School Transmigration: I, Chosen as the Saint by Dragons at the Start-Chapter 108 --The Onslaught of the Ambition Army
Stanbeck, with an air of indifference, didn’t even spare Boyd a glance.
Around him, a shield of blue light materialized, effortlessly deflecting the barrage of lightning.
Boyd, with a bitter smile tugging at his lips, acknowledged the futility of a physical confrontation.
Engaging Stanbeck in close combat would only lead to his own demise, while Stanbeck would surely emerge unscathed.
Such a battle, if it could even be called that, would last no more than a fleeting second.
Boyd sighed deeply, resigning himself to this grim reality.
Suddenly, the distant rumble of thunder broke his train of thought, sounding like a tidal wave of steel surging forward.
Boyd, momentarily startled, turned his gaze towards the horizon.
"Could that be Owen casting a thunder-based spell from afar?" he wondered aloud.
Quincy, too, furrowed his brows in concentration, peering into the distance.
What they saw next was a sight to behold.
A menacing cloud of dust approached rapidly, the sound of horse hooves thundering like the roar of a tempestuous storm.
This was no mere weather front, but an army – the Ambition Army, marching with a fierce and disciplined air.
At the forefront, a cavalryman brandished a banner, its fabric dancing wildly in the wind.
Emblazoned upon it was the fearsome image of a lion, its jaws agape in a silent roar.
Boyd’s eyes widened in awe at the spectacle before him.
"The Ambition Army," he whispered, a surge of excitement coursing through him.
The Ambition Army burst into the city with astonishing speed.
Their horses’ hooves had barely echoed in the ears of the onlookers before the soldiers had already crossed the city gates.
In their home territory, they moved with the fluidity of mercury, swiftly pouring into Loka City.
Their approach was silent; there were no battle cries, no roars of fury.
The commanding officers, with a mere flick of their lance tips, directed hundreds of their cavaliers in a fearless charge towards Stanbeck.
To Boyd’s astonishment, the hundreds of horsemen began to merge, a sight so surreal he thought his eyes deceived him.
But indeed, the merging was real, and from it emerged five colossal horsemen.
Each one was clad in heavy armor, their eyes emitting a blood-red glow, looking less human and more like otherworldly warriors.
The knights and their steeds seemed to have grown three to four times in size, resembling giants astride mammoth beasts.
Their spears and halberds gleamed with a dark light, as if solidified from the shadows themselves.
The attack strategy of the Ambition Army was as straightforward as it was formidable.
Relying on their immense strength, they thrust their weapons towards Stanbeck.
Each strike was ferocious and intense, causing Boyd to break out in a cold sweat.
"Can I even dodge such attacks?" he wondered silently.
No one responded to Boyd’s silent query, but Stanbeck did not need words to reply.
He stood unflinching, charging headlong towards the lances with his longsword, his most trusted ally in battle.
Amidst this chaotic clash, a voice suddenly called out from outside the city: "Mr. Owen, are you there?"
Boyd knew the truth without needing to see – Mr. Owen was long gone.
As he turned towards the source of the voice, he saw that it was Finn and his group, who had finally arrived to join the fray.
Upon seeing Phyllis and the accompanying masters of the sea race, Boyd felt an overwhelming surge of emotion, almost bringing tears to his eyes.
He had finally found his people, his organization.
The tears that welled up in Boyd’s eyes were real, a testament to the immense pressure he had been under.
Now, in the presence of his fellow countrymen, he could no longer hold back.
He hurried forward to greet them, "Miss Phyllis."
"What’s the situation?" Phyllis asked, her face a mask of seriousness.
"Quincy has invoked the God Descending Spell. Stanbeck has been possessed by a deity and is now battling the black protodragon..." Boyd began.
Before he could finish, Finn pushed his way through, "Where is Mr. Owen, my employer?"
Boyd gave him a brief glance, replying indifferently, "I don’t know. He ran off first."
"Ran off?" Finn’s mouth hung open, seemingly unable to believe these words could be associated with Owen, "Well, as long as he’s safe, that’s good."
Boyd didn’t dwell on Finn’s reaction.
Instead, he turned back to Phyllis, "Miss, the deity initially intended to possess Owen, but it failed and ended up in Stanbeck. Could there be some secret behind this?"
Phyllis’s eyebrows rose slightly, "That’s an interesting point. Where is Quincy?"
Boyd gestured towards the city and grunted, "Quincy was just over there. Where did he go?"
The ruins were empty, devoid of any sign of Quincy.
It seemed Quincy and Owen had the same idea: to take advantage of the chaos for their own ends.
At the city’s edge, the battle between Stanbeck and the cavalry had reached a fever pitch, with Stanbeck holding a slight upper hand.
If they were to join in, they would undoubtedly be pulverized into mincemeat.
Phyllis’s gaze flickered uncertainly, "Let’s go. We need to find Owen."
...
Fifteen minutes earlier.
Stanbeck, realizing the dire situation, narrowly dodged a lance thrust by a cavalryman.
It became clear to him that these horsemen were not easy foes to contend with.
Even with a deity’s descent, the limitations of his mortal form were becoming painfully evident.
He could already feel the weariness creeping in, a sense of powerlessness slowly overtaking him.
This was not a good sign.
Time hadn’t passed much, yet fatigue was setting in alarmingly fast.
To make matters worse, the black protodragon had revived.
Initially struck by lightning, its body charred, the creature seemed at a disadvantage.
However, upon the Ambition Army’s arrival, a surge of red light flowed into the dragon, healing its wounds and significantly hastening its recovery.
"Not good," Stanbeck thought, his heart skipping a beat.
He swiftly moved to Quincy’s side, "Why did you place the Blood Ritual Magic Array outside?"
His tone was heavy with reproach.
Bending forward, Quincy replied, "The original sacrifice escaped, so I had to resort to a backup plan. Do you have an issue with that?"
Stanbeck, his face stern and cold, retorted, "There’s been a mishap with the Blood Ritual Magic Array outside, and my power isn’t complete. This black protodragon is regaining strength, so it certainly isn’t in its true form. I need you to find its source of life."
As he spoke, Stanbeck placed his fingertip on Quincy’s forehead.
A faint light emanated from his hand, resembling fluttering petals or snowflakes, gently cascading into Quincy’s body in a delicate shower.
To onlookers, it appeared that Stanbeck was merely sprinkling Quincy with some glittering particles.
But for Quincy himself, it was an experience akin to a rejuvenating spring rain.
Not only did his mind and heart feel refreshingly clear, but his physical wounds also healed completely.
Even the deeper injuries caused by using forbidden techniques showed signs of recovery.
This miraculous healing ignited a fervent admiration in Quincy’s eyes for the revered being within Stanbeck.
"Honored one, please guide me," he requested reverently.
"If it’s the source of life for the black protodragon, it must be something that has remained unchanged from the beginning," Stanbeck instructed.
"Set a large fire. Whatever survives in the flames should be the black protodragon."
"Regarding the timing..."
"You’re strong; setting a fire should be easy for you. My time is running short. Make the most of this opportunity."
As he spoke, a flash of blue light glinted in Stanbeck’s eyes, and his vitality surged dramatically.
Quincy’s pupils contracted, his spirit invigorated.
With the deity now fully activating Stanbeck’s essence, there was no chance for his survival in this battle.
The greatest talent of the Neptune race in three hundred years was destined to perish in the temple world.
Quincy realized that there was no turning back for him now.
"Yes, honored one," he responded, leaping up and hurriedly departing the scene.
The honored one had only offered a hint, but with a bit of contemplation, Quincy grasped its essence.
The ’source of life’, in simpler terms, was the core of existence.
The idea of something that fire could not destroy was not foreign to him.
As he set the fires, he made his way toward General Hope’s castle.
The castle now lay in ruins.
The once arcanergy-infused spring, which Quincy had previously observed, was now shattered.
Its waters bubbled out, mingling with the surrounding soil, creating a mire.
Where Owen and his party had once stood and remarked upon General Hope’s luxuries, Quincy now hurried past, anxious to avoid the muddy mess.
Water, merely changing its form of flow, had shifted perceptions of it entirely.
Descending into the basement, Quincy found the Goddess of Loka’s statue right where he expected.
Owen was also there, a short distance away, beside a girl in green attire.
Feeling somewhat awkward, Quincy addressed him, "Mr. Owen."
In an attempt to quell Owen’s evident anger, he even used a respectful tone, "Our priority now should be to collaboratively discover the black protodragon’s source of life. If we fight amongst ourselves, the only beneficiary will be the black protodragon."
Owen paid no heed to Quincy, his gaze fixed on the statue of the Goddess of Loka.
He was acutely aware that even if he refrained from acting, Quincy’s fate would still be sealed with Stanbeck’s defeat at the hands of the black protodragon.
As for the possibility of Stanbeck winning...
Owen had never even considered such an outcome.
Seeing Owen’s silence, Quincy felt a surge of hope.
"Sir, have you discovered something?" he asked.
Owen didn’t respond.
Instead, he thought to himself, "How can I move this statue of the Goddess of Loka? It surely conceals a secret."
"Activate [Prophecy]," he silently commanded in his mind.
A figure, which he mentally referred to as "Owen," emerged from his body and began to examine the Goddess of Loka’s statue closely.
The statue, sculpted masterfully, presented an impressive figure, its curves so vivid that a mere glance could set the imagination racing.
Owen’s doppelganger meticulously explored the statue, trying various methods to interact with it, but the statue remained steadfast, standing tall and graceful.
Suddenly, a spark of inspiration flashed through Owen’s mind.
He recalled the image of Stanbeck excitedly shaking a piece of paper – a memory that flitted briefly in his thoughts.
Hope had selfishly intended to use the God Descending Spell to animate the statue of the Goddess of Loka.
The God Descending Spell, which Quincy had also employed, required a blood sacrifice.
What if the statue of the Goddess of Loka was doused in fresh blood?
Narrowing his eyes, Owen gave Quincy a cold, calculating look.
Without warning, he lunged at Quincy, who was caught off guard and wounded, his blood spilling.
However, Quincy, being a formidable and experienced fighter, quickly evaded further attacks.
Owen purposefully directed Quincy’s blood onto the statue of the Goddess of Loka.
Seeing that the statue bore no bloodstains, he smiled.
"I’ve found the key to the Goddess of Loka’s statue," he realized triumphantly.
