Already, that was not a sight that could be described by the word, battle.
Bullets of fire as numerous as the stars shot out from the turrets in the skies.
If there were only a few of them, then those fist-sized bullets would have been no different from a child throwing stones at the skeletons or the Undead King.
It wouldn’t have mattered even if the stones exploded afterwards.
But there were just too many of them, and they were too accurate.
Even if they weren’t actually as numerous as the stars, they were without a doubt too numerous to be referred to as a mere barrage.
Every shot was the size of a fist, and they descended in the millions without a single gap between them.
It was as though the sky itself was falling every second.
A fire blast, nay, it was an entire sky of fire that descended upon them.
The first to be struck down were the flying dragons and the skeleton birds up in the air.
Their wings were shot off, and their bones scattered and fell to the skeletons on the ground.
Were it only that, then the fallen birds and flying dragons, and even the skeletons that got caught up in their crash, would have had time to regenerate to full health.
But the sky, no, the bullets raining down on them were merciless, and they continued to pour without relent.
Some of the skeletons tried to defend themselves by holding up their swords and shields as though they were umbrellas, but a one-directional defense was meaningless when the bullets would explode and release shockwaves upon contact.
Even the armor and shields forged by master craftsmen and those great swords from legends could not escape demise as they scattered into ash along with their wielders.
Some of the armor had magic resistance, but resistance was just resistance and not nullification, and eventually, even their bearers would submit before the endless onslaught of fire.
The damage continued to accumulate, and without being able to offer any meaningful resistance, before long, the skeleton warriors scattered without a trace.
Some skeleton dragons tried to fight back by using their Breath, but even these skeletons that knew no fatigue could not use their Breath forever.
While their stamina was infinite, their mana was not.
And as powerful as their Breath was relative to an individual’s prowess, the volume and mass of that sky of fire repeatedly falling on them was just too great an adversary.
The army of bones, which had been pretending to be the rulers of the sky and the earth, was destroyed through the violence of sheer number.
It was a one-sided trampling.
And anyone who beheld the sight of that was left without words.
Though most of the people here were speechless from the start, even those that could talk seemed to have lost their voice.
The fact that this was actually a battle between an army of 35,000 and a lone boy was just too shocking to swallow.
Were the result the exact opposite, it wouldn’t have been too strange.
Moreover, it was one thing to overturn such great odds with some peerless power, but what the boy was using was merely the low grade Turret Magic, only deployed in an absurd number.
The army of more than 30,000 bones, which knew neither toil nor fear, was becoming a shadow of their former self.
In a span of some dozen seconds, the elite army that the Undead King had spent three hundred years preparing were reduced to ashes without a bone fragment remaining.
“Fu, fu fu… Ahaha, ha ha ha ha!!!”
There should have been nothing left but the sound of explosion and the quiet shattering of bones, but the Undead King clearly heard someone laughing.
It was none other than the boy, and he laughed in a grating and mocking manner.
Despite the sea of explosions that continued to unfold before him, for some reason, the Undead King could tell that the boy was looking at him with that crescent moon smile of his, causing a chill to crawl up his back.
The Undead King was covered in wounds.
His robe was made from the skin of a famous and vicious monster beast and inscribed with all kinds of defensive and status preservation spells, yet it was so burned up that not even a piece of cloth remained. In fact, not even his other trinkets that had all sorts of effects remained.
However, they were not completely useless, for they did manage to protect his skeletal body for 40 seconds.
And while Gulde cowered now, he did try to resist at first.
He used all the defensive secret arts he knew.
But his barrier couldn’t even last eight seconds, and the 24 attack spells he cast in retaliation to that crushing sky of fire could only go as high as a tree’s height.
Before such overwhelming might, his mana, secret arts, and forbidden techniques were no different from spitting in the wind, and less than a minute after the sky of fire descended, he gave up, and all the equipment and defenses he had were burned out.
So he desperately gathered what remained of the skeletons to form a wall around him, using the mana residue of those that shattered to immediately put them back together.
About two minutes after the stars started falling, the mad bombardment finally ceased.
In just two minutes – 120 seconds – everything ended, and everything changed.
Though the land that extended from the forest to the mountain was in a tragic state, the change was so great that it was hard to recall how it originally looked.
A vast depression had formed in a straight line, but the land at the bottom was smooth.
It was just like a giant river that had dried up.
Rather than the aftermath of destruction, it would be better to describe such a sight as the land having been prepared for some sort of work. It was curious if the boy had intended that.
Fortunately or unfortunately, Gulde managed to survive such an absurd bombardment.
But no relief could be seen from him as he collapsed to the ground and groaned.
He was so worn and beaten that it was curious how he was still conscious.
Only his skull and upper half managed to retain their form.
But even then, the lower half of his ribs and his left arm were gone.
And even the soul that dwelt within had lost most of its power.
Though magic was not effective against the undead, there was no way that he could come out unscathed from such absurd magic.
Gulde knew of that theoretically, but now that he was experiencing it for himself, he could do no more than groan.
Though the damage from each spell individually was nothing to speak of, when it was poured on him in the millions by the second, the damage would accumulate and eventually become too great to bear, just like the water dripping on hard rock over the many moons and years.
What he had experienced was merely a relatively instantaneous application of that same concept, where millions of bullets of fire took the place of the water dripping, and his true vessel – namely, his soul – and his army of thirty-five thousand took the place of the rock.
“──────Aww, you poor thing, you actually survived.”