Chapter 579: Shadows on the Horizon ( 579 )

“Make sure everyone stays inside the stronghold and lock the gates,” Javier said calmly, brushing dust from his sleeves as he stepped down from the stack of crates. “My knights will handle them if they attack. Everyone else, rest and focus on rebuilding the houses, the forges, and anything else that’s broken.”

“Yes, Lord Javier!” the dwarf commander saluted, and messengers quickly ran off to spread the orders throughout the stronghold.

But just as calm settled over the place, the sound of heavy boots echoed from the east gate. Another dwarf, sweating profusely, burst through the inner corridor.

“Lord Javier!!”

“Haa… what now?” Javier sighed, already rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“Wyverns! Human Kingdom wyvern squad! Our scouts!!! Our scouts saw them coming from the east in the sky! They’re far but moving fast!”

Javier paused his finger movements.

“Any estimate of how many?” he asked.

“C-can’t say, Lord Javier… the sky was… black with wings…”

“We’re doomed!!” shouted another dwarf nearby, panic spreading among the crowd.

Voices started to rise in chaos.

“It’s an air attack!”

“Our bows won’t reach them!”

“We’ll be slaughtered like cattle!”

“We don’t stand a chance—!”

Haa…” Javier let out a long, tired sigh and raised his hand.

“Silence.”

He turned to face the worried dwarves, his expression flat.

“What’s wrong with all of you?”

The dwarves stared, eyes wide.

“It’s just an air raid. So what?” Javier said simply. “Your bows can’t reach? That’s okay. That’s why I brought mine.”

He turned slowly, then waved dismissively over his shoulder.

“Everyone, go hide. Take cover in the tunnels and secure the walls. Don’t bother aiming at the sky. Leave it to me.”

The dwarves hesitated, but seeing the confidence in his stride as he walked toward the armory, they gradually started to move.

One thought echoed inside their minds:

-He’s not afraid.

Javier climbed to the top of the stronghold’s outer wall, the cold wind brushing past his coat. He gazed out at the vast, open sky and then raised his palm calmly.

In an instant, with a soft hum of activating magic circuits, twenty anti-air mana guns appeared along the wall’s edge—each one operated by a puppet knight. Their designs looked like old-world turret weapons, but instead of bullets, glowing blue mana cores pulsed inside their barrels.

The dwarves watching from behind the inner gates stared in awe. These weren’t ordinary weapons. They were from the legendary Armand arsenal.

Javier stood tall, completely unbothered, as he kept his eyes fixed on the sky.

“…They really want to feel this again?” he muttered with a small grin. “Or maybe I should fire the mana missile? Nah… too advanced. This will be more fun.”

He pulled out a small device and activated his mana speaker—a compact enchanted tool that could carry his voice for miles.

A faint clicking sound came, then his voice rang out loudly and clearly, echoing into the sky.

“This is Javier, the current lord of this stronghold. Attention, wyvern unit commander—this is your only warning.

If you don’t want to die…

If you value your life and don’t want to face the weapons that once wiped out armies during the Noble Holy War…

With all due respect, and as a final warning—turn around now.”

He turned off the device.

From his high perch, he could see the wyvern unit approaching—dark figures filling the sky. Over 500 riders, wings outstretched, flying in tight formation—a threatening storm heading straight for them.

Javier lowered his mana speaker, eyes calm and steady, and a faint smirk appeared on his face.

“Come on then,” he whispered. “Let’s see how many of you survive.”

High above the battlefield, riding atop the largest wyvern in the formation, the unit commander narrowed his sharp eyes.

The wind howled fiercely, whipping his black-and-silver cape as he soared through the air. His beast flapped its massive wings, maintaining a steady circle as they approached the dwarven stronghold below.

“Commander…” one of his subordinates called out, flying beside him amid the roar of the wind. “Should we advance and attack?”

His gaze fixed on the flag fluttering from the tallest tower. It was not the familiar banner of the halfling kingdom.

No.

It was something else.

Something unfamiliar. Something… dangerous.

“…Wait,” the commander finally said, raising a hand to halt their approach. The wyverns started to drift downward, circling at a distance, holding their formation.

The flag…

It was not halfling. It wasn’t dwarven either. It carried a strange design—something new—but with undeniable weight and presence.

“Is this a bluff…?” he muttered to himself. “Or…”

He clenched his teeth, recalling the old military reports.

“During the Noble Holy War, the Armand family deployed unknown weapons that shot down two dozen wyverns in an instant…” he thought grimly.

No one knew what those weapons truly looked like.

“Commander?” another rider asked nervously, gripping his wyvern’s reins.

The commander’s grip on his saddle tightened. Sweat beaded under his helmet, despite the cold air.

“Damn it…”

The flag’s unfamiliarity, combined with the old reports, made his stomach churn. What if this was indeed Armand’s returning power?

What if that calm voice from earlier—through that strange device—was telling the truth?

He looked down again at the stronghold. The armored knights standing perfectly still, as if statues—no breathing, no movement, no hesitation.

Like golems.

His gut twisted further.

“…Fall back for now,” he finally ordered.

“But sir—!”

“Fall. Back. Circle at range. I won’t lose half my men to an unknown force just because you’re impatient.”

He grit his teeth, eyes locked on the enemy below, weighing the possibilities.

“…We wait. Until we understand what we’re really facing.”

“But commander… King Edmund ordered us to attack the halfling here!” one of the wyvern knights shouted over the howling wind, his eyes fixed on the huge stone fortress below.

The wyvern commander narrowed his eyes, staring at the strange banner flying atop the walls. His voice was cold and cautious.

“Are those halflings down there?”

“Umm… no, sir…” the knight answered hesitantly, realizing that the figures moving on the walls didn’t look like halflings at all. “They’re too tall… and there are too many armored units…”

The commander’s frown deepened. “Then we retreat. This isn’t what we were ordered to fight.”

Just as he was about to turn his wyvern, another voice cut through the sky—sharp and full of defiance.

“No!!”

A different unit leader, clad in red armor and leading 200 wyverns, surged ahead. His eyes were bloodshot with anger. “If you’re afraid, do it alone! I’ll follow King Edmund’s orders! This fortress is under enemy control—that’s all I need to know!”

The commander spun his head to face him. “Are you insane!? That’s no longer a halfling fortress! That banner—it’s unfamiliar, and that voice… that wasn’t halfling language.”

The red-armored leader sneered. “So what!? Maybe it’s a bluff! They’re probably just dwarves trying to scare us with a stolen banner and a fake spell! Even if it’s Armand, do you think a few pretty toys can stop us!?”

The commander gritted his teeth. “Have you read the Holy War logs? The ones about the defenses in Armand Region?”

That made the hotheaded leader hesitate briefly.

“They shot down twenty wyverns with one of those strange magic attacks. It was over in a second. No survivors. Do you really want to test if this is the same force?”

But the other spat on his gauntlet. “Enough! Anyone seeking glory, follow me!! We strike now!!”

With that, his 200 wyverns broke off, wings flapping wildly as they stormed toward the fortress like a raging storm.

The main commander’s heart sank. “Fools…”

( End Of Chapter )

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