Chapter 204

Chapter 204: Reconnaissance and Preparation

The Undead army seemed overwhelmingly strong. The Undead giants’ regenerative power was astonishing, and the Humanoids could still control their stone seats even after death, making up for the Undead’s slow speed. Together, they formed a formidable force.

But appearances were deceiving.

The Undead had two fatal weaknesses: holy light and flame.

During the Gilded Valley battle, the Dragonkin army had relied on Elemental Arrows and wandering gunslingers, leaving them helpless against the Undead giants.

But after learning the Delos Empire’s tactics, Midi wouldn’t let the Dragonkin keep using such ill-suited gear. He’d replace their equipment entirely—even overhaul the army’s structure.

Any competent commander would do the same.

Once the Dragonkin swapped to blessed silver weapons, holy water to repel Undead, and reinforcements like paladins and Blue Fist Saints arrived, Midi could crush any Undead—Humanoids, giants, or otherwise.

Of course, there was a slim chance the Empire’s Alchemist Guild had created flame-resistant, holy-light-immune Undead automatons.

But in Midi’s past life, from the Forest of Gran’s burning to his death two decades later, no Necromancer ever achieved this. Even with the butterfly effect, Midi doubted Wiseman could pull it off.

If the Empire truly had flawless Undead, why waste time scheming on the West Coast? They’d just revive millions from ancient battlefields and drown Arad in corpses. Not even the Hawk Brigade could stop that.

Clearly, the Empire’s Undead remained fragile. Targeted strikes would reduce them to ash.

Why would Wiseman Newton, the legendary "Hand of Nightmare," stake the Empire’s future on such flawed tactics? Midi needed answers—so he went to see for himself.

Leading an elite Dragonkin team with Xena as guide, Midi reached a Humanoid tribe recently attacked by the Empire. A level 50 Necromancer—not Wiseman—had commanded the assault.

No complex tactics here. The Undead charged head-on.

Humanoid weapons—spears, poison darts—did little against regenerating corpses. As the tribe fought desperately, the Necromancer unleashed Hundred Demons Night Parade. Holy beetles burrowed into flesh, devouring souls.

Mid-battle, enemies became allies. New Undead Humanoids—including their lifeless chieftain—joined the Necromancer’s ranks, shuffling off to their next battle.

A simple, brutal victory.

Yet Midi spotted something odd.

“Looting everything and burning the evidence? This isn’t an Undead army’s style. It’s bandit work,” he muttered, stepping over rubble.

“Maybe they needed the weapons?” Xena suggested. “Humanoid techniques rely on gear. The Empire might’ve taken it all.”

After months alongside humans, the sharp-witted female Dragonkin warrior no longer called them “humans.” She used names now, understood Arad’s factions. “Delos Empire” stuck hardest—their greatest foe.

Midi shook his head. “Taking weapons doesn’t require this mess. Torching the place to hide loot? Wiseman’s searching for something.”

Midi had hidden his hunt for Aether Stones by raiding every mine, mining recklessly despite shortages—creating chaos to mask his goal.

This ravaged camp told him Wiseman was doing the same.

Outwardly, the Necromancer amassed an Undead horde by conquering tribes. In truth, he sought something specific. To cover his tracks, he had mindless Undead strip settlements bare, then burned everything—muddying the trail for anyone piecing clues together.

The mere presence of these cover-ups confirmed Midi’s suspicions.

Yet the most crucial question remained unanswered: what exactly was "Wiseman of the Hand of Nightmare" collecting?

As Midi pondered, his magical communications bracelet trembled. A single line appeared: "Island mission complete."

"Retreat," Midi ordered immediately. "Xena, keep monitoring the Necromancers. I’m heading back."

Understanding enemy tactics was wise, but strengthening one’s own forces mattered more.

The completed island mission meant the two-seater Skyship prototype on Deep Rock Island was ready. Eager to see if this flying vehicle could become his trump card like in his past life, Midi rushed back through the rift.

The Hawk Brigade’s conflict with the Empire had intensified. While both sides cautiously tested each other in the Sea of Three Towers, the West Coast saw daily naval warfare.

Deep Rock Island, the Hawk Brigade’s main base near a stable rift, had transformed completely. Magic and technical crews had erected multiple deep-water docks, a massive repair shipyard, and bustling production lines churning out ironclad ships.

From the island’s high point, the ironclad fleet patrolled like shark packs across the sea. At Wells and Kelvin’s command, these ships either ambushed invaders with cannon fire and brutal ramming tactics or actively hunted targets.

Norton’s alchemical factory now sprawled across the island – laboratories, testing grounds, workshops, and parts assembly lines operating nonstop. A specially-built wind tunnel dominated the complex, its giant pipe structure generating controlled air currents for flight experiments.

There, parked at the tunnel mouth, sat a six-meter Skyship. Its mithril-alloy hull gleamed silver like a leaping dolphin. Wingless, it had stubby front fins housing landing wheels and twin front cannons resembling shark fangs. The streamlined craft radiated lethal speed even at rest, like a throwing knife poised to slice through air.

"Well? Not bad, eh?" Norton grinned as Midi stared. The alchemist knew he’d impressed the notoriously demanding genius commander.

"Impressive," Midi admitted.

"We molded Aether Liquid-filled Rings into tail thrusters," Norton eagerly explained. "Front fins hide six rapid cannons. The belly carries torpedoes or bombs. Added a detection magic array in the nose for target-locking during high-speed attacks."

Wells interjected proudly: "My design meets both wind-tunnel specs and aesthetic standards. Your thoughts, sir?"

"Excellent," Midi said. "But why one seat?" He distinctly remembered requesting a two-seater – pilot and gunner team for aerial combat.

Norton exchanged knowing glances with Wells. "Simple," the alchemist declared. "This Vanguard ship needs just one operator!"