Reinventing Magic: An Inventor's Tale
Chapter 107: The Sentinel’s Wrath

Chapter 107: The Sentinel’s Wrath

The remnants of Duke Marveil’s forces staggered through the moonlit plains, their armor battered, their spirits bruised. What had once been a proud army of 100,000 now numbered barely half—48,000 survivors, their ranks thinned by Lucius’ brutal counter-ambush. The scent of blood and scorched earth clung to them, a bitter reminder of their crushing defeat.

Pietro marched at the forefront, his Celestial Edge still humming faintly in its sheath. His wounds had been mended by a battlemage’s swift intervention, but the weight of their losses pressed upon him like a second blade.

Then—a shadow passed over the moon.

Heads snapped upward. Gasps rippled through the ranks as two colossal shapes descended from the night sky, their sleek, wingless frames cutting through the air with eerie silence.

’The Skyward Sentinels.’

The soldiers froze, their exhaustion momentarily forgotten. Some reached for weapons, but Pietro raised a hand.

"Stand down."

The Sentinels touched down with effortless grace, their anti-gravity enchantments humming as they settled onto the plains. The hatches hissed open, and three figures emerged—Kael Bryndis, his silver-haired golem Alice, and the ever-silent Astra.

Pietro stepped forward, his voice hoarse but steady.

"Baron Kael Bryndis."

Kael’s gaze swept over the battered army, his expression unreadable. Pietro wasted no time.

"The ambush failed. Lucius anticipated us. Torvin tore through our lines like a storm." His grip tightened on his sword. "We lost over half our forces before we could retreat."

Kael listened, his Arc Nexus pulsing faintly at his wrist. When Pietro finished, he gave a single nod.

"Leave it to me."

The words carried no arrogance—only certainty.

Pietro exhaled, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "What now?"

Kael glanced toward the horizon, where the distant glow of Bryndis’ defenses shimmered.

"Regroup with my forces. They’re already advancing to meet you."

Pietro hesitated. "And you?"

A smirk flickered across Kael’s face—cold, calculating.

"I’ll thin their numbers."

With him, Alice and Astra on his side, they could wipe them out entirely... but this isn’t just about victory.

’My men need to be forged in fire, to prepare them with what’s yet to come.’

---

Later that night, Kael’s Skyward Sentinel loomed over the royal camp, its colossal frame casting an ominous shadow beneath the moonlight. He could have struck from the darkness—hidden his approach, unleashed proton cannon fire, and reduced them to dust before they even realized the threat.

But that wasn’t his plan.

Seated within the cockpit, Kael exhaled, his fingers tightening around the controls. Then, without warning, he unleashed his aura.

A crushing force rippled outward, spilling from the Sentinel like an unrelenting wave of dominance. The weight of his presence pressed down upon the encampment, suffocating the air, shaking the very ground beneath them.

Soldiers jolted awake in terror.

Breathless, eyes wide, weapons clattered against the dirt as men scrambled in confusion. The pressure was unbearable, collapsing tents, driving fear into the hearts of even the most seasoned knights.

There would be no mistaking it now.

They had provoked something beyond their understanding.

Torvin stepped out of his tent, steel-gray eyes narrowing as he gazed upward. The two Skyward Sentinels loomed above like titans, their presence undeniable—a declaration of war, a challenge that could not be ignored.

He could feel it.

The suffocating weight of Kael’s aura, pressing down like a force of nature, sending ripples through the ranks of his soldiers. Even hardened warriors staggered, struggling to withstand it.

Torvin clenched his gauntleted fist. This wasn’t just a show of power—it was a message, one meant for him alone.

A slow, knowing smirk tugged at his lips.

"So... you’ve finally come," he muttered, his voice a quiet rumble beneath the chaos.

His voice cut through the fear like a blade. The soldiers nearest him steadied, their resolve hardening under his presence.

Above, the lead Sentinel’s cockpit slid open.

Kael stood at the edge, his coat flaring in the wind, his Arc Nexus glowing with restrained power. He didn’t speak.

He didn’t need to.

The message was clear:

"You marched on Bryndis."

"Now Bryndis comes for you."

Torvin raised Ragnarok’s Maw, the blade’s serrated edges vibrating with anticipation.

"Then let’s dance."

Kael could have annihilated them then and there.

A single volley from the Sentinels’ arcane cannons would have reduced the camp to smoldering ruin. But that wasn’t his goal.

This was a ’warning.’

A reminder that Bryndis was not some helpless prey to be hunted—it was the storm itself.

Alice was beside him, her gray eyes reflecting the campfires below.

"Master. Orders?"

Kael flexed the Arc Nexus, feeling the nanites hum in response.

"Disable their siege weapons. Leave the rest."

Alice nodded. Astra, ever silent, controlled the second Sentinel and accepted the command, his Spirit Crystal pulsing as it gathered energy.

Below, Torvin bellowed commands, rallying his men. Mages scrambled to erect barriers, their spells flickering to life like fragile stars.

Kael smirked.

"Let them try."

With a thought, the Sentinels’ arcane cannons charged—and the night erupted in light. Twin beams of concentrated energy lanced downward, their blinding light turning night into day for one terrifying instant.

The royal army’s siege weapons—massive trebuchets reinforced with enchanted steel, ballistae capable of piercing castle walls, and mobile mana cannons—were reduced to molten slag in an instant.

The shockwave that followed was a physical force, howling across the battlefield like a vengeful spirit, scattering debris and sending soldiers tumbling.

Torvin reacted before the dust had even settled.

He swung the obsidian greatsword in a vicious arc, triggering ’Void Rend’. A wave of destructive energy roared upward toward the nearest Sentinel, warping the very air in its path.

The attack never connected.

The Sentinel’s layered defensive barriers shimmered into existence—a lattice of interlocking hexagonal shields that absorbed the blow effortlessly. The energy dissipated harmlessly, leaving Torvin standing frozen, his scarred face tightening in realization.

’These weren’t just flying constructs.’

’They were weapons that could rewrite the rules of war itself.’

Lucius’s mind raced even as his body moved on instinct, dragging a stunned officer out of the path of falling debris.

’This is what happens when intelligence fails,’

His sharp eyes tracked the Sentinels as they shifted configuration mid-air, their smooth hulls reconfiguring into a more aggressive battle mode. The royal artificers had assured them Bryndis’ creations were mere transports—clumsy, mana-intensive, and vulnerable.

’That stupid artificer was a scam!’

"War Councilor!" A captain stumbled toward him, face streaked with soot. "Orders?"

Lucius didn’t answer immediately. His tactical mind was already dissecting the attack pattern.

’Why target only the siege weapons?’

Then it struck him.

Kael wasn’t just fighting to win—he was fighting to ’control the battlefield itself’. Without siege engines, the royal army couldn’t assault fortified positions, couldn’t breach walls, couldn’t leverage their numerical advantage.

’He’s not just thinning our numbers. He’s dictating the terms of engagement.’

A second volley from the Sentinels’ cannons began charging, the air humming with gathering energy.

"Everyone scatter!" Lucius barked.

The command came just in time. The proton beams lanced down again, carving precise lines of destruction through the camp. Where they struck, the earth itself seemed to vaporize, leaving glowing trenches of molten stone.

The shockwave this time was even more devastating, flipping supply wagons like children’s toys and sending a dozen men flying.

---

Inside the lead Sentinel’s cockpit, Kael monitored the destruction with detached precision. The holographic display showed mana reserves at 80% and falling.

"Master," Alice said softly, her spirit crystal pulsing. "We’ve achieved primary objectives."

Kael nodded. "Let’s withdraw. That should be enough."

As the massive machines turned away, their anti-gravity drives humming, Kael allowed himself one last look at the ruined camp. The message had been delivered.

Below, Lucius stood amidst the chaos, his sharp eyes tracking the retreating Sentinels. His mind worked furiously.

’Two attacks. That was their limit.’

The realization struck like lightning.

"They’re out of mana!"

A slow, calculating smile spread across his face as he turned to his surviving officers.

"Rally every remaining unit. We march on Bryndis at once!"

Torvin approached, Ragnarok’s Maw still crackling with residual energy. "You’re sure?"

Lucius’ smile turned razor-sharp. "They’ve shown us their strength. Now we’ve found their weakness." He gestured to the smoldering remains of their siege train. "This was their best shot. Next time, we’ll be ready."

As the surviving troops scrambled to regroup, Lucius’ mind was already at work, piecing together new strategies. Kael had shifted the battlefield, rewritten the rules—but every gambit had its counter.

And Lucius Drayford was certain he had just found his.

Or so he thought.