Chapter 51
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Chapter 51: Night of the Hunt
A heavy sword, a heavy mount, a heavy strike.
True to its name, this strike carried mountain-splitting force. Even magicians ignorant of swordplay recognized its devastating power, none daring to face its edge.
The level 35 chief magician wore two Ice Shields and held high rank, yet had always been shielded by knights while serving as living artillery. Never had he stood frontline against flashing blades or intense gunfire.
Before the sword even struck, panic gripped the chief magician. He abandoned his incantation, triggering an emergency teleport. But Midi saw through the combat-inept mage’s intentions.
Mid-air, Midi pivoted using the Blood Fang Panther’s momentum, leaping again for double acceleration!
As the teleportation spell completed, the blade struck empty air. Wind howled where steel met earth, splitting the ground and shaking the battlefield.
Reappearing thirty meters away, the chief magician paled – both Ice Shields lay shattered.
A glancing blow held such power?
The mage trembled imagining direct contact. Emerging through smoke and debris, Midi appeared as the Killing God incarnate to the mage and his apprentices. The blood-caked greatsword froze their thoughts with primal terror.
Midi’s assault never faltered. Missing his target, he vaulted onto the landing panther and charged again. This time, escape proved impossible.
"Glacies!" The chief magician’s shout summoned an Ice Wall.
Useless.
Steel flashed. Ice shattered.
Beads of cold sweat formed as the mage unleashed his final defense – a Magic Missile’s blue sphere.
Midi’s blade shattered the projectile mid-air.
Hunter closed on prey.
The blood-drunk greatsword rose, its edge swallowing light. Down it fell, shearing through flesh and bone in crimson spray.
"Second." Midi’s mental tally clicked.
Though spearheading the charge earlier, he now hung back as Nightblade Leopard Cavalry pressed their advantage. These wandering gunslinger variants wielded Spinning Blades and crossbows with equal ease. Against robe-clad Elementalists lacking defense, a single anti-magic bolt through the heart sufficed.
Why close-range slaughter when efficiency reigned?
As both commander and primary attacker, Midi shed frontline duties for richer prey: those nine-hundred-meter striking chief magicians.
Normally, a Demon Swordman faced immense difficulty approaching level 35 chief magicians – endless Heavy Knight guards compounding their extreme range. But tonight’s chaos left Crimson Flame Legion’s mages exposed. The fog’s thirty-meter visibility crippled their ranged supremacy, higher levels suffering greater impairment.
The perfect hunting ground.
"Three o’clock. Three-twenty meters."
The crow’s rasp announced its return to Midi’s shoulder.
Fog Demon "Feast of Night" blanketed all. Mist Sorceress Alice’s flawless tracking merged with Midi’s demon-given magic sense. No chief magician’s energy signature escaped detection, despite concealment spells.
Alice always provided coordinates.
Midi shook the blood from his greatsword, ignoring the two fleeing magic apprentices. He swiftly mounted his Blood Fang Panther and raced toward the next hunting ground.
“Your status?” he asked while riding.
“Holding them.” The Mist Sorceress Alice’s reply was crisp.
Through his meticulous nature and deep understanding of Alice, Midi instantly grasped her meaning—not merely delaying, but fully suppressing the 2,500-strong Crimson Flame Legion with her 1,700 Elven warriors.
Impressive.
The Mist Sorceress wasn’t just defending. She split her consciousness between commanding the Fog Demon through her crow familiar and guiding Midi via magic fluctuations—all while dominating two battlefields twenty kilometers apart. To effortlessly suppress the famed Crimson Flame Legion under these conditions wasn’t just remarkable—it defied imagination.
Though Midi had witnessed Alice’s capabilities in his past life, seeing someone he cared about grow this powerful still tugged at his lips in a proud smile.
He could vividly picture General Red Fox’s rage upon learning of the base assault. In reality, General Porter Joseph wasn’t just furious—his face had drained of color. Magical communications blared urgent reports: Midi Asreks, the Sais family’s prime target, was personally leading Nightblade Leopard Cavalry through his headquarters.
Who then commanded the Elven army?
Where had these bizarre magical creatures emerged from?
The general found no answers.
Meanwhile, the black-haired girl opposing Belmar Duchy’s famed commander floated serenely beneath her dark canopy, calmly observing every battlefield detail before issuing precise orders.
The Night Demon “Shadow Cloak” devoured moonlight and starlight, plunging the battlefield into oppressive darkness. Clumps of shadows rained down periodically, disorienting Crimson Flame soldiers while Elven blades and arrows struck unimpeded.
Devil’s Vine snared legs and impaled foes from below. Devil’s Flowers launched volleys of spores into enemy clusters from the camp’s heart.
As for the Elven army? Their fervor needed no explanation. Though mid-battle leadership changes usually spell disaster, their new commander was Alice Otolopas—the forest’s true sovereign. Her authority dwarfed even Midi’s hard-won prestige. These prideful Elves who scorned humans followed her every order without question, their morale peaking.
Against this hybrid force of unfamiliar Summoned Beasts and battle-ready Elves, the Crimson Flame’s numerical advantage meant nothing. Night Vision Abilities and the Shadow Cloak’s control effects crippled the Legion’s renowned battle strength in darkness.
What began as a night attack to drain enemy resources had become a desperate defense—even with General Red Fox personally directing.
While the Crimson Flame’s raiding force retreated under heavy losses, Midi had already cleared most objectives.
“Fourth…” he counted.
His Blood Fang Panther crouched alertly nearby, ears pricked.
Before them lay a level 35 chief magician—body crushed into the earth, only his terror-stricken head intact. Midi’s greatsword had flattened him in three minutes, the mage failing to complete a single high-level incantation.
Crimson Flame mages excelled in group tactics, not rapid duels requiring flawless reactions—a weakness Midi exploited ruthlessly.
Four targets eliminated. With only six chief magicians in the Legion, removing two more would neutralize their tactical magic threat. While not aiming to eradicate all, Midi saw no reason to stop while time permitted.
“Targets at nine o’clock (530m) and twelve o’clock (460m),” Alice reported. “Guarded by Great Swordsmen battalion and Heavy Knights/Thrower teams respectively.”
The nine o’clock target seemed feasible.
As Midi urged his panther forward, the beast suddenly crouched low, muscles coiled, emitting warning growls toward the mist-shrouded distance.
