Great Teacher in a Defense Game

#62 That Was A Gift

The Royal Room, on the uppermost floor of Dimaira’s headquarters. A small number of people were gathered there, engaged in conversation.

They were none other than the company’s board of directors. Having received a call moments ago, they had hurriedly returned to the company.

“I heard the story on the way, but is it true?”

“What is.”

“That the Archmages are coming. You said you’d tell me the details when you arrived, but when exactly will you tell us?”

One of the directors frowned and grumbled.

Someone else present agreed.

“Certainly, it’s not wrong.”

“Hey.”

“What? No, does the company run only by his hands? Sometimes Orban treats us like tools in his pocket.”

“Let’s speak properly. At least tools receive maintenance, we’re just treated like on-call labor.”

“We need to correct that habit of his someday…”

The directors each expressed their dissatisfaction.

An ominous atmosphere gradually grew.

At that moment, the entrance door opened and someone appeared.

-Creak

“Everyone’s idly chattering.”

“You are…”

“Wouldn’t it be better to help with the barrier construction in that time?”

A middle-aged man seized control of the atmosphere.

His name was Sandros. One of the directors of Dimaira, and a Dominion-class mage of the Shield.

Also, he was the one who had worked with Orban for the longest time.

His power within the company was second only to the chairman.

Whether it be status, power, or even strength. He was not someone the other directors could dare to covet.

“I summoned you here, and you’re just gossiping.”

“……”

“With that level, you want to be treated differently? Orban despises you because you’re only at that standard.”

What qualifications do those who secretly whisper like thieves have to complain about their situation? Sandros frowned and spewed harsh words.

The other directors cleared their throats, avoiding his gaze. Whispering behind backs was only possible in secret. It was an unavoidable bat-like instinct.

“…Look here, Sandros.”

“Why.”

“It is not laziness that keeps us here. Only the thought that our interference would be a hindrance. With you here, what worry is there for the headquarters’ defenses?”

“Silver-tongued, you are. The smoothness of your excuses is…impressive. If only you applied that to your work, hmm?”

Truly pathetic flattery. Sandro scoffed, his derision blatant.

The executive who spoke regretted his words. A fool’s errand, trying to reason with a madman. What could one expect from someone so close to Orban?

“Silence and follow. We have a visitor.”

“A visitor?”

“Aye. The Archmages of the Guild, come as envoys. A newly declared Enoch, by the name, is amongst them. Ranked as…exceptional, I believe they said?”

“Wait, just a moment. You mean Archmages have arrived? And we are to be the ones to face them?”

The executives were visibly shaken.

Dima or whatever you call it, this is all insane.

Only a mind completely fractured would dare antagonize Archmages.

The title of Landmark-class mage carried that weight.

Sandro, witnessing their reaction, simply clicked his tongue, as if wondering why they were so late to the panic.

“You ask *now*? Of course we stop them. They attempt to enter headquarters without permission. Did you expect us to simply stand by and watch?”

“But…these are Archmages. We are not meant to face such beings.”

“It is even questionable if they *are* beings…”

“Do not fret. They cannot act rashly against us. Indeed, it is because they are Archmages that we can be assured.”

“What? Why is that?”

“Because they are giants, of course. Giants must always consider the repercussions of their actions.”

Sandro extended a finger, pointing towards the city visible through the glass.

“We are in Novaris. The Cradle of Civilization, they call it. However enraged they may be, the Archmages would not dare raze this place. Even they, being people, must heed the eyes of society.”

“Ah…is that it?”

“Only now do you grasp it? We hold the city hostage. A giant, ever mindful, is naught to be feared –”

At that instant, the building shuddered.

*KRA-KOOM!!!*

“?!”

“Wh-what was that?”

“An earthquake?!”

“Rascelin…that insane woman, could she have?!”

Without warning, tremors erupted.

The directors threw themselves flat on the floor, breathless.

Belatedly, the building fell silent once more.

Sandro, standing alone, muttered, dazed.

“This… could it be the barrier…?”

“Sa, Sandro. What in the world-“

“Shut up and follow me! We’re going to the building entrance, now!”

Something was clearly amiss at the entrance. Realizing the situation, Sandro rushed outside.

The directors, still prone, exchanged glances before belatedly chasing after him.

@

“You certainly did smash it to pieces quite nicely.”

“I’m not particularly fond of things being stuffy.”

“Doesn’t seem the building itself suffered much damage?”

“I regulated my strength. Can’t have civilians getting caught up in this.”

Enoch and Bergo conversed atop the shattered ruin.

The spot where they stood now was the headquarters’ entrance. Just moments ago, it was where soldiers and mages had fortified their line.

Around the two, countless people were strewn like refuse. Dimaira employees, caught in Enoch’s attack, sent flying with the explosion.

-Ugh…

-How could this happen…

-How much time did we spend here…

The fallen employees gradually regained consciousness.

Belatedly, they grasped the situation.

They stared with vacant eyes at the remnants of the shattered barrier.

How long did it take to make that thing again?

Ah, right. We worked overtime for over six months.

And now it’s completely destroyed?

Huh? I’m getting angry?

-Yo, you…!

-You monstrous b*stard!

“?”

-What did we ever do to deserve this!

“Do you even know how hard it was to make that?!”

“You make it again! Make it again, I say!”

The employees screamed, possessed by some unseen malevolence.

An act that might be mistaken for madness by an observer, but in truth, madness was exactly what it was.

Archmage rank or whatever. That sort of thing didn’t matter anymore.

To salarymen withered by overtime, such things didn’t even register in their eyes.

“This is *my* fault?”

Enoch, who had been listening, frowned, incredulous.

No, why are you taking it out on *me*? Isn’t that something you should take up with Orban, the one who ordered the impossible?

Enoch sincerely thought so. Just as he was about to speak, unable to bear it any longer, unfamiliar figures appeared at the entrance of the building.

“Just what in the world is going on!”

“Director Sandros!”

“Lord Sandros! Please save us!”

“The barrier has been completely shattered!”

“Sandros?”

Enoch reacted to the name he heard.

A name he remembered.

Surely a ruling-class mage under Orban. The Golden One’s strongest subordinate, and his only loyal subject.

“Lord Sandros!”

“All of you, shut your traps! Be quiet, you’re making my head spin!”

Sandros roared, his voice sharp. Hearing them whine in such a pressing situation was driving him insane.

‘First, I need to grasp the situation…’

He hurriedly assessed his surroundings.

There was so much to see.

The collapsed building entrance. The completely shattered temporary barrier.

The Water and Ice Magus Tower Lords, observing from afar. The Lightning Magus Tower Lord and an unidentifiable man, relatively close by.

Circumstantially, that must be Enoch, the extra-grade mage.

And finally, the colossal mechanical beast with eight heads.

‘I’m screwed.’

It wasn’t difficult to grasp the situation. It seemed either the Lightning Magus Tower Lord or that man had shattered the barrier.

Neither option presented a particularly rosy outlook.

If Vergo had taken the initiative, it meant a Boundary-Class mage was moving without a second thought. If the latter, it meant this Enoch possessed power truly rivaling that of a Boundary-Class.

Dwelling further would only deepen the mire of his worries. Sandros, having reached this conclusion, deliberated over his next words.

“You called me Sandros?”

“…? You know me?”

In the end, it was Enoch who spoke first. He nodded towards Sandros, who seemed taken aback.

“I had some preliminary inquiries made. They say you’re a loyal man to Orban. Is that so?”

“…I wouldn’t go so far as to call myself loyal. I simply fulfill the duties entrusted to me.”

“Your answer alone speaks volumes of your character. In that vein, I would like to request a favor. Would you be so kind as to clear the way?”

“The way?”

“Indeed. I have words to exchange with your representative.”

Enoch said this as he gestured sideways with his hand. A gesture to stop and step aside.

Seeing this, Sandros adopted a resolute expression.

He could endure the slight to his person. But he could not simply let them pass.

His assigned task was to secure the building’s entrance and buy time.

Once an order was received, it had to be obeyed without question. This was an old philosophy, a stubborn principle held since his days as a knight.

“I apologize, but that is a request I cannot grant.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. I am well aware that I am no match for you all. However… I can, in my own paltry way, at least hold you back!”

-Whack!

Simultaneous with his declaration, Sandros activated his magic.

A gigantic wall of light materialized in the space where the barrier had stood moments before.

A steel shield protecting the body of a warrior. A magic born from that very concept and understanding.

Its name was 『Valderich’s Rampart』. A unique magic of the Imperial Family, passed down through generations of the Emperor’s knights, especially those who served as shield knights guarding the capital.

-Kuuung! Kungk! Kungk!

“…The refinement of the magic is quite decent. Was this man a retired knight, perhaps?”

“I hear that’s the case. He left the knighthood and was hired by Dimaira as a contract worker.”

“Really? Why did he end up working under Orban of all people?”

Vergo clicked his tongue, seemingly regretful upon seeing the magic.

This was not mere pretense, but genuine sentiment.

The user’s tenacity was evident, particularly in the intricately woven magic, which was exactly how a good mage *should* be.

“Looks like the barrier from earlier was his work too. What do you say, Enoch? Shall I take a turn this time?”

“It’s quite alright. The Seven Knights who guarded the Emperor, was it? Even retired, their skill is undoubtedly genuine. I should test just how steadfast the Emperor’s old shield remains.”

Enoch spoke, twirling a finger.

The Over Dragon, which had been awaiting, rose once more.

Eight heads gaped open, each brimming with gathering energy.

-KUUooo!!!

-ZEEEING!!!

“It is useless! This fortress is Imperial magic! The barrier you saw earlier was merely an imitation! If you treat it the same way-“

“Result Burst.”

The Over Dragon unleashed its barrage. Eight beams of light shot forth in a straight line, unleashing a tremendous explosion.

-KWAANG!

-SREEEE…

The reverberations of the blast rippled outwards.

Acrid smoke and flames filled the space.

The smoke cleared moments later.

Enoch narrowed his eyes, assessing the situation.

Astoundingly, the fortress remained unscathed. The wall of light stood firm, steadfastly holding its ground.

Or, more precisely, the destroyed sections were being repaired instantly.

A sight of broken fortress being restored, shattered pieces being immediately filled in. *This* was the true face of the shield’s magic.

“…It’s useless. This magic prioritizes the materials, not the user’s mana.”

“Materials?”

“I have no intention of telling you. Figure it out as best you can.”

Sandros grinned, retorting.

Truthfully, maintaining this magic didn’t cost mana, but *money*. A staggering 14 billion Crowe.

And even besides that, it required all sorts of treasures and ingredients. A defensive barrier literally forged with money.

Needless to say, there was no reason to explain any of this. He was blocking the entrance now, after all. He honestly just hoped they would give up and go back.

But the ensuing reaction was unexpected.

Enoch tilted his head, then nodded as if understanding dawned.

Chain Harmony.

His pupils, by then, were aglow with a cerulean light.

“I have a rough idea. A similar feeling to myself, perhaps.”

“Pardon? What is it you—”

“Strike two.”

-Zzzzzzzzing

-KRA-THOOM!!

“Cough, cough! W-what…?!”

“Does that make 28 billion Krones, all told?”

“How did you—”

“Let us continue.”

Enoch gestured once more.

Energy coalesced again in the Over Dragon’s maw.

“S-stop it…! What in the name of…! That’s a 14 billion Krone spell…!!”

“Strike three.”

-Zzzzzzzzing

-KRA-THOOM!!!

“Stop it, you b*stard! Each restoration of that spell costs 14 billion, 95 million Krones!!!”

“Strike four.”

-Zzzzzzzzing

-KRA-THOOM!!!!

“That’s what I’ve diligently invested and collected!!! Some of it was even a gift!!!!!”

“Strike five.”

-Zzzzzzzzing

-KRA-THOOM!!!!!

“Nooo!!!!!”

Sandros screamed madly toward the ramparts. He stretched out both hands and shrieked, his cry bordering on heartbroken wails.

His pleas fell on deaf ears; the ramparts could not withstand the continuous barrage. Like shattered panes of glass, cracks spiderwebbed across its surface, and before long, it crumbled with a tremendous roar.

-Kajik! Kwajijik!!

-Clang! Clang, clang!!