Chapter 290 : Annihilation
Chapter 290: Annihilation
The news that noble titles were about to be finally conferred spread across the entire Kingdom of Greenwood in an extremely short time. At once, the nobles hastened to gather their legions.
Even though more than one and a half million fishmen still roamed across this land, no one cared anymore.
The firm foothold already established, along with the news from the three great knight orders that Fishman Deep Divers were being hunted down, convinced them that this eastern expedition would ultimately end with the fishmen’s complete extermination.
At this moment, legitimacy and claims over territory became critically important.
Moreover, over the past six months, every time the Senate granted titles and rewards, they almost always came in close succession. This gradually fostered a measure of trust in the Senate’s governance among the nobles.
Knowing in advance what merits they would ultimately be awarded—who wouldn’t feel both delighted and anxious at the same time?
The eastern expedition’s main forces seemed to be waiting for them to prepare, for they did not advance until a full month later.
Richard rode upon his Dragon-Eagle, wielding his Dragon Spear, soaring through the skies as he relentlessly hunted down Deep Divers.
On the ground, the three main legions advanced separately, pushing along ballistae and medium-sized catapults within their ranks, moving forward in a slow but steady arc-shaped formation.
The Oath Knights and the Doyle Knights both mobilized fully, spreading out to the left and right.
Knights had their own squires, most of whom were trained cavalry capable of fighting on horseback. The two earls, in their magnanimity, had even provided them with half-armor. These squires followed closely behind their knights.
Rumbling thunderously, the two knight orders—each nearly three hundred strong—charged like sweeping tides, scattering large clusters of fishmen. Behind them followed numerous mercenaries and smaller knight bands to slay whatever fishmen slipped through.
They acted like whips, driving the fishmen to gather in the middle.
Meanwhile, the main legions pressed steadily forward. In the south, after nobles gathered their coalition forces, they attempted to charge into the Marshlands.
But they were struck back brutally by the fishmen’s counterattack, suffering heavy casualties.
Helpless, they retreated once more, choosing instead to butcher the scattered fishmen between themselves and the main legions.
…
With no more Fishman Explorers left, Richard continued slaughtering Deep Divers from the skies.
Without these high-ranked fishmen, the remaining low-ranked ones were like headless mobs, utterly chaotic, and were herded toward the designated location by the legions.
It was a towering cliff, below which stretched the endless sea.
Over the course of nearly a month, the encirclement tightened layer by layer. Countless fishmen were trapped here—half a million of them—surrounded by a massive inverted net woven by over ten thousand humans.
Richard had the clearest view from above.
The densely packed fishmen covered the land like a gray stone slab. Beyond that slab was a thin, tattered-looking film encircling them.
“In the absence of their superiors, they don’t even realize they should break out. With this many of them, if they picked just one direction and dared to charge, at least half could escape. They could even annihilate one of our battle groups.” Richard sighed.
“This is the way of survival for the fishman race,” Crulud replied. “Stripping away the wisdom and strength of countless lowborns to nourish their powerful upper ranks.”
“But I don’t feel like those Deep Divers were that strong,” Richard said.
“Think back three years ago,” Crulud countered. “When you first encountered them, their bodies could endure the blows of your Dragon Spear. Just three Deep Divers were enough to wear you down to death.”
“That was three years ago. In that time, I’ve grown immensely stronger,” Richard replied.
“That hardly counts as a qualitative transformation,” Crulud muttered.
“But the fact is I can now slay them with ease. No matter their numbers, we can escape whenever we want,” Richard said firmly.
“Or perhaps they have grown weaker. Now even a few knights can surround and kill them,” Crulud admitted, its voice tinged with fear.
Its own strength had stagnated for a long time, and thus it could keenly sense the weakening of the fishmen.
As a long-lived magical beast, it also knew far more than most.
Richard patted Crulud’s back lightly. “Don’t overthink it. We’re the ones who’ve grown stronger. Our knights have grown stronger. After swearing the Oath, we have no reason to fear the Deep Divers. This is exactly what everyone wishes to see—and what we should believe.”
Crulud rumbled softly in response.
Richard gripped his Dragon Spear with both hands, his voice rising. “It’s time. I will claim the first merit of this eastern expedition!”
Crulud roared in reply, flapping its wings as it dove down, unleashing its breath upon the Deep Divers within the fishman horde.
Behind the legions, four colossal catapult phantoms appeared. Countless Candies were volleyed forth, exploding at the fishmen’s edges, scattering flesh and blood everywhere.
Though these were merely Giant Catapults powered by magic-infused gemstones—rather than earth-vein extractions—their effect was still like a vicious lash across the fishman ranks.
A piercing screech erupted—the terrified screams of fishmen. Packed tightly together, those at the edges were shoved into the sea.
Though fishmen, they were exiles of the sea. Falling into the waters was like sparks landing in oil—they hissed into white steam, while blood spread out beneath.
“That fish has arrived too?” Crulud sensed Salvador’s magical aura, then rose sharply.
A tremendous blast erupted by the shore as a colossal beast surged from the sea. Its maw gaped wide, biting off a chunk of the cliff along with nearly ten thousand fishmen in one gulp.
The bite left behind a steep slope, almost as if to help the fishmen enter the sea more easily. The masses tumbled down in droves.
“Salvador has good teeth,” Richard praised.
“All that soil in its stomach will turn into magic,” Crulud remarked.
“Then you’re saying it can survive by eating dirt?” Richard asked.
“All magical beasts can survive without eating, drinking, or breathing,” Crulud answered.
Before Richard could respond, it added, “But that’s a last resort. Soil has too little magic. Living like that is no different from starving. In the end, the beast would only fall into slumber.”
Richard felt a pang of regret. If Crulud could live off soil, it would save him plenty of resources.
Bishop Marl had already told him he was guaranteed to become a marquis after this expedition. But much of the land he would inherit had been ravaged by fishmen, stripped bare of even grass roots. His domain might lack resources for a long time.
Thinking of Salvador’s feast, Richard asked, “What about the fishmen it eats?”
“...They stink. Awfully so,” Crulud muttered.
“At least they’re edible, aren’t they?” Richard pressed.
Crulud couldn’t be bothered to answer. Plump lambs were far tastier than fishmen, after all. Unlike Salvador, it wasn’t some wild beast left to fend for itself.
As it dove again, spewing breath, Richard let go of the idea of feeding Crulud with fishmen. Instead, he wielded his Dragon Spear, scattering waves of magic.
On the ground, legion soldiers locked their square shields together into high walls, advancing step by step while iron spears stabbed through gaps, skewering fishmen.
But there were too many fishmen. Even with Richard driving them from above, the shield wall quickly clogged.
Then six figures cloaked in black robes appeared at the rear.
They were mages summoned by Bishop Marl.
Though the fishmen would eventually be hurled into the sea regardless, Marl would never squander his power.
Like the knight orders, this too was a demonstration.
The six mages raised their hands. Fireballs gathered in the sky, then rained down upon the fishmen.
Richard spotted the flames. “That’s the magic of the Academy’s mages. Should we dodge?”
Crulud scoffed. “Magic of that level can only bully fishmen.”
To prove it, it swung its wings and collided with a fireball.
With a loud boom, it exploded. Yet Crulud’s feathers remained smooth, not even singed.
But soon its feathers bristled as it felt a cold gaze.
“You’re done for. Marl has his eyes on you,” Richard said gleefully.
Crulud snapped back, “I’m just a beast. I don’t understand human speech. No brains. I only obey my knight.”
The dragon-eagle and its rider bickered as they soared above the fishmen. Crulud slowly recovered its magic, while Richard eased the strain of channeling his.
Still, their banter was merely to distract themselves.
Below, the fireballs ignited the fishman horde. The flames’ searing heat drew forth a sudden eruption of Morning Star’s power. Countless gray-scaled fishmen turned crimson-gold, burning like molten metal.
Their horrifying screams filled the air. Driven mad by the heat, they hurled themselves into the sea—only to be devoured by Salvador waiting below.
On the ground, soldiers needed only to face the enemies before them. But in the sky, Richard could sense the anguish of half a million lives, even smell the strange odor of their burning flesh.
If this had been a charge against countless alien foes, Richard would have rushed without hesitation—for that was courage, that was protecting the weak.
But this was pure slaughter. These countless fishmen, ironically, were the weak.
Yes, they had killed nearly a million humans. Yes, racial wars could only end in extermination.
Yet still, over half a million lives were being extinguished.
Crulud’s voice cut in. “Richard, don’t dwell on it. These fishmen lack true wisdom. They are not complete lives.”
It sensed Richard’s trembling heart.
“Yes, I know. I understand,” Richard whispered. “This is what everyone wants to see, what everyone hopes for. Naturally, it’s also what I must hope for.”
“I only fear losing my reverence for life, seeing so many vanish so easily.”
Crulud had no answer. As a beast, it had no reverence for life. One breath from it could wipe out thousands—fishmen or humans alike.
And as a long-lived magical beast, it had killed many humans before, simply to survive.
To it, reverence for life could only ever mean reverence for itself.
Just like Salvador—lurking beneath the sea, eagerly awaiting its feast of half a million fishmen, utterly devoid of reverence.
For beings of their level, life was nothing. With enough magic, they could even create a new race.
To Crulud, reverence for life was a meaningless human concern.
Yet the one speaking such words now was Richard—the Richard who, just three years ago, nearly died killing a single Fishman Servant. The Richard who had grown strong enough to slay Deep Divers with ease, yet had never killed a single human in his life.
In the end, Crulud could only comfort him. “No. You won’t. I believe in you. You are Richard, the Oath Knight.”
“Yes, I am Richard,” he murmured, smiling faintly before raising his spear once more. “Crulud, really don’t want to eat a few fishmen? Salvador seems to be enjoying them.”
“It has no choice. I do.”
The slaughter raged for two days and two nights. Over half a million fishmen were driven off the cliffs into the sea, torn apart by piranhas. Nearly fifty thousand burned to death, while close to a hundred thousand were butchered by blades.