boyutpedia Page 138
Page 138
"Eliminate Klaus's lackeys!"
A battle-ready roar echoed through the center of the oasis, and the Templars quickly spread out, assuming battle formations with practiced movements. But as they looked around, the shouts gradually subsided, replaced by whispers of confusion.
The city of Oasis was eerily quiet.
Koldria raised his right arm, signaling everyone to remain vigilant. His compound eyes scanned the surroundings rapidly; his modified sensory organs told him that the place was indeed deserted. There was no sign of garrison troops, no indication of fighting, not even any trace of ordinary residents' lives.
What lies before me is a perfect but desolate city.
A wide, obsidian-paved avenue stretched straight towards the city center, flanked by uniformly styled black buildings. These buildings were ingeniously designed, blending practicality and aesthetics; each piece of obsidian was polished to a mirror-like smoothness, reflecting an eerie sheen in the dim light of Atas. The streets were impeccably clean, devoid of any debris or litter, and even the expected signs of battle were nowhere to be seen.
"Detect the traps, Energizer Team!" Koldria ordered, advancing as he went.
The ten Templar Knights' shamans quickly dispersed, raising their staffs and chanting detection spells in low voices. Faint elemental fluctuations emanated from them, like invisible tentacles probing every corner of the city. After a few minutes, they all shook their heads.
"No spell traps found, Commander," a shaman reported. "And no trace of hidden enemies or ambushes."
Koldria frowned. This was wrong, very wrong. A city couldn't be completely undefended, especially Klaus's main stronghold. He looked up into the distance; the majestic obsidian pyramid and the arena were clearly visible, their outlines standing out starkly against the purple sky.
"Third squad, proceed to the pyramids!" he ordered. "Fifth squad, inspect the arena! The rest of you, search the entire city!"
The Templars sprang into action, spreading out across the city in standard search formations. Their heavy boots clattered rhythmically on the obsidian pavement. Whenever they passed a building, a dedicated squad would rush in and thoroughly search it, ensuring no corner was missed.
The first group entered a building that looked like a military barracks. Pushing open the door, they found dozens of stone beds neatly arranged inside, each with complete bedding, and even a faint smell of cleaning agents. But there was no one there, not a single person.
"Captain, it seems they just left," a samurai reported via telepathy. "The beds are still warm, but we can't find anyone."
The second team entered a workshop where the furnaces were still burning, and unfinished weapons and armor lay on the workbenches. The molten obsidian still glowed faintly in the molds, indicating that the craftsmen had just stopped working. But like the others, it was empty.
More and more search teams reported similar findings: in the residential area, the houses were clean and fully furnished, with even food still warm on the dining table; on the training ground, the sandbags were still swaying slightly, indicating that someone had been training there not long ago; in the storage room, goods were piled up like mountains and arranged neatly, clearly being carefully managed.
"Where did they go?" Coldria muttered to himself. An entire city, just vanished into thin air? No, more accurately, everyone had been systematically evacuated in the very short time before their arrival.
A captain ran up to him, panting, and reported, "Commander, we've found something strange."
"explain."
"The city's surrounding fortifications are still intact, even the rune arrays of the elemental barrier are undamaged. But there are some small areas... that look like deliberately left gaps, as if designed specifically to allow enemies to enter."
Coldria's heart grew even heavier. A deliberately left gap? What did that mean? Did Klaus intend to abandon the city from the very beginning? Or...?
"Commander!" came an excited shout from afar, "We've found the warehouse!"
Coldria immediately headed towards the direction from which the sound came. On the east side of the city, a massive building stood with its doors wide open, its interior piled high with supplies. Unlike the deserted surroundings, this place was a veritable treasure trove.
Piles of obsidian raw materials were neatly stacked, ranging from the most common building materials to intricately crafted magical mediums. Rows of weapon racks displayed a variety of weapons: obsidian longswords, battle axes with elemental enchantments, and staves engraved with complex runes. There was also a considerable amount of armor, from simple round shields to full-body heavy armor, all of quite good quality.
Even more coveted were the items that clearly possessed magical effects: glowing potion bottles, scrolls engraved with mysterious runes, and gems shimmering with elemental light. For these warriors who lived year-round in resource-scarce environments, these were nothing short of gifts from heaven.
"Incredible..." A Templar Knight picked up an obsidian warhammer, stroking its surface with obvious delight. "This weapon... is even more exquisite than the best weapon in our city-state."
"Look at these gems!" another warrior exclaimed, pointing to a pile of gems radiating a fiery red light. "Each one contains elemental essence. How much would these cost in Agmard?"
Excited whispers began to spread through the ranks. When had these Templars, treated as expendable resources in the city-state of Agmar, ever seen such abundant resources? In their world, obsidian was a precious magical medium, and a decent weapon required sacrificing one's life. Now, before them lay an unguarded treasure trove.
Koldria seemed equally awestruck by the sight before him. He slowly approached a container filled with various gems and reached out to pick up a crystal that shimmered with blue light. The pure elemental power made his skin tingle slightly; this was undoubtedly a top-tier magical energy storage crystal.
"Commander," an adjutant asked cautiously, "what should we...?"
Coldria raised the crystal and peered through it at the world outside. Everything seemed veiled in a blue filter, appearing both mysterious and... He could feel the expectant gazes of his men, a longing that was almost palpable.
King Agmar's army has always distributed rewards based on mission completion and loot acquisition. Normally, Templars receive only basic equipment and meager supplies, with the majority of their spoils being handed over to the King. But now, without supervision...
"The enemy has fled," Koldria's voice rang out slowly, "We've captured the fortress!"
These words were like a command, instantly igniting the passion of the entire army. Long-suppressed greed finally found an outlet, and the Templars erupted in deafening cheers.
"The spoils belong to the victors!"
"Long live King Agmar!"
"We are the victors!"
The formation crumbled instantly, and the Templars pounced on the spoils in the warehouse like ravenous beasts. The once well-trained army instantly transformed into a pack of greedy plunderers when faced with such immense temptation.
A warrior quickly swapped his old sword for a gleaming obsidian greatsword. Another warrior, as excited as a child, tried on a set of exquisitely crafted full-body armor. A group of shamans huddled around a pile of gems, eagerly selecting the right magical mediums for themselves.
"This is mine!" A warrior clutched a huge warhammer, as if afraid it would be stolen from him.
"You've already taken three weapons!" another protested. "Leave some for us too!"
Chaos began to spread, but it was a chaotic chaos filled with excitement. No one cared about tactical deployments, no one cared about the next course of action. In this place far from the Witch King's supervision, they could finally fight for themselves, not for the Witch King's glory.
Koldria gazed at the scene before him, his heart filled with mixed emotions. As commander, he was obligated to maintain discipline within his army; but as someone who had survived decades under the Witch King's brutal rule, he understood all too well the desires of his men. These weapons, these gems—each one represented a greater chance of survival in the harsh world of Atas.
He ultimately chose to remain silent and began selecting his own loot. A black obsidian staff engraved with a dragon pattern caught his eye. As he grasped the staff, a powerful elemental force instantly surged into his body—a feeling even purer than the power bestowed upon him by the Witch King.
And so, the entire Templar Order was immersed in unprecedented excitement. They scattered throughout the city, searching every building, looking for anything of value. Even the most ordinary daily necessities held considerable value in Atas, a land of extreme scarcity.
A group of warriors discovered a wine cellar filled with a large quantity of distilled spirits. In Atas, alcohol was not only a beverage but also a valuable medical supply and magical potion. They excitedly clutched the barrels as if they were priceless treasures.
Another group found a food storage facility containing various rations and supplies. While not particularly valuable, it was enough for the Templars who often suffered from hunger.
What's most surprising is that there are many small armories scattered throughout the city. Each armory contains a certain number of weapons and armor. Although the storage capacity of a single armory is not as large as that of the central warehouse, the sheer number of them is enough to ensure that everyone can get something.
"Look at this!" a samurai shouted from inside a building that looked like an alchemy workshop. "There's a whole shelf of healing potions here!"
The others immediately rushed in that direction. Healing potions were more precious than gold in Atas, because the world's environment was so harsh that any injury could lead to infection or worsening. With these potions, they had a greater chance of survival in the battle to come.
As time went on, the Templars reaped increasingly rich rewards. Almost everyone was equipped with brand-new weapons and armor, and their backpacks were stuffed with all sorts of useful items. The shamans, in particular, reaped a great harvest, acquiring enough magical mediums to last them a long time.
But just as everyone was basking in this unexpected joy, a deep rumble came from afar. The sound... sounded somewhat familiar.
Koldria jerked her head up, her compound eyes instantly locking onto the source of the sound. A reddish-orange light appeared simultaneously on the northern and southern horizons—that was…
"The Path of Elements!" a shaman accompanying the army screamed. "Someone is opening the Path of Elements!"
The atmosphere of excitement froze instantly. Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared nervously in the direction from which the lights had appeared. The Elemental Path was a long-range strategic deployment method that only the Witch King could activate, capable of transporting large armies in an instant. And now, two paths were open simultaneously, which meant...
"Prepare for battle!" Koldria shouted, though his voice sounded somewhat hesitant. "Everyone, prepare for battle!"
But it was too late.
The first stream of elemental light, representing wind, had extended completely beyond the reach of the storm outside the city, only to be intercepted atop a hill by a massive, rotating azure circle. Immediately afterward, countless figures began to surge forth from within the circle. These figures moved in perfect unison, their movements synchronized, clearly a well-trained army.
The Elemental Path in the south was also fully unfolded, and yet another large army emerged from it. Judging from their insignia and equipment, they clearly came from different city-states, representing different sorcerers.
Koldria's heart sank. Two armies of the Witch Kings had arrived simultaneously, and both seemed to have been prepared. This was no coincidence; it was...
"A trap," he muttered to himself. "This whole city is a trap."
Beside him, an adjutant asked in a trembling voice, "Commander, what...what do we do?"
Koldria gripped the newly acquired obsidian staff, feeling its power. Ironically, their equipment had never been so excellent, just as they were about to face their doom.
"Prepare for battle." His voice regained its firmness. "For Agmar, for the Witch King, for... to survive!"
39. Offerings
The flames of the two elemental paths spread out completely at the edge of the oasis, much like two twisted swords piercing through the remaining membrane of the elemental barrier, tearing the shimmering dust into two stable and ever-expanding vortex-shaped voids.
The colors of the light and flames were not the same. The elemental path to the north was dominated by the wind element, displaying a constantly flowing cyan color that reflected a turquoise background, like a waterfall cascading vertically down. In contrast, the elemental path to the south was dominated by the earth element, with pale yellow light tinged with orange-brown condensing from the void, like an unstoppable mudslide surging from the earth's core.
The army of the Witch-King Jonask was the first to emerge from the Elemental Path in the north. His army was quite different from the slave army of the city-state of Agmar; there was no tragic despair of being forced into battle, nor the chaotic disorder of fighting frantically for survival. Instead, every soldier displayed mechanical coordination, filing out of the vortex in a carefully rehearsed formation.
Most striking were the Templar Knights of Jonask. These warriors, partially elementalized, shimmered with a faint elemental glow. Their skin was covered in a layer of sand-like keratin, and their nails resembled sharp flint fragments. Some knights' hair appeared to be constantly burning, yet it wouldn't burn away; others were surrounded by miniature vortexes, forming visible barriers of wind. They wore a single, semi-transparent light armor made of something resembling wind elemental magic, drawing power from the elemental paths to strengthen themselves, while chanting a complex and monotonous incantation to guide more soldiers through the elemental passages.
Zorak's army followed closely to the south, the Witch-King's Templar Order displaying a distinctly different style. Each warrior was a complete but clearly incongruous humanoid form, stitched together from strong limbs of different humans or humanoid creatures. Their bodies often bore the marks of patchwork of different skin colors and body types, the seams forcibly sewn together by massive bones wide enough to fit a toe. Faint electric sparks flickered beneath the healed granulation tissue and connective tissue, and pale purple psionic energy flowed in their empty eyes.
These "Frankenstein" warriors make unsettling clicking sounds at their joints as they move, and each step is accompanied by subtle discharges of lightning energy within their bodies.
"Truly ingenious, a fusion of magic and psychic energy—I seriously doubt how Zorak managed to recreate this demonic technology in Atas without connecting to the Infernal Plane." Old Roar muttered to himself, observing the deployment of both armies from his elevated position. "Perhaps this is a case of technological convergence?"
There was no surprise in the ancient red dragon's furnace-like eyes; everything was as expected, or rather, everything was within its plan.
Celine Della hovered beside Old Howl, her transparent diamond form shimmering with rainbow-like light above the clouds. "They completely ignored Agmar's slave army and the warriors still battling the sandstorm," she noted, her voice tinged with barely concealed worry. "Their target from the start was Oasis City."
"Of course." Old Roar let out a low chuckle, the flames within the seams of his dragon scales flickering. "Agmar—any Witch-King is nothing but a stumbling block to the others. These two have always had their true target in Obsidian City."
Old Roar silently ascended to a higher vantage point, observing the entire battlefield using images created by his divination magic. The two armies deployed with astonishing speed, seemingly possessing an uncanny grasp of the city's layout and plans. More soldiers continuously poured forth from both ends of the Elemental Path, occupying the high ground surrounding the city in droves.
"Look at this, what thorough intelligence work!" The sarcasm practically spilled from the scars on Old Roar's face, solidifying into a malicious laugh. "They didn't even question the source of the intelligence! Did they really think I'd leave such an undefended fortress for them to pounce on?" (The last part, "梅有有有你林在在没呢...", is a nonsensical string of characters and doesn't translate directly. It's likely a result of OCR errors.)
In the distance, a group of shamans, temporarily fully elementalized, began setting up magical mediums around the oasis, preparing to break the city's elemental barrier. The barrier was not indestructible, especially the flaws deliberately left by the old man, which were like wide-open doors to these shaman priests familiar with elemental power.
"My maid, how long do you think it will take them to completely break into the city?" the old man asked, his voice filled with an almost cruel expectation.
Celine Della's wings trembled slightly, a sign that she couldn't hide her inner fear: "At their speed and preparation, breaking the barrier will take about an hour, and then breaching the city defenses will take about two hours—but considering what we left behind..."
"A flaw," Old Roar added, seemingly particularly pleased with the word.
"Yes, considering those weaknesses, they could potentially take complete control of the city within an hour."
Old Roar nodded in satisfaction, his scales clanging like metal. "What a wonderful time, what a 'coincidence'."
Around the city, the armies of Witch-King Jonask and Zolak tightened their encirclement like two giant pythons. Besides the shamanic order, they deployed a vast number of catapults and other siege weapons, preparing for a possible assault. They were clearly unaware of the true situation inside the city, just like the Templars who were already caught up in the chaotic scramble for spoils.
The Templars, dispatched by Agmar to seize Oasis City, are now plundering every valuable item in the city, completely forgetting their mission. Koldryak attempts to restore some order, but faced with such immense temptation, the authority bestowed upon him by the Witch-King has vanished.
"These fools, their souls completely bought off by a little obsidian and jewels." Old Roar's sarcasm intensified. "Or is this the way of survival in the world of Atas? Selling dignity and duty for a tiny bit of material gain? Oh... have they forgotten that all spoils of war must first be handed over to the Witch-King?"
Celine Della did not respond to Old Shout's series of sarcastic questions; the answers to those questions were already contained within the questions themselves.
As a kind-hearted crystal dragon, she has an instinctive respect for life, even for these enemies who have no dignity whatsoever. But she also knows that in this dead world, morality and dignity have long become luxuries.
"'Eagle,' target confirmed," Old Roar signaled to the pterosaurs circling on the outer edge, a strange gleam in his voice. "Operation plan proceeding as scheduled."
On the ground, two armies continued to surge forth along the Elemental Path, completely surrounding the city. Shamans began chanting in unison, initiating a ritual to break the barrier. Simultaneously, tens of thousands of slave soldiers were driven forward, ready to become the first wave of cannon fodder in the siege.
The old roar continued to gaze at the scene below, the lava in its eyes surging even more violently. "Jonesk and Zorak," it murmured the two names, as if savoring something delicious, "two Witch-kings who think themselves wise enough, and the Templars of Agmar trapped within the city—a feast is about to begin."
Cracks began to appear in the Oasis City's barrier under the shamans' attacks. The seemingly indestructible elemental barriers shattered like glass, revealing the city's interior. The cracks widened until the entire barrier disintegrated like a broken eggshell, vanishing into the air.
"The defenses have collapsed," Serendella stated calmly.
"No, my dear maid," the old roar sneered, hot saliva dripping from between his fangs, "the real defense has only just begun. Let's see which witch king's army will step into my trap first!"
After the barrier disappeared, the two armies did not immediately attack, but instead sent out a small number of scouts to investigate the city. These scouts soon discovered a strange fact: the army inside the city was in a peculiar state of disarray.
"Interesting," Old Roar commented. "They've discovered Agmar's Templars, and now they must decide whether to continue with the original plan or deal with these uninvited guests first."
In fact, the two witch kings had already learned of each other's existence through the psychic communication of the shamans, but they decided to maintain a superficial cooperation for the time being, jointly destroy Agmar's army, and then resolve their conflicts.
"Cooperation?" Old Roar's hoarse laughter echoed through the clouds. "In Atas, the word 'cooperation' has a shorter lifespan than a mosquito in a sandstorm."
Sure enough, just moments later, Jonisk's army launched the first attack. They didn't send their full force, but instead drove a contingent of slave soldiers towards the city gates as a probe. These poor slaves, carrying rudimentary weapons, charged into the city expressionlessly, like walking corpses, without fear or hope.
"It seems Jonisk is eager to prove his dominance," Old Roar observed, a morbid pleasure in his voice. "But Zolak won't be content to lag behind."
Old Roar's prediction was confirmed once again. Just as Jonisk's slave army crossed the city gates, Zolak's army immediately launched an attack, choosing the other side of the city and sending out a large number of stitched-together monster warriors. These terrifying monsters leaped and tumbled over the city walls like fleas, then, draped in the aura of nightmares, seeped into the depths of the city.
"The fierce battle has begun; now, let us enjoy this feast."
The old roar extended its four claws, assuming a strange posture, which, in conjunction with the surge of dragon magic, triggered an invisible mechanism.
The most magnificent obsidian sanctuary in the city center, and the top of the under-construction arena, began to emit a faint but steadily increasing red light, contrasting sharply with the gloomy sky of Atas, like two red giants about to explode.
The area illuminated by the light did not become brighter; instead, it was enveloped in an eerie darkness.
"Such vibrant life force," Old Roar explained calmly. "The entire city's obsidian architecture is part of a spell. With the support of such a large-scale obsidian medium, the power of the Corruption Waves has been greatly amplified, enough to draw upon the life force of all life in the city for a short period of time as fuel for arcane magic."
It coldly watched the corrupting light waves surging within the area enveloped by the dark red light below. "Those witch kings and their armies, and the entire oasis, are nothing but sacrifices to my magic."
Celine Della stared in shock at the two buildings, the psionic distortion enveloping her body completely shrinking inward: "Was the annihilation of the armies of the three Witch Kings merely a side effect?"
"Of course," the old roared with a loud sneer, "my dear Lady in the Gem-Cloak, you know very well that in the world of Atarth, life force is the only fuel for unleashing arcane magic. These Witch-Kings have conveniently delivered themselves to my doorstep, providing an excellent energy source for my strategic deployment."
A full-scale battle erupted among the three armies within the city. Although the Templars of Agmar were equipped with high-quality weapons and their more stable modifications gave them a more consistent combat level, they lacked unified command and tactical deployment, and could only suffer repeated defeats under the combined attack of the two organized armies.
The elemental warriors of Jonisk advance through the city with a mechanical coordination; each time they capture a building or block, it is altered by elemental forces to become more suitable for their movements. Zorak's stitched warriors, on the other hand, are more savage and direct, scattered throughout the city to tear apart any enemy that stands in their way, whether from Agmar or Jonisk. Lightning energy surges within them, and psychic light bursts from their eyes.
The red light emanating from the two obsidian buildings grew ever stronger, like two evil eyes gazing down upon the entire city. The oasis withered, the lives of the wounded who fell to the ground faded away in helpless groans, and then the weak slave soldiers fell one after another during their charge.
"They can't escape now." Old Roar's victory declaration swept across Serendella's psionic ring. "Now, let's look forward to seeing the expressions on the faces of these self-proclaimed gods—these frogs in a well—after they've witnessed the wider world!"
40. Candleburg
"Is that Candlekeep?" Ravenna pointed to the cluster of buildings towering on the distant coastline, her face filled with undisguised amazement.
From a human perspective, Candle Castle is merely a blurry outline, resembling a fairytale castle shrouded in frost.
"Yes, that's Faerûn's most famous repository of knowledge," Casalos nodded in confirmation. "But it's still quite a distance. Let's find a high vantage point to better appreciate the entirety of this magnificent building."
The three climbed to a nearby cliff, overlooking the entire Candlekeep. From this superb vantage point, the solemn and majestic silhouette of Candlekeep was laid out before them.