SWNOVELXO Chapter 523
Chapter 523. Pride of the Races
“Ugh, this is really annoying.”
In the rear, Sekihankus, who was observing the battle situation within the Hunting Grounds, was getting genuinely fed up with the incessant damage reports.
The dwarves had started to operate not just their mechanical bows, but also large catapults. From earlier, boulders the size of a person’s torso and fiery pots filled with oil had begun flying, causing damage not only to the beastman soldiers but even to the unfortunate demon race warriors who took a direct hit.
—Meanwhile, the Sauroe Tribe and Korvto Tribe suffered none.
It seemed that when a fiery pot struck an impromptu corridor, oil flooded in, surprising everyone, but it only resulted in some singed hair without many suffering even burns.
If they continued to deploy the barriers and build fortifications, both clans would likely reach the dwarven stronghold without any losses. However, it would be preferable for the other general demon races to be allowed to fight a bit more liberally.
“…Can you handle that mechanical bow with your bows?”
Sekihankus called out to the Night Elf Soldiers stationed nearby.
The Night Elves had interpreted the order that “other races need not put their lives on the line” as a firm command and sat quietly in the back.
“We have poison arrows prepared. With a gap of that size, it would be no trouble to shoot through. The main uncertainty is how armored the target is,” one replied.
“Let’s give it a shot; try it out.”
“Understood!”
The Night Elf soldier, who answered energetically, signaled to his comrades.
With a rustle, the Night Elf soldiers moved out in a perfect line.
They readied their poisoned arrows, drawing their bows tight.
“—Hah!”
The commander near Sekihankus also shot off a poison arrow toward the target. With a gentle whoosh, the arrow streaked through the air and smoothly slipped into the gap where the catapult continued to spit out its thick arrows.
In that instant, the Night Elf soldiers who received the target command followed suit.
The sound of arrows being released rang out as if in a rapid succession. One by one, starting from the rightmost end of the line, soldiers released their arrows at almost blink-perfect intervals.
Dozens of arrows gradually slipped into the gap in the stronghold wall, as if a well-coordinated unit was moving as a single line through a narrow door.
—This is the collective combat tactic of the Night Elf Soldiers.
Due to the pinpoint precision of Night Elf bows, firing en masse at a single target typically causes the arrows to collide mid-air, creating a problem.
Thus, by slightly staggering the timings, they ensured all arrows hit their mark without issue.
The mechanical bow, showered with such acrobatic poison arrows, suddenly halted its firing in shock—
“…It seems it’s not effective.”
After a moment, it resumed firing arrows as if nothing had happened.
“It seems the target is highly armored. I had hoped to at least stop the shooter, but it seems we couldn’t do that,” Sekihankus remarked without showing much disappointment, to which the Night Elf commander replied calmly.
“Well, it’s fine. If we let them continue firing, they should soon run out of arrows.”
Gesturing to retreat, Sekihankus was interrupted.
“—Your Excellency.”
The Night Elf commander remained rooted in place.
“…What is it?”
Sekihankus found it interesting. It was quite rare for the dutiful Night Elves to dig in like this, whether for better or worse.
“Is there still something else?”
A hidden strategy?
“I have one.”
The Night Elf commander, maintaining a composed demeanor, was indeed quite annoyed.
—The bow is the pride of the Elf race.
To think… something so clumsy like those stone-eating contraptions would overshadow that!
Certainly, even the Night Elves had to acknowledge the ballistic utility of those devices. However, having overheard the demon races dismissively say, “It’s on par with Night Elf arrows,” the commander could no longer hold back.
“I will silence that contemptible contrivance utterly. However, the number of heads and captives among the demon races will surely decrease. Is that acceptable?”
—Can I destroy that ridiculous contraption along with its shooter?
Sekihankus, who read between the lines, couldn’t help but smirk with amusement.
“Go ahead. Give it a try.”
“Understood. Then—”
The Night Elf commander signaled to the rear.
“—We will deploy the Bow Saint.”
One archer stepped forward.
His sleeveless arms were incredibly muscular for the typically slender Night Elf physique, resembling logs.
His left arm, holding the bow, was longer and thicker than his right, and the bulging muscles of his left chest and shoulder made any onlooker uneasy.
A strongman who had drawn his bow to the point of distorting his body—
“The Bow Saint ‘Three Crows’, Athar,” announced the Night Elf commander with reverence.
“He is one of our Night Elf tribes’ strongest forces.”
“Oh…”
With the Bow Saint’s appearance, Sekihankus couldn’t help but sit up straighter.
In the Demon Lord Kingdom, anyone with significant ‘power’ is always respected. Even those of a lower caste, like those not of the demon race, are treated with esteem as long as they are a Fist Saint or Bow Saint.
Especially the Bow Saint is rare. Compared to Beastmen, Night Elves often born with stronger magical powers seldom lack such abilities, and among them, those who master their bows and find joy in the principles of things are limited.
“Three Crows, huh?”
“They call him that because he once shot down three flying crows in one go. Not only is he precise with his arrows, but he is also exceptionally adept at discerning shooting opportunities.”
The Night Elf commander, explaining eagerly, bragged as if it was his own accomplishment.
“I hear you called for me.”
The Bow Saint Athar spoke bluntly, his voice as deep and rough as his muscular arms.
“Yes. The dwarf’s contraption is bothersome beyond measure.”
Pointing at the mechanical bow (strictly speaking, its form couldn’t be seen behind the wall) that was incessantly firing thick arrows, Sekihankus issued his command.
“Do something about those. The dwarf shooter can die if that’s the case.”
“Understood…”
Taking a few steps forward, Athar casually readied his bow.
It was a sturdy, robust metal bow that stood taller than him. Crafted with peak Night Elf technology, it surpassed conventional bows with incredible tensile strength, and even the strongest demon race risked snapping fingers if mishandled.
Athar pulled back the bowstring as if it were second nature.
An arrow, thick and long like a spear, was readied.
The taut string creaked—an instant of tension—
“…”
But unexpectedly, Athar relaxed his stance.
“This barrier of ours…”
Glancing back at Sekihankus, Athar continued.
“…? Ah, the barrier. I have it set to allow attacks from the inside, so feel free to fire away.”
“Understood…”
Nodding, Athar faced the target once more.
He shot.
Kowaan! An eerie sound. The metal bow declared death.
The arrow, demonstrating dimensional acceleration, tore through the air, piercing vapor and closing in on the fortress wall.
It slipped through the gap.
—Piercing.
Brrrrrrr… a rumble echoed that reached Sekihankus. The fortress shook, and dust exploded from the gap in the wall. Amidst the swirling dust, the empty hunk of metal slammed against the floor and wall with a cacophony, resonating with loud clanging sounds.
The battlefield fell silent.
As if it too had been struck, or perhaps realizing its own fate, the other mechanical bows ceased firing; demons, devils, and beastmen were stunned, frozen in the dust. Even the dragon that had been screeching overhead quieted as if struck dumb—
Only the Bow Saint did not stop.
Kowaan! The death declaration, again.
Another arrow struck through a different gap. Shattering. Rumble. A shockwave licked at the fortress. Dust rode up like an avalanche down the mountainside. Shivering, a beastman soldier blinked, soon realizing the dwarves’ mechanical bows had fallen silent, erupting in a cheer, “—Oooooooh!”
“…Ohhhh!!”
Cheers spread among the Demon Lord’s army.
They welcomed ‘that’ caused by their comrades with raised hands.
“…This angle won’t allow for more.”
Then, amidst the accolades directed at himself, the Bow Saint muttered to himself.
“Let’s change places and fire at something else.”
No sooner had he informed Sekihankus than he vanished like the wind.
Although the Night Elves had lost the favor of the spirits,
He moved as if saying he already had a blessing of his own.
Dashing forward. Light-footed, faster than the eye could follow.
To be ‘noble’, as the principles of things smile—
Then, strange sounds echoed at several points on the battlefield, causing all dwarven mechanical bows to fall silent.
“Wonderful. Truly wonderful.”
Sekihankus put down his spear and applauded. A heartfelt appreciation.
“I even think it’s fortunate that you Night Elves are our allies. Splendid shooting, Athar.”
“Such praise is too much…”
Athar quickly completed his task and bowed courteously upon returning.
(This is the Bow Saint… Incredible.)
Muttering in awe, he looked over at the thoroughly deflated dwarven stronghold.
(That one shot, without the [Arrow Avoidance] spell, I’m not sure even I could handle it.)
Sekihankus, skilled at ‘taking’ because of his contract with a demon, doubted if he could withstand Athar’s arrow.
A marquis-tier demon race among the upper echelon!
(Especially if it were a surprise attack, it’s too terrifying to contemplate—I’d rather not think about it. I can’t tell which is worse, the Sword Saint suddenly appearing behind me or this.)
Indeed, Sekihankus’ concerns were valid. Athar’s arrows exceeded sound, giving them high surprise attack potential.
Among the martial saints—Sword Saint, Fist Saint, and Bow Saint—truly the most fearsome must surely be the Bow Saint. Unlike the other two, who are easily neutralized by curses, the Bow Saint’s attacking distance is exceptionally dangerous. Curses often cannot reach as far as arrows do.
(Well, fortunately, there is no Bow Saint among our allied forces.)
At least so far, there had been no encounters with the Forest Elf Bow Saint.
They apparently existed in the long history (it’s recorded in epics), but generally, a Bow Saint seldom arises from among the magically gifted Forest Elves.
“Now then! Hopefully, this will make the assault on the stronghold more effective.”
He could see the beastman soldiers, who had been targeted repetitively by the mechanical bows, particularly invigorated.
Sekihankus, arms crossed, observed the shifting battle conditions. However, at that moment, soldiers who were just about to charge were blown away.
The mechanical bows were silenced, but… from inside the stronghold walls, the catapult was still firing projectiles along a parabolic arc, still very much operational.
†††
“Oh, that annoying shooting has stopped. Was that the work of the Bow Saint?”
In the Korvto Tribe’s battlefield corridor, just a few dozen meters from the dwarven stronghold, Marquis Panmoarus, who had stepped forward, rubbed his beard with interest as he eyed the situation outside.
“Most likely, right? That shot didn’t feel magical at all,” replied a young member of the Korvto Tribe, who was observing the advancement of the land.
“Absence of magic is indeed a threat. Attacks that can’t be sensed in advance are the most terrifying,” Panmoarus reflected, having fought countless times against the allied Fist Saints and Sword Saints on the battlefield.
Just then, a tremor rocked the ground. The cries of beastmen and demon soldiers, “Gyaaa!” “Gwaaa!” echoed as the catapult’s projectile seemed to have landed nearby.
“Hmm. It seems the Bow Saint’s work is to take out the mechanical bows.”
It’s a well-known tale that the Bow Saint seldom appears on the battlefield, only doing so when the stakes are high enough, simply to avoid reducing the number of demon heads that could be claimed.
Especially considering the purpose of the stronghold assault—to demonstrate the power of the demon race—it would not be good for the Night Elves to outshine.
“Well then, I suppose it’s time for this old man to get in on the action!”
Grinning broadly—mildly but fiercely—Panmoarus chuckled.
“Whoa, is the old man going to do his thing!”
“Just make sure to do it from a distance!”
“Don’t forget to leave some for us!”
The young ones encouraged him.
“Hoh hoh hoh. Oh, I’m just going to take care of that pesky projectile. I’ll leave plenty of your prey for you.”
Drilling a hole into the corridor’s stone wall, Panmoarus strode out confidently.
“Ah, how pleasant this is!”
Thanks to the absence of that torrent of arrows from the mechanical bows, things were so much easier now.
“Now then…!”
With a thud, he plunged his spear into the ground.
Channeling—his marquis-tier magical power, flowing freely.
With a technique unparalleled to the young ones, he seized control of the land.
“[It’s your time to shine, Imitatio.]”
Unleashing his diabolical authority.
“[Mimic my form.]”
Behind Panmoarus—the earth began to rise.