Chapter 187: The Aristocat

Night combat, traditionally, was regarded as among the hardest forms of combat to master. Of the five senses, humans relied upon sight most of all, and in the absence of light, all aspects of soldiery were seriously hampered. This was true both at the individual level, in the form of significantly degraded accuracy of fire, and at the tactical level, where permanent fog of war became the norm, and maintaining unit cohesion and communication became immensely problematic. NATO, the most modern military of all, circumvented these issues with technology, but that wasn’t readily available anymore, to the immense regret of Oxford’s human defenders.

Luckily for everyone involved, however, Saint wasn’t human. Perched upon the rooftop of her homestead, atop a throne of pale green pebbles, Saint’s feline gaze easily caught the incoming projectiles. Five large stones, each the size of a human torso, and capable of causing extensive damage to life and lodgings alike.

[Barrage incoming.]

“Firing to intercept,” Saint replied calmly, her twin tails flickering with pale orange flames.

Around her, five pebbles floated into the air, one for each target, before shooting upward at speeds just shy of the sound barrier. This was, perhaps, the simplest application of magic in existence: pure conversion, from mana to force, applied to a physical object to create velocity. Saint’s aim held true, and five brief impacts were the result. Of course, pebbles alone wouldn’t have a hope of stopping the massive rocks, which was why they were only carriers for the true payload; an accelerated version of Decay imbued within each pebble, and now spread to the stones. They still made landfall, moments later, but as a cloud of faint green dust, which would cause little more than sneezing for anybody caught nearby. Unpleasant, perhaps, but far less so than death or dismemberment.

[Wave 5 down.

Wave 6 expected in 7 minutes.

Stand by.]

This had become the norm, in recent nights, reflecting the growing intensity of fighting at the town borders. The defences Noah coordinated had proven effective, too effective, even, for not a single Demon had managed to breach the walls by land. The odd incursion by air did happen, but Scholomance dealt with those easily, being able to track incoming magic and having clear lines of fire up above, for their automated defences. In the first weeks, Saint hadn’t had to do a thing, and she’d honestly thought that would remain the case, but alas, the demons, whilst not truly intelligent, still possessed a base cunning and the ability to adapt.

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While the battle on the ground stalled, and magical flight would be caught by the tower, they instead turned to rudimentary siegecraft. Whilst the strength behind the stones was patently unnatural, the projectiles themselves were mundane, and could not be detected by Scholomance. Perhaps, if the guns had a proper crew behind them, this would not be the case, but the tower was running on empty; the majority of the garrison still down by the coast, fending off a potential invasion from across the channel. With them gone, and a lack of conventional anti-air equipment, Oxford had turned to an unlikely hero.

“Rocks again,” Saint rolled her eyes. “This is starting to get boring.”

[Without your support, a considerable number of houses would have to be rebuilt, and everyone would spend their nights sleeping in underground shelters. Not great for morale, to put it mildly. This may not be the most glamorous role to play, but it’s nonetheless important.”

“I know that,” Saint grumbled, curling back up into a ball for another cat nap. “I don’t mind staying on overwatch, either, not really. It gives me something to do at night, other than catching mice, but would it be too much to ask for them to provide a variety of targets?”

[The Eternal Wind blows!

Emma calls for aid.

Do you answer?]

Saint cracked an eye back open, staring at the strange message that had appeared, seemingly in response to her plea.

“Uh. Say what now?”

[‘Yes’ would be helpful. Oxford won’t survive if Emma fails now.]

“Great! Should I bring anything, or…”

[Actually, yes, bring the Hydra along. His poison could come in handy.]

“Gotcha!”

Taking a running leap off the rooftop, Saint landed in the garden on a roll, briefly turning her fur into rough bark to bleed momentum and stop next to the Hydra’s pot.

“So, uh, do I just grab onto him, or do we need to store him somehow?” Saint asked, placing her paws around the pot as best she could.

[This will do.

Initiating transfer.]

—

Feeding Eternal Wind cost more than activating the Portable Crafting Table, enough that Emma could actually feel her reserves diminish, something that was echoed by the System.

[Mana: 66/100 (34 Locked)]

It worked though, as the starry candle wobbled, for lack of a better word, accompanied by the heartbeat of the world itself, a loud, throbbing pulse accompanied by sudden onset vertigo.

“Careful!” A high-pitched, snooty voice huffed as Emma steadied herself. “You nearly stepped on me, just now!”

Stepped on her?

Confused, Emma looked down, to find Saint sitting in front of her feet, two tails wagging behind her and the smuggest expression on her face.

“I heard you calling for help, and came rushing to the rescue. Praise me!”

“Since when can you talk aloud?” Emma said instead, feeling the start of a headache that had nothing to do with divine artefacts, and that was before she noticed Saint’s backup.

“Why is the potted Hydra here? What?”

[To assist you, of course. That’s what Eternal Wind was designed to do: act as a method of summoning, capable of bypassing restrictions on space and time by tapping into the Aether, where such concepts cease to exist, past a certain point. Now, focus up, judging by the current lock, you’ll be able to sustain two more summonings, so you’d best get to it.]

Shoving her questions aside for later, Emma returned her attention to Eternal Wind, and began to feed it anew.