Bear School Astartes-Chapter 650 - 653. Madness

The sacrifices began to unfold one after another, starting with Fanier of Brugge.

The casting of magic by the warlocks requires extreme concentration and control, as Yennefer once vividly described—

It’s akin to quietly passing gas in a ballroom while wearing an evening gown.

Except the cost of making a mistake in casting is far more serious than an embarrassment at a ball.

At best, dizziness and cramps; at worst, organ failure and spontaneous combustion.

This is why even renowned warriors who have dealt with warlocks are not very intimidated by conflicts with them.

The spells of these casters are easily interrupted, and then they can be slaughtered.

Unless the caster is wealthy and cautious, binding themselves with various magical equipment.

Although the warlocks gathered by Viggo Fortez this time are generally prestigious and well-known.

However, the intensity of this battlefield is unprecedented!

These warlocks never imagined the scenarios where they had to exert their powers would be on battlefields of such scale!

Even the two commanders of the Northern Alliance Army, Veltrest and Vizimir, had never used warlocks this way before.

So, even if they provided shield guard squads for the warlocks out of their military instincts, the immature, untested tactics naturally revealed flaws under the pressure of battle.

The massive retreating Niflgaard soldiers pressed against the shield guards’ defenses; these elite shield guards, untrained in coordination with the warlocks, began to spontaneously adjust formation to better resist impacts.

However, a formation suitable for resisting impacts is vastly different from one focused on protecting a specific individual.

Several Northern warlocks died or failed in their casting due to arrows shooting randomly in the air.

Although they carried protective talismans, the battlefield’s intensity was too high.

The elastic potential energy accumulated by the resilient bow is transformed onto steel arrowheads; a talisman can block one, ten arrows, but how many more than twenty arrows are shot on one’s body like rain within a few minutes?

Warlocks directly shot dead are manageable, but those who died midway through casting are particularly troublesome.

"Boom!!!"

With a loud explosion, surging flames erupted, engulfing a circle of Northern soldiers nearby.

The steel armor could withstand arrows, but not high temperatures.

Amid the piercing screams, the people inside the armor were like canned goods being heated up.

After such a scene occurred, the shield guards originally meant to protect the warlocks instinctively drew a bit apart from the warlocks they protected, causing larger defensive gaps.

The roar of battle cries continued, and the warlocks’ spells still managed to sweep a large area, producing an attack force akin to large siege engines.

The overall pressure on the Northern Alliance Army’s front line was quickly decreasing.

But Veltrest and Vizimir were still terrified by the speed of casualties among the warlocks.

"They’ve never directly set foot on the battlefield! Damn it! They’re a bunch of amateurs!"

"Old Graz is dead! Dagobert of Wall is dead too!"

It has been a long, long time since so many high-level warlocks have died in the North.

Yet, despite the horror and the heartache, the battle must go on; commanders must treat lives like numbers to win!

So even though Veltrest’s face was twitching, he continued to mutter viciously while observing the battle with a spyglass.

"Keep killing... keep killing... every veteran killed now is weakening Niflgaard’s military strength!"

There’s no turning back; since the moment the warlocks arrived on the battlefield, they couldn’t leave either.

Portal spells are high-level magic; even if these warlocks wanted to flee, they didn’t have time to open portals in such an intense battlefield.

Thus, these warlocks gradually became frenzied on the battlefield.

However, within the Niflgaardian troops... in truth, the number of warlocks was not small either.

Before the war, Meno Kuhorn had gathered a large number of low-level warlocks domestically and also included a few high-level warlocks to equip as senior officers.

"Don’t even think of taking advantage of the chaos to run! Not a chance!"

Furinjira Veges, pale-faced, was grabbed by an officer by the arm.

The officer’s panic had reached a neurotic, hysterical level, looking at Furinjira as if he was going to eat her!

"Some of us will make it back, back to Niflgaard! If you and those trickster bastards dare to abandon the main force and run now, see how the Emperor will punish you all!"

"See what ruthless measures His Majesty will take to find someone responsible for this failure! You’re his distant relative, right? You should know his style, right?"

"Then think carefully, if you directly escape from here, whether it could be less painful than death later?"

Furinjira’s quivering lips indicated she indeed knew her high-ranking relative’s style in dealing with failures.

What’s more, this failure might even jeopardize the stability of his imperial power, making him even less merciful.

’The White Flame Dancing on the Graves of Enemies.’

This title originated from a ball where Enshir Enriss dug up the tombstones of all rebels to pave the ballroom floor.

If he treated the dead so, he would be even harsher to the living.

"Have your warlocks counter their warlocks!"

A stray arrow hit the officer’s black-plumed helmet with a ’clang’, sparking a trail of fire.

But the officer, already neurosis-riddled, merely adjusted his helmet, his gaze never leaving Furinjira.

"Go confront those warlocks! Clear a path for the army! Even if it ends in failure, the Emperor will have nothing to say! Otherwise..."

The officer’s fish-like eyes made Furinjira shiver to the core.

She exchanged glances with the southern warlocks with her, then reluctantly nodded.

"Then get moving! Immediately... thud."

The officer gestured forward, indicating for the warlocks to move into combat positions. But before he finished his sentence, a crossbow arrow penetrated the crack under his helmet.

This arrow was meant to hit the neck guard, but after it deflected the arrowhead, it sliced across his neck.

Blood gushed onto the glazed surface of the armor.

The officer was dead.

But the southern warlocks mechanically continued to step into the positions.

Because the threat from the officer lingered.

Among these more than thirty thousand Niflgaard officers and soldiers, some would inevitably escape and return. They would bring back scattered intelligence about this battle.

And these warlocks, if they returned without sufficient accomplishments, their subsequent treatment could be easily imagined.

Thus, after the Northern warlocks, the Southern warlocks’ eyes too filled with blood, becoming frenzied and fierce.

War turns those caught within into madmen, whether they like it or not.