booktalesy Chapter 103 Entering the Inner City
Chapter 103 Entering the Inner City
Chapter 102 Entering the Inner City
The moment the giant foot of the Tower of Babel stepped into the inner city, the entire Witch Tower of Frostwolf City lit up.
Nearly two hundred Witch Towers activated almost simultaneously, with beams of magical energy of various colors erupting from the crystal spheres at the top of the towers, like lightning striking down simultaneously in a storm.
Earth, wind, and poison attacks of all levels, from first to second and third, rained down on the walls of the second level of the Tower of Babel.
Boom boom boom boom—
The explosions were continuous, and the smoke and dust completely engulfed the southern wall of the Tower of Babel.
On the inner city wall, the Countess gripped her binoculars tightly, her knuckles turning white.
"Keep hitting them! Keep hitting them!"
Her voice became sharp with anger, and her well-maintained face no longer showed any trace of elegance and grace, only the annoyance of having her pretense exposed and the humiliation of being rejected.
Beside her, Percival, wrapped in a thick blanket, huddled in his wheelchair. His high fever had just subsided, and his face was deathly pale, but his eyes burned with a hatred even more intense than his mother's.
"Smash his walls! Smash everything that bastard has!" Percival's voice was hoarse and hysterical.
However, as the smoke and dust gradually dissipated, the Countess nearly dropped the telescope from her hand.
The city wall was only slightly damaged.
On the metal city walls forged from fourth-tier Titan adamantite, there were only a few places where the fourth-tier poison witch had attacked, resulting in minor damage.
The remaining volleys from the Witch Tower had virtually no effect.
The adamantine armor covering the city walls reflected a cold metallic luster in the morning light, as if mocking these overconfident attacks.
"No—impossible—"
The Countess's voice changed from sharp to a murmur.
She put down the binoculars, forced herself to take two deep breaths, and then raised them again—this time, she wasn't looking at the city walls.
She was looking at the people on the city wall.
After the smoke and dust cleared, the figures on the Babel watchtowers were clearly reflected in the lens.
One, two, three —
She counted them one by one, her lips beginning to tremble uncontrollably.
On the far left, a silver-haired girl floats in mid-air, with twelve corresponding witch towers embedded in the city wall. The metallic towers are covered with data-like ice-blue light patterns—a third-order witch of myriad machines.
Slightly to the left of center, a green-haired woman stands on the battlements, with vines extending from her feet out of the city wall like tentacles growing from the earth—the third-tier Abundant Earth Mother.
On the far right, a girl with heterochromatic black and gold eyes sat on the steps of the clock tower, swinging her legs casually. Yet, the air around her was subtly distorted, as if even the light was circling her—a first or second-tier Fate Witch O.
Then-
In the very center of the city wall, a red-haired woman stood quietly behind Lorraine.
The air around her was simultaneously condensing and evaporating.
On the left, frost spread from fingertips, and the temperature dropped so drastically that even the lenses of the telescope began to fog up.
To the right, a dark gray flame flickered silently. Wherever it passed, the snow on the city wall did not melt but simply vanished, leaving not even a trace of moisture.
Fourth order.
That was the aura of a fourth-tier witch.
The Countess took a deep breath.
Two are at the third tier, one at the second tier, and one at the fourth tier—this is the total fighting strength of the witches in Lorraine.
Her fingers stopped trembling.
"That's all?"
She put down her binoculars and glanced at the queue behind her.
Five third-tier witches stood in a row, each controlling their own witch tower, their expressions serious.
Ten second-tier witches stood on either side, nervously staring at the Tower of Babel in the distance.
At the very back stood a woman in a dark red robe, her hands clasped behind her back, radiating a powerful aura of fourth-tier magic. She was the witch the Countess had hired at great expense, an expert in poison magic.
One fourth-order, five third-order, and ten second-order.
In terms of numbers, they are overwhelmingly superior.
The Countess's tense lips finally relaxed.
"Keep attacking." Her voice regained its composure. "So what if it's a fourth-tier city wall? No matter how tough the wall is, it can be broken if you bombard it enough times."
She turned and walked toward the communication array, her fingertip touching the crystal ball.
On the walls of the Tower of Babel, Anna's communication array lit up.
Lorraine glanced at it and raised an eyebrow: "Again?"
"Shall we answer it, young master?"
"catch."
The Countess's projection reappeared.
This time, she didn't play the role of a loving mother. Her face wore a condescending smile, reserved and cold.
"Lorraine, I admit, you're more promising than I thought."
She spoke slowly and deliberately, in a tone as if an elder were commenting on a disappointing junior who had occasionally achieved a good grade.
"A fourth-tier city wall, a fourth-tier witch, you have indeed surprised me. But one..."
She raised her chin, her gaze filled with certainty.
"Look at the people standing on your city wall, and then look at the people standing behind me. Child, count them."
She stepped aside, and the line of witches behind her appeared clearly in the projection.
"Five third-tier, ten second-tier, and one fourth-tier. Your city wall is indeed very sturdy, but how long can it hold out?"
The countess's voice was filled with undisguised smugness.
"Hand over control of your witches and surrender. I may forgive you and spare your life."
You wouldn't want all the witches you've painstakingly trained to be worn down in a war of attrition, would you?
The attack from hundreds of witch towers continued, crashing down on the fourth-tier city wall wave after wave. Although it couldn't be broken through for the time being, the momentum was immense, with billowing smoke and dust.
The Countess felt confident of victory.
Lorraine looked down at the smug face on the projection and smiled.
"Madam is right."
The countess was taken aback.
"You do have more witches than I do," Lorraine nodded. "But—"
He raised his head, his gaze as calm as a stagnant pool.
"What about the quality?"
He didn't give the Countess time to process what he had said.
"Fight back."
Three words, light and airy.
But the next second—
Anna made the first move.
Twenty-four Towers of Entropy fired simultaneously, with dark gray beams shooting out from their apexes.
That wasn't an ordinary magic attack.
The air struck by the beam aged rapidly, and time became distorted and rushed where the beam passed.
The first shot hit the third-tier city wall of the inner city.
The moment the dark gray beam of light touched the city wall, the solid stone surface began to crack, as if it had been crushed by an invisible hand—no, not shattered, but aged!
The defensive array on the city wall completed its century-long decay process within seconds, its light fading...
The texture crumbled, and the stone turned to dust.
The entire city wall collapsed from the top down, like a piece of rotten wood hollowed out by termites.
Immediately afterwards, Ohm’s twelve magic-powered heavy cannons turned their muzzles and accurately hit the Witch’s Tower exposed at the opening in the city wall.
Olivia's vines then followed the gaps in the city wall, tearing apart the remaining sections little by little.
The three sides' firepower overlapped, forming an impenetrable barrage of bullets.
The Countess's smug expression froze.
She watched as her witch's tower, those third-tier walls she was so proud of, crumbled and collapsed one after another, piece by piece, like building blocks blown down by a storm.
"How could I possibly fight back! Fight back!" Her voice became shrill again.
Her witches fought back, but the gap was too large.
Second- and third-tier attacks couldn't even scratch the paint off the fourth-tier city wall.
Lorraine's counterattacks were all precise decapitation strikes, each capable of shattering a witch's tower or a city wall.
After three volleys of fire, half of the Witch's Tower on the inner city walls had been destroyed.
After five volleys of fire, the third-tier inner city wall finally gave way, cracking and crumbling inch by inch from the gap in the middle, with rubble cascading down like a waterfall.
After seven rounds of salvo—
The inner city wall has collapsed.
Of the hundreds of Witch Towers, fewer than twenty are still in operation; the rest have been reduced to ruins, their remains scattered across the ground.
The Countess stared intently at Lorraine's expressionless face on the communication projection, letting out a barely audible sound.
That bastard didn't even change his expression once from beginning to end.
It was as if all of this was within his expectations.
The right forefoot of the Tower of Babel stepped over the ruins of the inner city wall.
When the metal pillars, as thick as city gates, were stepped down, a dull thud resounded through the ground, and rubble and broken bricks flew off the edges of the pillars, striking the remaining buildings with a clanging sound.
The Countess stood at the highest point of the inner castle, her body trembling with fear.
Percival, standing beside her, had risen from his wheelchair. His face was flushed an unnatural red from the high fever, but his eyes were fixed on the steel behemoth that was slowly rolling over them, his pupils shrinking to pinpoints.
"Mother—Mother!"
He grabbed the Countess's sleeve, his voice trembling uncontrollably.
"It's going to step in! What do we do? What do we do!"
The countess abruptly shook off his hand.
"Shut up!"
She took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down.
Then she saw it.
The route of the Tower of Babel—the one that stretched straight from the outer city ruins to the inner fortress—passed precisely, exactly, over the central square.
That was a magic-binding array that she had paid a fortune to set up for her, specifically for witches, by Pym, the president of the Alchemists' Association.
The Countess's breathing suddenly became rapid.
"Percival!" She grabbed her son by the collar. "Anti-magic circle! He's going to walk over it!"
Percival's eyes widened suddenly.
Fear was instantly replaced by ecstasy.
"Yes! A magic-suppressing array!"
He slumped to the desk, his fingers trembling as he frantically searched for the activation runes, panting heavily as he muttered to himself, "He doesn't know! That bastard doesn't know there's a magic-suppressing array underground! Once the array is activated, all his witches' magic will be drained! Without witches, that broken wall of his, those turrets, are all just scrap metal!"
The Countess's eyes lit up as well.
She stared intently at the giant feet of the Tower of Babel, calculating the distance.
One hundred meters.
Eighty meters.
Fifty meters.
The Tower of Babel's right forefoot landed precisely in the center of the square.
"Now!"
The Countess's voice was almost squeezed out through clenched teeth.
Percival abruptly pressed the activation rune.
With a hum, countless hidden magic array patterns on the ground lit up simultaneously, and pale white light surged out from the cracks in the stone slabs, as if the earth had cracked open with a glowing scar.
The Demon-Suppressing and Spirit-Binding Array has been activated.
The Countess held her breath.
Percival held his breath.
The entire inner fortress held its breath at that moment.
Everyone was waiting for that moment—the Witch's Tower on the Tower of Babel suddenly went out, its magic drained, and the steel behemoth collapsed without power.
However, one second later.
two seconds.
three seconds.
On the walls of the Tower of Babel, Anna's Tower of Entropy was still operating, its gray-black light pulsating steadily.
Ohm slightly adjusted the angle of the cannon barrel of his magic-powered heavy cannon, aiming it at the main body of the castle behind the city wall, and the metal structure emitted a faint hum.
The vines beneath Olivia's feet curled lazily among the ruins of the city wall, their emerald green glow showing no sign of waning.
Nothing happened.
The Witch's Tower has not been extinguished.
The magic was not drained.
The Tower of Babel is still moving.
Percival's eyes widened as he stared incredulously at the runes on the control panel—the runes were lit up, the array was indeed activated, but why—
"No—this is impossible—"
He frantically pressed the activation rune repeatedly, once, twice, three times, and each time the light of the magic circle would indeed light up, and then, just as expected—it had no effect.
"Why! Why isn't it working!"
Percival's voice turned into a hysterical scream.
The Countess's face was as white as paper.
Suddenly, something occurred to her, and her lips trembled violently as she uttered a name—
"Pym"
The central control room of the Tower of Babel.
beep.
The communication array in front of Anna lit up again.
"Young master, there's another communication request."
Lorraine was leaning against the control panel, drinking water, when she heard this and casually asked, "Who?"
"Not the Countess." Anna glanced at the source identifier and frowned slightly. "The source shown is—the Frostwolf Alchemists' Guild."
Lorraine stopped drinking water.
He put down his cup, a playful smile playing on his lips.
"catch."
The moment the communication was connected, a holographic projection of a chubby middle-aged man appeared in the control room.
He wore the Alchemist's Guild's dark gray robe, his hair was neatly combed, and he wore a pair of gold-rimmed glasses on his round face, behind which were a pair of small eyes that were shrewd to the core.
Pym.
President of the Frostwolf Alchemists' Guild.
The moment the projection appeared, Pym made a move—
He bent down and bowed deeply.
It wasn't a perfunctory nod, but a genuine, full 90-degree bow.
"Young Master Lorraine."
Pym straightened up, his smile humble and respectful, but his eyes burned with a burning passion that had been suppressed for too long and had finally reached this moment.
Welcome home.
Lorraine leaned against the command platform, sizing up the fat man in the projection.
He didn't speak, he just waited.
Pym wasn't in a hurry. He pushed up his glasses and spoke at a moderate pace.
"Young Master has probably already discovered that the Countess's anti-magic and spirit-binding array that she activated earlier did not work."
Lorraine gave a soft "hmm".
"That formation was commissioned by the Countess at great expense to be set up by me, specifically to deal with the witch around the young master."
Pym's tone was flat, as if he were reporting a business transaction. "This special anti-magic array covers a range of 200 meters. Once activated, the magic power of all witches of the third rank and below within the range will be suppressed by 70%."
He paused.
"but."
Pym bowed slightly, his voice becoming more solemn.
"When I set up the magic array, I left a back door."
There was a two-second silence in the control room.
Anna raised her eyebrows.
Ohm’s eyes flickered slightly as he seemed to be scanning the data stream in Pym’s projection.
Lorraine remained silent.
Pym continued, "I have followed Count Frostwolf for many years and have witnessed the family's decline from its peak to its current state. The Countess treated the commoners of the outer city as pawns, closing the city gates during the snowy season and leaving them to fend for themselves."
"Although I am a businessman, I also know that the foundation of a city lies not in its walls, but in the hearts of its people."
He straightened up and met Lorraine's gaze.
"On the day the young master was exiled to the snowy plains, I was thinking—was this young master truly a good-for-nothing, or a piece of gold buried in the snow?"
He smiled, a smile that held the exhilaration of a gambler who had won his bet.
"Fifty days. Young master gave me the answer in fifty days."
Pym bowed again.
"I now hand over control of this back door to you, young master. From today onwards, the Demon-Suppressing and Spirit-Binding Array will belong to you, young master."
His fingers lightly traced the magic circle, and a string of encrypted magical codes floated out from the communication circle, hovering in front of Lorraine.
The backdoor's access code.
Lorraine stared at the code and remained silent for a moment.
Then he laughed.
It wasn't mockery, nor was it coldness; it was a genuine laugh, tinged with admiration.
"President Pym."
"I am here."
"I accept this pledge of allegiance," Lorraine said, taking the string of code and holding it between her fingers.
Pym finally straightened up after bending over.
He pushed up his glasses, and a hint of relief flashed in his shrewd little eyes behind the lenses.
"I'm glad the young master is satisfied."
Communication was cut off.
The control room fell silent again.
Anna looked at the faintly flickering code in Lorraine's hand and asked, "Young Master, did you know beforehand that Pym would leave a backdoor?"
Lorraine did not give a direct answer.
He walked to the observation window and looked down at the trembling Frostwolf City below.
With the authority over the magic-suppressing array in hand, the Countess has lost her last trump card.
The city walls crumbled, the Witch's Tower was destroyed, the knights were strangled, and the magic-suppressing array became a mere decoration.
Nothing in this city can stop him now.
"ohm."
"Yes, Lord Lorraine."
"Babel, keep pushing."
"receive.
The floor of the control room trembled slightly, and the giant foot stepped out again.
Outside the window, the location of the Countess was getting closer and closer in the morning light.