Chapter 167: The War Begins

Boun let out a soft hum, a smile blooming on his face. Councilors simply could not compare to the allure of a Archmage.

Hussain looked at him with a hint of bewilderment. Where on earth did this sudden, inexplicable wave of supreme confidence come from? This kid always managed to be utterly baffling in the strangest ways.

"Aren't you something else, growing quite capable lately."

Hussain cut straight to the point. "Very well, but I am curious. How did you know the Council had set its sights on your apparatus, managing to move it away in advance and pulling the wool over even our eyes?"

The corners of Boun’s lips twitched upward before his expression turned solemn. "To be honest, I had no inkling that the Council was behind this. I owe it entirely to that massive five-million-gold order; otherwise, I might genuinely have fallen right into their trap."

Hussain paused slightly, instantly grasping the situation, and burst into hearty laughter.

Boun’s Lehman Chamber of Commerce had indeed drawn the jealousy of certain factions, who wished to use the Council to eliminate it.

If the Chamber had accepted the colossal order, only to have it requisitioned and commandeered by the military, they would have been saddled with astronomical breach-of-contract penalties. Even if the Chamber managed to survive by selling off every last pot and pan, it would have been crippled beyond recognition.

Previously, people showed restraint and left them a sliver of profit out of respect for the Count, but now that the Chamber had clearly demonstrated immense potential, those factions couldn't wait to crush it.

Yet it was precisely this impatience—this desire of a certain group to achieve their goal in one swift stroke—that tipped Boun off.

Hussain chuckled at the thought of those people overcomplicating things and inadvertently warning Boun, wondering what kind of expression the boy must have worn when he found out.

"You packed everything up and fled based solely on a hypothesis? Weren't you afraid your guess might be wrong?" the elfin elder asked.

"Even if I guessed wrong, it wouldn't have mattered; it wouldn't have affected me much. The moment I realized the mechanical apparatus used for producing spell potions was being targeted, I had already planned to move it anyway. After all, you shouldn't put all your eggs in one basket," Boun said casually, spreading his hands.

Though he was already well acquainted with Boun’s personality, the elfin elder still felt a headache coming on. This disposition was entirely too cautious.

The two exchanged glances and silently shook their heads.

No matter what, Boun was still a youth. Having outmaneuvered the Council, he couldn't help feeling rather pleased with himself. "Everything leaves traces... as long as you can see through to the beginning and the end... figuring it out isn't that difficult. Hey? Why are you walking away?"

Hussain and the elfin elder both yawned ostentatiously and turned on their heels, giving Boun zero opportunity to show off.

Watching the two figures quickly vanish into the distance, Boun silently raised a middle finger at their retreating backs.

As Sevinton entered a state of military lockdown, almost all spellcasters in the city were requisitioned and drafted, and even the cadets of Giles Academy were ordered to participate in the defense.

(Conscription applied only to adults; Boun was still short by a month, which cleanly exempted him from the draft—barring voluntary enlistment, of course.)

Alternatively, if someone was as wealthy as the Lehman Chamber, they could buy their way out of conscription by donating a massive sum of money or supplies.

Watching the chests of gold being hauled away, Lehman clutched his chest, feeling as though his heart were bleeding.

"It's fine. Gold is just like a bastard—if it's gone, you just go make more. Money exists to be spent," Boun consoled.

Lehman stared at Boun with a completely expressionless face, capable only of letting out two silent, hollow laughs.

This whole ordeal stemmed from Boun’s masterstroke of "sloughing off the cicada's shell," which had made fools of everyone.

Individual martial prowess was of little use on the battlefield, especially during a siege, which placed supreme emphasis on cooperation and coordination.

Mages without combat experience were invariably assigned to the rear for logistical duties—including the cadets of Giles Academy.

Right now, Boun and the city guards shared a deeply negative reputation, and Lehman bore Boun’s brand by association. Had Lehman been drafted, he undoubtedly would have been singled out for harsh treatment, assigned straight to the front lines for reconnaissance or suicide squads. To protect his own skin, Lehman had no choice but to spend money to avert disaster.

For the first time, he felt that the identity of an arc-mage wasn't quite as glorious as imagined, because an arc-mage's exemption fee was triple that of ordinary people, leaving Lehman heartbroken over the expense.

Though it was merely a small vanguard of aberrant creatures, Joseph Gusta had actually initiated the highest defense alert level.

Yet anyone with a functioning brain knew this was a war targeting Netheril, and one could never be too cautious.

No one who rose to the rank of Legion Commander was simple. Joseph Gusta took a single day to hammer a chaotic mob of loose sands into a barely passable third-rate army.

Even Hussain praised Joseph Gusta's aptitude for troop management. If Hussain had been in charge, he would have had to execute a few men first just to establish dominance, whereas Joseph Gusta had successfully integrated those aristocratic bodyguards without spilling a single drop of blood.

Regardless of whether they were merely a third-rate force, the fact that Joseph Gusta managed to organize them in such a brief window spoke volumes about his exceptional military competence.

That night, a shrill and piercing alarm echoed across Sevinton.

Inside the hastily constructed laboratory, the soundproofing was mediocre at best. Hearing the alarm, Boun paused his work for a moment before resuming his research, his lips parting to mutter softly in a voice only he could hear: "Has it finally begun?"

...

"What is that?" a guard shouted.

Because the scouts' reconnaissance had failed to yield concrete intelligence, they had only been able to confirm that the aberrant creatures had reached Sevinton, yet bizarrely, they had not launched an immediate attack.

Humans made excellent scouts; their innate adaptability allowed them to master a broader array of skills than other races, with the majority moonlighting as rangers or rogues (thieves).

However, aberrant creatures possessed far keener tactile and olfactory senses, and in certain environments, their perception range surpassed that of humans.

Consequently, the casualty rate for scouts in wartime had always remained stubbornly high.

The guard's cry instantly drew the attention of the others. An accompanying mage fired a flare spell into the distance, and by the fleeting flash of light, the group managed to barely discern the silhouette of the distant threat.

"Quick! Fire the signal flare! Enemy attack!" the captain roared, his face turning grim.

As the piercing alarms wailed, everyone in Sevinton knew the war had begun.

Although it was night, as the aberrant creatures drew closer, the soldiers finally caught sight of what manner of monsters their enemies were.

They possessed fish-like heads draped in scales that shimmered with a dull brown or gray luster in the reflection of the snow, accompanied by atrophied limbs and webbed fingers.

"Damn it, they're Kuo-toa," an older captain said, shock gripping his features.

"Why are subterranean creatures showing up on the surface? Aren't these aberrations?"

Trailing behind the Kuo-toa, the form of an even more colossal entity revealed itself to the city garrison.

It was a bloated, humanoid creature resembling a fish, its body sheathed in silver-gray scales. Its limbs were slender and disproportionately small for its massive bulk, yet its incessantly snapping maw appeared cavernous enough to swallow a warhorse whole.

"Is that a Kuo-toa Leviathan?!" exclaimed a mage standing beside Joseph Gusta. "Even the Kuo-toa Leviathans are out—have the Dazorn dwarves abandoned the Dark Road?"

Joseph Gusta furrowed his brow. Clearly, this was no time for academic speculation, and he immediately began issuing commands.

"Archers, ready! Spellcasters, enchant the arrows..."

At Lord Joseph's command, the defense of Sevinton—absent for over a hundred years—officially commenced.

...

With the defensive battle underway, the attention of everyone in the city was completely drawn toward the front lines.

In the East District, the iron lid of a sewer manhole lifted slightly. A scale-covered hand reached out, slowly pushing the cover aside...

*(PS: I'm sorry! The update was delayed due to other matters. No excuses—once I finish dealing with this, I will definitely make it up!)*

*(End of Chapter)*