A Wild Last Boss App Chapter 13

Levia "I will protect you!!"

Translator's Note: At times, I referred to "status" as "attributes". E.g. Strength attribute

"Alright! Now we hold out until the main force arrives!"

At their mander's orders, hundreds of swords unsheathed from the soldiers' waists. The mercenaries also drew their weapons of choice, kicking the ground. Although the long-distance magic should have shaved off their numbers, the oning horde looked no different from before. The army was simply too large for there to be any noticeable difference.

"Aaaaargh!!"

Gants bellowed as he cleaved a nearing monster in half with his enormous battleaxe. His was a name that anyone in the same line of work had heard at least once. A hero of your wallet, that was who he was. Although he may not pare to the Sword Saint, Gants was a top-tier warrior. He could defeat lesser monsters with a swing, and plunge through shields and armor like twigs.

"e at me, monsters! I'm gonna beat the shit outta you!"

A second swing, and a Howling Wolf was hacked into two parts. A third swing, and the Living Armor behind him was crushed out of shape. A fourth swing, and a diving bird-like monster was knocked from the air, dying on impact.

"Gaaaaaah!!"

He swung, and he swung, and he swung. The mercenary slaughtered any monsters that drew close, and the blood of his ever-increasing victims dyed his body red. In the blink of an eye, a mountain of corpses formed behind him, and it continued to reach for the sky.

"A—amazing! So this is the strength of the man known as the strongest mercenary…"

"What utter power…"

The soldiers' thoughts leaked out in admiration. At both his display of strength, and the immense gap between them. However, despite his unbelievable strength, he was still, in the end, human. The number of monsters was by no means infinite, and his remarkable power pushed them under. Mark my words, he was a ferocious warrior. However, his strength was but a small spark of hope against the might of numbers.

"Aaaaaah!"

"Guh, Johnny!"

Gants' rade mercenary screamed in agony. A panther-like monster sunk its teeth into Johnny's Adam's apple and tore out his throat. The next moment, the poor soul was swallowed by a wave of monsters.

The battlefield was merciless. Whether you knew them or not, lives were lost all the same. The bright man that Gants chatted with just minutes ago was now a bloodied corpse. It was the harsh reality of the battlefield, something Gants had experienced time and again.

"You! How dare you!"

Wildly swinging his axe, Gants scattered the monsters that had swarmed Johnny. But he was too late. The twisted figure that Gants had glimpsed no longer resembled a human. Soon after, monsters that filled the space trampled upon the corpse, which would continue to disfigure.

"Aaaargh!"

"Eeeek!?"

Cries of pain filled the air, and soldiers continued to fall one by one. Though the enemy's numbers also fell, it barely made a difference. Even now, monsters sprung out from seemingly nowhere, and it was difficult to grasp their numbers.

"Tch!"

A human-sized mantis, an Amberterine, tore through Gants' shoulder with its sickle. Then, he winced in pain as he turned to make a clean cut through the Amberterine's neck. He was wounded physically, but more importantly, the earlier injury dampened his fighting ability. Although the arm still moved, it had undoubtedly weakened. Especially in a battle that would drag on for who knows how long, the minor cut might as well have been a fatal wound.

"Shit, how much longer will the main force take!?"

Gants cursed as he swung his axe, cutting down the monsters that jumped at him. Just how many minutes had passed, he questioned. How many more minutes would he have to hold out? Five? Ten? Maybe even more? As uneasiness settled in his heart, the mercenary's movements began to dull. His wounds grew with time and muscles began to tire.

This was the magical country's shorting. Suvell's abundant mana lured countless mages and sorcerers to its domain. However, the opposite was true for users of magic's opposing forces. Acolytes and priests that channeled holy power were a rare sight in the magical nation. These scarce numbers could be largely attributed to the fact that flugels, who made up a vast majority of these individuals, found the mana coursing through the country repulsive. In simpler terms, the military lacked healers. They weren't nonexistent, but their number was definitely insufficient. On the battlefield, this was quite the pressing situation.

"Gah!"

Gants sustained another injury to his foot, impairing his mobility. In addition to his fatigue, he could only exert half of his full power at best. The mercenary began to lose heart, and fear overtook him.

Was this as far as he goes? …Was this the end of the line? He could almost see the weling smile of his deceased wife, and the beloved figure of the daughter she had left him. Ironically, it was the thought of his clever girl that saved him. She was sure to be in the scholarly district, caught up in her educational endeavors. And so he brandished his axe once more and trained it at the monsters before him.

But before Gants could strike with renewed vigor, an enormous spear of water pierced through the horde.

"Wha—What the!?"

What followed was an incessant downpour of blades of water. Curiously, the liquid weapons curved back into the sky after striking down their targets. Tracing the magical assault back to its origin, Gants… no, every member of the battlefield saw it.

The figure loomed in the air, its jaw reaching over a hundred meters in width. Mana-infused water made up its transparent body, and its length ran around the entire Nation of Suvell. As the former lake that enclosed the entire country, it was more than likely that it stretched to miles of length. The water dragon conjured by Megrez, one of the seven heroes that overthrew the Black-winged overlord, had finally entered the stage.

Suvell's divine beast bellowed, its roars resounding through the battlefield and shaking the earth. The next moment, hundreds of monsters disappeared into the dragon's jaws.

"The-The Guardian Beast Levia… so the Guardian Deity finally makes its move…"

Riddled with wounds, the mander mumbled in surprise. The warriors of Suvell beheld the magnificent form with similar awestruck expressions. What beauty and dignity that the dragon embodied! This was Suvell's guardian deity, the impregnable defense that would lead them to victory. Just its enormous presence reassured its fellow batants, instilling conviction back into the warriors' hearts.

"My fellow countrymen, you have done well in your efforts."

The voice that followed was that of another cornerstone to Suvell's defenses. All those who survived the brutal onslaught turned to face the speaker of those words.

There he was, silver hair dancing with the wind. His knowing eyes, housing centuries of knowledge, stared down at the battlefield. Spectacles adorned the beautiful features peculiar to his kind, and a white robe obscured the rest of his body from view. Although his confrontation with the Demon King had rendered his legs useless, not once did his abilities wane. Resting on a wheelchair was the regal form of a living legend—the "Wisdom King