Mushoku Tensei: Reincarnated as a Beast Race-Chapter 175 - The Ambush at the Waterfall

While Kilian and Pursena began the modifications along the damp, winding trail toward the waterfall, the blue-skinned demon, Lerov, remained vigilant, his eyes scrutinizing every detail.

His experience in countless battles and wars allowed him to maintain absolute focus. Around them, in the mountains, not a single living being was visible.

Verdia, on the other hand, seemed oblivious to everything, calmly observing the landscape as if on a leisurely stroll. But there was a silent weight to her actions.

Kilian gestured firmly, indicating to Pursena the exact spots where each alteration in the terrain should occur.

"Here. Then over there. We need to control the earth so that the water doesn't wash away the dam over time," he demonstrated, creating a miniature version of the modifications with Earth Magic.

"If we get the angle wrong, the dam won't withstand the water's pressure, and even if it does, it won't be worth it if Milis arrives and destroys everything easily."

Pursena listened intently to every word.

Kilian then turned to Verdia.

"Lady Verdia, do you have the poison?"

The golden-haired elf seemed distracted, but upon hearing her name, she withdrew a small pouch from her belt and handed it to Kilian, saying:

"Be careful. If you inhale even a moment of this, no one here can save you."

Kilian nodded gravely. Pursena eyed the contents of the pouch with curiosity.

That poison was one of the products of the Medicine and Alchemy Division of the Iron Legion.

In times of war, the sacred capital of Milis, Milishion, was surrounded by a top-level Barrier, immune to magic and even physical threats.

The Barrier was also imbued with detoxification magic to a certain degree, so a common poison would not work.

Entry to the capital was also strictly controlled.

Thus, this poison was special: an alchemical compound that, upon contact with water, became colorless, odorless, and virtually undetectable.

Moreover, its cure required a detoxification spell equivalent to King level—something few could perform.

It was an extremely rare and difficult poison to produce, as the beast containing the venom gland—the main ingredient—would have to be a mutant.

With Lerov standing guard, Kilian and Pursena began carefully manipulating the earth, altering the river's structure so that the polluted water would follow the desired course.

When it was almost ready, they would pour the poison.

At one point, Pursena stopped and sniffed the air, doubtful.

"Hm... Kilian?"

"What is it?" he replied without looking back.

"This place... shouldn't there be some monsters? I mean, sure, maybe not many, but... none at all?"

Kilian frowned and looked around. Now that she mentioned it, it was indeed strange.

The region should harbor at least a few smaller predators. Lerov continued his silent patrol, eyes sharp. Kilian then looked to Verdia.

She stood motionless, staring intently in a specific direction, her eyes razor-keen. Suddenly, she spoke:

"Prepare for battle."

As if sensing the group's unease, their hiding places were revealed.

In the next instant, a translucent green-tinged Barrier swiftly rose around the area, forming a magical dome.

A gigantic magic circle appeared beneath their feet. Kilian reacted in a flash, activating his Wind Magic and darting forward like lightning.

The force of his movement was so brutal that the terrain behind him exploded in fragments—the ground cracking, rocks shattering.

The beast warrior broke the sound barrier, attempting to interrupt the Barrier's formation before the magical prison completed.

But it was too late.

Kilian collided with a powerful punch against the newly formed Barrier, the impact reverberating through the mountain. Not a single crack appeared.

Lerov was already beside Verdia and Pursena. The elf looked at her own hand, flexing her fingers with a slight smile. Then she set aside her staff and drew the blue bow strapped to her back.

"Haaah... it's been a while since I fought without magic..."

Around the river, concealment magics dissipated, revealing dozens of soldiers in silver, white, and blue armor.

They had hidden their presence with sensory barriers; they were likely there before the group even arrived. It was a carefully orchestrated ambush.

Kilian tried to use magic and, like Verdia, felt his mana flow failing to form as it normally would.

Ahead of the line of knights, a man stood out. Robust in appearance, with blond hair and green eyes, his build resembled a living mountain.

His blue armor gleamed in the dim light, and his face was hidden beneath a ceremonial Templar helm.

With resolve, he cried out as he drew his sword and raised a tower shield ornamented with sacred symbols:

"Priests, keep the Barrier stable."

He leaped forward and finished with a commanding shout:

"Templars! Kill them all!"

A war roar ensued.

"OOOOOOOH! AAAAAAAH!"

Like a sea of steel and light, the Crusaders of Milis advanced in tight formation, swords raised, shields locked, eyes alight with fury and faith.

It all happened in an instant.

The four Iron Legion warriors soon realized they were surrounded by a Confinement Barrier.

At minimum King level, possibly higher. Their magic and escape were sealed—unless they withstood the ambush or killed the priests somehow.

Dozens of knights charged.

Verdia, bow in hand, notched an arrow, drew, and released. All in under half a second.

Such speed that some warriors hadn't even touched the ground after leaping.

A shaft of bright blue light streaked from her bow, striking a knight square in the helm's visor. The last thing heard was a groan.

And that was only the beginning. Immediately after the first arrow, the second and third followed in quick succession.

The elf displayed total mastery of her bow; no one could dodge her arrows, and her bow seemed imbued with some unknown magic.

"Stay together! Formation Fourteen!" shouted Kilian.

Lerov and Pursena formed a protective ring around the elf and clashed with the opponents. freёwebnoѵel.com

Lerov handled the rear alone, while Pursena and Kilian joined to hold the front line.

Pursena was talented, but not yet a warrior of Saint level.

Although she was already of the Advanced level in Water God Style and North God Style, thanks to targeted training since age four, it was not enough to hold a line on her own.

Kilian, however, was an excellent swordsman.

Even wielding only his falcata, he could fight this group, but his primary style relied on constant Wind Magic to amplify his speed, lethality, and fluidity.

The only one unaffected was Lerov.

No matter who stood before him, none could withstand his mighty axe.

It was faster, stronger, and had greater reach than his opponents' weapons. Their shining armor was cleaved with each blow.

Just as he began to be overwhelmed by numbers, a bright blue arrow pierced an enemy's skull, Verdia supporting them with unceasing volleys.

The battle soon reached a temporary stalemate. Kilian and Pursena held their ground, combining their strengths with the elf's constant support.

But this situation would not last long.

Soon, the blue-armored Templar leader, the mountain-like knight known in Milis as "The Hill," joined the fray.

He used none of the three Styles, but that did not make him any less powerful.

With his enormous tower shield, he struck Kilian. The beast warrior barely had time to break free from his opponents and raise his arms to block.

One of his arms bent at an unnatural angle as he felt his bones shatter. He was thrown aside.

"Kilian!" Pursena cried in shock.

But the next instant, the colossal figure of the great knight's sword descended toward the beast girl.

As the blade was about to cleave her in two, Verdia plunged between them. Her cloak billowed as she turned, using her back to shield the girl.

The sword struck the mage violently. But to everyone's surprise on the battlefield, the expected scene did not occur.

A loud metallic clang echoed as the sword collided with her cloak. The bluish mantle, patterned with white star-like details, withstood the impact.

In the next moment, the knight's sword flew back, rebounding from his hand.

The elf turned to the Templar. Her elven sword was in her hand, aiming for the visor's slit. But it had been many years since she wielded a blade.

Though once an excellent swordswoman, her strike now was so predictable that, despite the knight's shock at failing to kill her and losing his weapon, he easily caught her arm and hoisted her into the air.

As he prepared to crush her with his shield, a massive axe swung into his line of sight—Lerov coming to the rescue.

He abandoned the immediate attack and blocked the devastating blow. In the next moment, a knight handed him a new sword.

The elf dropped nimbly, evading another Templar's blade. She grabbed Pursena's hand and pulled her out of immediate danger.

At that moment, Kilian reappeared amid the knights, fighting fiercely. Pursena breathed a sigh of relief and refocused.

They didn't even have time to exchange words. A moment's distraction in battle meant death.

Verdia now fought, mixing arrow strikes with sword defense.

Pursena was in a similar situation—both were badly wounded and unable to thin the number of opponents.

Their breaths came in gasps. They were barely holding on against the numerous enemies.

Meanwhile, Lerov faced The Hill and several other Templars simultaneously.

He demonstrated the resilience and power of the demon race with every swing. His axe cleared a path, but even he knew: this fight was doomed if nothing changed.

Kilian weaved through bodies and blades with the fluidity of water, reappearing beside Verdia and Pursena like a living arrow.

His movements, swift and precise, were the perfect expression of the combination of North God Style and Water God Style. There was no time to celebrate.

A sword approached Pursena's exposed flank, and in an instant, he grabbed the attacker's wrist and yanked, saving her arm.

Their breaths were ragged.

Kilian moved with the versatility and fluidity of a North and Water Saint, protecting the two girls while defending himself.

Verdia offered support with her magical blue bow.

Wounds multiplied, blood painted their skin, and with each parried blow, death seemed to laugh closer.

But they were alive, after all—Milis probably didn't know who would be part of this attack, or they would have sent more high-level troops.

Though, at this pace, these would likely have been more than sufficient.

Lerov, the taciturn and fierce demon, was another reason they still breathed.

The Hill, the most powerful Templar of Milis present, was the only one who posed a real challenge to him.

All the others, though trained and disciplined, were merely well-coordinated soldiers.

But even he could not endure forever.

The Templars of Milis were warriors trained since childhood as knights of Saint Milis.

Men and women forged by faith, order, obedience—and fanaticism.

Their teamwork was astonishing. The Templars attacked in blocks, in almost choreographed formations, closing spaces and preventing movement.

Verdia, Kilian, and Pursena were all elite combatants.

But without being able to use their greatest strength—magic—they were losing to the numbers. Slowly, but they were.

Kilian searched for a gap. His eyes darted in every direction. No visible escape. Their only option was to hold on. And even that seemed unattainable.

Verdia felt her heart race. Her steps were graceful, light; the wounds on her body seemed not to bother her.

Each move between blades left a new mark. Her lungs burned. Yet she smiled.

She already knew.

She knew what the others did not. She knew her death had been decreed before this battle even began. Because she saw. Because she always saw.

Her curse. Her gift. That was what gave her confidence.

And, of course, as always, she kept this secret.

She had known for a long time that revealing it was like a death sentence for whoever discovered it.

Thus, Verdia never told. Not even Rygar. Not her friends in the Great Forest. Not even Gretta, her closest friend.

And, as always, her Vision was coming true.

A knight thrust at Pursena. The beast warrior tried to dodge, but her reflexes were slow, and the sword was already slicing through the air. Then Kilian pulled her back. Exactly as it had happened in her Vision.

Time seemed to slow for Verdia.

A knight flew through the air, cleaved in two by Lerov's axe. Blood rained over them.

The elf looked around and recognized every detail. This was the vision. This was the moment.

A Templar tried to pierce her with a thrust. Verdia moved millimeter by millimeter, slipping past by a hair.

With an arrow grasped in her bare hands, she drove it through the enemy's eye and used his body as momentum to leap back.

Several enemies closed in. But she did not stop.

In mid-air, before touching the ground, she spun her sword. The strike seemed random at first glance—but it was calculated.

The elven blade shone with an intense white light, activating its enchantment. The light exploded around, blinding everyone nearby.

Then, metal clashed.

The impact echoed, and the elf's eyes went wide. He was there. The assassin this time—Paul Greyrat.

Paul looked stunned. The elf had blocked his strike. Impossible.

He waited patiently, not entering the fight initially, biding his time. That strike had to be unavoidable.

Verdia had seen that shocked face many times before.

Without hesitation, Verdia twisted her body, her blade seeking the opponent's throat with deadly precision. Paul recoiled, even blinded by the light, by instinct.

The blade cut through the air and tore out his eye—but not his life.

He vanished among the soldiers' ranks, likely seeking a healer. The opportunity had passed. But it didn't matter. Verdia smiled.

She ran back to Kilian and Pursena, her smile bright amid the chaos of blood and sweat. Her eyes fixed on the future.

"Hold out for thirty-eight more seconds!" she shouted, her voice echoing like a thunder of hope amidst despair.

But the battle was far from over.

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