Re: Tales of the Rune-Tech Sage

CH684 Hostile Reinforcements

***

The Main Force unit soon caught up, and at last, the conventional infantry subunit had their moment to shine.

Moving as a single, cohesive body, they advanced steadily, grinding down any hostiles in their path, while the pump-action unit provided relentless suppressive fire from behind their lines.

Contrary to the Lost Heathens’ expectations, the crossbowmen did not lose effectiveness at close range—if anything, the opposite was true.

They became even deadlier.

Alex stood apart from the battlefield, mounted upon Dread’s back, silently observing the unfolding carnage.

He gave a slight nod, clearly pleased with what he was witnessing.

The Army Fortune Formation proved itself to be a powerful force multiplier, elevating the Fortuna Company to a level that quickly shattered the morale of the Lost Heathens.

Even if the formation’s effects were temporary, the shock and awe it generated had already been deeply etched into the minds of their enemies.

Despite the enemy’s overwhelming numerical advantage, Alex remained entirely unconcerned.

’Come to think of it... when was the last time I fought while not being outnumbered?’ he mused, trying to recall.

Nothing came to mind.

He simply shrugged inwardly.

Returning his focus to the battlefield, he noticed the Lost Heathens committing even more forces into the fray.

Still, Alex made no move. His wives and beast companions had yet to act, which meant the situation remained well within control.

Instead, his gaze turned away from the main battlefield to the space ahead of him.

At first glance, nothing appeared amiss. Yet Alex felt a familiar sensation—one that reminded him of the ambush in Mormont City, back when he had first returned from the DragonHold Tower.

’Never grow complacent,’ he murmured inwardly.

A cold smile spread across his lips.

Three fireballs suddenly manifested around him before shooting forward in unison.

BOOM!!!

The intense heat blasted through the area, dispersing the surrounding fog and forcibly revealing those concealed within it.

Brock Peyton emerged, accompanied by two Class 4 combatants—a Combat Master and a Fourth Order Sorcerer.

”Sneaking about like a rat. It suits you,” Alex said coldly, looking down at Brock Peyton with undisguised contempt.

Surprisingly, Alex’s expression did not change in the slightest, even while surrounded by three Class 4 opponents.

Brock Peyton studied him carefully. He was a thug, yes—but not a fool. At the very least, not that much of one.

He could tell the difference between genuine composure and feigned bravado. And Alex... was truly at ease.

”You damned swine! How dare you kill my disciple?!” the Fourth Order Sorcerer suddenly roared.

”Your disciple?” Alex raised a brow at the grey-haired old man. Then something clicked. ”The sorcerer at the shipment depot?” he asked casually.

It was the most recent notable sorcerer he had encountered.

”So, you do know,” the old man glared, his eyes burning with hatred. ”He was a genius—one who would have surpassed me within a few years. And yet, you killed him.

”I will have your head!” he pointed at Alex with trembling fury.

”Spare me the sob story, you old goat,” Alex replied without the slightest hint of respect. ”If you truly wanted your disciple to surpass you, you shouldn’t have allowed him to work for bandits. How many lives had he taken? I did the world a favour by removing him from it.

”If you wish to accompany your disciple into the afterlife, you only needed to say so. There is no need to waste breath spouting nonsense.”

”You...!” The old sorcerer trembled violently with rage.

”I’m heading over,” Zora’s voice sounded through the comms.

”Stay with the formation. Don’t concern yourself with me—I can handle this. Keep an eye on the other two Combat Masters within the main force. I’ll keep these ones occupied,” Alex replied calmly.

”...Understood,” Zora answered after a brief moment of hesitation.

Mounted atop Dread, Alex calmly faced the three Class 4 opponents.

Despite the murderous intent radiating from Brock Peyton and the old sorcerer—intent that all but screamed their desire to tear him apart, drink his blood, and feast upon his flesh—they made no move beyond their verbal threats.

’They’re waiting for something,’ Alex concluded inwardly.

Horn!!!

A deep, resonant horn sounded across the battlefield—the distinct call of the Wildland barbarians.

For a fleeting moment, the entire battlefield seemed to freeze.

Then, as if in response to that call, a new force entered the fray.

Flying the Drumvale flag, a company of local security forces—dispatched under Lady Wintermere—arrived on the battlefield.

Alex frowned slightly, while Brock Peyton’s lips stretched into a wide, triumphant grin.

”You’re dead now.”

The Lost Heathens erupted with renewed excitement as their allied force made its entrance.

What was more surprising, however, was the composition of the incoming company. Though the unit numbered a hundred and fielded just a single Combat Master—their captain—the rest of the soldiers radiated golden auras.

’An entire Gold-rank unit...’ Alex drew in a quiet breath.

This was the strongest company he had encountered since arriving on this plane. Gathering such a force was no simple feat—especially given that they were Wildlands barbarians, a group not particularly renowned for their cultivation talent.

’No... more accurately, the foreign powers roaming the Wildlands would never allow them to reach such a level so easily,’ he corrected inwardly.

The Lost Heathens’ morale, which had been faltering moments ago, surged back to life as the reinforcements advanced to support them from the flank.

The vice-leader of the Lost Heathens quickly prepared to issue new orders—to cede one side of the battlefield to the incoming allies while pressing harder on the opposite flank.

His aim was clear— to complete a pincer manoeuvre and completely encircle the Fortuna Company.

”Ah—!”

Just as he turned his attention, a scream rang out—one he instantly recognised.

He snapped his gaze back towards the advancing force.

And what he saw stunned him.

The reinforcements they had been expecting were not aiding them!

Instead, they were charging straight through them!

The Lost Heathens froze in disbelief.

Fortuna seized the opportunity without hesitation, driving their assault deeper and cleaving through the disordered enemy ranks.

Even Brock Peyton stood momentarily stunned by the sudden and inexplicable reversal.

”Hahaha...”

Alex could no longer contain himself and burst into laughter.

”You—! What did you do?!” Peyton roared in fury.

”Don’t shout. I can hear you just fine,” Alex replied casually, digging a finger into his ear before flicking away imaginary dirt.

He looked down at the man with a cold, unyielding expression.

”I warned you, didn’t I? ’When the castle begins to crumble... remember that you were the one who cast aside the chance for peace’.” Alex said, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

Some understanding clicked in Peyton’s mind. He glared at Alex.

”I will kill you!”

With a furious roar, Brock Peyton launched himself at Alex.

***