As the warriors formed their defense, Group 1765 acted as they had trained. In situations like this, the best approach was close combat. It was risky, no doubt, especially against enemies who seemed formidable, armed to the teeth, and protected by imposing armor.

However, they were prepared too. Their own armor and weapons were not ordinary; they were designed to dismantle magic. They trusted their ability to break auras and shatter their enemies' defenses. They knew how to move, how to strike vital points, and how to "dance" on the battlefield, exploiting every opening.

Then, the mage's voice echoed again:

—"I detect anti-magic weaponry!"

The warning shook the morale of the enemy soldiers. Gladus, one of the commanders, roared furiously:

—"Damn bastards!"

However, instead of cowering, Gladus smiled. Despite the pain in his eyes, it wasn't the first time his troops had faced anti-magic weaponry. It was rare, difficult to obtain, but not invincible.

1765, aware of their own abilities and limitations, advanced with determination. Extending their hand, they used an opponent's shield as a foothold. They knew what happened when touching a magical aura; their wooden gauntlet, charged with their own energy, could easily break it. And so it was. The barrier disappeared the moment their hand made contact with the shield.

But what they didn't expect was the overwhelming force that followed. Before they could climb over their opponent, the soldier, who had apparently noticed the contact, reacted with terrifying speed. Moving the shield violently, they hurled 1765 as if their body had been struck by a train. They were sent flying several meters back, landing heavily on the ground.

They weren't the only ones in trouble! One of their companions, who attempted to slide beneath the enemy formation, was met with a brutal kick. The impact nearly threw them off course, forcing them to move with the agility of a snake to dodge the spears coming after them. Others weren't as fortunate. Spears struck some, and although their armor managed to break the magical auras, it couldn't prevent the physical damage from the blows.

In response to 1765's actions, their companions still on horseback drew bows and aimed at the enemy formation. They pulled the strings and fired. Anti-magic arrows flew toward their targets.

—"Anti-magic arrows incoming!" —shouted the enemy mage.

The warriors raised their shields in unison, cushioning the impact of the projectiles. The sound of the strikes resonated like a rain of stones on metal, but no one was injured. However, Group 1765 didn't stop there. The attackers who had retreated drew dart pistols and fired.

This time, the mage didn't have time to react, but unfortunately for them, the darts simply bounced off the warriors' sturdy armor. The tension rose. At that moment, 1765 noticed the soldiers beginning to regain their vision, their posture becoming more firm and organized.

Sensing trouble, 1765 drew another cylinder from their suit. Just as they were about to activate it, a strange light struck them head-on, sending them flying several meters back and causing them to drop the cylinder. Their armor neutralized the light's damage but not the force of the impact.

In front of them, the enemy mage, whose eyes shone intensely, smiled confidently. Four luminous spheres floated around them, while strange white circles rotated around their hands. The spheres pulsed, emitting a light that crackled as if charged with static electricity.

From these spheres, rays of light began to emanate, targeting 1765's companions. The rays weren't lethal but incredibly annoying. The wooden armor resisted them easily, but each impact felt like a hammer blow, enough to destabilize the soldiers. Some were knocked down, hitting the ground heavily with loud thuds.

The situation grew more complicated by the second. Group 1765 tried to reorganize, but the constant interruptions from the rays and the advance of the enemy warriors began to wear down their strategy.

Until now, 1765 hadn't faced a situation like this. They had always maintained the advantage using their tricks and taking the enemies by surprise, but this time the enemy seemed far more superior than expected. However, fortunately for them, the convoy had already started moving, and the enemy horses had fled.

With a whistle, they signaled the retreat.

The twenty drew bows and fired their arrows. The enemy squadron had to raise their shields to protect themselves, and at that moment, the hooded figures managed to mount their horses. Some injured, clutching their wounds, and others, like 1765, had escaped relatively unscathed, but this was their first loss. There was no time to lament, so with determination, they directed their horses to begin their escape.

In Garius' group, most had regained their vision. The last to snap out of the stupor were the mages, which was unfortunate as they were the best equipped to stop the enemy's escape.

But although the enemy seemed to flee, this didn't mean the chase was over. For Garius, it was only the beginning. He pulled out a kind of whistle, placed it in his mouth, and blew.

No sound was heard, but a few minutes later, the warhorses began to return.

They lost some time waiting for the last warhorse to return, and with a smile, he said:

—"Alright, you know what to do. It's time to hunt."

While Garius' group waited for their horses to return, 1765 and the others emerged from the forest and returned to the road. It didn't take them long to catch up with the convoy, which had already advanced significantly.

Some of the convoy travelers were startled to see the hooded figures return, especially noticing that several of them were injured. The bloodstains and the fatigue on their faces told a clear story of what had happened. However, 1765 didn't give them time to worry or ask questions. With a series of brief, sharp whistles, they issued clear instructions that everyone understood immediately. The others nodded without hesitation.

As the convoy continued moving, the eight front carriages separated slightly from the main group, quickening their pace. Two carriages lagged behind, keeping to the rear. The injured, struggling to remain upright on their horses, leapt with effort onto these carriages. Meanwhile, other hooded figures took their places on the horses to reinforce the ranks.

Once every horse had two healthy riders again, the carriages began to open. From within both carriages, the hooded figures started distributing crossbows, handing one to each team of riders along with arrows specially designed to be easily mounted. Their hands moved quickly yet skillfully, ensuring every team was armed and ready for what was coming.

The riders who received the crossbows positioned themselves back-to-back with their companions. Using reinforced belts, they secured themselves tightly to the front rider to maintain balance while reloading their weapons. They took the arrows, carefully placing them into the crossbows, and prepared for any eventuality.

Meanwhile, the rear carriages revealed something else. Once the fabric tarps covering them were removed, their contents were exposed: meticulously arranged stacks of arrows, ready to be distributed if needed. At the center of each carriage was a strange wooden structure.

The frame resembled a massive crossbow mounted to the carriage on a rotating axis. While it had the appearance of a crossbow, there was an issue with where the arrow was supposed to go—there was nothing resembling a conventional slot. Instead, there was an empty space, as if a piece were missing.

Then, one of the hooded figures picked up a sort of cylinder from the ground. The cylinder was large and had several openings, from which twenty arrowheads protruded in perfect alignment. With confident movements, they placed the cylinder into the empty space of the massive crossbow and secured it using wooden locks that held it firmly in place.

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Another hooded figure positioned themselves behind the crossbow. They leaned forward, placing their eye on what appeared to be a rudimentary sight, while their hand rested firmly on a trigger located at the bottom of the mechanism. Everything was ready for use.

It wasn’t long before Garius’ team was spotted in the distance by the convoy. The warhorses were much faster than the scaled horses. Although they didn’t have the same resistance to extreme climates and would eventually lose in a long-distance race, their speed at that moment easily outpaced the scaled horses.

This was something 1765 already knew, which was why they had carefully prepared the group's defenses. They couldn’t allow the enemies to get too close; the mages posed a lethal threat in mid-range combat. Up until now, they had always prioritized eliminating them first because past experiences had shown how destructive they could be.

A mage was like an artillery cannon, depending on the type of magic they used. The most recent example was the spell used by the enemy mage, known as Magic Missile. This basic arcane spell consisted of condensed magic capable of striking with precision. While individual damage wasn’t devastating, a mage could summon up to four spheres and fire them simultaneously, making them akin to a machine gun firing stunning bullets.

However, mages had their limitations. Most needed to concentrate, and firing while in motion while calculating distance and targets was complicated. That’s why the best defense was to remain in constant motion and prevent them from getting too close.

With this in mind, the riders slowed slightly until their crossbows were ready to fire. Once loaded, they began shooting.

Due to previous encounters, the crossbows had been upgraded. They now had significantly more power than a bow, and the arrows shot out with such speed they whistled as they cut through the air.

From his position, Garius observed the new weapons of his enemies. He found them bothersome but also fascinating. As he deflected one of the arrows with his massive axe, he wondered how this group of outlaws had acquired such equipment. But it wasn’t time to reflect. With a swift and precise motion, he swung his axe so powerfully that it destroyed five arrows at once.

The remaining arrows passed by him, but his warriors were also prepared. Using similar movements, they deflected the projectiles with remarkable efficiency.

1765 observed from their position and couldn’t help but curse under their breath. These enemies were truly troublesome. But there was no time to despair. They knew they couldn’t let them get close, so they continued firing the crossbows, one arrow after another, maintaining pressure on the pursuers.

Although the rain of arrows never ceased, Garius’ group didn’t slow down either. The crossbows seemed insufficient to stop them, so 1765 sped up until they were alongside the carriages with their other ten companions.

With a quick gesture, they signaled the operators of the large crossbows to aim but gave a clear sign not to fire yet.

Garius had noticed these strange contraptions but didn’t understand what they were for. In this world, magic was everything, and no one had bothered to develop weapons with mechanical systems or pulleys—at least not in the Human Empire. The dwarves, on the other hand, were known for tinkering with such devices.

Now at a moderate distance, the mages in Garius’ group began preparing their spells. Two were fire mages, while the other two summoned sharp ice spikes. The group seemed experienced; while anti-magic could disrupt magical flow, it didn’t stop spells already cast. If the fireballs or ice spikes struck the convoy, it would be disastrous.

At that moment, 1765 gave the signal.

The companions of 1765 received the signal and, without hesitation, pulled the trigger.

This activated an intricate pulley system that set several rotating parts into motion. Among them was a system connected to runic matrices powered by a source of energy—a cylinder containing what Silas referred to as magical fuel. The energy coursed through the runic system until it reached the side of the device, where a mechanical arm began to move. This arm, similar to that of a golem, rotated a main pulley with mechanical precision.

The pulley was connected to a series of gears and additional pulleys, designed to tension the mechanism’s string while rotating the arrow cylinder. The string, made of several fibers granting it exceptional resistance and elasticity, reached maximum tension before being released with a deafening snap. This propelled the first arrow from the cylinder toward its target at an impressive speed.

Without releasing the trigger, the mechanical arm continued rotating the pulley, re-tensioning the string while the cylinder rotated slightly to align the next arrow with the string. The process repeated in a continuous cycle, firing arrows at high speed.

In less than a minute, forty arrows had been launched. This time, Garius was surprised by the precision and speed of the attack. It wasn’t just forty arrows fired in quick succession but also the addition of crossbow arrows, creating a true storm of projectiles.

The enemy squadron had no choice but to momentarily stop and raise their shields. The mages, seeing the futility of magical barriers against anti-magic arrows, began adjusting their spells. They opted to use ice and fire to intercept the projectiles mid-air. Fireballs detonated in the sky, incinerating several arrows, while ice spikes created temporary barriers that stopped some of the rest.

Although they managed to slow part of the arrow barrage, the attack forced them to lose valuable seconds. Just as they seemed ready to resume the chase, a new cylinder was mounted on the contraption. The rain of arrows began again with equal intensity.

Each carriage was equipped with five cylinders, and as soon as one was depleted, the hooded figures in the wagons rushed to reload it quickly. This system ensured constant and overwhelming fire.

Garius couldn’t help but admire the ingenuity behind these weapons. Although incredibly annoying, he couldn’t ignore their effectiveness. Anti-magic arrows fired in rapid succession with such precision posed a considerable threat.

—It’s a fearsome weapon... —Garius murmured, though he knew this was no time to analyze it. With a hardened expression, he raised his axe and shouted:

—Advance! We will not stop here.

The pursuit had reached a stalemate. While the rain of arrows wore down the enemies and forced them to momentarily stop to defend themselves, within minutes they would catch up to the convoy again. It wasn’t as if the attackers had an infinite supply of arrows.

Garius quickly realized this. He was betting that his squad could hold out long enough to exhaust the enemy’s ammunition. 1765 cursed internally. Although they had forty-six combatants, the thought of engaging this group again seemed unrealistic. During the first battle, their leader, apparently the strongest and most capable, hadn’t even needed to fight, and many of their companions had been injured. Additionally, the enemy mages were extremely well-protected.

Knowing they couldn’t maintain this dynamic indefinitely, 1765 devised a new plan. With a quick gesture, they signaled one of the hooded figures shooting from the rear to change position. Then, they requested a bow from those in the wagon.

The bow handed to them was different from the others. It was black, longer than traditional bows, and strung with a cord similar to the automatic crossbows mounted on the carriages. It was a compound bow, an experimental design by Silas meant to replicate the power of the ballistae. Though powerful, it was extremely difficult for an average human to draw.

1765 pulled the string with all their strength while Silas calculated the trajectory. Unlike the others, 1765 had the advantage of a supercomputer in their mind, capable of analyzing distance, wind speed, and other factors in fractions of a second. Just as the rain of arrows fell upon the pursuers, they fired.

Until now, all the arrows had followed arched trajectories, descending from above. The enemy horses were armored, making such attacks ineffective. However, 1765’s arrow traveled in a straight line, fast and precise. Garius’ group didn’t realize it until it was too late. The arrow pierced through the eye of one of the horses at the back of the formation. The animal neighed in pain, lost its balance, and fell, dragging several horses behind it.

Garius frowned as he watched a quarter of his squad collapse. Although none of his men were seriously injured, the time it would take them to reorganize was critical. Moreover, the injured horse could no longer participate in the chase. Before he could react, another neigh echoed through the air. A second arrow had struck the eye of another horse.

Cursing under his breath, Garius followed the arrow’s trajectory. Finally, he spotted the source. A hooded figure was holding a longbow. Their blue eyes shone intensely, and their gaze, fiery and determined, reflected unshakable resolve. Garius had encountered many enemies before, but he had never seen someone with such a profound look.

The hooded figure drew the bow again and fired once more. This time, the arrow seemed to head directly for Garius—or more specifically, his horse. With a swift movement, he deflected the projectile with his axe, but the situation had changed drastically. More than half of his squad was struggling to recover, and they had lost two warhorses, with others possibly injured in the chaos.

Garius knew that if this continued, casualties would be inevitable. Though he trusted his ability to block a single arrow, his group’s initial lapse had tipped the scales against them. With a grim expression, he raised his hand and signaled his squad to halt the pursuit.

—Retreat! —he ordered, watching the convoy disappear into the distance.

The battle was neither won nor lost, but Garius understood that persisting would only increase their losses. As the outlaws vanished into the horizon, the commander couldn’t help but sear the image of those blue eyes into his memory, knowing they would meet again.