3-05: The Unreasonable Palm II (1/4)

3-05: The Unreasonable Palm II (1/4)

Already, that was not a sight that could be described by the word, battle.

Bullets of fire as numerous as the stars shot out from the turrets in the skies.

If there were only a few of them, then those fist-sized bullets would have been no different from a child throwing stones at the skeletons or the Undead King.

It wouldnt have mattered even if the stones exploded afterwards.Updated from novelbIn.(c)om

But there were just too many of them, and they were too accurate.

Even if they werent actually as numerous as the stars, they were without a doubt too numerous to be referred to as a mere barrage.

Every shot was the size of a fist, and they descended in the millions without a single gap between them.

It was as though the sky itself was falling every second.

A fire blast, nay, it was an entire sky of fire that descended upon them.

The first to be struck down were the flying dragons and the skeleton birds up in the air.

Their wings were shot off, and their bones scattered and fell to the skeletons on the ground.

Were it only that, then the fallen birds and flying dragons, and even the skeletons that got caught up in their crash, would have had time to regenerate to full health.

But the sky, no, the bullets raining down on them were merciless, and they continued to pour without relent.

Some of the skeletons tried to defend themselves by holding up their swords and shields as though they were umbrellas, but a one-directional defense was meaningless when the bullets would explode and release shockwaves upon contact.

Even the armor and shields forged by master craftsmen and those great swords from legends could not escape demise as they scattered into ash along with their wielders.

Some of the armor had magic resistance, but resistance was just resistance and not nullification, and eventually, even their bearers would submit before the endless onslaught of fire.

The damage continued to accumulate, and without being able to offer any meaningful resistance, before long, the skeleton warriors scattered without a trace.

Some skeleton dragons tried to fight back by using their Breath, but even these skeletons that knew no fatigue could not use their Breath forever.

While their stamina was infinite, their mana was not.

And as powerful as their Breath was relative to an individuals prowess, the volume and mass of that sky of fire repeatedly falling on them was just too great an adversary.

So he desperately gathered what remained of the skeletons to form a wall around him, using the mana residue of those that shattered to immediately put them back together.

About two minutes after the stars started falling, the mad bombardment finally ceased.

In just two minutes 120 seconds everything ended, and everything changed.

Though the land that extended from the forest to the mountain was in a tragic state, the change was so great that it was hard to recall how it originally looked.

A vast depression had formed in a straight line, but the land at the bottom was smooth.

It was just like a giant river that had dried up.

Rather than the aftermath of destruction, it would be better to describe such a sight as the land having been prepared for some sort of work. It was curious if the boy had intended that.

Ah

Fortunately or unfortunately, Gulde managed to survive such an absurd bombardment.

But no relief could be seen from him as he collapsed to the ground and groaned.

He was so worn and beaten that it was curious how he was still conscious.

Only his skull and upper half managed to retain their form.

But even then, the lower half of his ribs and his left arm were gone.

And even the soul that dwelt within had lost most of its power.

Ahh

Though magic was not effective against the undead, there was no way that he could come out unscathed from such absurd magic.

Gulde knew of that theoretically, but now that he was experiencing it for himself, he could do no more than groan.

Though the damage from each spell individually was nothing to speak of, when it was poured on him in the millions by the second, the damage would accumulate and eventually become too great to bear, just like the water dripping on hard rock over the many moons and years.

What he had experienced was merely a relatively instantaneous application of that same concept, where millions of bullets of fire took the place of the water dripping, and his true vessel namely, his soul and his army of thirty-five thousand took the place of the rock.

Aww, you poor thing, you actually survived.