Shield of the Rose

A damaged transport truck was pushed to the edge of the cliff; rolling down the cliff, the truck turned into a pile of wreckage amidst a series of crashing sounds.

Such wreckage was definitely not just a single pile; the bottom of the cliff was filled with all sorts of vehicles smashed to pieces, serving virtually as a vehicle graveyard.

Pushing the transport truck down the cliff, four secretive figures dashed toward the nearby woods, quickly drilling into the deep recesses of the forest.

In the center of this woods lay a clearing, currently covered entirely by a massive camouflage net.

Five transport trucks stood parked side-by-side, the military affairs officer busy replacing damaged parts on the vehicles, unwilling to let small details cause the action to fail. These replacement parts were all dismantled from other transport trucks.

On the other side of the woods, supplies were stacked messily in huge quantities, all freshly plundered loot.

To everyone’s disappointment, most of these items consisted of food, military uniforms, cotton blankets, and rugs, with only two transport trucks carrying items related to knights: merely five boxes of energy crystals and some armor parts.

“This is already the sixth convoy—one convoy roughly every half hour. Robbing trucks really has potential.” The four knights responsible for pushing damaged transport trucks off the cliff were led by Vice-Captain Silva, who appeared extremely satisfied with this work.

“Pitying two convoys we had to let pass; the grease on those would definitely be richer,” a knight beside him couldn’t help remarking.

“Don’t forget: the key to raids is avoiding battle. Those two convoys were escorted by knights, and not being discovered is already a stroke of luck,” Silva patted that knight’s head. At this moment, every member of the squad harbored zero doubts toward Richie anymore.

The Republic’s evaluation of knight merits wasn’t very reasonable, because evaluation rules weren’t formulated by knights, but written by a group of civilian officers.

So painstakingly defeating an Ace Knight without killing him yielded little merit, and even if successfully killed, only the person making the kill gained merit, while others gained nothing.

This was an absolute matter that infuriated knights.

Capturing large quantities of supplies was considered a major merit—perhaps the best proof of the Republic’s heavy commercial characteristics.

The pile of items before their eyes equaled a massive pile of merits; converted according to the quantity of these battle trophies, it was equivalent to every member of the squad killing two enemy knights.

Most members of this squad had experienced the first phase of the war, having witnessed the terror of war, naturally understanding what a heavy price was required to gain such merits through normal channels.

“This is merely the first day, and future days remain long!” Silva lamented.

Several knights beside him nodded along, their hearts burning hot!

Knights had two paths: one was elevating personal strength, and the other pursuing higher positions. Most people in this squad planned to take the latter path, so merit was far too important for them.

After nightfall, several more convoys passed through; “Tribe” didn’t touch them.

Except for the Recon Knight standing sentry, everyone else slept, conserving strength for the upcoming battle.

At roughly three o’clock, Richie suddenly woke up—an ability all knights possessed, waking up whenever desired.

Others were about the same; in an instant, this woods regained vitality.

“Pack up all camouflage nets and board the trucks quickly. Vincent, you set the time; in forty-five minutes, I want to see a fireworks performance.” Harney issued a series of orders.

The so-called fireworks performance was actually explosions. During the day, the military affairs officer used a box of energy crystals to construct three powerful explosive devices, one placed alongside the remaining boxes of energy crystals, with other supplies stacked around.

So many supplies naturally couldn’t be carried back, nor was burying them on the spot reliable, leaving destruction as the sole choice. Regardless, recording devices had already logged all these trophies, so merits would still be counted normally upon return.

Everyone’s movements weren’t slow, quickly boarding trucks except for Richie and Vincent.

Transport trucks weren’t equipment trucks, lacking seats and dedicated armor support racks inside, so everyone could only wear armors, holding weapons in hand while crouching inside the cargo hold with necks tucked.

Vincent waited until everyone boarded and all vehicles started, the front four trucks driving out of the woods in sequence, before setting the detonation time and dashing toward the last truck.

As soon as Vincent climbed up, the vehicle door shut with a loud “bang,” followed by the front small vehicles driving down.

Richie at this moment was already soaring high in the sky; he didn’t need to drill into the cloud layer this time. Though pre-dawn sky possessed a bit of light, the light remained extremely dim, blocked by thick clouds, so even with a Recon Knight’s strength, seeing what was in the sky proved impossible.

However, he wasn’t relaxed either; in this season, a strong northwest wind blew at night, freezing and biting. Richie felt like a lonely boat in the ocean, tossed up and down by huge waves, pushed back and forth.

Fortunately, his destination sat thirty kilometers away; across such a short distance, he didn’t need to care about battle aura consumption, flying full-speed against the wind.

Compared to convoys “crawling” along winding highways on the ground, flying in the sky was vastly more effortless.

When he flew above the warehouse, the convoy didn’t even show a shadow.

He could only circle round after round above the target.

While circling, Richie observed below, not daring to focus attention on that Recon Knight. As long as someone was a Recon Knight, their intuition was extremely keen, capable of sensing someone staring at them.

Knights responsible for guarding below numbered five, indicating the unit stationed here was a reinforced squad.

These five knights wore armors, walking back and forth around the warehouse without fixed routes.

Richie felt somewhat relieved; this was definitely not an elite squad.

Not being an elite squad didn’t guarantee combat power was poor—Unit 105 had never entered the ranks of elite squads, yet possessed far stronger capability than most elite squads. Fortunately, such situations weren’t common, and Richie believed his luck wouldn’t be that bad.

After roughly half an hour, shadows of the convoy could finally be seen.

As the convoy drew closer, Richie dived head-first toward the ground.

Speed grew faster and faster, massive glider wings cutting through air, producing hissing whistles.

The Recon Knight below instantly felt something amiss; that sharp piercing noise entered his ears somewhat. Fortunately, the surround auditory receiver equipped on Recon Knights monitored 360-degree sounds around the body, excluding overhead, so he couldn’t determine the sound’s direction for a moment.

Not until Richie dropped to an altitude of only two hundred meters from the ground did that Recon Knight violently raise his head, turning on the high-beam headlight on his forehead.

Almost in an instant, Richie’s figure was exposed.

However, at this moment, everything was already too late.

Two metal buckles quickly popped open, and those massive glider wings instantly detached from the armor. Richie’s falling speed was originally fast, becoming even faster now.

The Recon Knight below didn’t even have time to issue an alarm; the final thing he saw was a thin, cold arc of light, this crescent-shaped light sweeping across his body in a flash.

Slaying the most threatening target, Richie’s falling speed didn’t slow down in the slightest; adjusting his posture slightly, he dropped straight toward the warehouse roof.

With a massive “crash,” the warehouse roof collapsed into a huge hole, taking the scanning disc on the roof down along with it.

With such a loud commotion, the five knights responsible for guard duty couldn’t fail to hear; turning their heads one after another, they saw the Recon Knight fall from the high watchtower.

“Enemy attack! Enemy attack!” Someone amongst the knights reacted first.

Richie smashed a large hole in the roof, while dissipating most of his falling impact, so a deep squat sufficed to dissolve remaining impact force.

Sweeping a glance around, he saw a bed on each side; lying on the left bed was a person, while another person sat on a chair behind him wearing a metal helmet connected to many metal wires.

These two mind-users could absolutely not be left alive; Richie’s knight blade swung violently, slicing a circle.

Finishing the kills, his body slammed hard against a side wall.

With a booming crash and dust flying, the wall was smashed into a large gap.

The adjacent room was very long, with a row of twenty-some beds placed along the wall, all bunk beds.

Seeing so many beds, Richie immediately realized he had guessed wrong—this wasn’t where knights lived.

Looking at those ordinary soldiers woken up yet still bleary-eyed, Richie charged toward the opposite wall without caring.

These ordinary soldiers held zero value to kill, and knight rules didn’t permit him to do so either.

Another wall collapsed with a crash, but the moment the wall fell, Richie slammed right into a massive iron fellow.

Though in terms of volume and weight, Richie’s armor couldn’t compare to the armor he bumped into, no one was inside that armor, so it was knocked over regardless.

Just as this armor fell, an iron bed flew face-front.

By now, Richie could see clearly that this was a tiny room.

In this shitty place, every single knight actually possessed an independent room; Richie felt he had miscalculated.

However, his reaction was lightning-fast, making no attempt to dodge, charging right into that iron bed.

Only a muffled crashing sound echoed as that iron bed bounced back at astonishing speed, followed by a loud boom as the opposite wall collapsed, bloodstains and a lower half of a body visible in a corner of the wall.

This bloody scene startled Richie, though he regained clarity immediately. He had guessed the iron bed was certainly thrown by the guy now split in half; that poor fellow didn’t have time to put on armor, possessing great capability yet sliced into two sections by a bouncing iron bed.

Richie felt a spark before his eyes; he harbored a method for quick resolution.

Along with a series of booming crashes, wall after wall collapsed. Who knew how many knights were crushed alive because they couldn’t enter armors in time.

When Richie stopped, he heard a series of metal clashing sounds outside.

Other squad members had finally arrived.

Across the wall, Richie felt ground vibrations; an armor stood on the other side of the wall, and judging from vibration magnitude, it should be a medium armor.

That could only be an enemy.

Richie executed a horizontal slash, a cold arc of light slicing through the wall.

The wall collapsed cleanly along the slice; standing outside was an Iron Cross armor, swaying for a moment before falling to the ground with a loud “clang.”

Battle lasted merely two minutes; facts proved “Tribe” wasn’t as poor as Richie thought. Though lacking Ace Knights, squad members had undergone battlefield baptism, surviving cruel slaughters as true warriors. This group gave guarding enemies zero chance to resist, quickly resolving the fight.

Cleaning up enemies along the outer ring, four people were left guarding outside while others rushed into the warehouse.

After a sweep, three missed fish were found. One had already put on armor, but was knocked down when Richie charged through; sensing things were bad, this guy simply lay on the ground feigning death.

The other two reacted a step slower, failing to put on armors in time, but escaped the room an instant before getting crushed, hiding among warehouse boxes to mingle through. Ultimately, all three failed.

Operating deep in enemy rear naturally left zero prisoners.

Neither Richie nor Harney issued any orders, yet knights knew what to do. With a booming crash, that largest room collapsed completely, burying all corpses beneath.

Cleaning up everything that needed handling, two Recon Knights were put on sentry outside while others entered the warehouse.

This was a massive warehouse; looking at boxes of all sizes stacked nearly to the roof inside, every single member of this squad felt their gamble was far too worth it.

“Quick, quick, quick! Open all boxes! Vincent, Silva, you two count trophies! Military affairs officer, construct a larger explosive device—this time we’ll have an even prettier fireworks performance!” Harney’s words barely fell when the ground trembled slightly, and a muffled explosion sound echoed from afar after a while.

The previously installed explosive device finally detonated; judging from explosion power, that woods had likely been flattened.

However, this explosion sound similarly reminded Richie.

“Bad news—everyone hurry up! Someone will likely come inspect soon!” Richie’s brows furrowed tightly. A hundred successes could harbor one oversight; it seemed this journey went far too smoothly, causing even the most important “stealth” to be forgotten.

Explosions, more explosions, continuous explosions.

Over the next dozen-plus days, “Tribe” achieved brilliant battle results: six warehouses blown up by them alone, and transport convoys intercepted beyond count.

Squad members initially felt high spirits toward those trophies, but seeing so much, they lost their initial excitement.

Except for the few people responsible for logging, others could no longer remember how many supplies turned into flying debris amidst deafening roars.

Among all supplies, only energy crystals and maintenance agents were kept in part, as these two supplies served as vital consumables for them, with energy crystals also usable as explosive devices.

Inside a mountain valley near the highway, a camouflage net clung tightly to the cliff wall.

Suddenly a shadow swept across the valley, landing on a flat spot not far from the valley.

This shadow was naturally Richie; landing, he unbuckled the glider wings behind his back and dashed toward that valley.

Entering the valley, he immediately drilled into the camouflage net.

“Found new prey?” Harney greeted him from afar.

Richie stepped out from the armor while shaking his head: “The Alliance side has grown smart; convoy scales I saw along the way were all massive, over a dozen trucks traveling together, with knights escorting front and rear. I even suspect those convoys have mind-users traveling along, constantly scanning surroundings.”

This was definitely not good news, yet didn’t exceed their expectations.

The Alliance side wasn’t a bunch of fools; on the contrary, upper authorities on the Alliance side possessed far more brains than the Republic’s upper officials.

“No more good days like before,” Silva sat on the ground, sighing with infinite emotion.

Conversely, Vincent didn’t care much, saying offhandedly: “This isn’t a bad thing either; dispatching troops for escort is an absolute helpless countermeasure. With elite forces tied down by such things, front-line combat power will be insufficient.”

Harney nodded beside them: “When contacting the rear tonight, send this news along as well.” He turned to look at Richie.

Richie detached the recording device from the flying armor and tossed it over.

Aside from searching for prey in the sky, he had another vital task: scouting enemy troop movements.

Initially, his scouting range spanned merely a hundred-mile radius, but now reached about two hundred kilometers; to achieve such distances, he had to stop halfway to rest once.

This was very risky, but harvest was equally non-trivial.

“What should we do next? Hit one hard?” Harney asked—not just Richie alone, but inquiring of others as well.

“Not worth doing so; attempting to rob a convoy or raid a warehouse now has become exceptionally difficult. Even if successful, we’d probably suffer heavy losses. We have only this few people, simply not enough to gamble with,” Vincent took the lead to speak his view, harboring unsaid words: early successful streaks had accumulated massive merits for every member, guaranteeing promotions once returning alive.

Though out of selfish motives, Vincent’s words were indeed correct: hitting hard was very un-worthwhile.

“How about going to Polmo? Just like Vincent said, to ensure smooth transport, front-line forces are definitely weakened; current defense toward Polmo’s direction is certainly not as strict as before, so we should be able to break through,” Richie brought this squad along originally to reach Polmo. Performing “robberies” everywhere earlier served to let squad members taste sweetness, while he harbored personal motives as well.

Like others, Richie knew the Republic’s merit calculation principles very well; now that he planned to climb up to pursue higher status, he naturally had to scheme for himself. But he didn’t want others to see this, as losing initiative when collaborating with the Youth Army later would cost flexibility.

So he refused to serve as squad captain, knowing Harney as captain took one-tenth of total merits alone, with vice-captains similarly holding advantages of taking two shares each.

Naturally he didn’t push all benefits away; one type of merit he snatched faster than anyone—kill merits.

In just a dozen-plus days, his kill count exceeded one hundred, not counting those knights killed in surprise raids before putting on armors.

His kill count ranked first in this squad, accounting for nearly one-quarter of the total.

This was similarly why all squad members at present obeyed him; in the world of knights, strength was forever first, and the strong forever earned others’ respect.

“I agree,” Vincent was first to respond to Richie’s suggestion.

“No objection,” Silva shrugged, simply lazy to use his brain.

“Then let it be so,” Harney finally finalized this matter: “Everyone rest well during the day; we set off after dark.”

These words were spoken to everyone.

“You must be hungry; eat something,” official business finished, Vincent immediately walked over holding two lunchboxes.

Time was roughly two in the afternoon now, lunch hour long passed, these items clearly reserved specifically for Richie.

Food was also plundered loot; military rations tasting like soap were thrown into innermost parts of small trucks most times, no one touching them if possible.

“Heard the training material we received was excised,” Vincent finally revealed his true intent.

Richie opened the lunchbox and paused, looking at Harney.

Harney felt put in a tight spot, scratching his head: “I couldn’t make up my mind on this matter, so I could only let them ask you.”

“You’d better tell them the truth yourself,” Richie raised his lunchbox: “I haven’t eaten yet.”

“I’ve already explained; everyone knows the reason for deleting that part,” Harney sighed: “Many people want to cultivate that technique.”

Richie went silent, asking after a long while: “Did you tell them the hazards inside?”

“Does that even need saying? Any knight knows cultivating an extra technique slows strength growth,” Harney smiled, having thrown the hard question to someone else.

“Then there’s nothing to worry about,” Richie appeared quite relaxed: “Learn if you want; sole restriction is people whose core technique is fire or electric attribute had better not learn.”

As words fell, most people in the squad showed joyful expressions; it seemed more than one person harbored this thought.

“If interested, people cultivating wind-attribute techniques can also learn another technique,” Richie didn’t continue speaking, merely raising his thumb to point at the flying armor.

Several people below instantly had eyes light up.

Harney looked at Richie, shaking his head helplessly, muttering in a low voice: “You guy are harming people again.”

He could naturally say this, knowing best that during this period, his subordinates were all driven mad with itchiness by Richie’s strange capabilities.

“Heavenly Hearing”‘s power leaked out from his mouth; Harney cultivated it himself, and though time was short and effects weren’t obvious yet, he clearly felt superior to others when walking night roads.

“Heavenly Hearing” plus night raids made acquiring battle merits far too easy; not being envious was absolute impossibility.

Now adding a technique allowing flight in the sky, anyone with a bit of sense knew how great future benefits would be after mastering this move.

For these two techniques, even giving up the possibility of becoming an Ace Knight was absolute worthiness.

After dark, “Tribe” set off quietly on the road.

Richie didn’t fly in the sky this time, changing into the other armor to travel on the ground alongside others.

The road to Polmo was very hard to travel, with few passable small paths. Furthermore, the Alliance side learned secrets here through spies, knowing a squad highly skilled at long-range raids was stationed here—their previously dispatched elite team was destroyed by this squad, and new armors designed by the Alliance were being tested at Polmo under this squad’s supervision. So the Alliance’s blockade of Polmo was far stricter than when blockading borders back then, not only stationing heavy troops on small paths, but setting a guard post every twenty kilometers, stationed by reinforced honorary squads of two Honorary Knights and eight Ace Knights each.

Investing such heavy capital, the Alliance aimed precisely for those new armors.

Richie didn’t know this, so by the third dawn, he had to stop. The military affairs officer just told him a scanning net lay ahead.

Detouring several dozen kilometers to the side, the military affairs officer reported again: two connected scanning nets lay ahead.

Hearing this, Richie immediately understood: identical to returning from Glaslovar back then, the Alliance completely blockaded this area.

Richie didn’t want to touch this defense line; from past experience, he could guess at least two Honorary Knights stood here, perhaps more.

He naturally wouldn’t use his few subordinates to crash this defense line, which was simply throwing eggs against stones.

Retreating seven or eight kilometers back, finding a hidden mountain peak, the squad stopped.

This peak stood higher than surroundings, missing a piece at the top with a slight depression in the middle; hiding inside, the squad didn’t need to worry about being discovered, not even needing camouflage nets. The military affairs officer in the squad could perceive that scanning net at this distance.

“What do we do now?” Harney asked Richie in a low voice.

Richie didn’t answer, turning to ask the military affairs officer: “Can we contact people inside?”

The military affairs officer immediately sat in the hanging frame on the small truck, putting on the helmet covered in metal wires.

That large disc served not only to scan surroundings, but also handled external communications.

After roughly seven or eight minutes, the military affairs officer removed his helmet, shaking his head helplessly: “Communication is jammed; definitely done by enemies.”

Richie didn’t feel surprised; ever since war broke out again, Polmo had lost contact, anyone guessing the Alliance played tricks. But being unable to establish contact even this close proved the Alliance’s jamming was truly formidable.

However, Richie didn’t care; possessing the flying armor, he could completely cross this defense zone.

Looking up at sparse stars and that half-moon about to set overhead, Richie knew time was short.

Being able to see stars and moon proved zero clouds existed in the sky. In winter, lacking clouds at night guaranteed none during the day either; lacking cloud layer cover, to avoid exposure, he could only fly into Polmo while dark.

Richie hesitated between setting off immediately and waiting another day, ultimately letting longing for Lina and the others win out.

Changing into the flying armor, he stood at the cliff edge.

No slope existed here, but jumping off the cliff edge proved far easier than taking off from a slope; a moment later, his figure vanished into the pitch-black sky.

Looking at the mountain range beneath his feet, Richie’s mood felt indescribably refreshing. Crossing that area on the ground, the greatest likelihood was being chased around like a stray dog by guarding knights, relying on luck to break through. Now in the sky, he worried about nothing below; even if a Heavenly Knight stood below, they could do nothing to him.

Unknowingly, a sense of superiority surged in Richie’s heart.

He felt like master of the sky.

At least for now.

Fortunately his mind remained clear, knowing this place couldn’t be lingered in; once exposed, letting the Alliance side know someone could fly in the sky would end his good days.

Who knew when opponents would appear in the sky?

Richie pushed battle aura with full force, a miniature tornado wrapping around his body, sharp winds pushing him forward.

Polmo was huge, plus terrain was complex, which was perhaps why the Alliance hadn’t conquered this place to date.

As the sky gradually brightened, Richie could vaguely see that places originally serving as highways below were now dug open or buried beneath collapsed mountain walls, and places originally serving as bridges showed not even a bridge pier.

Seeing this sight, Richie felt somewhat admiring of the people inside. Ignorant of who thought of this method, no wonder the Alliance army couldn’t fight in.

Lacking roads meant inability to transport supply materials; even with more cavalry corps, the Alliance didn’t dare send them in casually under such circumstances, because being trapped inside guaranteed total annihilation.

As the sky grew brighter, Richie accelerated speed, racing against time.

Wanting to be fast, yet unable to speed up; only now did Richie discover that his belief of flight speed being far faster than ground running was a misconception.

Fast it was, but faster by merely a tiny bit; an equipment truck carrying light loads could reach sixty kilometers per hour. Richie didn’t know how fast he flew, estimating by feeling that speed sat between eighty and eighty-five.

Right while feeling agitated over speed, he suddenly felt someone staring at him.

Richie was startled.

His reaction was fast, tracing back toward the direction where sight swept over in an instant, pushing observation scope magnification to maximum.

He saw a mountain—a mountain dense with woods and jagged rocks, harboring many places to hide people.

Richie swept his gaze over again and again, knowing a Recon Knight was definitely peeping at him there.

Using all techniques taught by Nora, Richie still failed to discover that peeping Recon Knight, yet that feeling of being peeped at persisted.

Strong hands existed beyond strong hands; he finally understood why Lina frequently said this to him.

It seemed a massive gap still existed between him and true Recon Knights.

Since unable to find that Recon Knight, Richie stopped caring; having been terrified over keeping secrets all along, letting go now made him feel instantly enlightened.

Continuing forward, flying merely seven or eight kilometers, Richie saw a tree canopy below shaking wildly.

Richie aimed the observation scope there; pulling the lens closer, human figures flickered faintly through canopy gaps.

Suddenly his eyes widened: a yellow shadow swept past rapidly, followed by a purple shadow, and then an orange shadow.

Such rich colors, in Richie’s memory, belonged exclusively to his Unit 105’s armors.

Could the one peeping at him earlier be Nora? This thought flashed through Richie’s mind.

He hastily made a turn, angling the glider wings downward, dropping toward the ground.

Richie didn’t dare drop directly toward that shaking canopy, fearing those women might leap up to give him a strike.

While dropping down, Richie adjusted a knob—the knob controlling communication devices.

This knob was usually locked, different squads using different communication channels, requiring military affairs officers to adjust.

Regardless, Richie had followed Landi for so long, handling such a small matter posing zero issue.

While busy, the tree canopy below shuddered violently, splitting a gap.

Richie was startled by this sudden change, never expecting to face attacks even flying so high.

Purely out of reflex, he dodged to the side.

He dodged, but those massive glider wings behind his back failed to dodge.

This time glider wings didn’t break, but were severed clean off.

Seeing half a wing gone, Richie hurriedly unbuckled the locks on the glider wings, having suffered from losing half a wing before, knowing it would plunge him into rapid spiraling.

Tossing the glider wings, Richie spread his limbs wide like last time, catching wind as much as possible while battle aura throughout his body operated rapidly.

No need to cut a vacuum fissure with “A Glass of Blood”; Richie’s falling direction angled sharply at forty-five degrees, then angled again from forty-five degrees into nearly horizontal flight.

Only a series of crisp snapping sounds echoed as he adjusted posture to head-back feet-front, snapping countless tree branches along the way, sliding who-knew-how-far before gradually slowing down.

Richie just wanted to flip over to drop down when feeling a gust of sharp wind striking directly over.

He saw a flash of golden light beneath the tree.

“Stop! It’s me!” Richie turned on the loudspeaker and shouted out loud.

As words left his mouth, that sharp wind had arrived; Richie crossed arms before his chest, operating “Mirror Reflection” to hard-block Trisli’s attack.

With a muffled boom, Richie was knocked flying, feeling bones in his arms almost shattered.

“Richie? It’s you?” Trisli’s voice came from opposite.

Knocked flying at least twenty meters, Richie finally dropped down, crushing countless branches and stripping countless dead leaves along the way.

With a heavy thud, he slammed onto the ground, followed by a bout of violent coughing, feeling every bone in his back almost shattered as well.

“Your strike was a bit too ruthless, right? Almost killed me,” Richie complained while coughing.

To his surprise, Trisli walked straight over, stepping on his chest with one foot, saying cold-faced: “You should be thankful I held back at the last moment, or you wouldn’t be here complaining right now.”

Her tone shifted immediately, turning far friendlier: “Not seeing you for a few days, you churned out interesting stuff again. This gadget is decent, actually capable of flying in the sky. The Varedins blockaded the outside watertight, no one able to enter or leave, yet you little guy slipped in easily.”

While speaking, other members of Unit 105 rushed over, Lina arriving first, followed by Melin.

Trisli kicked Richie along with his armor to Lina’s front with one foot: “You won’t feel lonely at night anymore; your little guy is back.”

Lying on the ground for half a day, plus taking a kick, areas shocked numb finally regained sensation; Richie opened the armor, climbing out from inside.

“It’s you guy giving us a false alarm.”

“Welcome back.”

“…”

Female knights spoke all at once.

“If holding a welcome ceremony, better talk after returning,” Captain Gali stopped this chaotic scene, turning to command Landi: “Contact the rear, have them send people to replace us.”

She bent down to pick up the armor Richie took off: “If Yilo sees this thing, he’ll definitely be exceptionally excited.”

“And the wings—don’t know where they dropped,” Melin chimed in.

“Everyone search around; even if not bringing them back, don’t let the Alliance side see them, or we’ll be in trouble,” Gali’s brain moved fast, instantly realizing this armor’s value in war.

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