0128 Warcraft Demolition Squad

Boom—

Unlike the earth elemental attack one might have expected, what struck Lance was a pale, nearly transparent gust of wind magic. The middle-aged beastman beside Lance furrowed his brows and stepped forward two paces, ready to shield Lance Lotte from the blow. Although most beastmen could endure such attacks, for the recently injured and weakened Lance, who had just completed the Beast Staff’s Rite of Mastery, both countering or withstanding this strike would exact a heavy toll.

But before the beastman could take his first step, Lance Lotte preemptively halted him, blocking his advance. The swirling wind, infused with its master’s fury, swiftly approached Lance’s front. Its focus was unmistakably aimed at Lance’s wounded arm, the force of the magic seeming capable of twisting the entire limb off.

Lance Lotte made no move to dodge. A faint, inscrutable smirk curved his lips, and the cold, unyielding gaze he had maintained so far softened just slightly, as if melting. Completely relaxed, he stared straight ahead toward the room before him, utterly disregarding the deadly spinning wind. He didn’t conjure any protective shield, nor did his arm budge from its position, as if resigned to whatever torment the wind might bring.

Both the human and beast armies felt the overwhelming power of the wind magic instantly. The beast army, seeing their prince threatened so gravely, began to gnash their teeth and roar, eager to teach the humans present a brutal lesson in retaliation. However, their commander—the middle-aged beastman—blocked them without exception, forcing them to vent their frustration with growls directed at the recently surrendered human forces.

The human soldiers were caught in a painful dilemma. On one hand, they wished the wind would simply strangle this spy, Lance Lotte, ending it all swiftly. On the other, they feared that if Lance truly died, all the efforts General Andy and the veteran General Girard had made to protect their lives would be for naught, leaving them only to face slaughter. Both generals understood this well; if possible, Andy even longed to stand up and shout toward that room, “Stop it, someone!” But neither time nor his physical state permitted such an impulsive act. Andy could only smile wryly, resigned to await fate’s verdict.

All eyes—human and beast alike—were fixed intently on the powerful spinning wind hurtling toward Lance Lotte. Their focus equaled that of a high-stakes final gamble, and the once-boisterous “Rite of Mastery for the Lance Staff” fell silent, save for the sound of the rushing wind. The fierce gust approached Lance’s arm without any obstruction, drawing ever closer. Every living creature present held its breath, watching for the moment the wind would strike.

Whoosh— The powerful swirling wind brushed past Lance’s arm, skimming his cheek before blowing off toward the horizon.

The wicked smile frozen on Lance’s lips melted away. The hearts of the human soldiers and beast army alike all dropped back into their chests as they exhaled in unison. The middle-aged beastman, whose advance Lance had forcibly halted, patted his chest in relief, while his other hand subtly waved forward. Instantly, several beastmen understood his signal and surged toward the origin of the wind magic.

Lance’s face darkened at the sight. His immediate impulse was to intercept those two charging beastmen, but before he could voice it, reason forced him to swallow his words. His right hand gripped the staff tightly, as if clutching his only salvation. The faint thaw in his eyes froze solid again, the curve of his lips vanished, and he concealed every trace of emotion, transforming back into a formidable, impenetrable iceberg.

Howl! Boom! The beastmen charged the building without hesitation, demolishing the obstructing structure utterly. Their efficiency, speed, and swiftness in tearing it down embodied the lofty ideal of every demolition crew: fast, good, and economical. Yet, while their destruction was swift, the culprit’s escape was even swifter. As the beastmen neared the building, they found no trace of human presence or residual magic—just a pristine structure lying there, innocent as a newborn without a hint of guilt. Frustrated and powerless to take it out on the fleeing culprit, the beastmen resorted to tearing down the house itself to vent their anger.

“It seems they got away,” the beastman commander reported to Lance Lotte, bowing respectfully. “Your Highness, shall we pursue?”

“Enough,” Lance waved dismissively, his eyes no longer fixed ahead. His tone shifted quickly. “Rather than waste time on that, let’s focus on the reconstruction of Akasia.”

Meanwhile, elsewhere, the true culprit behind the “hurricane incident” was frantically fleeing.

Having silently listened to Lance’s oath from the other side of the window, she had braced herself to die right there. Mortally wounded and heartbroken, she had never realized how utterly failed her life in this strange world was. Her power was forbidden, her identity a secret (and even if revealed, no one would believe her), the person she loved was a liar, her friends were either dead, injured, or scattered, and even the place she called home had been overrun by beastmen.

So, when she saw the human army standing defeated in the square, at the mercy of the beastmen’s slaughter, an overwhelming impulse to end it all surged within her. Overwhelmed by despair, dizziness from blood loss, and drained magical energy, she closed her eyes, willing herself to slip into eternal darkness, never to witness this cursed, wretched world again.

Yet, fate rarely bends to one’s wishes.

Just as she collapsed unconscious, the four-elemental mage’s powerful auto-repair ability saved her once more. Various magical elements slowly converged upon her body. Because she had previously undergone a large-scale natural magical restoration by chance, her body had unknowingly become a vast reservoir capable of effortlessly absorbing and harnessing magical elements, aside from her staff and magical artifacts. This acquired advantage allowed her to instantly repair herself—wounds healed, magical energy replenished, vitality restored—making it nearly impossible for her to remain unconscious.

Once again, unfortunate timing marked her awakening.