Глава 11

These filthy rebels! They've been at this since Sudean!

Bring out that massive metal thing of yours!

You mean the self-propelled cannon? Sarkaz, there's still lots of our men up ahead!

Send them a signal.

Ever heard of danger close? You know how wide its attack range is? They won't get away in time!

That's their problem. <i>Our</i> warriors know how to survive on the battlefield.

Over there—A movable mechanical Originium cannon!

What... What the hell is this? That's no normal artillery shell!

Did Kazdel have some kind of advanced research institute I never heard of?

And in such a short time too... How did Manfred manage this?

Have you found the control area with your drones yet?;Focus.

Control area... Control area... Crap, Doctor. These artillery shells've got Arts that jam my drones.

Like I said, Londinium's system is easy to crack, but Sarkaz witchcraft is tough!

Doctor, we'll take it from here.

Whoa, Feist!

Everything's set the way you wanted it.

The engineering team will make sure your drones will fly free.

You've got an idea?

Miss Closure, these Originium cannons were assembled in our factory.

So... You aren't planning on taking them apart right here and now, are you?

Haha, if we were Vampires, we definitely could've given it a shot.

Too bad, most of us are just normal craftsmen.

But we know what we've made with our own hands.

We know how to target their weak points to create an opening for our friends who can actually put up a fight.

After all, this is how us engineers can put ourselves to use on the battlefield. Isn't that right?

The zipline... You're gonna climb onto that?

Your drones will function as normal if we get the cannon under control, right?

In theory. That's too risky, though...

We're working together here.

I need you and the Doctor to help us lock onto the safest landing point.

As the cannons echo in the air, Feist focuses on the battlefield before him.

He sees not the fierce Sarkaz, but the machinery by the conveyor belts he's the most familiar with. The thunderous sound of the enormous machine's movement is no different from the rhythms he knows so well.

He will take back the city that belongs to them, his own way.

Phew... I've always wanted to see a battle from up above. Isn't this the perfect chance?

The giant machine ambles down the street.

Compared to its colossal form, the men on the battlefield, be they Victorian or Sarkaz, are almost insignificant.

Its footsteps cannot be halted. Its gaze can easily melt the blocks.

It is practically the ruler of this steel jungle.

Yet it suddenly lets out a wail.

From a blind spot in its vision, a dozen grappling hooks latch onto the weakest point of its neck.

Immediately thereafter, several dozen figures climb onto its back via the zipline.

Doctor, we've got it under control!

Snipers, eliminate nearby hostiles!

Understood!

Casters, strike!

On it!

Look at you, Banshee. You won't allow even a single drop of blood near you.

Every drop you control contains your witchcraft.

Oh ho ho. The curse of the Banshee.

Since when have the Banshees been as boring and uninteresting as you?

I still remember how they flew through the dark night, blowing their bone-whistles—

They mourned those lost to the wastelands with their sharp, sorrowful cries. At the same time, they mercilessly dug their pitch-black fingers into the skulls of those pitiful souls.

Banshee, that is what a Banshee is supposed to be.

They have always been the hunters that the Vampires admired the most. On the battlefield, we fought alongside one another with fear as our weapon, taking the lives of our feeble enemies.

But the Banshees of today have lost their way. Your kind has locked your true selves behind that attire not unlike what the Leithanian Casters wear. Decrepit and pretentious.

I'm afraid you are the one who's lost your way, Vampire.

Time does more than relentlessly erode the lands. It shapes life as well.

Why not take a look at yourself? Your form has long since changed, you are no longer as you were.

Hmph... What significance is the form my flesh takes?

Your flesh, like my robe, is the true form in which we walk the world.

The roots of Royal Court may have rotted away long ago, but Royal Court, as it stands today with its canopy raised up high, remains unwilling to fall to the ground.

How pathetic... That which is dead continues to draw nutrients from the barren soil, denying itself the chance to receive new life.

So this is your true goal?

The smile disappears from the Vampire's face. Next to him, the boiling blood settles into stasis for a brief moment.

A faint tremor can be felt beneath the ground, before the floor above it starts to shake as well.

Blood. Blood marches forward.

Operators, hold!

The battlefield below us...

He suddenly realizes he has stayed here for too long. Lettou is far from the only weak point in the command tower.

While both he and the Vampire had their attention drawn to the 'King of Sarkaz' and their old acquaintances, Rhodes Island and the Self-Salvation Corps have very likely been drawing ever closer to the information they need.

This was Rhodes Island's plan all along. They stood no chance of quickly defeating him and the Vampire. They simply wanted to buy themselves time.

I must...

You're too late.

Yes, he is. He can sacrifice an arm to escape from Ascalon, but the thing that's truly stopping him is the sea of blood before his eyes.

The Sanguinarch has already been angered. They are all trapped on this battlefield.

...Banshee.

You dare to plot the destruction of the Royal Court... the very manifestation of Sarkaz heritage?

An earth-shattering surge of blood envelops the entire command tower. The Rhodes Island Operators and the Defense Force soldiers are all moments away from being submerged.

That is, until a shapeless force divides this red sea of blood.

I do this not for destruction, but for my salvation.

Don't let your long memories bind you. Release yourself from your pride, from the olden days, Old Sarkaz King.

The Sarkaz have changed. The Sarkaz must change.

Under his bone pen, golden incantations write themselves loop by loop.

Heeding its master's rage, the pool of blood rises from the floor, the walls, and his head and charges toward the unapproachable young Banshee, as well as those he is shielding.

All because the Lord of Curses has already set the rules upon this high tower in a foreign land.

Doctor, the control tower...

The situation's intense.;I believe in Amiya, Logos, and Ascalon.

Phew... Looks like they managed to stall that scary guy...

Doctor, the drones have reached the control area.

Gonna start hacking now...

Give me an ETA.;How long will that take?

Half an hour... No, twenty minutes.

Doctor, I know Amiya and the Corps guys are having a tough time right now... Trust me, I wish I had a couple more pairs of hands too!

The gigantic machine lets out another growl.

The previously silent cannon begins to rev up again.

What just happened?

The men on the cannon are under attack!

There are hostiles in the distance...

Gah!

It's the Sarkaz!