Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 183 Disintegration Techniques and Fragmentation Grenades
After that epic duel on the front lines, the JASKA squadron had been fighting for six hours.

The setting sun hung low, and corpses lay scattered haphazardly inside and outside the trenches, some human, some horse-drawn.

Each body was horribly mutilated by solid shot, grapeshot, and lead bullets, but at least they still retained their shape.

Just a few steps away—in the area between the trenches and the fortress walls—the scene is completely different.

In stark contrast to the area inside and outside the trench, the ground beneath the wall was littered with shattered pieces of flesh, fallen limbs, spilled entrails, and dead horses that had been gutted.

Most of the dead there were blown to pieces by grenades.

In comparison, dying from a sword or knife is a more respectable way to die.

At the edge of the trench, a dying Hart was pinned down by a horse carcass, unable to live or die.

His cries of agony were intermittent, incomprehensible to the Paratians, yet utterly chilling.

Finally, one of the musketeers could no longer bear it, stood up and fired a shot at the Hed man, and the others followed suit, giving the man a quick death.

Upon hearing the gunshot, the enraged sergeant rushed forward and slapped the musketeer twice across the face for wasting ammunition.

The Terdun, having been repelled once again, are regrouping west of the bridgehead, and the blue horse-tail banner symbolizing the Khan has been moved southwest.

At the cost of thousands of lives, the Teldun people gradually discovered the fortress's weakness: not in the north or south, but in the west and east.

This bridgehead has only a south gate and a north gate. The south gate is close to the river, and the north gate is sheltered by a triangular fort, making them the two strongest points in the defense system.

The east and west walls had no gates, so the Paratites who came out of the fort to counterattack had to detour through the south and north gates, which allowed the attacking side to intercept and kill them.

Furthermore, there were no triangular forts outside the east and west walls, allowing the attacking side to directly attack the fortified walls.

The outer defensive works of the west wall were in a state of disrepair; the barricades had been removed, the trenches had been filled in, and the breastworks had been dug up.

The Teldenans, pushing their rudimentary equipment, advanced step by step toward the western wall. This time, there was no division of forces or feigned attack; the fire-gatherer intended to deliver the final blow.

The Paratul people, who also possessed fighting strength, were concentrated on the west wall.

“Don’t be afraid!” Winters walked among the soldiers, patting each one on the shoulder and back: “The Heds can’t hold on any longer! This is the last shiver before they pee!”

Gendarmerie officer Heinrich followed behind the centurion, carrying the military flag high; a large medal was tied to the top of the flagpole.

Gunpowder smoke, sweat, and dirt formed a thick layer on the soldiers' faces, making it impossible for Winters to see their features.

The wounded soldiers had their wounds hastily bandaged with makeshift bandages, many of which were already soaked in blood.

The Paratians were exhausted and had no strength left to even speak.

Only the centurion's voice, though hoarse, remained booming: "That monkey-faced guy is really unlucky to have run into us! After this battle, he'll be urinating blood for the rest of his life! And his bladder will split open!"

A burst of laughter erupted from the fortress walls.

Winters, on his inspection tour, ran into Father Kaman at the southwest corner bastion.

"Why did you get up here?" He quickly pushed Kaman towards the stairs: "You're just a surgeon! Go down!"

Surgeons are already rare, and because the Catholic Church forbids clergy from having "blood on their hands," clergy trained in surgery are even rarer than dogs that walk upright.

The old charlatan was in the main camp, while at the bridgehead, there was only one clergyman, Kaman.

With him in charge of the medical center, the wounded could rest assured regardless of whether they lived or died. Winters could not afford to lose the doctor and the priest.

"Don't spill it!" Kaman protected the silver cup in his hand, a cloth bag with a holy emblem hanging around his neck: "Everyone has to receive Holy Communion, right?"

"Is today Sunday?" Winters was stunned. Only then did he notice that Kaman was wearing a holy coat.

“Yes.” Kaman took a small biscuit from his bag, dipped it in the wine in his glass, and offered it to the spellcaster: “Want one?”

Winters snorted and reached into his cloth bag, pulling out a handful of cookies: "I'll help myself."

As they chatted and laughed, the Heds had closed to within eighty meters, and Mason opened fire first.

The seven cannons that had been pushed to the northwest and southwest corner bastions fired in succession.

Walnut-sized shrapnel swept across the battlefield like hail, tearing the Heds apart with blood and flesh, and even blasting several gaps in their formation.

The cannons fired like a starting pistol, the war drums thundered, and the Teldun troops charged toward the west wall with shouts.

The drummers on the fort also struck their snare drums.

The musketeers walked to the wall, set up their muskets, and each chose a target and aimed carefully.

The drumming stopped abruptly, and the gong pierced the noise: "Bang!"

"Bang! Bang! Bang!" A volley of shots.

A dozen or so Hud people fell to the ground, but more Hud people followed suit.

The drumming continued, and the second squad of musketeers moved to the wall.

After dozens of rounds of live-fire exercises, Winters no longer needed to shout commands to execute the rotation tactics.

But the musketeers had only fired three volleys when, with two clangs, two wooden ladders were already placed against the fortress wall.

The Hedman, with his scimitar in his mouth, swiftly climbed up the fortress wall.

This is the consequence of losing the fortifications around the city; the firing window for long-range weapons is greatly reduced.

There were also some musketeers on the watchtowers, in excellent positions, but they were repeatedly shot down by Hart's archers.

"Sergeant Carl! Take your men to the wooden wall! The rest of you, fire freely!" Winters roared. "Spearmen! Push them down!"

Some of the musketeers hurriedly ran toward the second wooden fortress behind, where Lieutenant Colonel Jessica was personally in charge.

At this point, the defending forces should have sent their elite troops to charge the enemy below the city, but the JSKA battalion was no longer able to launch an attack.

Mason was in charge of the northwest corner bastion, Bard was in charge of the southwest corner bastion, and Winters was in charge of the west wall.

He and a spearman picked up a log and knocked down a wooden ladder.

The Hud man on the ladder fell, dusted himself off, and got back up—the earthen walls of the fortress weren't high enough to kill him.

For every ladder the Paratists knocked down, the enemy would push up three more.

The enemy also deployed two seesaw-like machines, and some enemy soldiers even climbed the bunker walls with their bare hands.

Armed with steel swords and clad in heavy armor, the Herd warriors surged onto the fortress walls, and the battle turned into a bloody face-to-face slaughter.

The Paratites were armored, and so were the Hedites, making it exceptionally difficult to kill the enemy—for both sides.

Bloodthirsty people frantically stabbed each other in the face, armpits, and groin—areas lacking armor protection.

Anyone who falls will be instantly stabbed to death through the gaps in their armor.

Winters charged left and right on the wall, having already changed his scimitar four times, but the number of Herd men around him kept increasing.

The Hed people also discovered a Palatine warrior who was extremely fierce, and no one could defeat him in a single blow.

"[Herd] The Hailie Squad, heed my command!" A red-feathered Herd leader stood on high ground, pointing his saber at Winters and roaring, "[Herd] Quickly surround and kill those armored soldiers!"

"Damn it!" Winters raised his hand and unleashed a flying arrow technique.

The steel nail struck the helmet squarely, knocking the Red Feathered Herdman to the ground.

At the same time, two Hedricks charged at Winters. He dodged one, but was grabbed around the waist by the other.

"Let go!" Winters hammered the Hed man's head repeatedly with the hilt of his knife, like driving nails; he could even hear the bones cracking. "Let go!"

However, Hedrick's arms gripped Winters' waist and abdomen like a pair of vises. Winters' plate armor creaked and even began to deform.

"Ah!" Hedlis roared, using his wrestling skills to lift Winters, who weighed over two hundred pounds including his armor, and tried to smash him to death.

"Let go! Now!" Winters roared, hoisted into the air, as he ripped off Hedrick's neck armor and plunged his scimitar into the neck: "Die!"

Hedlis died instantly, but still did not let go of his arm, and fell down with Winters.

Winters was pinned down by the corpse of Hedlis, and more Hedlis rushed toward him.

"Save the centurion!" Charles shouted anxiously from a dozen meters away, swinging his halberd to attack Winters.

"[Herd] Stop them!" But the red-feathered Herd leader struggled to his feet, his face covered in blood, and shouted, "[Herd] Surround and kill him!"

Several Hed men immediately blocked the reinforcements.

"call out!"

"call out!"

"call out!"

Three consecutive arrows were fired, the spellcasting so forcefully that Winters nearly fainted.

A flash of cold light appeared on the red feather, and the three elite soldiers fell to the ground.

"[Herde] He is the Chosen One!" Red Feather suddenly understood, and he roared madly, "[Herde] Kill him! Kill that Chosen One now!"

Upon hearing the centurion's words, the surrounding Herd soldiers were all taken aback and dared not approach Winters.

After a full second of hesitation, they gritted their teeth and charged toward the "Chosen One" amidst the centurion's roar.

That one second gave Winters a chance to catch his breath.

But he had run out of steel nails, and the Hedman had already rushed within a meter of him.

In desperation—and in a moment of panic—Winters launched a flying arrow directly at the Hed's head.

"Pfft!" "Pfft!"

Both eyeballs burst open.

"Ah!!!" The Hedman let out a scream that was not human. The excruciating pain caused the burly man to roll on the ground, his eye sockets had become two blurry clumps of flesh and blood.

The other Hud people were terrified.

Winters was also experiencing unprecedented phantom pain, even more intense than the pain suffered by the blind Hurds—it was like being crushed inch by inch under a stone mill.

His body was convulsing with the excruciating mental pain; he had never before unleashed so much magic in one go.

But in a life-or-death situation, he had no time to think.

Since it's useful, let's continue using it.

The phantom pain came and went quickly. The instant he recovered from the spasm, Winters unleashed a flying arrow at the second Hed's head.

This time, he completely abandoned all restrictions and opened all the valves.

Major Moritz taught him [Arrow Technique] with an emphasis on precision, but now Winters is pushing the output of magic to its limit—no, beyond the limit—without reservation, direction, or control.

The second man from the Hed immediately vomited blood and, clutching his throat, stumbled and fell against the wall.

Then comes the third one.

This time, Winters had an epiphany. In his ultimate spellcasting state, he used the head of a Hed as the casting material and simultaneously launched a flying arrow spell in two directions.

The third Hed head exploded on the spot, red and white fragments flying like rain.

"The Chosen One"

The word echoed in the minds of the Huds, and the Huds who were still alive around Winters scrambled away into the distance.

The leader of the Red Feathered Herd was in utter despair. He trembled and knelt on the ground, muttering some kind of scripture as if he were praying.

Winters broke free from Hedlis's arms, leaned against the parapet, and walked to Red Feather's side.

Red Feather looked up at Winters, his eyes filled with tears. He reached out as if to hug Winters' leg.

Winters was pale, panting heavily. He wiped the blood from his nose with the back of his hand and pointed at Red Feather's head, entering a spellcasting state: "Disintegrate."

Red Feather's head was torn apart by an invisible force.

"Cavalry!" someone on the watchtower shouted anxiously, pointing outside the wall. "The cavalry are coming!"

Hundreds of cavalry charged straight toward the city wall. These cavalrymen only had horse armor, no human armor, no helmets, and not even saddles, doing their best to reduce their load.

Winters then realized what the fire-gatherer was up to.

The walls of this fortress are not made of rammed earth or fertile soil, but simply a mound of earth, which naturally has a slope.

With a little digging, the Heds slowed the slope, allowing their cavalry to charge directly onto the city walls.

Now, everyone is exhausted, and these well-rested "lightly armed" heavy cavalrymen are the final blow for those who are warming themselves by the fire.

With full speed, the Hart cavalry charged up the fortress wall. The horses neighed and foamed at the mouth as they climbed.

One horse, two horses... nearly a hundred cavalrymen filed into the fortress, charging wildly across the walls, knocking away both Paratul and Hed people wherever they went.

Heavy armored soldiers were trampled to death, their screams unbearable to hear.

Winters was no match for the force of the charge. Seeing the heavily armored warhorse coming at him again, he decisively jumped off the wall and rolled on the spot to dissipate the impact.

The walls were cleared in an instant, and Hart's cavalry rushed straight towards the prefab houses inside the fortress—the warehouses, medical station, and command post.

The Huds who followed planted their flags on the fortress, and the Huds outside the city cheered and jumped for joy; some even kissed the ground.

Winters looked toward the second wall, where Lieutenant Colonel Jessica was located.

Charge! The mournful bugle call echoed throughout the fortress.

"Uukhai!" The battle cry of the Paratu people shook the heavens and the earth. Paratu soldiers, clad in plate armor and wielding heavy halberds, poured out of the hidden bunkers under the wall, shouting as they charged toward the Hed cavalry.

[Setting up reserves on the reverse slope] was one of the four things Winters learned at the Army Academy.

But let’s not forget that John Jessica and Winters Montagne were from the same school.

The one warming himself by the fire has a tuning hammer, and so does the one-eyed man.

One hundred and twenty heavy halberdiers had been waiting for this moment since the start of the siege.

Prior to this, no matter how dire the situation, Lieutenant Colonel Jessica had never sounded the charge.

The man tending the fire was about to smash the Paratum with a single blow, but the one-eyed man was waiting to smash the man tending the fire's hammer instead.

The scattered and fleeing Palatine soldiers regrouped and launched a counter-charge behind the heavy halberdiers, dragging the Hed cavalry off their horses and killing them one by one.

"Kill!" Winters took the military flag from Heinrich and charged towards the fortress wall.

The fortress walls changed hands again, and the Paratul attacked the top of the walls, while the Hed people outside, unaware of what was happening inside, were still desperately climbing the walls.

"Grenades!" Winters shouted to the soldier beside him, "Any more grenades?"

The Terdun tribe's swarm attack on the city was perfect for using grenades to inflict casualties.

Amidst the cacophony of shouts, gunfire, and screams, Charles leaned close to Winters' ear and yelled, "We're out!"

Grenades are highly effective in fortified defense and attack, but the Jaska battalion's stockpile of iron-cased bombs has long been exhausted.

Looking around, Winters saw the lamellar armor on Hurd's corpse. In a moment of inspiration, he picked up the breastplate of the lamellar armor and tied it to the gunpowder barrel.

The crowd gradually realized what the centurion wanted to do.

"I'll go move the gunpowder barrels!" Sharla pulled the two people beside her: "You two come with me!"

The armor, gunpowder barrels, and fuses were transformed into makeshift bombs, but whether they would actually work, Winters didn't know.

Just as he was about to ignite the fuse, he suddenly pulled out a dagger and slashed the leather straps securing the armor plates to pieces, barely managing to hold them in place.

He then entered a spellcasting state, and the wick began to hiss and burn.

Winters held the gunpowder barrel, hesitant to move. As the fuse grew shorter and shorter, the surrounding Palatine soldiers involuntarily closed their eyes.

Winters only threw the "Zangarmarsh grenade" over the wall when the fuse was about to burn out.

With a loud bang, the gunpowder barrel exploded in mid-air.

Everyone, both on and below the wall, experienced tinnitus and dizziness.

The powder keg was too big, so the explosion wasn't ideal—but it didn't need to be.

The armor covering the gunpowder barrel was torn apart by the shockwave, and each armor plate shot out in all directions like a shotgun shell.

Death and a rain of steel poured down on the heads of the Herd people outside the city, and the crowd was felled like wheat being harvested, many never to rise again.

Even the Paratites were stunned by this cruel weapon.

"Again!" Winters roared, his eyes red.

The Paratites hurriedly went to find the armor and the gunpowder barrel.

"What are you doing, Montagne? Go and take the flag!" Lieutenant Colonel Jessica on the second rampart pointed southwest and roared at Winters, "Pull down the Hed's flag!"

Following the direction indicated by the lieutenant colonel, Winters then saw the flags of the Heds flying over the southwest bastion.

The Heds who had stormed the walls were in a losing position. Winters led his soldiers, killing several men in succession, and rushed to the banner.

The flag bearer, confident in his superior swordsmanship, gracefully twirled his blade and faced off against Champion Palatour.

However, Winters' swordsmanship had been honed to a simple and refined level through one bloody battle after another.

He raised his arm, held the curved knife high, and deliberately exposed his center to the opponent.

The flag bearer, of course, wouldn't let this opportunity pass, and thrust his knife straight at the target.

Winters deflected the enemy's saber with a downward strike, then stepped forward, twisted his wrist, and flicked the neck open.

The standard-bearer's counterattack was blocked by plate armor. He clutched his wound in disbelief, staggered backward, and finally collapsed into a corner.

With a simple slap and a flick, two actions took the life of the flag bearer.

Having dealt with the standard-bearer, Winters leaped onto the parapet, pulled out the horsetail banner, and his voice, amplified by magic, resounded across the battlefield: "Come on! Look here!"

Whether they could understand or not, everyone's eyes were involuntarily drawn to the figure on the city wall.

Winters roared and snapped the horse-tail banner in two, hurling it violently against the wall.

"Long live!" the Paratians roared fervently. "Victory!"

The morale of the Heds collapsed completely, and they retreated like a receding tide, unstoppable even by the supervising teams.

……

……

Late at night, at the temporary camp of the Teldun tribe.

It was called a temporary camp, but it was actually just a sheltered slope.

The Teldun tribe's tents, horses, food, and water were all burned to the ground by the Parat people—truly to the point of being completely destroyed.

Aside from the food, drink, and blankets they carried with them, they had nothing else.

We cannot wage war out of anger; those who warm themselves by the fire are now reaping the bitter fruits of their actions.

Even he didn't have a tent, and the other Hed people could only sleep on the ground wrapped in fur robes.

Fortunately, the people of Hart were resilient and exhausted after a day of fierce fighting. So they didn't care about where they stayed and all went to sleep immediately.

The man warming himself by the fire did not rest; the anger in his chest not only did not subside, but intensified.

The leaders of the Teldun tribe sat around a campfire, discussing their next move.

"[Hede] Khan," a wise and experienced centurion cautiously advised, "[Hede] Drinking only mare's milk is not a solution. Why don't we go find the Chihe tribe for food first, and then go back to retrieve the golden statue used for sacrificial rites?"

“[Hede] You who are warming yourself by the fire, I also agree to go to the Red River Tribe.” Another centurion said with dissatisfaction, “[Hede] We have lost so many horses and men, the Red River Tribe should compensate us!”

"[Herd] We can't fight anymore!" Another centurion, with graying temples and a large belly, said fiercely, "[Herd] If we fight any longer, we'll be wiped out! If the old Khan were here, he would never fight such a wasteful war!"

The centurions were all incredibly harsh, but in reality, those who were willing to speak were all close associates of the Fire-Keeper. The centurion with graying temples and a large belly was even the Fire-Keeper's uncle.

The leader of the outer faction's eyes flickered, unwilling to express his opinion, but in reality, he was already considering his options.

The person warming themselves by the fire stared intently at the leaping flames, without uttering a word.

The sound of horses' hooves approached rapidly, and a messenger found the man warming himself by the fire.

The messenger bowed and presented a gilded horn: "[Hede] Descendant of the Golden Man, Teldun the Fire-Baker, I bring you gifts and a message from the little lion of the Red River Tribe."

[Note: The Hed people have a custom of giving gifts; messengers will never arrive empty-handed.]
"[Herd] The White Lion's brother?" The fire-gatherer took the gilded horn and sneered, "[Herd] Speak!"

"[Herd's] Little Lion asked me to tell you that a great battle is approaching, and we should not divide our forces. He asks you to join him, and he is willing to share everything in your cup, plate, and bowl. He is willing to share half of the previous spoils with you. As for the spoils to come, you may choose first."

The man tending the fire, his face ashen, threw the horn into the fire: "[Herd] Am I really going to let the White Lion's brother suffer?"

He gripped the scabbard tightly with his left hand, his teeth grinding together.

Seeing the faces of those warming themselves by the fire, the centurions from the collateral branches all trembled and buried their heads in their knees.

Even the man who was warming himself by the fire, his own uncle, dared not provoke him now.

A voice with a slight accent suddenly came from beside the campfire: "[Herd] Little Lion is right. With a great battle imminent, we really shouldn't split our forces in two places."

The speaker used a stick to pull the gilded horn out of the fire and handed it back to the man warming himself by the fire.

The man warming himself by the fire saw the person speaking, and his ashen face slowly turned red, yet he didn't slash with his knife.

If Winters had seen this scene, he would have been utterly astonished, for it was the old translator who had comforted the man warming himself by the fire.

“[Hede] What do you suggest we do?” the man warming himself by the fire asked respectfully.

“[Hede] Go find the Red River tribe, and then…” He was only halfway through his sentence when the old translator suddenly stopped.

He stood up abruptly, listened intently for a moment, then glared at the messenger: "[Hede] You've brought men! Does the Red River tribe want to annex us?"

“[Hede] No! How could that be!” The envoy from the Red River tribe was terrified and denied it repeatedly.

However, not only the old interpreter, but also the other centurions heard the sound of horses' hooves.

And it's not just one or two, there are at least hundreds, and they're rapidly approaching.

"[Herd] Enemy attack!" The man tending the fire kicked over the campfire and roared, "[Herd] Enemy attack!"

The commanders of the Terdun tribe immediately ran to their men's resting place.

In the distance, harsh shouts accompanied by the sound of hooves echoed: "[Herd's words] We've lost! We've lost! Our army has been defeated! The fire-warmer is dead!"

The shouter's words were very stiff, clearly something he had just learned.

"[Herd] Aa ...

Meanwhile, outside the Teldun camp, Winters was gleefully shouting his newly learned Hed word: "[Hed word] Defeated! Defeated! Our army has been defeated! The fire-brooder is dead!"

With the amplification technology, his shouts alone were equivalent to those of a hundred-man squad.

How could Lieutenant Colonel Jessica possibly let the Teltowns get a good night's sleep?
The cavalry detachment delivering gunpowder to the bridgehead was detained by the lieutenant colonel, just waiting to be put to use now.

"Ura!" Pierre stabbed his horse in the ribs, shouting desperately to bolster his courage. He swung his saber like a full moon, severing half of Herder's head in one strike.

Anglou, Vahika, and Bell followed closely behind Pierre, also wielding their sabers and slashing left and right.

The hussars and Dusak rampaged through the Teldun camp, killing anyone in their path.

Winters took out heads-sized objects from his saddlebag, lit the fuses, and threw them at the panicked Teldun men.

These head-sized objects are [the improved armor-piercing grenade].

The original armored grenade not only wasted gunpowder, but was also too powerful and prone to causing friendly fire.

Therefore, the second version of the armor-piercing grenade, which was urgently improved, was completely replaced with a small barrel. It was only the size of a head and sealed inside and out with asphalt.

While applying the outer layer of asphalt, attach the armor plates to the asphalt to increase its lethality.

Winters rode his Great Luck at breakneck speed around the outskirts of the Teldun camp, hurling a barrage of armored grenades.

A flash of fire was seen, followed by a muffled explosion. Small pieces of metal flew everywhere in the night, creating a bloody storm.

"Alright! Let's retreat!" Andrei caught up with Winters from behind: "It's a complete mess! If we keep fighting, we'll be thrown into the mud too!"

Winters reached into his saddlebag, but it was empty; all eight grenades had been thrown.

"What a pity," Winters thought. "If we had three thousand cavalry, we might have been able to crush Teldun in one fell swoop."

Unfortunately, Winters didn't have any; he only had a hundred riders—more than half of whom were lent to Jessica by Sackler.

Teldun's troops were in disarray, but there was no bombing of their camp.

Each Herd Centurion unit had a separate rest area, and most soldiers could still find their centurion.

Once they come to their senses, these hundred riders will be wiped out in an instant.

Now that they've disengaged from the battle, the Teldenans won't be able to regroup until at least tomorrow morning, which is enough.

“Let’s retreat.” Winters nodded.

The bugler sounded the retreat horn, and the Palatine cavalry, upon hearing the sound, broke away from the battle and headed to the designated assembly point.

Riding a magnificent black horse, Andrei asked Winters with a smug look on his face, "Do you think this is worth a Grand Cross?"

……

Meanwhile, eight kilometers east of the Jesska fortress, was the Sackler temporary camp.

Two infantry battalions crossed the North Confluence River via a pontoon bridge and joined up with the original six infantry battalions of Sackler's troops.

At the temporary camp, General Sackler left behind only a few soldiers and all the military flags.

Under Sackler's leadership, eight infantry battalions marched toward Beizhai overnight.

……

WM's Spellbook

Entry: Dissociation
Description: Applying arrows to an object simultaneously in two directions, emphasizing explosive power over precision.

Note: I never imagined that [Disintegrate] would be a kinetic spell. I also can't help but wonder, what would happen if someone could cast Arrows in more than two directions simultaneously?
Another note: If Professor Christian's work hadn't been published, this year's Antoine Laurent Prize would definitely be mine. If the Whirlwind Technique, Fire Tornado Technique, and Huygens' version of the Deflection Technique were published this year, perhaps... I could publish them next year?
7490 words, which can be roughly considered two chapters, so does that mean the chapter I owed before is now paid off...?

[Disintegration is the spell that appeared in the prologue...]
I originally planned to finish writing the battle in this chapter and then move on to the anti-military level magic in the next chapter, but by the end of this chapter, the battle has only just begun...

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(End of this chapter)