ash in a heartbeat.
The first guard’s eyes widened in total horror at the ruthless display.
Before his own body could even hit the ground, a massive wind sword screamed from the skies.
It crashed into his chest with thunderous force, ripping his ribcage open and causing a brilliant spray of blood to spritz into the air.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
The bodies crashed onto the pavement with heavy, wet sounds, followed by the individual who descended so smoothly that the surrounding dust barely stirred.
The townspeople looked on in a paralyzed state of shock and confusion.
Everything had unfolded within a few frantic heartbeats; they hadn’t even found the time to register the threat, let alone formulate a decision, so they simply stared.
Hundreds of civilians occupied the streets—not their total population, but a significant portion of the morning crowd.
The figure scanned the masses, his gaze cold behind the wooden mask as if he were gauging the weight of every soul present.
Before he could move, the rhythmic thunder of boots echoed against the stone—more guards were rushing toward the breach.
These mages arrived with elemental energies coiling around their limbs, prepared to unleash a counter-assault.
The figure counted roughly thirty mages closing in.
As they surged forward, he simply lifted his hand and snapped his fingers together with a sharp, resonant crack.
Almost instantly, the sky plummeted into shadow.
The sudden darkness caused the guards to halt their charge, their heads snapping upward alongside the terrified civilians.
Horror spread like a contagion at the sight above.
Hundreds of shimmering wind swords and jagged lightning arrows hovered in the atmosphere like a canopy of destruction, poised for a lethal descent.
With a casual flick of his wrist downward, the projectiles screamed through the air, accelerating toward the gathered crowd below.
"Scatter!" the mages shrieked in a panic.
But the warning was futile.
Bang! Bang! Bang! BOOOM—!
The magical ordnance crashed into the town with cataclysmic force, followed immediately by a choir of screams.
The projectiles rained down in successive waves, crumbling stone structures, tearing through the formation of guards, and catching the fleeing civilians in the crossfire.
Walking forward with a measured, calm gait, the figure passed through the heart of the widening devastation.
The attacks didn’t fall all at once; they descended in rhythmic volleys of dozens, systematically dismantling the town’s defenses and its people.
Tchaaak—!
A wind sword slammed into the skull of a man attempting to leap for cover.
Blood pooled onto the cobblestones as the masked figure continued his advance, refusing to spare even a glance at the carnage.
The screams of the wounded, the thunder of collapsing buildings, and the frantic, half-finished chants of dying mages intertwined into a symphony of ruin.
A mage suddenly charged him from the side, desperate, with half a dozen wind blades coalescing around his frame.
Before the spells could fully form, the figure swung his hand forward.
A translucent yellow blade screamed through the air with blazing speed, embedding itself deeply into the mage’s neck.
The man froze mid-step, his eyes bulging.
Blood sprayed through the air like a macabre fountain as the figure stepped past the dying man without breaking his stride.
"Weak."