Chapter 295

Chapter 295: Total Exposure

"Your Excellency, the Saint, we’ve found peculiar wreckage delivered by the Vanguard ship," Bishop Marlan reported with reverence.

Within mere hours, this prominent figure of the Sea of Clouds had been reduced to a mere errand boy. Yet he worked tirelessly, interpreting every task as proof of the Saint’s favor.

Behind the bishop, burly guards hauled a massive crate into the sealed alchemy laboratory. Inside lay the shattered remains of a heavenly unmanned aircraft.

The machine showed no weathering from millennia of exposure—its pristine condition suggested recent deployment. Most telling were the fresh gouges revealing Sky Sea’s latest armor-piercing bullets embedded within. The gleaming metal fractures showed no oxidation, indicating destruction within the past week.

The usually haughty Saint’s hands quivered imperceptibly. This evidence pointed to unimaginable treasures hidden in the Dusk Graveyard—perhaps even an operational sky warship. How else could drones remain functional for millennia without maintenance or command sources?

Every action of the Narwhal now made sense—their initial posturing, feigned treasure retrieval, and diversionary retreat were elaborate ruses to stall. Bishop Marlan and the warship captain already guessed the truth: their enemies had secured the ancient warship at the graveyard’s heart and were relocating it.

"The Rothschild Guild dares deceive me?" The Saint’s psychic roar shook every mind aboard. An invisible Mind Storm swept the bridge, staggering even level 60 practitioners. "I’ll drain their skulls dry!"

When the mental onslaught subsided, his ice-cold command followed: "Recall all teams within twenty minutes. Full speed to the graveyard’s center. Obliterate obstructions with cannon fire—no disassembly."

None dared question the impossible deadline or risks of structural collapse. Deathly silence gripped the bridge as crewmen scrambled to obey.

The Magic Griffin warship’s engines roared to life after days of cautious cruising. Flames erupted from its stern as the behemoth lunged forward like a starved predator.

Four hours had passed since Midi’s communication with Emil began.

"Four hours." Hidden within the warship, Midi frowned. The enemy’s reaction outpaced his worst projections. This Saint proved more dangerous than anticipated—sharper, stronger, utterly ruthless.

Even for an Awakened One of Extraordinary Awakening, the coming battle promised severe trials. The thought lingered despite Midi’s disciplined mind.

However, no matter how difficult things got, a leader couldn’t afford to retreat. His only choice was to charge forward without looking back!

"Time to act?" Reinhardt stood ready nearby, his bright eyes blazing with fighting spirit. The fourth prince had clearly prepared himself for battle.

"We strike now," Midi answered.

At this accelerated speed, even with wreckage blocking the path, the Magic Griffin warship would reach the graveyard’s center within half an hour.

Once there, The Saint’s telepathy would sweep the area, leaving no place to hide.

The worst outcome would be the Wind King Warship’s destruction.

No—the true disaster would be the crew falling under mind-related abilities, letting the Blue Truth Sect seize the Wind King Warship itself!

The moment of crisis had arrived.

They had to stop the Magic Griffin warship’s advance.

Boom!

Ten minutes later, as the warship plowed relentlessly forward, a thunderous roar erupted from its left wing.

Black smoke billowed upward as white flames burst from the wing’s interior.

An engine had exploded.

The sudden speed loss sent the eighty-meter warship lurching violently. Crewmen staggered on the bridge. With uneven thrust, the warship veered sideways, slamming into a nearby wreck and triggering chain collisions.

Midi and Reinhardt had made their move.

They’d chosen the simplest approach—direct attack.

Over hours of observation, Midi noted minimal patrols beyond guarded key areas. Within ten minutes of The Saint’s decision to charge the graveyard’s heart, they’d struck an engine room in the wing.

Enough magic crystals could’ve destroyed the entire wing. But infiltrators carried only swords—no explosives.

The arsenal? Taking a military stronghold with two men was impossible.

The Saint’s presence meant limited time.

When Midi first swung his sword at the engine room guards, he felt The Saint’s telepathy pierce through iron walls.

By the time six guards lay dead, The Saint’s mental grip had tightened irrevocably.

Even meditative focus couldn’t shake this psychic leech now.

Icy numbness flooded Midi’s body. Golden-Red Sword Lights swirled around him, yet inner cold remained. His tongue tasted bitter—psychic energy’s assault, wholly alien to magic.

Only the sword soul—the mysterious demon god within his Dragon Sealing Sword—offered resistance.

The Saint’s total focus on Midi left Reinhardt disregarded, deemed unworthy.

"Stick to the plan," Midi said tersely, leaving the burning engine room for the wing’s depths.

Reinhardt nodded silently, vanishing into shadows in the opposite direction.

Two Demon Swordmen advanced like armies deploying for battle.

Midi’s mission: disable engines.

Each wing held multiple engines, including backups. To cripple the warship, three engines on one side needed destruction—slowing it enough for the coming aerial combat.

One engine down. Two remained.

Enemies would swarm soon, making movement impossible. Speed was vital.

But contingencies mattered too. What if The Saint confronted him directly with mind-related abilities? How then to stop the warship?

"Your turn then, Reinhardt," Midi muttered, glancing back down the passageway. "Prince of Light, future Emperor of Darkness… don’t fail me."