Chapter 53 Chapter 53: Rhodes Island and the Power of the Slap
Chapter 53: Rhodes Island and the Power of the Slap
"If we don't hurry up and get moving, we'll be late. Her Highness is waiting."
Scout rolled up his sleeve, glanced at his watch, and said helplessly.
When Kevin wasn't taking action, W would be assigned to his squad. Fortunately, although her personality was a bit erratic, her strength and professionalism were still trustworthy.
"Relax, relax, Scout. Don't you trust my driving skills?"
W flashed that slightly crazy smile again.
With the accelerator floored, the Fire Moth Model 53 sped across the wilderness like a lone rider, occasionally sending some innocent Originium slugs flying as the armored vehicle plowed through at high speed!
——————
"RHODES ISLAND"
"Rhodes Island? This is what you dug up?"
W looked somewhat awestruck at this "behemoth." It was a landship. Although its massive, towering hull showed signs of decay and dilapidation, its exaggerated main structure and framework testified to the glorious past this landship once had.
While landships were not unique on this land—some major nations possessed corresponding technology—for Kazdel, this was a rare and unusual sight. Their industrial chain and cutting-edge technology did not support the construction of such behemoth-like landship vessels.
Of course, to put it less politely, the Sarkaz simply didn't have what could be called an industrial chain...
With the Engineering Department's meager equipment, calling it a small workshop would be an overstatement. They could manage to craft some bullets, bombs, knives, and even some interesting little toys, but hand-building a landship like this was completely out of the question.
"That's right, W. That is, if the Doctor and Kal'tsit don't object to us using its original name."
Theresa affirmed softly, adding with a touch of humor, "After all, the Doctor and Kal'tsit had quite a look in their eyes when they first saw this ship."
"Wow, as expected of Your Highness. No wonder so many transport convoys were suddenly mobilized."
"No, this is the result of the joint efforts of many archaeologists and transport coordinators. I didn't lift a single handful of dirt here."
Theresa did not claim credit for herself. Even in their divided state, neither of Kazdel's two proud leaders would accept credit for something they didn't actually do.
Next was the evacuation. She hoped everything would go smoothly.
Theresa gazed in a certain direction, her thoughts filled with worry.
Suddenly, a petite Amiya girl came to her side and hugged Theresa's leg under W's envious gaze.
"Amiya, is something wrong?"
Theresa bent down, gently stroked her hair, and asked.
"I just missed you, Your Highness."
The young Amiya clearly felt a sense of dependence towards the gentle and kind Theresa.
"I've told you before, Amiya. You don't have to call me 'Your Highness.' You can call me Sister Theresa."
"But you are Your Highness."
On this matter, the young Amiya girl seemed to have a peculiar stubbornness.
"Alright, alright. Amiya can call me whatever she likes."
Unable to persuade her otherwise, Theresa smiled and agreed.
"Amiya, your body still needs treatment."
Kal'tsit's voice, cool and somewhat detached as she stood with her hands in her pockets, made Amiya shrink further behind Theresa.
If Theresa represented the image of a gentle mother in her heart, then Kal'tsit, our old lynx... gave Amiya an initial impression no different from the old witch in Victorian fairy tales!
"Trust Kal'tsit, Amiya. Only with proper treatment can you come play with me."
"O... okay."
The reluctant Amiya fell back into the clutches of the old lynx.
——————
"Hah... hah... This level of strength... a mercenary? Are you joking?"
Ines's face was pale. The individual combat strength of the enemy before her had far exceeded her expectations.
Are all Sarkaz this exaggerated?
"Surrender, and tell me your mission. You can live."
The Sarkaz swordsman made no extra movements, simply dragging that black-and-red greatsword behind him.
That greatsword had just claimed dozens of lives on the battlefield. A thick aura of blood clung to it without dispersing. Someone with this level of strength certainly couldn't be just a mercenary.
Judging from the information received, these mercenaries were merely bait. They had taken it.
The real escort team had already left the encirclement.
So at this point, the Sarkaz swordsman was in no hurry. He simply advanced step by step towards Ines.
Her teammates were mostly dead. The few dozen still struggling had been separated and couldn't possibly help her.
And also...
Ines's unique Arts seeped into the ground, sensing the surroundings. Dense reaction signals surrounded her almost impenetrably. She was completely surrounded!
The situation with Heder likely wasn't much better either.
Then there was only one option—
"A desperate fight to the death."
——————
"Are you really going?"
"Kal'tsit, we've let those warriors fall into danger they were unaware of."
"But... mercenaries will inevitably bear such burdens... So will we."
"But I can save them. Save these warriors who are about to die because of our miscalculation. Kal'tsit, no Sarkaz, no person at all, has any reason to sacrifice themselves for nothing."
"......"
"Alright then, Kal'tsit. If you have nothing to say, step aside. Your Highness, I'll go with you."
W showed off the Guardian gun at her waist, displaying rare seriousness.
"Thank you, W."
Theresa gave a heartfelt smile and prepared to disembark from the ship with W.
"Sigh... I'll go with you too."
"Thank you as well, Kal'tsit."
"This woman has issues..."
W muttered under her breath. This indecisiveness—going one moment and not going the next—only someone like Her Highness would tolerate such capriciousness.
This old woman is even more annoying than Ines.
——————
"Ines? Ines, are you alright?"
Heder's voice came through the communicator, but Ines no longer had the strength to respond.
"Hang in there. I've already requested support from the main transport convoy..."
Her lips were parched, her face devoid of color, her body covered in countless wounds. That Sarkaz was terrifyingly strong.
Was she going to die here? She felt some surprise at how calmly she could examine her own state of mind.
Gradually, scenes flashed before her eyes: battlefields, birch forests... and... a woman?
Everything stopped. All the Sarkaz on the field ceased swinging their blades.
The burning ruins seemed to have their flames extinguished by her arrival. A slender figure devoid of hostility stood at the center of the battlefield, halting all conflict.
But Ines felt she couldn't hold on much longer. The visions grew more real. She gradually couldn't withstand the leaden weight of her eyelids and slowly closed them—
A hand suddenly grabbed her collar.
Slap! Slap!
Two crisp sounds rang out across the battlefield. The stimulating pain from the stinging slaps successfully dispelled all the visions.
Ines forced her eyes open. W's annoying face appeared before her once again.
"You better not die on me."
W tugged at her collar and licked her lips.
It was she who had acted—two powerful slaps that wiped away Ines's life-flashing-before-her-eyes moment.
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