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Two minutes felt a bit too long for most of them. During their days in Fortress City, they had either been memorizing the fortress regulations or adjusting to the harsh environment. These young men and women, brimming with passion and energy, had long been unable to suppress their excitement. They had studied the Abyss Battlefield thoroughly back at school—while they lacked practical experience, their theoretical foundation was rock-solid.
After Professor Carlisle left, everyone quickly dropped what they were doing. Each team gathered and headed for the assembly point at a brisk pace. However, the members of the Battle Corps weren't in such a rush, because their captain was engaged in a somewhat frustrating but necessary preparation.
Harry was putting on his alchemical armor. It had not yet fully integrated with his body. Although the internal enchantments carved with Awakened Runes had been completed, the fusion rate was still too low. Even his ebony and white ivory components hadn't finished adapting to the armor's built-in weapon systems.
Despite lacking a mech-servant's assistance, and although the armor's weight had to be measured in tons, Harry—who had dismantled and reassembled every inch of the suit—still managed to catch the support frame and finish suiting up in just over a minute.
To avoid shaking the floor with every step, Harry even luxuriously used a bit of magic to reduce his weight. He used to spend mana like water, but on the Abyss Battlefield, he had become even more frugal than Scrooge McDuck, unwilling to waste even a single drop.
The originally 2.2-meter-tall alchemical armor gained another 20 centimeters in height after it was fully equipped. Although the interior lacked soft padding, Harry's toughened skin didn't need any cushioning. His body was completely encased in metal, and his mana flowed freely through the suit. The secondary artificial mana circuits embedded inside hadn't yet reached full functionality, but they still gave Harry an unmatched sense of control over every component within the armor.
By the time Harry and his squad arrived at the rendezvous point, everyone else had already finished suiting up and was simply waiting for them to arrive.
"Apologies, Professor. I held us up for a bit," Harry said, acknowledging that it was his delay that caused the Battle Corps to arrive right on time.
"That doesn't look like a typical combat suit," Carlisle remarked, clearly noticing something unusual.
Having some expertise in alchemical equipment, Professor Carlisle could tell the armor was different but wasn't entirely sure how.
"It's an alchemical suit I designed for the second phase of my Animagus transformation," Harry explained. "It still hasn't achieved full active integration, so putting it on took a little longer than expected."
"Tch. You're using it even before full fusion? And it's an Animagus-grade alchemical suit that can't support external power cores? You're a real little monster," Carlisle clicked her tongue in amazement, clearly impressed.
Despite her surprise, she didn't waste any time. Once everyone had gathered, she waved a hand crisply and gave her orders:
"Let's move out. The Vanguard squads are already waiting for us outside. But listen up—those squads will only step in when absolutely necessary. They are not your babysitters. Don't try anything stupid. No amount of compensation will ease the pain of parents burying their children. Understood?"
"Understood!" everyone responded in unison.
Helmets and visors sealed shut, the silent group followed closely behind Professor Carlisle. As they passed through the fortress gates, they laid eyes on the Abyss Battlefield for the very first time.
It was a bleak and lifeless world. Overhead, the sky was a dull gray-white, filled with the stillness of death, unmoving and eternal. The ground beneath them was black rock—hard as steel—while the grayish-red soil looked as though it had once been drenched in blood. Time had eroded the vivid crimson, leaving behind only an ominous ash-red hue that made the entire landscape feel foreboding.
In the distance, a narrow stream twisted along an unknown path. It was the only spot of color in this bleak world, though hardly comforting. The murky, oily river shimmered in a sickly black-green tint, flowing like tar. It looked like the byproduct of centuries of rot and fermentation—utterly foul and fearsome to behold.
Fortunately, the direction they were headed—northeast—was away from the river. Otherwise, that nauseating scene would've served as an unforgettable introductory lesson on the horrors of the Abyss Battlefield.
After leaving Fortress City, they soon encountered the Vanguard squads assigned as their escorts. Each squad member had already donned their combat suits—known as Colony Gear. These were the first-generation users of such equipment in the world. Every Vanguard soldier had customized their gear to suit their own strengths and preferences—a well-earned privilege of their rank.
On the Abyss Battlefield, magical communication was strictly forbidden, as it could easily allow the demons to pinpoint their location. Mana acted as a perfect beacon. Instead, the battlefield relied on radio communication, which was far less susceptible to interference from magical magnetic fields. Simple communication posed no issue. Thanks to widespread adoption of radio technology in the magical world, these low-tech electronic devices had become some of the most durable and reliable tools around.
"Broadcast the mission details."
A cold male voice cut into each team's communication channel.
"According to reports from our scouting units, the mission target is located 45 kilometers northeast of Fortress City and is advancing toward the fortress. The group consists of 323 demons. Among them are seventeen Decurions, six Centurions, and one Millurion. This is a small-scale demon raiding party and has been designated Threat Level Four."
"The mission objective is full extermination and retrieval of any valuable spoils. If your squad is unable to eliminate the Centurion- or Millurion-class targets, the Vanguard squad can provide execution support. However, the mission rating will be downgraded accordingly. Relying solely on them for eliminating the Millurion downgrades it to Level Three; relying on them for both Millurion and Centurion targets drops it to Level Two."
Most demon raiding groups in the Abyss Battlefield were poorly structured. The lack of ambient mana meant stronger demons consumed the scarce resources first, leaving weaker ones with barely any scraps. As a result, it was rare to encounter a fully equipped demon unit. Even in the large-scale siege events where demons amassed for assaults, their forces often lacked ideal composition.
"Let the kids see for themselves. Let them make the call. In a few months to a year, most of them will come of age. It's time they start forming their own judgments."
Professor Carlisle's voice cut in over the radio. The man on the other end didn't reply, but his silence suggested agreement.
The radio channel went quiet again. Though 45 kilometers was not far in absolute terms, harsh terrain on the battlefield made traversal slower. Still, with Colony Gear equipped, a full sprint could close that distance in under half an hour. Fortunately, scouts had already cleared the route and confirmed its safety, greatly reducing the risk of ambushes. Since the widespread adoption of Colony Gear among the permanent garrison forces, the kind of ambush Carlisle once experienced had become significantly rarer.
Forty minutes later, Harry was the first to notice the demon group slowly advancing toward Fortress City. He could clearly sense an area ahead devoid of mana—already sparse in this region. Where even that thin layer vanished completely, it could only mean one thing: a concentrated cluster of demons.
"We're within one kilometer of the target. Vanguard squads will take flanking positions on both sides and remain on standby. This is your first direct encounter—do your best, kids."
Though his voice remained icy, there was a noticeable warmth beneath it.
"Roger that. All teams prepare. Tactical Operation Alpha ready. Harry Potter—Principal Grindelwald has placed you in command of your squad. He trusts you. I hope you won't betray that trust. Remember, you are now responsible for their lives."
"Understood, Professor. However, I think we'll need to divide the battlefield. We haven't practiced coordinated tactics with your forces, and our combat style might differ from yours."
"Of course. But what do you have in mind?"
"Well, naturally… whatever's simplest and gets the job done."
"Those who run fastest are the first to get themselves killed."
Harry raised his hand.
"Lumos Maxima."
A burst of fragrant, glittering mana bloomed through the air. Instantly, the slow-moving demon horde accelerated—sharply and alarmingly. Their speed exploded as they locked onto the magic's source.
Watching the now-stampeding demon swarm, Professor Carlisle couldn't help but wince.
This was your brilliant plan?
Her teeth ached just thinking about it.
(End of Chapter)