Chapter 24: The Highland Mage

Highland Mage Corps!

Morin felt a sudden surge of excitement. Information from his "golden finger" and the memories of the original owner had already made him aware that magic existed in this world. The Holy Britannia Empire, in particular, possessed profound expertise in both magic and magitech.

And now, a "High-Ranking Mentor" who sounded incredibly formidable, along with the commander of the Royal Army's 24th Division, and a collection of staff officers and mage apprentices, had all gathered at this small artillery position. Morin did not know why the commander of the 24th Division would suddenly appear on the front lines, let alone alongside the Highland Mages of Britannia, but he knew this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

He lowered his binoculars and handed them to Corporal Bowman beside him, his voice tight with excitement. "Bowman, do you see those officers and the guys in robes?"

Corporal Bowman adjusted the focus, observed for a moment, and nodded. "I see them, sir! They seem like important figures. Those in robes look exactly like the 'Britannian Mages' we were taught to identify before we deployed."

Morin asked, "Do you have the confidence to take them out from this distance?"

Corporal Bowman was stunned; he had never expected his platoon leader to have such a voracious appetite. He raised the binoculars again, carefully estimated the distance, and licked his finger to gauge the wind direction before shaking his head with difficulty. "Sir, it’s too far... almost four hundred meters. Our rifles are accurate, but without telescopic sights, relying solely on iron sights to precisely hit specific targets at this range... the odds aren't good. Thirty percent at best."

Morin was unwilling to give up. At his signal, several other soldiers gathered around. They were all hand-picked marksmen from the platoon, but after observing, they all agreed that the distance exceeded their daily training range. Hitting a person would be a matter of luck, let alone sniping specific targets.

The feverish impulse in Morin’s heart was extinguished by this cold water. He forced himself to calm down. Corporal Bowman and the others were right; the distance was too great, and the risk of missing was too high. Moreover, in Morin’s understanding, special units like "mages" surely possessed bizarre methods of self-protection. If they failed to kill them with a single shot and exposed their position instead, the six of them would likely be finished.

Impulse is the devil. Morin sighed, reluctantly abandoning the tempting idea. He raised his binoculars one last time, intending to take one final look at this "big fish."

However, just as he centered the lens on the mage who appeared to be the leader, alarm bells rang in his heart. He saw the man in robes suddenly turn his head as if he had sensed something, his gaze shooting straight toward the hillside where they were hiding. Even across four hundred meters, Morin felt as if he were being watched by a predator; the hairs on his entire body stood on end.

"Retreat! Retreat immediately!"

Morin scrambled down the slope, not caring about his dignity, grabbed his bicycle, and signaled for the others to leave. Though the others were confused, they saw the terrified expression on Morin’s face and acted immediately. The six of them quickly mounted their bikes and fled back the way they came without looking back.

Meanwhile, on the heights outside the city of Seville, Eldritch, a High-Ranking Mentor of the Holy Britannia Highland Mage Corps, frowned as he looked toward the unremarkable hill in the distance. Just now, he had vaguely sensed a gaze spying on him. It carried a faint, fleeting trace of murderous intent, but it had been captured by his keen spiritual perception. *Could it be scouts from the National Army? Or perhaps those Saxons?*

He was considering whether to cast a third-circle [Eagle Eye] spell to investigate when a messenger from the Royal Army hurried over and whispered something into the ear of General José Sanjurjo, commander of the 24th Division. The general's face darkened visibly, his brows filled with rage.

"Is it that idiot Juan causing trouble again?" A voice filled with disdain and impatience sounded nearby—it was the High-Ranking Mentor, Eldritch. He didn't even need to listen closely; the messenger's whispers were clear to him.

General Sanjurjo’s face flashed with embarrassment. That fool Juan had indeed caused him a lot of trouble, but out of consideration for the large sums of money the man "offered" every year, he had always turned a blind eye. But what time was it now? A great battle was imminent; the rebels, that so-called International Brigade, and the main force of the Saxons could be at the city gates at any moment, yet this fool was still causing such scandals in the city!

"A minor disturbance in the city," General Sanjurjo explained to Eldritch, suppressing his anger. "I will send men to drag that incompetent fellow back and discipline him severely."

With that, he ordered his guards to take a squad of soldiers and "invite" Lieutenant Colonel Juan de Rivera and his companions back. Not long after, several officers and a squad of Royal Army soldiers arrived aggressively outside the two-story building where Juan and his group had been.

They kicked open the front door and barged in. The lead captain cursed as he charged up the stairs, wanting only to drag that drunkard Juan out and report back to the general. But as he stepped onto the third stair, he felt something trip his foot. Immediately after, a round, black object rolled from the gap in the stairs to his feet, accompanied by a faint "hissing" sound.

The hallway was dim, and the captain didn't see what was at his feet; he even lowered his head, intending to bend down and pick it up. The Grim Reaper's scythe hovered over his head for exactly 3.5 seconds.

"Boom!"

After the 3.5-second delay, a spherical hand grenade manufactured by the Saxon Empire exploded violently in the narrow stairwell. The shockwave and flying shrapnel instantly engulfed the stairwell. The lead captain and the two soldiers following him collapsed into a pool of blood without even a moan. The soldiers behind were left dizzy by the massive explosion, their ears ringing. When they finally scrambled up from the floor and saw their comrades screaming in agony, they were so terrified that they fled the building, which seemed to be devouring people.

On the street, the massive explosion caused a panic. The residents, who had been grumbling nearby, screamed and scattered, while the surrounding Royal Army soldiers nervously raised their guns, surrounding the small building.

Shortly after, a Highland Mage apprentice who had heard the news arrived at the scene with his attendants. "Move aside!" He pushed the blocking soldiers away, looked at the carnage on the stairs through the open door, and furrowed his brows.

After a moment of hesitation, he used specific hand gestures combined with a short incantation. A ring of pale blue light rippled out from him.

[First-Circle Spell — Life Detection]

When the spell faded, he lowered his hand and said to the tense soldiers, "There is no life force on the second floor. There are a few on the first, but they are in very poor condition."

Hearing this, several brave soldiers finally gathered the courage to rush into the building and drag out the moaning wounded. The young mage apprentice also stepped over the bloodstains and entered with his attendants. Seeing the tragic state of the three Royal Army soldiers, a look of disgust flashed across the apprentice's face. He directed the soldiers to clear out the bodies and debris, and then, along with the others, they ascended to the second floor.

In the second-floor hallway, three closed doors stood like three silent mouths.