Chapter 689: Deception and Reality ( 689 )

Seventh disappeared from view—then suddenly appeared a meter in front of Javier, swinging his twin blades in an X-shaped slash filled with dark, fiery magic.

But Javier didn’t move. He casually blocked both blows with his blades, sparks flying everywhere.

“Regret?” Javier muttered, narrowing his eyes. “No thanks. I just regret wasting my time.”

He spun around, swept his leg under Seventh’s feet, and then struck upward with his knee into Seventh’s chest midair.

Seventh was pushed back like a cannonball, crashing into a tree trunk with a sickening crunch.

First, Second, and Third immediately moved in, surrounding Javier from three sides with their weapons glowing and spells forming.

Javier’s smile grew wider.

He casually blocked every attack coming from all directions. His swords moved smoothly—one deflected a cursed spear, the other blocked a huge axe swing.

Spells blasted from above and behind, but Javier didn’t even flinch.

He easily deflected each one. Fireballs twisted away, lightning was dispersed with a flick, and ice spears were knocked down into the dirt like harmless toys. A magic arrow spiraled toward him, but he simply slapped it to the ground with the back of his hand.

He stood there—calm, still, completely unbothered—his eyes scanning the battlefield with boredom.

“…Why are you all holding back?” he asked, voice flat. “Are you saving your strength for something?”

He tilted his head and smirked.

“Or… are you just buying time?”

From behind a shattered tree, Seventh, covered in dust and bruises, pulled himself up and floated back into the air, laughing.

“Heh~ By the time you’re done playing around here, your precious Armand Region is already burning.”

Javier’s eyes narrowed.

“…What?”

“Oh, don’t pretend you didn’t feel it. While you’re busy fighting us, the real attack is already happening,” Seventh grinned, baring his teeth. “The wyvern unit. Thousands of them. Right now, flying over your territory—burning it all to ashes. The king gave the order the moment you left.”

“Seventh,” First warned in a low, serious voice, “you shouldn’t be revealing—”

“Why worry, leader?” Seventh cut him off. “Let the brat cry. Let him see that he’s already lost. By now, Armand is just ash.”

Javier froze in place.

His fingers clenched around the hilts of his blades.

The wind went silent.

His breathing stopped.

“…No.”

A tremor ran through him.

Then he let out a scream that shook the ground—

“NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!”

Seventh cackled above him. “YES! THAT’S more like it! Cry, brat! Cry!! You couldn’t protect anything—!”

Javier’s body started to tremble.

He fell to his knees.

His head lowered.

His shoulders shook.

ooked like a broken child, crying after hearing that his home had been destroyed.

Seventh was already laughing wildly, floating a few meters above the ground with exaggerated gestures.

“Oho~ Not so strong now, huh, brat~? All that talk! All that bravado! Look at you now!”

He sneered and pointed at Javier.

“Our scouts confirmed it, you know. Without you around, your fancy tech—those strange flying machines, the air force defenses—they can’t even move!”

Seventh spun in the air and burst into more laughter.

“Your puppet knights? Your automated defenses? Your precious training dummies? All frozen without their controller nearby! That’s what happens when you build a system around just one man!”

Meanwhile, the six members of the Seventh Unit stood ready, their weapons charged, spells forming. Dark flames, corrupted wind, blood-forged magic, and gravity distortions surrounded them—ready to deliver a deadly strike.

Seventh raised both hands, basking in a victory he imagined.

“Hahahahahaha! Our mission was just to buy time. And now—Armand Region is burning! Your people are dying! Your father’s name will be buried in ash!”

He leaned forward, a wild grin stretching across his face.

“Cry, brat! CRY!!! AHAAHAHAHAHA!!!”

Then, a strange, low sound came.

“…Ku ku ku ku…”

Seventh’s eyes twitched.

First’s face grew darker.

Javier was laughing.

He still knelt, trembling.

But now, his head slowly lifted.

“Ke… ke ke ke ke…”

“…What the hell is wrong with that brat?” First muttered, feeling uneasy.

Second and Third shifted slightly, wary now.

Javier raised his face fully, and his eyes shone brightly.

“You really thought I’d leave my region unguarded?”

His voice was low, calm, yet terrifying.

He slowly stood up, brushed dirt from his knees, and his face was unreadable.

“…You think the puppets can’t move without me?”

He tilted his head and smirked in a twisted way.

He slowly got to his feet, dusting himself off, expression fierce and cold.

“…You really believe the puppets can’t move without me?”

Then Javier let out a long, exaggerated sigh, rubbing his temple as if annoyed at how stupid they were.

“I didn’t know where you all put your brains,” he muttered lazily, sticking his pinky into his ear.

“Seriously. That so-called ‘elite scout unit’ of yours must be new, or just stupid.”

He flicked away imaginary wax, then casually blew dust off his finger.

“Of course they’re not moving, dumbass,” Javier said flatly.

“They’re in standby mode.”

He looked at them as if they were children who’d just failed a simple math test.

“And you actually thought they shut down just because I’m not there?” he scoffed.

“Do you really—truly believe—my entire army, puppet knights, anti-air mana guns, all those defenses, only work when I’m around? What do you think I am? Some overgrown summoner? A pet tamer with a limited range? A druid who needs to chant to the trees or something?”

He burst into a sharp, confident laugh that echoed across the cracked dirt.

He stretched his arms, popping his neck with a sharp crack, then rolled his shoulders as his twin swords spun once in his hands.

“Well… whatever.”

His grin widened, dangerously.

“Now come on, ‘Special Elite Unit.’ Entertain me.”

He pointed one blade toward them.

“Show me just how dumb you all are.”

Meanwhile, in the Armand Region.

At the Armand estate, another peaceful day, or so it seemed.

Garius sat calmly in the open courtyard, flanked by his four wives. A small teacup in his hand, a plate of pastries on the table. Francesca sat beside him, pouring tea with a serene expression.

But then, somewhere far beyond the courtyard, a distant mechanical clatter echoed.

A faint vibration followed.

A tremor only trained ears would catch.

Garius let out a long sigh, setting down his cup with a soft clink. He tilted his head toward the noise.

“Can’t believe it,” he muttered. “Our youngest son’s weapon systems are actually deploying.”

( End Of Chapter )

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