Chapter 198 : Chapter 198
Chapter 198. Morton: I Won’t Disturb You Any Further
“I don’t believe it!” Morton gritted his teeth so hard that the flesh on his face trembled. “Sylvia, don’t try that act on me! I’m going to the front line myself to see it with my own eyes! If I find out you’ve been playing tricks—”
“Be my guest.” Sylvia made a polite gesture of invitation, her face full of urgency and helplessness. “I only hope you do not get hit by a stray round when you get there, Master. After all, once you are on a battlefield, blades and arrows have no eyes.”
Morton gave a cold snort, turned, and rushed out of the meeting room. He summoned that half-recovered bald griffon of his and flew north in a frantic hurry.
Twenty minutes later.
At the southern foot of the Dragon Mountain Range, at the first defensive line of Frigid Valley.
The freezing wind howled, and the flying snow slashed across the face like knives. Hovering high in the air, Morton looked down at the scene below. The last traces of doubt in his heart vanished instantly, replaced by a bone-deep terror.
They were fighting.
They were really fighting.
They were really, bloody fighting!
The snowfield below had already been stained a grim gray-black. Dense demi-human battle formations advanced like a wall of steel. Those heavily armored minotaurs, each nearly three meters tall, carried totem pillars on their shoulders, and every step they took made the earth shudder.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
In the distance, dozens of grotesque-looking giant cannons roared in unison. Their aim was poor, and most of the shells landed on open ground, blasting up great clouds of snow and dust, but the sheer spectacle was absolutely real.
Especially at the center of the battlefield.
Three terrifying auras were colliding in a frenzy.
“Logaris, you despicable human! Today is the day you die!”
A thunderous roar shook the sky. It was Ulzok. He was swinging a giant axe as large as a cartwheel, and every strike smashed a deep crater into the frozen earth, sending shattered stone flying in all directions with terrifying force.
Across from him, Logaris was wrapped in pitch-black spatial rifts, weaving through the shadows of the axe like a ghost.
“You fat bastard! I think you’re the one tired of living!”
As he cursed, Logaris flicked out several spatial blades with a casual wave. They skimmed past Ulzok’s scalp, shaving off a few strands of hair by the narrowest margin.
On the other side, Victor and Kane were locked in fierce combat. Sword aura crisscrossed the field, ice shards flew, and the two looked evenly matched.
Watching from high above, Morton could not stop frowning.
This was a genuine battle between Sixth-Tier powerhouses. There was no faking those energy fluctuations.
If the Northern Territory’s main force were pulled away at a time like this...
Morton shuddered.
If the Northern defensive line collapsed and the demi-humans surged straight in, it would no longer be a matter of disgrace alone. As the one who had forced the troop transfer, he, Morton, would become the kingdom’s eternal sinner, nailed to the pillar of shame for all ages. His entire family would probably be buried alongside him.
“These mad dogs!” Morton cursed, though it was hard to tell whether he was cursing the demi-humans or Logaris.
At that moment, the battle below suddenly shifted.
Logaris seemed to be “running out of strength.” One strike from Ulzok’s axe blasted him back dozens of meters, and he clutched his chest as he panted heavily.
Then he abruptly lifted his head and spotted Morton in the sky.
“Morton!” Logaris roared through an amplification spell, his voice full of grief and outrage. “Are you really still up there watching the show?! Get down here and help! If you join us, the two of us together can definitely drive them back!”
“Well... since Professor Logaris is invincible in battle, I won’t add to the confusion!”
Morton shouted back at the top of his lungs, then smacked the griffon on the rear and turned to flee.
This place was far too dangerous. He had to get back to the city!
...
That night, at City Hall.
Logaris dragged his “exhausted” body back into the meeting room. His coat was torn in several places—by his own hand—and his face was smeared with gray marks, making him look as though he had just crawled out of a pile of corpses.
Morton sat in his chair holding a teacup, and his hand was still trembling slightly.
He had genuinely been frightened.
“Master.” Logaris dropped into a chair, grabbed the water Sylvia handed him, and drained it in one gulp. “You saw the situation on the front line yourself. Never mind ten thousand men—even if we pull away a mere hundred right now, the defensive line could collapse.”
“We’re fighting those two lunatics with our lives on the line. If you still insist on transferring troops...” Logaris slapped the deployment order onto the table. “Then you can sign it yourself, and you can bear the responsibility yourself. If the city falls, I’ll be the first one to run.”
Morton looked at the order as though he were staring at a death warrant.
If he dared force the transfer now, it would be the same as handing his political enemies a knife and inviting them to stab him with it.
But if he brought back no one at all... how was he supposed to explain that to the Second Prince?
Morton was so tangled up in indecision that his brows nearly twisted into knots.
After a long silence, the old fox finally let out a sigh, like a punctured wineskin deflating.
“The main force... truly cannot be moved.” Morton clenched his teeth and forced the words out as though squeezing them through the gaps between them. “But the situation in the southeast is equally urgent. The royal house cannot afford to lose face.”
He raised his head and stared hard at Logaris.
“Three thousand men. That is the bottom line.” Morton held up three fingers. “And you, Logaris West, must personally lead them.”
This was Morton’s last bit of stubbornness, and also his calculation.
If he could not take the troops away, then he would at least take the man away. Removing the most unstable factor in the Northern Territory would still count as fulfilling the Second Prince’s order to “weaken the North.” As long as Logaris was gone, Sylvia, a woman alone, would be easy prey for the Royal Capital to manipulate.
“If I leave, who is going to hold Ulzok back?” Logaris frowned.
“That is your problem!” Morton turned shameless. “In any case, this is my one condition. If you refuse, then I’ll just stay in Winter City and not leave. We can drag this out as long as it takes!”
Logaris and Sylvia exchanged a glance.
Deep in both their eyes, a faint smile flashed so quickly it was almost impossible to catch.
The fish had taken the bait.
“All right, then.” Logaris looked deeply unwilling, like a man who had just swallowed a dead fly. “For the sake of the kingdom, I’ll make the trip. But let me make one thing clear first—if anything goes wrong in the Northern Territory while I’m gone, I will not take the blame.”
“Done!”
Afraid he might change his mind, Morton hurriedly signed the new agreement and stamped it on the spot.
With that new agreement in hand, Morton did not want to remain in the Northern Territory for a single moment longer. The whole place was a powder keg. It was terrifying as hell.
“Farewell!”
Morton left that very night with his griffon rider corps. He had arrived in aggressive high spirits, but when he left, the whole group looked more like a flock of ducks being chased by dogs, thoroughly bedraggled and miserable.
As the griffon formation disappeared into the night sky, the atmosphere in the meeting room instantly relaxed.
Sylvia collapsed into her chair and let out a long breath. That capable, commanding presence around her vanished at once, leaving behind only exhaustion.
“At least we finally got rid of that plague god.” She rubbed her brow, then turned toward Logaris, worry flickering in her eyes. “But are you really going to the southeast? It’s thousands of miles away. If something really happens here in the Northern Territory...”
They had forced Morton back through sheer performance, but Logaris leaving was real. Without this Sixth-Tier combat power stationed here, Sylvia could not quite feel at ease.
Logaris smiled.
He rose to his feet and walked to the window, gazing out into the black night beyond.
“Sylvia, have you forgotten what my profession is?”
“A mage?” Sylvia asked, puzzled.
“To be precise, a Sixth-Tier Spatial Mage.” Logaris pushed up his glasses, and a crafty gleam flashed across the lenses.