Of Steel and Roses: Silver-Haired Loli on a Rampage Chapter 62: Destruction and the Incarnation of Destruction

Reinhardt returned in the sixth minute.

That was four minutes earlier than the ten-minute deadline Margaret had set.

This was because the other troops and chs on the battlefield had mysteriously vanished for so unknown reason.

Only wreckage and unrecognizable corpses remained.

This made his reconnaissance operation exceptionally smooth.

At this mont, they were standing on the edge of the massive basin where the incarnation of destruction was located.

Reinhardt looked down.

Snow and wind poured into the depressed terrain from all directions, forming a slowly rotating white vortex at the bottom of the basin.

Visibility was worse than in the snowfields outside; the dense curtain of snow acted like a veil, shrouding everything deep within the basin in a haze.

But he could see.

The Path of the Hermit allowed him to see.

It wasn't clearer eyesight, nor was it the ability to see through the blizzard.

It was sothing more fundantal—a perception of 'existence'.

In Reinhardt's perception, the world was not constructed from light and color.

The world was constructed from 'existence'.

Every stone, every snowflake, every piece of wreckage possessed the weight of its own 'existence'.

And the 'existence' of that thing at the bottom of the basin—

It was as heavy as a collapsing star.

It was suffocating him.

Reinhardt quickly pulled a piece of wood and a carving knife from his pocket.

The mont the blade touched the wood, his breathing finally stabilized slightly.

Swish.

Thin wood shavings drifted from between his fingers, swept away by the wind and snow.

"Did you see it?" Margaret's voice ca from behind him.

"I saw it."

Reinhardt did not turn around.

His gaze pierced through the blizzard and landed on the pitch-black silhouette in the center of the basin.

"Directly below, at the lowest point of the basin,"

he said while carving the wood, the blade scoring fine lines across the surface of the block, as if writing text only he could decipher.

"There is a ch, about one and a half tis the height of a standard Knight ch, perhaps °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° taller. It's hard to judge; the space around it is distorted, so its proportions look different from far away than up close."

Swish. Swish.

"It's entirely black."

Swish. Swish. Swish.

"The outline is the standard pattern for a Victoriana Royal Knight ch, with a longsword in its right hand and a tower shield in its left."

"Sword and shield?" Margaret said.

"Sword and shield," Reinhardt repeated.

Margaret frowned.

According to her mory, Iron Wall Clausewitz was not very skilled with a sword.

But he did frequently use a tower shield.

Reinhardt's blade paused for a mont, then he continued his description.

"It is patrolling, moving slowly along the bottom of the basin. Every ti its foot lands, the ground beneath it cracks from the inside—not crushed, but... the earth itself breaks."

Frederick crowded to the edge of the basin, squinting down.

"I can't see anyt—"

"Don't lean over," Reinhardt said.

Frederick pulled back.

"There are shadows around it."

Reinhardt continued, the rhythm of his blade quickening, "Black smoke seeping out of the ground fissures, coalescing into human shapes. No faces, no details. So look like soldiers, so like ch remnants, so look like nothing at all."

Swish swish.

"Three hundred and seventy-two."

Frederick: "...You counted them?"

"Yes, I counted."

This was the instinct granted by the Path of the Hermit.

Capturing details amidst chaos.

Discerned the truth amidst the clamor.

When everyone only saw a blurry white, he could precisely count every individual existence.

The pursuit of knowledge.

This was the core of the Path of the Hermit.

"To see."

"To know."

"To record."

Reinhardt glanced down at the piece of wood in his hand.

Without realizing it, he had already carved a rough human silhouette.

Curled up, gender indiscernible, age impossible to tell.

Only that it was a person.

His dormitory was filled with such small wooden carvings.

Hundreds of them.

Perhaps thousands.

Each one represented a deceased person he had'seen'.

Naless corpses on the battlefield.

Frozen hands in the snow.

Wreckage curled up in craters.

Too many people died silently in this world.

No tombstones, no eulogies, no one rembered their nas.

They simply vanished from the world, as if they had never existed.

Reinhardt disliked that.

He disliked it very much.

That's why he learned carving.

With a small knife and a piece of wood, he left the only proof for these unknown dead.

—You once lived.

—Soone saw it.

This was probably why the Path of the Hermit chose him.

A person obsessed with recording and witnessing happened to walk onto a Way Back whose essence was the pursuit of knowledge.

Or perhaps the reverse—

A Way Back whose essence was the pursuit of knowledge shaped a person obsessed with recording and witnessing.

He couldn't distinguish cause and effect.

Nor did he want to.

At this mont, his eyes could see everything at the bottom of the basin.

The location of every shadow, the trajectory of every fissure, the ti interval between every step of that black ch.

This information flowed into his consciousness like water, automatically sorted, archived, and tagged.

The Path of the Hermit could not make him invisible.

It could not allow him to fight.

It could not allow him to protect anyone.

But it could let him'see' what others could not see.

And at this mont, that was enough.

"The shadows react to 'existence'."

Reinhardt tucked the small wooden carving into his pocket, then pulled out a new piece of wood and began to carve.

"Anything with vitality that enters their range of perception will pounce on it."

"What happens after they pounce?" Frederick asked.

"They shatter."

"...Shatter?"

"I saw a group of routed soldiers from the void realm trying to cross the basin. The mont the shadows touched them, the people cracked open from the inside, scattering into fragnts, and then the fragnts turned into new shadows."

Reinhardt's blade paused for a beat.

"So now there are three hundred and eighty-three."

Frederick's face visibly paled.

"What about the entity itself?" Margaret asked, "Does it react to the surrounding routed soldiers?"

"No."

Reinhardt shook his head, "The shadows handle everything for it. It just walks. It walks step by step, as if waiting for sothing."

"Or guarding sothing."

He raised his head, his gaze crossing the basin to look at the black tower standing in the distance amidst the snow and wind.

The black tower was directly above the basin.

From this angle, that pitch-black ch looked like the shadow the black tower cast upon the earth.

The tower and the shadow of the tower.

Destruction and the incarnation of destruction.

"Alright."

Margaret's voice drew everyone's attention back.

She raised her right hand, and several light gold screens unfolded at her fingertips, displaying a real-ti map of the basin generated based on Reinhardt's description.

The distribution of shadows, the patrol route of the incarnation of destruction, the direction of the ground fissures—all information was clearly marked.

"The situation is more complicated than anticipated. An initial frontal assault against the main body plus over three hundred shadow guards is equivalent to suicide."

"We don't have much opportunity to create advantageous terrain either; the variables are too great in that case."

Her fingers quickly sketched lines on the light screen.

"The adjusted plan has three phases."

"Phase one, clearing the path. Alicia will release presence decoys on the opposite side of the basin to lure as many shadows as possible away from our attack route. We don't need to lure all of them, just tear open a passage."

Alicia tilted her head slightly.

"If it's just a simple presence decoy... I can probably create thirty to forty of them, sustained for five minutes."

"That's enough. Phase two, the charge. While the shadows are dispersed, we rush in through the passage. Reinhardt will guide the way; your perception ability can help us avoid the positions of the remaining shadows."

Reinhardt nodded.

"Phase three, the core."

Margaret tapped the black marker representing the incarnation of destruction on the light screen, and a glowing dot appeared at the location of its chest cavity.

"The core of the incarnation of destruction is deep within its body. Destroying it will lift the seal on the void realm. I will be responsible for the frontal containnt, consuming its attention. Frederick—"

She looked at the trembling, burn-scarred boy.

"I need you to charge in from the blind spot and use the full power of the Path of the Chariot to smash its outer shell and expose the core."

Frederick made a sound of surprise, "Huh?"

"...What about that shield?"

"That is the biggest problem, but also our biggest opportunity."

Margaret enlarged the silhouette of the incarnation of destruction on the light screen and pointed her finger at the tower shield on its left arm.

"Based on our previous judgnt, it's unlikely that Pavela was a soldier directly involved in warfare."

"In that case, she probably won't rember many tactical maneuvers Clausewitz employed. She will only rember—that thing charged toward the enemy, and nothing could stop it."

"In other words—"

Margaret looked up, the pale gold reflection of the light screen mirrored in her dark green eyes.

"This incarnation of destruction possesses Clausewitz's combat instincts and overwhelming power, but it lacks his tactical judgnt. Its defense is passive and reactive—it blocks when threatened, counterattacks when it senses an attack. It's instinct, not thought."

"That is our breakthrough point."

"By creating judgnt confusion through multi-directional interference, we force a priority conflict in its defensive instincts—when it must simultaneously deal with my frontal attack and Alicia's perceptual interference, its tower shield cannot cover all directions at once."

"That opening is Frederick's chance."

Frederick was silent for a few seconds.

"...What is the success rate?"

"Not high."

"Can you be more specific?"

"One in ten?"

"...General."

"What?"

"I have a question."

"Speak."

"If I charge in and it doesn't break, but I do—"

"It's fine, I'll try to collect your remains," Margaret said expressionlessly.

"...Could you at least hesitate for a mont before answering?"

"Because there's no ti to hesitate anymore."

Margaret stood up, gathered all the light screens into her palm, and then clenched her fist, causing the light to dissipate.

"Every second that passes increases the possibility of the void realm breaking the seal on the underground classroom. If it drags the entire school's students in, this whole thing will truly be over."

"Do you have any more questions now?"

Frederick looked at Reinhardt.

Reinhardt was looking down at the half-carved piece of wood in his hand.

He hadn't finished carving it.

Instead, he put it and the knife back into his pocket.

As if planning to finish carving after the fight.

Frederick then looked at Alicia.

Alicia was stroking the silver kitten, Frost Sugar, her lips moving slightly, as if whispering secrets to it.

He finally looked down at his own hands.

They were still shaking.

But less than before.

"No more,"

Frederick said.

He stood up and stretched his shoulders, his joints emitting a few crisp cracks.

"Let's go,"

His voice still carried a trace of tremor.

"While I still have the strength."