NOVPUBFargo, at this time, was riddled with injuries and could barely move without gasping for air. He was limping and in deep pain, but he was doing what he could to win this war.
It wasn't out of patriotism, but was completely out of pride and fury.
If he didn't kill those bastards today, he wouldn't be able to live with himself! If he left now, he'd die of a heart attack before he could recover enough to get back at them!
"Keep it coming!" he yelled, screaming at the slaves to move faster, pass on more important resources to the front line.
He wasn't blind. They were losing. There was no news about the people who managed to breach yet, and he couldn't do anything about that.
What he could control was the outside, and one way to increase their chances to turn this around from the outside was to heal their injured! Get the necessary tens of thousands of people inside the walls!
However, all the slaves were also injured to some degree, so their productivity wasn't that great. Most of them were still bleeding, in fact.
When someone accidentally dropped a potion, Fargo felt wrath bubble from his stomach.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?" he screamed. In his franticness, he allowed violence to take over and a sharp earth spike appeared from under his feet, stabbing the slave straight to the chest.
It consumed a bulk of his remaining mana but who cared? He felt refreshed after venting a bit.
His reddish eyes glared at the shivering slaves. "Did I tell you to stop?!" he screamed, and the line of slaves continued passing on the resources while Fargo supervised with the 'necessary' violence to ensure efficiency.
The more time passed though, the crazier he felt.
Every time he moved, several fibers of his body felt like it was being pulled. He gritted his teeth, remembering the gruesome effects of the two bombs Alterra dropped on them.
Alterra actually produced a bomb that could hurt level 20s!
They lost quite a handful of level 20s then, and they also injured those in their late 20s. Even those in their 30s were affected.
Such an elite team was practically invincible in a low-level Town war, but here, they were dispersed so easily by those damned bombs! It took a while before they managed to gather themselves again, and they had definitely lost a lot of important windows to attack.
Fortunately, those were obviously the only bombs in that level that Alterra had. Otherwise, they'd have sent more ages ago. Now, they probably only had those preliminary versions of the bomb that could only hurt level 15s and below.
Those bastards… to think they'd use balloons to send bombs. Could they predict the winds to that degree now?
He thought about all this with gritted teeth, feeling extremely livid at all the trouble being sent in his direction. Unconsciously, he looked up again, as if he could still see those damned balloons that caused them trouble.
Balloons.
Why… were there a dozen…
His eyes constricted.
"GET OUT!" he screamed, dashing away, though it was a bit late.
BANG!
BANG!
BANG!
These bombs were not nearly as strong as the major ones and did not kill a lot of people. However, the attack successfully dispersed the supply line.
The craters created would also make it difficult to create a new one, and the fear of another batch made the people from the array afraid to go out at all.
It was safe to say that Fargo's 'endless supply' strategy would now be put on hold.
…
"Wow, it really hit," someone in the battlement said, holding out her scope. "I'd say… we got about 80% accuracy. Not bad, not bad."
This was Jona, Drake's former suitor, who was also a guard. She was assigned to guard the area which had already showing some laxness. They had already burned all the access in these parts, including the ladders, the siege shields, and so on.
They were also far from the areas where the enemy elites decided to go through, so they had the thinnest mobs, and some of the weakest ones, too.
In contrast, they had two elites in this area—Santos and a mercenary—wherein Santos was already preparing to move to another nearby area to help out.
At this point, only the slaves in this area were still fighting to climb up one way or another, so Jona had the time to observe how the bombing went. Unlike Santos, she was designated here to ensure there were people everywhere, so it wasn't like she could leave.
Sipa, the Rolan Mercenary Team volunteer in this sector, was next to her and was wondering the same thing.
After shooting a few enemies trying to climb up (by literally stepping on others), he couldn't help but move towards her. He flinched a bit when he saw Santos turn to him with narrowed eyes, so he stopped at a safe distance of 1 meter.
"How'd they do it?" he asked.
He really couldn't imagine it. They literally made some paper balls fly high up in the air (which was already amazing) and then let the wind carry it over the enemies' heads. After that, they dropped it more or less right on time and at the approximate right spot.
How could it be possible? As an archer, he understood how unpredictable the winds could be!
"Hmn…" the redhead thought for a moment. She knew it had a lot of technical stuff involved, and she was no expert in that, so she wasn't quite sure what to say.
Unexpectedly, Santos appeared right next to them a moment later. He began mumbling some mathematical jargon and physics concepts that made them both dizzy.
In the end, Sipa just thanked them, returned to his spot, and shot away.
He thought: Some things were better off as mysteries.
…
Speaking of mysteries, there was one in the name of Fargo, who was still very much alive and living up to the name that Alterrans called him: the Living Cockroach.
The fact that he was now… crawling to the array cemented that fact.
He was humiliated that he was going against his own words, but he now had no more mana—having to create an earth wall to protect himself.
Further, all the potions in this side of the array were destroyed (those damned containers were way too fragile) and there was none coming in from the other side.
He had no more energy and mana to create fake limbs, so he couldn't even stand anymore, which explained his current state.
Basset Town sent more than half of its population in this war—especially so after they requested for reinforcements. If he could escape to the array, then he might not necessarily become a slave!
His eyes were red and his body was both in physical pain and burning in rage, and he appeared particularly creepy crawling without an arm and a leg.
He could not die here! He thought, over and over. It wouldn't matter how many more years he'd need to regain strength and influence—he will return for vengeance!
Alterra would be under his feet, no matter what!
