**Chapter 51: Ambush**
Thousands of Noren Academy wizard apprentices, swept up in the blind confidence from their earlier false victories, poured into the valley identified by intelligence as the location of the “native leaders.”
Their eyes gleamed with hunger for high scores and glorious achievements, completely unaware they were charging headlong into a hunter’s carefully laid net.
The dense magical beasts outside the valley posed no threat to the gathered apprentices, who swiftly crossed traps to enter its depths.
Deep within, several native “leaders” clad in exquisite armor appeared in the apprentices’ sights, backed by a seemingly small but heavily armed force of transcendent warriors.
“Enemies! Those must be the leaders from the intel!”
“Watch the surroundings—there’s likely an ambush. Activate shields first!”
“Charge! Take down those leaders!”
The apprentices erupted in excited roars, led by Augusta and Horn, rushing toward the enemy with overwhelming momentum.
Other apprentices unleashed their witchcraft, elemental torrents converging in the valley, targeting the distant foes.
But at the moment the two forces were about to clash, a sudden change erupted!
*Rustle, rustle, rustle…*
Countless black shadows sprang from the previously silent hillsides.
A massive, suffocating number of native warriors, clad in beast hides or woven grass, gripped longbows or throwing spears.
These soldiers, camouflaged by hides and grass, had concealed their life signatures with the power of priests and shamans, perfectly evading the apprentices’ less-than-precise detection.
With a low roar infused with ancient shamanic chants, tens of thousands of native warriors on the hillsides drew their bows in unison.
In an instant, a dense rain of arrows descended upon the apprentices in the valley!
These were no ordinary arrows. The natives had poured all their resources into this battle.
Each arrow was imbued with enhanced shamanic and priestly spells, their tips crafted from special minerals or biological materials, capable of piercing energy shields.
Such anti-magic arrows were once exclusive to the kingdom’s elite knight orders as trump cards, but in this valley ambush, even common soldiers carried several.
The air filled with the sounds of whistling, collisions, and tearing.
The apprentices’ shields crumbled under the arrow rain, shattering one after another.
Some apprentices, caught off guard, were pierced by arrows and fell in pools of blood.
Even those with active protective artifacts felt a powerful force penetrate their shields, disrupting their mental energy and scattering their formation.
The natives’ trap was simple—brutally straightforward.
Yet, their overwhelming numbers and unexpected attack delivered devastating results.
The apprentices, who thought themselves fully prepared, were instantly plunged into a dire disadvantage.
“Scatter! Find cover!”
“Damn it! Why are there so many?!”
“Retreat! Get out of here!”
Without unified command, the apprentices fled in panic, trying to escape the arrow rain’s range.
“My flight spell… it’s blocked again! When did they set this up? There was nothing when we entered the valley!”
“Damn it! Why is the spatial lockdown so massive?!”
Desperate cries echoed.
From previous ambushes, the apprentices had gauged spatial lockdowns to cover less than fifty meters, escapable with enough distance.
But in this valley, Priest Oswald, at the cost of draining his own power, had set a lockdown spanning a terrifying kilometer in diameter.
Combined with shamans exhausting their reserves and sacrificing ancestral totems to instantly deploy an ultra-wide anti-flight barrier, the apprentices were trapped.
Their predictions were correct—there would be traps, anti-flight spells, and spatial lockdowns.
But their intelligence from prior battles had grossly underestimated the traps’ danger.
No way up, no way down—the apprentices were utterly cornered.
Even Augusta and Horn, the brightest geniuses, seemed powerless against this sudden disadvantage.
The native coalition, armed with prior intelligence, had prepared targeted countermeasures.
An elite squad, equipped with special-material armor and shamanic curses, entangled the lightning-fast Augusta, weakening her thunder and limiting her mobility.
Another group, wielding armor-piercing weapons and unique spells, relentlessly targeted Horn, chipping away at his vaunted defenses.
The apprentices’ formation collapsed entirely, retreating under the dual assault of arrow rain and charging melee natives, the valley’s ground stained red with blood.
At a temporary command post above the valley…
Several native coalition leaders watched the wizards below, slaughtered like lambs, with exhilaration.
Priest Oswald’s face was pale as paper, his body visibly weakened, sweating profusely—the cost of the massive spatial lockdown had nearly drained his life force and divine gifts.
“We did it! We succeeded!” the young knight commander’s eyes blazed with fervor.
“Those foolish outsiders thought they could trample our world!” the shaman leader grinned savagely.
Grateful gazes turned to Oswald.
Though the cost was steep, his ultra-wide spatial lockdown was the key to this victory.
“Lord Oswald, your efforts were invaluable!”
“Thanks to you, we’ll wipe out these wretched wizards!”
Oswald weakly shook his head, saying nothing, his gaze fixed below.
The young knight commander wasted no time, barking orders: “All forces, attack! Give them no respite! Crush them!”
Nearly ten thousand elite native warriors surged down the slopes like a tide, engaging the remaining apprentices in a bloody melee.
Relying on a massive stone fortress Horn had painstakingly conjured, some apprentices made a final stand, but it was merely the struggle of cornered beasts—they had no escape.