In Teacher Meladomir’s projection, outside that shadow city wrought from an Evil God’s authority, the mirror of Belrand’s reverse, a silent black tide surged—the brutal “war” had already reached its climax.

Piercing fog spread layer upon layer, and across the black ocean, hundreds and thousands of enormous, grotesque Moon Beasts pressed forward beneath the guidance of the ghostly blue moonlight, slow yet unyielding, toward that wall of steel.

Before those colossal creatures, uncountable small monsters and mindless lower Serpentfolk had already launched who knew how many suicidal charges against the bulwark—only to be shredded to pieces by the ballistae, magic, and magitech cannons atop the walls. Blood and mangled flesh nearly dyed the coastal waters red.

Beneath the wall, corpses piled in layers, the stench suffocating, forming an almost tangible black haze that spread outward, carried subtly inward by the sea breeze.

“Heh, so those brainless things know how to play such a little trick?”

From atop the steel wall, someone let out a careless whistle, and then a gale blew, scattering the black smoke in an instant.

Professor Garan reached out casually, seizing a wisp of the haze into his palm. Bringing it to his nose for a light sniff, his brow arched.

“This poison... interesting. There’s something familiar about it.”

His gaze swept across the black sea, fixing upon one grotesque giant Moon Beast.

There, upon the creature’s head beneath the moonlight, coiled a Serpentfolk clearly unlike the cannon fodder. His frame was tall and muscular, his tail as thick as a barrel. His features still retained the face of a handsome man. Seeming to notice Professor Garan’s stare, his slit pupils gleamed, casting back a chilling gaze.

“I recall... that was your senior brother, wasn’t it?”

Beside him, Professor Prang also fixed on that Serpentfolk, expression complex.

“They say he sought power, willingly offering himself to the moon? I hadn’t expected he too would be transformed into a Serpentfolk.”

“To abandon so-called humanity for power, even going so far as to stab one’s own teacher in the back?”

Professor Garan’s usual unserious look faded. His eyes turned uncharacteristically cold.

“But I don’t see that he’s become any stronger than me, this ‘disgraceful junior.’”

“Do you want my help?”

“No need. You should stay here on guard. Neither of us excels at head-on combat—but precisely for that reason, we both understand how great our influence is on the battlefield.”

With a sweep of his sleeve, Professor Garan flung several crystalline vials into the heaps of corpses beneath the wall.

The vials shattered on impact, their liquid spreading outward.

In an instant, it was as though fire had caught—the corpses hissed violently.

Yet no flames arose. Instead, thick white mist surged upward!

The white fog collided with the black haze, endlessly corroding and polluting one another. Any living being caught between them died within seconds in agonizing convulsions, then swiftly rotted, becoming part of the fog and smoke.

A silent battle unfolded there, and within minutes, outside that stretch of wall, a wasteland was born where no living thing remained.

“Seems this place needs no more of my worry. Only...”

Professor Prang lifted his head, the weight in his eyes unrelieved.

“That moon has truly emptied its coffers this time.”

Atop the steel bastion, countless disciplined knightly orders, mage regiments, and soldiers rushed back and forth. New weapons from the Royal Research Institute were wheeled out one by one. Even nobles spared no effort, flinging out their treasured “collections.”

Under overwhelming firepower, the low-level Serpentfolk and small Moon Beasts could not even approach the walls before being pulverized into heaps of gore.

But anyone could see—these were merely cannon fodder to draw fire.

“No... this won’t do.”

Professor Prang’s eyes flashed. On a battlefield, general against general and soldier against soldier was common sense. But at a time like this, to stay rigid would mean certain, crushing defeat.

He was old-fashioned, not stupid.

Yet...

The cannon fodder were too numerous, scattered too widely. Striking them piecemeal was inefficient. They had to be gathered.

But how? Those brainless monsters certainly weren’t attracted by beautiful women.

“Why? Why me! I’m not even tasty—why won’t you stop chasing me!”

Just as Professor Prang fretted, a certain Pink Bear went racing past him.

Behind it, several Moon Beasts—who had labored to breach from weaker points in the defenses—actually abandoned their task of tearing down the wall, fixating instead on the bear’s wobbling, comical backside.

Again and again, they nearly left disgraceful marks on what he fancied his “sexy, alluring buttocks.” Infuriated, the Pink Bear pulled out a spiked club, smashing the lustful beasts into pulp. But before he could catch his breath, he noticed Professor Prang staring at him, eyes alight—

—and holding a thick coil of rope.

“Wait... what are you doing?”

“I’ll warn you—I’m your dean, your superior! Careful or I’ll dock your pay!”

“Yamete! Somebody’s molesting me!”

Struggling uselessly, the Pink Bear was bound tight and hung from the wall, swaying back and forth like sweet bait.

At once, shrill cries split the air. Countless low-level Serpentfolk and small Moon Beasts turned their gazes toward the dangling Pink Bear, eyes flashing with the most primal, violent hunger.

And then they charged, heedless of everything.

Clambering over each other’s corpses, trampling one another’s flesh, they surged like a swarm of insects, forming a horrifying tide.

Professor Prang’s lips curved in a thin smile.

He gripped his silver-white staff and tapped it lightly upon the ground.

A radiant coronet rose into the air. Vast magical structures unfurled behind him, magic surging with oppressive force.

And then—destruction descended!

Blinding beams crashed down, grazing past the Pink Bear’s writhing rump. The violent spellfire outstripped even more than a dozen of the new magitech cannons combined, reducing all in its path to ash.

In the hands of a Truth-tier Grand Magus, crowned with the diadem, the swarming fodder beneath the walls were annihilated by a third in an instant.

The pressure atop the walls lifted sharply, and many erupted in cheering.

But in Professor Prang’s heart, a sudden sense of foreboding welled.

The next moment—

The dust-choked air tore apart, and a colossal claw crashed down, smashing into the wall!

With a shriek of rending metal, the bastion of steel caved and buckled.

Professor Prang flashed into the air.

The Pink Bear would be fine—no need to worry. But now...

His eyes grew grim as he raised his gaze—

Compared ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) to the fodder, the true monsters had landed.