Riches and Bitches: I have a gate to an isekai and leveling-up system!

Chapter 172: Soldier's fate (part 3)

Boom!

A moment of respite and endless anxiety about who would be the next to be consumed by the flames.

BOOM!

Mere seconds later, another of Ophar's riders went up in flames, his body cut into thousand pieces by the small, metal fragments that came shooting at them with each attack of the spell. His already mangled body then got pushed away by the shockwave of the attack only to end up evaporating in the intense heat of the flames that were nearly impossible to block or endure.

'This doesn't make any sense.'

Gritting his teeth, Ophar continued to ride forth. And with every attack, his heels would tickle the sides of his horse, pushing it to move just a tiny bit faster.

BOOM!

Another soldier vanished into a thin air, consumed by the flames.

'Uster,' Ophar gritted his teeth, powerless to stop the culling of his men.

One by one, nearly second after second, one of his men would fall. If whoever was attacking them got lucky, a single attack could take out even more raiders, with the scattering metal and flames breaking through the rear of the target's barrier and showering the horsemen behind him with fires and metal shards more than just capable of breaking the cavalry barriers all on their own.

Due to their mobile nature, they could not carry all sorts of artifacts or special designation officers that would make their barriers stronger. To compensate for it, each horseman actually could count for three, maybe even four men, given the boon of having one hell of a brutal beast for a mount…

But right now, it didn't matter at all. Both the humans and the bestial horses were culled down equally as if whatever continued to attack them didn't differentiate between the two.

'Our entire unit is a target… but why? And who is even attacking us?!'

Despite all the fear that filled his brain, Ophar forced himself to keep thinking, to keep analyzing what little he knew in hopes of changing the odds in his unit's favor.

'And as if to make all of this worse… The golden princess is watching!'

The eldest princess of the imperial line, a legend even among the members of the most elite, golden legion of the empire.

And right now, rather than watching them march down the decrepit road with their backs straight and chins raised high, she was forced to witness a disgraceful rush, desperate dash, an attempt to catch whoever dared to unleash such devious magic on them.

BOOM!

The casualties continued to mount. In the few short minutes, it took Ophar's unit to cross most of the open plain and approach the edge of the highlands that, according to Ophar's maps, marked the entrance to the forest foreground… Nearly a fourth of his men fell.

'As impossible as it appears to be, that's the truth,' Ophar thought when, once again, the attacks ceased, giving them a short moment of respite.

"TO THE HILLS!" Ophar ignored the sharp pain in his throat or how shouting orders out loud made him a perfect target for the enemy. "SWARM THE FUCKERS!"

This time, Ophar held nothing back. Instead of just tickling the sides of his mount, he properly dug his heels into the poor beast's skin.

The mount, however, instead of lashing out at the abuse, sped up to the absolute limits of its acceleration, reaching the foothold of the hills as it started to bravely, furiously even, climb up the light slope.

'Just a little bit longer and we will reach the camp of those mercs! If it's really them, we will roll them over! But if the enemy is somewhere else…'

Ophar didn't have the time to even gather his thoughts. The first of his men was just about to climb over the hill, reaching the highest point of the highland while proudly carrying the banner of their battalion in his hand.

Vultar, the herald of the battalion, braved the slope of the hill, reaching all the way to its highest point before freezing for a moment as its bestial horse reared.

Thud.

Even amidst all the noise of hundreds of bestial horses rushing ahead, Ophar could somehow hear the dull noise of Vultar mount's hooves striking down the ground at the top of the hill.

BOOM!

And then, just like that, only half of the proud, veteran herald remained, with the upper left side of his body gone, reduced to mere fuel for the fire that broke through his barrier and exploded within, instantly filling the narrow space of the barrier with those devious shards and inextinguishable flames.

'Fuck!'

Ophar cursed under his thought, still fighting the losing battle of keeping his composure… or at least, the illusion of it.

But just like him freaking out would deprive the morale of his outfit of the necessary foundation… So did the sudden, abrupt death of their well-liked herald.

"CHARGE!"

Desperate to pull the unit up for one last effort, Ophar screamed from the very bottom of his lungs, daring not to hold back his voice at all.

And just like that, he made it all the way up to the crest of the hill, finally able to look down at the area of the massive, open space before the forest. And even though it was still a few hours before the rising of the sun… Major didn't really need to strain his eyes to see what lay down below.

The mercenary camp, the potential source of the attacks, was burning, burned out, and abandoned. Parts of it were still smoldering, parts have long since fully burned down… While some other parts appeared to get stripped of everything of any value before being fully abandoned.

Ophar scanned the area for but a moment. And while normally a certain detail could escape his attention… Right now, asking for that to happen would be akin to disrespecting the man's experience.

'That air…' Ophar thought, stumped for a moment as he looked at the edge of the camp closest to the ridge of the hill.

Ophar couldn't sense a single, individual aura anywhere within the camp. But the air right at its edge was tense, too tense for it to be a natural phenomenon. And as a survivor of the hell of Lunagar's fortress siege… Ophar was more than familiar with this kind of sight.

"THEY ARE WAITING IN AMBUSH!" He screamed out, caring not for how he was physically tearing his throat in two to achieve the "sergeant's sermon", a voice capable of cutting through all the noise and chatter with ease.

On the inside, though, Ophar suddenly grew calm.

From the invisible enemy that massacred over a hundred of his men without even showing themselves, they finally went to a unit of enemies waiting behind the cover of the camp's loose perimeter, awaiting to ambush Ophar's unit.

And while the direct clash with entrenched enemy would be equally if not even more bloody than what they went through to get to the top of the hill… Ophar had no doubt.

'Between this strange spell and the usual bloody mess, I have no doubt which one I prefer!'

And while swinging his saber forth, towards the camp of mercenaries, Ophar shouted for the last time, effectively depriving himself of his voice.

"CHARGE THEM DOWN!"