When the two Black Sail Battleships of Sak and Atlant were being chased around by the Great Knight like frightened rabbits, fifty kiloters away from Forward Island, it was a completely different scene.
The Heavy Cruiser "Venus" had its foremast and mainmast sails tilted to the sides, quietly floating on the sea in a sailboat braking posture.
Even the raging wind and snow couldn’t move it.
In the slightly cramped captain’s cabin, Captain Aiven, First Mate Boris, Chief Navigator Milan, Boatswain Gary, and Guest Ship Captain Robbins—five individuals who were supposed to be risking life and limb on "Forward Island" alongside Wolf, Heather, and the others—sat together... drinking tea.
Top-quality red tea from the Peacock Islands, along with soufflé cakes, butter scones, and caral pudding carefully prepared by the ship’s chef.
"Not bad. Since our frequent contact with the East Lenz Company, the variety of food ingredients has really gone up a level.
It’s been a while since I’ve tasted hotown delicacies. I owe it all to Captain Aiven, hahaha..."
Robbins even joked cheerfully.
If the other two captains, currently fleeing for their lives not knowing if they would survive, saw this scene, they might be furious enough to spit blood!
In reality.
Aside from the initial eting using the Sea Birds, the "Venus" had never approached "Forward Island" from start to finish, always staying in the safe zone on the periphery.
For him, all the targets on the island made no difference as he remotely commanded from dozens of kiloters away.
Not to ntion just the three closest inland supply depots, even if all seven were handed over to him, it would have been no problem; over six hundred insiders were already a staggering two to five ratio compared to the regular Hilus garrison.
It’s practically by the grace of the Goddess that such an infiltration operation has proceeded to this unprecedented extent in standard battle cases.
Hmm, has the highest realm of covert operations added another aspect beyond eliminating all witnesses?
Turning all enemies into our own...?
Now all the Extraordinary Officers on this warship were linked together by Milan’s Mind Connection, watching through the previously dispatched Sea Birds’ vision, like enjoying a free blockbuster.
Especially as they drank tea and savored the chef’s specially made pastries, feeling exceptionally relaxed and comfortable.
However, even if given plain water, their mood might not be affected, because as the saying goes: "Happiness is often found in comparison!"
Compared to them, the two from Sak and Atlant....
Wow, it’s simply too outrageous!
Aiven felt that this operation was undoubtedly an ingenious decision he made after successfully overcoming the influence of "Adventurer’s Blood" and starting from an unrestrained self-awareness.
Yes, it must be so.
Upon seeing the last roaring flas, Aiven took a sip of unadulterated red tea, exhaled gently, and said to Bess, who was perched on the shelf in the corner of the captain’s cabin:
"Alright, it’s clear our puppet unit has accomplished its task admirably, so no need to deploy the bomber squad."
"Yes, sir!"
As Aiven’s Order Officer, the snow-white owl with military rank on the battleship lifted its wings seriously, saluting Aiven.
The operation plan for Aiven’s side was also quite simple: letting the captured Puppet Soldiers land on "Forward Island" under the pretense of surviving a shipwreck. The Puppet Potion’s discreet nature ant there was no worry about exposure risk.
If it was soplace like the Colonial Governor’s Mansion, True God Cathedral, or a large Navy Base, long-term infiltration might reveal their true colors. But in a place that was just a deserted island a few months ago, with weak Magical Extraordinary Power, there was no issue at all.
Even so, Aiven had prepared a follow-up bombing plan with Sea Birds, just in case sothing went wrong.
The puppet unit, originally composed of soldiers with excellent military skills, was equipped with necessary gear provided by Aiven:
Specially designed "Little Elves" for arson, reshaped so they could be carried "on person," without worry about surface-level body checks; "Laughing Spores" for incapacitating personnel, nearly clearing out Aiven’s current entire stock.
After cultivation with witchcraft, the spores, only 4-6 microns in diater, dispersed over most of the island with the wind, were difficult to detect even by the Extraordinary without precaution. The result was everyone being affected from top to bottom.
Except for the puppet soldiers who pre-ingested the antidote, and...
"Hmm? As expected, with precaution, it’s unlikely to achieve the task easily, so it has its pros and cons."
In the Sea Bird’s vision, after one armory exploded, the flas of the other two large burning warehouses quickly extinguished, one in particular in an incredibly peculiar manner.
This scene seed familiar.
That was... the "Eternal Fla" Church’s [Divine Skill: Fla Immunity].
Clearly, no matter how dull the Church’s Saint on duty might be, they had already rushed to where they were most needed by now.
If it weren’t for this snowstorm, given the "Eternal Fla" servant’s sensitivity to fire, they should have imdiately detected it as soon as the fire broke out, and the blockade team would have had to pay a much higher price to achieve their objective.
Perhaps we should really thank the Goddess Scáthach of "Frost Breath" for her care, because according to legend, Her earthly holy abode is at the World’s End in the far north, also the deepest part of the Eternal White Land, the source of the cold wave.
As it is now, after the appearance of this Tier 2 Saint, a single divine art resolved the blazing fire.
"But, it doesn’t matter!"
Clap——
Snapped his fingers again.
Signaled by the Sea Birds, a Suicide Squad waiting outside the warehouse unhesitatingly charged forward.
Taking out a bunch of test tube-shaped (for those who know, you know why they’re test tube-shaped and not spherical...) dark green potions and gray powders, so charged fearlessly back into the warehouse, while others rushed towards the suddenly appearing priest.
Of course, this was the sa holy professional who had been checking the soldiers’ health just a few hours earlier, the only Tier 2 magical transcendent on the island, Durbert.
They charged while shouting, "Dawn! Supre and Holy!"
"How dare you! You... you all are indeed possessed by demons!"
Durbert, shrouded in a pale red extraordinary spiritual light, blocked the tiny spores from the shattered test tubes from spreading.
The bearded holy professional was so furious that his beard and hair stood on end. He slamd the gemstone staff in his hand heavily, and a dazzling red halo easily knocked down these soldiers at most at the apprentice level.
The "Eternal Fla" church has always regarded the "Dawn" church, which partially overlaps in divine position, as a mortal enemy. Hearing such words from the soldiers at this ti, how could he not be angry?
But there were simply too many puppet soldiers, almost 200 people were assigned to each warehouse, and others took this opportunity to throw the "Voodoo Potion" in their hands.
With the consecutive crisp sounds of "pop!" "pop!" "pop!" the dark green poisonous mist exploded within the superficially charred but still intact supplies, quickly seeping inside, rendering them completely unusable even if not burned.
Sizzling...
"Retreat!"
With the final task completed, the ntally stable soldiers certainly wouldn’t engage in a suicidal fight with this transcendent.
Watching the soldiers scatter into small groups and escape, Durbert hesitated between chasing them down and heading to the final warehouse to see if the damage could be salvaged.
Grudgingly stomping his foot, he chose the latter.
"Sak Empire! Even if these soldiers weren’t manipulated by you, this attack surely involves you. We’ll see!"
Crunch! Crunch!...
The escaping soldiers were now racing through the island amidst bursts of laughter, making their way swiftly to the dock amid the swirling snow.
For the Tulips.
No matter how much they criticize Hilus for their authoritarianism, industrial lag, constant warfare, and mounting debts, their overall strength remains indisputably the world’s greatest at this mont.
The purpose of the comrce raiding is to make them retreat when faced with difficulties, rather than pushing them to desperation and forcing a desperate move, and certainly not to rouse any desire for revenge for their comrades, playing pity for triumph.
Therefore, even though most Hilus officers and soldiers have lost their resistance under the influence of the Laughing Spores, Aiven did not command these puppet soldiers to finish them off.
Of course, thieves don’t leave empty-handed.
The higher Aiven’s position, the more he understood the benefits of wealth. Especially when managing an increasing number of crew mbers, "interests" prove more effective than any divine soldier or sharp weapon.
"Board the ships!"
Subsequently, the fewer than six hundred people remaining from the conflict were divided into two groups and boarded the two Level 5 Battleships in the best condition docked at the shore. After dealing with the garrison aboard, they set sail and disappeared into the wind and snow without any obstacles.
Behind them, the last two Hilus cruisers slowly capsized under the boundless enthusiasm of the "Little Elves."
"Hahahahahahaha..."
"Hahahahahahaha..."
In the command center at this ti, the laughter of the officers showed no signs of stopping.
Yet amidst the laughter, a few heart-rending coughs occasionally mingled.
"Hahahahaha... cough cough... hahahahaha..."
Great Knight Daos, with an unusually flushed face, suffered from excruciating pain in his organs and muscle spasms. Even leaning on the table, he seed on the verge of collapsing at any mont.
Although this much ti had elapsed, and laughter continued from his mouth, his gaze had begun to gradually lose focus.
"...Hahahahaha... curse... hahahaha... uh."
In the blur before his eyes.
The life of Daos rapidly replayed in his mind, finally pausing on an old man, tears of blood streaming, pointing at him with all his strength as he shouted:
"In the na of the souls of the Draper Tribe’s ancestors and the God of Death, Wuhao, I curse you!
I curse you butchers, that not a single one of you will make it back to your holand alive!
...."
"No one...?"
The soul grew lighter, the laughter around him more distant...
In his final glance before drifting entirely to a grayish-white world.
He seed to see a black, eagle-like yet human-like blurry creature, standing over his head, gazing at him with cold, mocking eyes.
It closely resembled the totem pillar of the aboriginal God of Death, Wuhao, that he had once chopped down.
In the next mont.
Tier 3 Great Knight Daos was laughed to death by the Laughing Spores.
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