358: Chapter 350 Me? I am their Marshal

Damu didn't know the status of his team members in the bushes behind him; he only needed to look back to be sure.

However, as simple as that action was, he found himself unable to perform it.

The pressure on his body was still slowly increasing, having almost surpassed the limits of what an ordinary human physique could endure.

Damu's eyes were bloodshot, his vision a wash of red, and from time to time, a crisp 'crack' sounded from his body—the sound of breaking bones.

Blood was also gushing out of his nasal cavity, making it difficult for him to breathe.

The torture lasted for a full three minutes.

Damu didn't make a sound, nor did anyone in the bushes behind him.

Humans have their limits after all; both of them were on the verge of collapsing. Their thoughts grew blurry and their minds muddled, as if their souls were leaving their bodies to drift far away, only to be dragged back to reality by the omnipresent pain.

Just as they thought they were going to die like this, the heavy pressure on their bodies suddenly vanished.

"Hahaha... interesting, so interesting!" The figure high in the sky laughed wildly. "I heard the sound of bones breaking one hundred and eighty-eight times, yet I didn't hear a single scream from you."

"Hey, who exactly trained you?"

Damu remained silent, swallowing the blood in his mouth and gesturing behind him with his right hand.

[Prepare to attack.]

Both he and his teammate knew that escaping was a pipe dream. Since death was certain, they had to at least bite off a piece of the enemy's flesh. If the enemy was too tough, they would bite until it hurt.

In short, they couldn't go down for nothing!

Damu tried to move his arm. The sensation of broken bones tearing through muscle flooded his mind, and his breathing nearly stopped.

After a long while, he finally endured it. Suppressing the urge to gasp for air, he used his still-movable right hand to pull the sniper rifle at his side forward.

An action that would have been perfectly ordinary on any other day almost cost him his life now.

Intense pain ravaged his mind, and Damu's consciousness blurred. Ultimately, he overcame it through sheer willpower and did not faint.

Once he was slightly more lucid, he continued pulling the sniper rifle toward him.

With every tug, he would feel dizzy for several seconds.

After more than ten minutes of effort, he finally pulled the sniper rifle in front of him, into a position where he could aim and fire.

However, trouble arose again.

His left arm had completely lost function and lay limp on the ground. He still had feeling in his legs, but when he tried to stand up, all he got in response was a slight twitch in his thighs.

Therefore, he couldn't lift the sniper rifle to point the muzzle at the sky.

What should he do?

Damu's mind raced as his eyes scanned left and right, hoping to find something that could help.

Suddenly, he felt his ankle being grabbed and turned his head with difficulty.

His teammate's face was covered in blood, but Damu didn't find it odd—he was the same. What confused him were the many irregular wounds on the teammate's face, seemingly cut by blunt objects.

Damu was certain they weren't there when they set out.

Without explaining, the teammate gave him a wide grin, then pressed his forehead against the ground and used his legs to push himself into a crouch.

Looking at the teammate's two arms hanging naturally by his sides, swaying back and forth with his movements, Damu roughly guessed how the wounds had come about.

The teammate crouched there, swaying for a good while, shook his head, and then bit by bit shuffled in front of him.

Damu took a deep breath to gather his strength. When he felt ready, he clenched his teeth and lifted the sniper rifle with one hand, resting it on the teammate's shoulder.

The magic guidance sniper rifle was not light, and the teammate's body sank under the weight.

I can do this.

He encouraged himself, slowly standing up until he felt the muzzle was roughly aimed at the figure in the sky.

Damu knew his teammate couldn't hold out for long and immediately pressed his right eye to the scope.

The crosshairs drifted across the night sky for a moment before successfully locking onto that slender figure.

"Phew—" Adjusting his breathing, Damu controlled the magic guidance sniper rifle's storage Core to output mana.

This shot was destined to be unable to cause much damage.

The magic guidance sniper rifle's ability to threaten High-tier Professionals relied on a sniper array.

Now he only had a single rifle; he couldn't even break a Magister's defense, let alone a Saint-level.

But so what?

I fired my shot; that's enough.

Damu disengaged the energy output stabilization device, and mana surged into the firing Core like a river bursting through a dam.

Soon, the total amount of mana received by the firing Core exceeded its endurance limit. The Core was about to spiral out of control and explode, and several irregular cracks appeared on the rifle's body.

"I've given you a chance, and you still won't move?" The figure in the sky seemed to grow impatient. "You brought that strange weapon, didn't you?"

"If you don't act now, I'll..."

*Swoosh—*

Hearing the sound of something cutting through the air, the Saint-level's eyes lit up, and he looked down.

A pale blue beam of light shot toward him like a thunderbolt.

Judging by the mana fluctuations, it could penetrate a High-level Magician's shield.

"That's not right." He was greatly disappointed. With a light wave of his hand, the beam disintegrated into nothingness, turning into a large cloud of light particles that scattered away. "No, no, no."

"This level of power isn't enough to take down a Magister."

"I'll capture them alive and ask."

As he spoke, he looked at the two men lying prone on the ground, their positions revealed because the magic guidance sniper rifle had been destroyed by the overload.

Floating down to the ground, he walked up to the two of them, glanced at the magic guidance sniper rifle that had turned into a pile of fragments, and then asked: "Two?"

"Novak told me there were at least fifteen. Huh, interesting."

"This peculiar weapon... seems to be usable as a node for a Magic Array. Let me see..."

He crouched down, examining the dark gold patterns on the fragments: "One, two, three... seven?"

"Seven weapons forming a Magic Array to concentrate the energy of all the weapons into one of them... Hahaha... The guy who designed this is a genius!"

"Hey." He stood up and kicked Damu, who seemed to be unconscious. "Who designed this?"

Damu was kicked awake, or rather, he hadn't completely passed out.

He managed to lift his head, looking up at the Saint-level before him.

He was a man who looked young, only in his twenties, wearing a loose blue robe. Unlike most magicians who preferred to grow their hair long, he had very short hair.

If Damu had lived on Blue Star, he would have known this hairstyle was called a buzz cut.

"The Marshal will avenge me," Damu whispered indistinctly.

His voice was very low, but the Saint-level heard it clearly and laughed: "Avenge you?"

"Who is your Marshal?"

There was no response. Damu's head fell back to the ground, and he fainted completely.

The Saint-level curled his lip and looked at the teammate, who had also lost consciousness.

"What a disappointment, wasting so much of my time."

"Hmm... though they're half-dead, Novak didn't say they had to be in one piece. This is enough to complete the task."

He bent over, preparing to pick the two of them up and head back to the main camp, but halfway through, he suddenly straightened up like a spring.

"Rude fellow, appearing suddenly without even saying hello." Perceiving no mana fluctuations from any spell being cast, he breathed a sigh of relief and turned to look at a nearby clearing.

In the clearing stood a young man with short hair just like his, standing with his hands behind his back.

The Saint-level tilted his head as he looked at him: "And who might you be?"

"Me? I am their Marshal."

"If you don't like that title, you can also call me Zhang Mu."

Zhang Mu? It's him?

The Saint-level was no longer as relaxed as before, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

Unable to sense a mana level... Gods Blessing?

Don't be ridiculous.

If it really were Gods Blessing, then there would be no point in fighting this war; everyone might as well go home and wait for death.

Zhang Mu looked at the two men lying on the ground, their lives uncertain, and asked: "You did this?"

"There's no one else here."

"How do you want to die?"

The Saint-level raised an eyebrow, not getting angry, and said to himself: "I can't sense your mana fluctuations, but based on your performance during the Lake internal strife... you should have been a Magister then. A year has passed... let's say you're a Magister now."

"Heh, where do you get the courage?"

"I gave it to him."

A voice came from behind him. The Saint-level's hair stood on end like a startled cat, and he suddenly leaped to the side while turning around in mid-air.

The moment he landed steadily, he saw the speaker's face.

His mouth twitched: "Blova... cough, greetings, Your Grace the Duke."

While offering his greetings, he quietly backed away while cursing in his heart: 'Damn that Novak! If I make it back alive, I'll skin you for sure!'

After backing up a few steps, the Saint-level felt himself locked on by Mental Energy and stopped helplessly: "Your Grace, I'll return to my country right now and promise not to participate in any further hostilities."

"Uh, could you let this slide?"

Blova looked at him calmly. Light shone from his palm, and a staff appeared within the radiance.

Clearly, Blova had no intention of letting it slide.

"Then there's no choice." The Saint-level sighed and pulled a staff from his sleeve.

Zhang Mu picked up Damu and the other man, moved a bit further away, and watched them with interest.

A battle between Saint-levels should be quite a sight to behold.

Blova raised his right hand holding the staff, and the coalition's Saint-level made the same move.

Suddenly, the latter's eyes snapped wide open, and then he forcefully threw his staff away: "I surrender!"

Zhang Mu's gaze followed the staff as it arched through the sky and hit the ground. He stared blankly for a long time before looking at him: "What a character."

"By the way... can there be such a huge gap between Saint-levels?"

The coalition commanders had already sent Saint-levels to the rescue. They were very arrogant and made no attempt to hide their presence, so Zhang Mu could clearly sense them.

From the main camp to here, it would take a Saint-level at most one minute at their speed.

But that guy was certain he couldn't even last a minute and immediately gave a French-style military salute.

"Let's go."

"Alright." The coalition Saint-level proactively sealed his own mana and obediently followed behind Blova into the light gate opened by Zhang Mu.

Zhang Mu looked into the distance, where several small black dots were rapidly growing larger.

"I'll settle the score with you all later," he muttered, then picked up Damu and the other man and ducked into the light gate.

When the five supporting Saint-levels arrived, they only saw the light gate slowly closing.

"We're too late."

One of them scanned the surroundings: "There are no residual mana fluctuations from Saint-level spells. They didn't fight."

"Then... are you saying Ake surrendered?"

"Hmph."

"Is it really surprising that he surrendered?"

The remaining four were stifled and fell silent.

"What do we do now?"

"We've just entered Lake and haven't even taken a single city yet, but we've already lost a Saint-level and three hundred thousand Soldiers."

"The Soldiers are one thing, but a Saint-level... the Kingdom of Wally will go insane."

"How about we throw Novak under the bus? The order was his, anyway."

"Don't take the King of Wally for an idiot. If we hadn't agreed, would Novak have been able to mobilize a Saint-level?"

"Besides, can the coalition find a Marshal more proficient in warfare than Novak?"

"This won't work, that won't work. I don't care anymore; you guys decide."

"Hmm... go rescue him?"

"Rescue him with what?"

"He's definitely been taken to the Lake Royal Capital. There's Lake's ancestral Magic Tower there. Do you have the confidence that you won't die there?"

The discussion reached an impasse, and the five of them remained silent with grim faces.

After a long while, one of them felt that staying in this deadlock wasn't an option and proposed: "Back to the main camp. As for his capture... keep it a secret for now."

"Also, starting today, Saint-levels are not allowed to act alone."

"Agreed." The four of them thought for a moment and nodded together.

Having made their decision, the five of them didn't linger and turned to fly back toward the main camp.

...

Keton City.

An ordinary bedroom.

Damu was lying on a bed. His eyelids flickered a few times, and he slowly opened his eyes.

The ceiling came into view, and his eyes showed confusion.

I killed so many of the coalition's High-tier Professionals, and I actually get a private room?

Heh, trying to get me to surrender?

Don't even dream of shaking my will...

"Yo, you're awake?" The door was pushed open, and Zhang Mu and Blova walked in.

Damu stared at the two of them for a moment, then realized he had been rescued and hurriedly tried to push himself up from the bed.

"Just stay lying down." Zhang Mu pressed him back. "You've got some nerve, kid, looking for trouble with a Saint-level?"

"If your teammate hadn't notified me so quickly and I hadn't arrived in time, you would've lost your life there."

"Marshal, Your Grace, I... huh?"

Damu was half-sitting against the headboard. He had started to explain, but halfway through, he realized his body could move freely, and there was no pain from broken bones.

He pulled back the blanket and pinched himself all over: "The Church has completely withdrawn from Lake. Don't we have no Light Element Mages left?"

"How..."

"Who said you need the Church's Divine Officials to treat injuries?" Zhang Mu said with a smile.

Blova interjected: "Your potion-making skills are indeed excellent, but... the potions needed for a war are definitely not something one person can handle."

Zhang Mu sat on the edge of the bed and crossed his legs: "True, we need to train a group of Light Element Mages."

"Marshal..." Damu scratched his head. "Even an ordinary person like me knows that except for the Church's Divine Officials, no one can study Light-element magic."

"You seem to know a lot. Tell me why."

"Uh, because there are no Light-element magic books?"

"We've seized all the churches within Lake's borders; we're not short on Light-element magic books." Blova sat at the table in the middle of the bedroom. "It's just that we can't understand them."

Zhang Mu didn't know about this yet and asked in surprise: "What do you mean you can't understand them?"

"The text in the books is incomprehensible. I suspect that only those granted a Divine Official position by the Church can understand them."

Zhang Mu was thoughtful: "In other words, if they can be understood, they can be studied?"

"Of course. It would be quite easy to find a group of people with Light-element magic talent among the many citizens of Lake."

"Alright, leave this to... let the Senior Sister handle it. You have other things to do."

"What things?" Blova assumed he could translate the Light-element magic books, so he didn't ask further.

"We captured a Saint-level alive; the coalition definitely won't be able to stand that."

Blova smiled: "They'd dare to go to the Royal Capital to rescue him?"

"No, I mean, they'll likely hide the news and then have their army attack with everything they've got, hoping to flatten Lake and rescue him before it's exposed."

"I understand." Blova got the point and stood up to walk out of the bedroom.

Zhang Mu wasn't in a hurry to leave. He turned to look at Damu leaning against the headboard: "As for you... come with me."