Chapter 209

Chapter 209: The Battle of the Floating City

When the Undead army emerged, all members of the Hawk Brigade fell silent.

Midi had prepared numerous countermeasures—flame bombs, fire arrows, holy light projectiles, blessed crystals, holy water, and more. The anti-Undead equipment was comprehensive.

He had also specifically summoned Lilian, a commander who had fought alongside Midi, Fina, and Alice for over two years. Now leading an elite squadron of Blue Fist Saints, her role was to counter the Undead assault.

Yet despite these preparations, a tense atmosphere permeated the ranks.

The sheer size of the Undead army was staggering.

The Sky City assault force consisted mainly of two thousand warriors from the Dragonkin tribe, supplemented by Belmar’s elite troops, vanguard ship pilots, and a handful of high-level alchemists—barely over three thousand in total.

But the Delos Empire’s Undead horde numbered over ten thousand.

Three thousand against ten thousand—even with optimal countermeasures, victory wasn’t assured. Worse, many among the Undead were hulking Undead giant puppets, each as formidable as ten ordinary soldiers.

This would be a brutal battle. A single breach in the defenses could trigger total collapse and annihilation.

Behind the Undead ranks stood a thousand Imperial soldiers—fully armored elite warriors radiating killing intent, handpicked from the Empire’s best.

As Midi observed the swarming Undead and their confident Imperial overseers, his unease grew. What troubled him wasn’t the enemy’s numbers, but the strategy of Wiseman Newton, the "Hand of Nightmare."

Would this unpredictable foe truly resort to conventional tactics now?

Though the ten thousand Undead seemed terrifying, Midi remained confident of victory. Surely the cunning "Hand of Nightmare" could foresee this outcome.

After lengthy preparations and staking the Empire’s fate, would he truly rely on mindless Undead for a doomed battle?

The "Hand of Nightmare" Midi knew—the death-puppeteer who’d manipulated nobles and generals across lifetimes—never engaged in futile efforts.

Yet despite his suspicions, Midi couldn’t discern Wiseman’s true plan hidden within the Undead ranks—a realization that gnawed at him.

During their brief reconnaissance, the Necromancers drove the Undead horde through the Floating City’s ruins, charging toward Star Mountain.

"Attack. Multiple points of breakthrough." Midi’s voice regained its usual calm.

Allowing the Undead to reach their fortifications meant instant defeat. Though wary of hidden schemes, they had no choice but to strike first.

Banners waved. Magical communications flashed. The three thousand elites of the Hawk Brigade launched their assault.

The force instantly divided into columns—black spearheads stabbing into the Undead sea. From prepared fortifications, catapults and ballistae unleashed torrents of flaming stones and silver-tipped bolts.

Under combined ranged and melee attacks, the Undead’s weakness surfaced.

These mindless automatons moved only by Necromancers’ commands, their actions guided by crude instinct. Confronted with flame and holy attacks, they instinctively recoiled, creating chaos that left them vulnerable to the charging vanguard.

Though Nightblade Panthers couldn’t survive the pure magic environment—keeping Midi’s favored Nightblade Leopard Cavalry grounded—the Dragonkin’s penetrating power rivaled any human or Elven cavalry.

Guided by Midi’s commands, the Hawk Brigade’s columns sliced through the Undead horde like coordinated blades, carving out sections of the enemy formation to be crushed against the fortifications.

Soon, over a thousand Undead puppets—including numerous giants—lay destroyed.

Though casualties mounted among the Hawk Brigade, maintaining this momentum would break the Undead line before the Dragonkin and humans exhausted their stamina.

Unlike living armies, Undead formations stayed loose and sluggish. Penetrating their ranks proved simpler than breaching paladin shieldwalls. With each Dragonkin charge, the horde’s cohesion deteriorated faster than their numbers—already down by a tenth.

At this rate, the next strike wouldn’t target Undead at all, but plunge deep into their ranks to eliminate the true threat—the Empire’s Necromancers.

Dead Necromancers meant the horde would revert to ordinary monsters, easily diverted or ignored.

This was the classic anti-Undead tactic: multiple breakthrough points.

It wasn’t about wiping out the enemy entirely, but eliminating the core Necromancers to claim victory.

Leveraging the Dragonkin’s battle strength, Tanius’s devastating power, and tailored weapons, Midi pushed this tactic to its limits.

As the battle situation shifted, the Imperial army seemed to falter. The Undead army’s movements grew chaotic, while soldiers in the rear appeared restless, itching to join the fray.

“Commander, should we deploy the reserves?” Kelvin’s eager voice crackled through the magical communications.

Any competent commander knew this was no longer about breaking formations but striking decisively before the enemy regrouped.

Yet Midi hesitated.

“Commander?” Kelvin repeated, puzzled by the silence.

Midi Asreks hesitating? Unthinkable.

Even a central assault wasn’t reckless—if the Dragonkin failed to break through, they could retreat to the fortifications. Minimal risk.

“Gather the central Dragonkin warriors for a test charge. Retreat the moment they breach the enemy lines! Tanius and Dickson—flank the sides but stay shallow!” Midi finally ordered.

“…Sir?” Kelvin blurted.

The order felt unbearably cautious.

“Do it. You’re overseeing the battlefield now.”

“And you?”

“Preparing the ‘Hawk Wings.’” Midi strode toward the fortifications’ rear, jaw tight.

Beyond lay a hillside landing zone where 127 pilots waited in Vanguard ships, ready to unleash fiery devastation.

Though baffled, none questioned the genius commander—not even surly Tanius, who grumbled, “What’s this guy plotting?” before leading his Dragonkin flank.

The 300-strong Dragonkin center surged forward like a sharp sword.

The fragmented Undead crumbled under their assault, defenses pierced within moments. Soon, the Dragonkin neared the heart of the formation—where dozens of Necromancers stood exposed.

The robed figures chanted urgently. Magic arrays flared beneath the Dragonkin’s feet before they could strike, and the Necromancers vanished like smoke.

“Teleportation arrays?” The Dragonkin captain tensed. She’d considered disobeying to hunt more targets, but now primal dread gripped her.

“Fall back! Now!”

Too late.

The sluggish Undead suddenly moved with feral speed, eyes blazing crimson.

Above the Floating City, black shapes sliced through the White Clouds—too fast to track—casting Death’s shadows across the battlefield.