Chapter 196

Chapter 196: The New War

Six shadows.

Six Demon Swordwomen.

Just like the three Midi had encountered during the noble war, these women all bore snow-white hair, corpse-pale skin, and icy, emotionless eyes—they resembled puppets crafted solely for battle.

The only difference lay in their levels.

Two years prior, the Demon Swordwomen Wiseman created through human experiments were only level 30. Even when boosted by secret techniques, they barely reached level 35.

But now, the six on the beacon platform had all reached the peak of level 50. Midi could clearly sense the immense waves of pure magic radiating from them.

“Kill our little friend,” Wiseman ordered coldly.

Though his two subordinates were useful, sacrificing them to eliminate Midi was a fair trade.

His earlier caution and the summoned Empire fleet were mere distractions. If intimidation failed, revealing his true trump card mattered little.

Beneath his carefree facade, the Necromancer was a ruthless strategist.

To him, everyone—ally, enemy, or subordinate—were just pawns to exploit.

Now, he saw a chance to sacrifice a pawn to claim the general.

The six Demon Swordwomen dissolved into shadows, gliding toward Midi like mist on the sea wind.

Though not swift, their movements sealed all escape routes. As they advanced, dark energy coalesced in Wiseman’s hands, ready to strike.

But a weathered spear suddenly slashed through the air, its arc tearing a luminous rift and halting the attackers.

“Not bad,” drawled a haughty voice. “All infused with pure magic. Finally, some fun.”

Tanius flung off his disguise, revealing crimson scales, a lashing tail, and twin horns.

“Dragonkin!” Wiseman’s smirk vanished.

This seriousness came not just from Tanius’s power, but the implications. Had Midi Asreks breached Sky City? Allied with its mightiest Dragonkin?

For the first time, Wiseman felt his “balanced game” was a crumbling endgame.

“There’s more,” Midi said, stepping forward.

Xena emerged behind Wiseman, her blue scales gleaming, spear raised. Twin horns crowned her brow.

“You die today, Wiseman Newton,” Midi declared. “I killed you once. I’ll do it again.”

His Starfall whip cracked like thunder, a blue streak slicing the air.

In Arad Calendar Year 986, as the West Coast’s Sea King Festival raged, the battle for Sky City erupted—the continent’s first true war in centuries.

On Sea King Island, Midi Asreks, Belmar Kingdom’s “Sword of Victory and Guardian,” clashed with the Delos Empire’s “Hand of Nightmare,” Wiseman Newton. Meanwhile, Belmar’s ironclads and the Empire’s Dragonbone Warships tore into each other.

Within an hour, the Flying Sail Family’s three early ironclads sank. Six of Belmar’s fifteen ships were crippled, while half the Empire’s twenty warships lay at the ocean’s bottom, the rest battered and bleeding.

As molten steel and shattered dragonbone wreckage churned across the sea, with cannon fire and lightning flashes whipping up towering waves, Sea King Island had already become soaked in blood.

Battles between those possessing pure magic were beyond ordinary people’s comprehension. Apart from the Dragonkin and those Demon Swordwomen, no one—not even level 50 peak-level warriors—could withstand a single strike from Midi’s Breaking Army Rising Dragon Whip or survive Wiseman’s casually cast wide-range undead spells.

The comfortable and accustomed family heads struggled to even escape during this clash of experts, reduced to mere cannon fodder. After just a few skirmishes, over half the people on the beacon platform had vanished. Only a handful of family heads protected by swarms of servants managed to flee the platform, cowering in random corners like frightened rabbits.

Pincered between two Dragonkin and Midi, the opportunistic "Hand of Nightmare" could barely defend himself. Four of his six meticulously trained Demon Swordwomen fell in battle, while the remaining two suffered heavy injuries. At this terrible cost, Wiseman finally activated a teleportation magic array at the last moment, escaping Sea King Island alive.

Though the Hand of Nightmare’s retreat marked Belmar’s victory, Midi remained vigilant.

The true war had only just begun.

While naval control remained crucial, land battles would determine the overall situation. Geographically, the distance between Belmar Kingdom and the West Coast proved problematic—even three-masted clippers required over half a month to sail from Belmar’s deepwater ports to the West Coast islands.

Meanwhile, the Delos Empire directly bordered the West Coast. Should they invade, imperial troops could reach Faero Bay’s gates in just ten days. Though Midi considered requesting help from Queen of Magic Fina or Mist Sorceress Alice, the Empire had clearly anticipated this.

The day after the Sea King Festival battle, war smoke rose again in the Forest of Gran along Belmar’s border—untouched by conflict for months. Sixty thousand expeditionary troops and twenty thousand royal guards surged through the forest passageway, launching simultaneous attacks on Belmar’s border fortresses.

This was clearly the Empire’s strategic diversion. Yet if left unchecked, this feint could become genuine invasion. Belmar Kingdom had no choice but to deploy most forces to the border against eighty thousand imperial troops, while Queen Fina Hamilton remained anchored in the capital to maintain morale.

Simply put, the colossal Delos Empire could attack two fronts simultaneously, while the newly unified Belmar—fresh from civil war—could only defend with a single fist.

The troops Midi could actually deploy for Sky City operations were pitifully few. Though he’d gained early advantages in searching Sky City, allied with Dragonkin, and driven Wiseman to retreat during the Sea King Festival, these victories meant little.

The Delos Empire could lose a hundred battles yet remain Arad’s supreme power. But one Belmar defeat meant losing the West Coast and being barred from Sky City for years.

This was Midi’s harsh reality.

Still not enough…

Midi sighed silently while reviewing Faero Bay battle reports. He’d spent months elevating Lionheart Arena to Faero Bay’s premier training ground, cultivating skilled disciples and experts while building alliances across commerce, maritime affairs, and martial circles. As Belmar’s envoy, he’d promised reinforcements and autonomy to assemble an army.

Yet this force crumbled within a week after the Sea King Festival. Only Lionheart disciples remained, retreating to Southern Sea islands. Zhenlu Arena had played dirtier—the Empire’s Alchemist Guild mass-produced level 40 experts while stationing level 50 Demon Swordwomen with pure magic to launch relentless assaults.

Though Midi’s tactics inflicted heavy enemy casualties, the power gap proved too vast. Urban warfare favored individual prowess over his strategic command, dooming them to defeat. With imperial regular troops now approaching Faero Bay, victory seemed impossible.

Even with reincarnation experience… still insufficient…

Midi stared at the Faero Bay sand table bristling with Delos Empire banners, sinking deep into contemplation.