The greatest difference between a mob and an imperial army lay in "battlefield discipline."
Taken individually, plenty of these veteran bandits, who'd crawled their way up out of piles of corpses, weren't weaker than imperial soldiers. But their undisciplined, disorganized nature meant this group could never coalesce into any real fighting force.
"Charge when winning, flee when losing" — that was the bandits' innate trait.
When they had the advantage, they'd swarm forward, and whoever was quickest grabbed the most spoils; the moment things turned against them, it was every man for himself, and whoever had the longest legs survived.
At this very moment, as the bandits watched their comrades getting mowed down in droves and the vast majority of mechanical cities grinding to a halt, the very people who'd just been cursing and swearing to capture First Prince Quentin alive suddenly changed their tune entirely.
Without their steam-mechanical cities, everyone knew that sticking around any longer, once the Ormar Empire's royal legion closed its encirclement, meant not a single one of them would escape.
So these bandits, who'd been calling each other brothers and swearing to live or die together moments ago, scattered to save their own skins the instant disaster loomed.
Like birds startled out of a dense forest, these tens of thousands of bandits scattered in every direction at once.
In the blink of an eye, aside from a handful of trusted subordinates, [White Wolf] Basil found himself standing entirely alone.
With the mob collapsing without even needing to be struck, the Ormar royals who'd been surrounded moments earlier suddenly felt all the pressure lift, and turned their gazes on the silver wolf with unmistakable malice.
With the outcome now settled, First Prince Quentin couldn't help the excitement bubbling up inside him, saying mockingly, "Mr. Basil, it seems your companions aren't so keen on dying alongside you..."
Today, no matter what, this werewolf had to die!
...
The battle raged on.
Though surrounded, not all the bandits chose to surrender without a fight.
Especially the wanted criminals who knew their crimes were severe enough that even surrender wouldn't save them from the gallows — they were determined to fight to the death.
This was a genuinely terrifying force — most of them were the leaders and elites of the major bandit gangs, not a few of whom had broken through to the third or fourth stage of the Gene Lock as [Demon Hunters] and [Great Demon Hunters].
Cannon fire was devastating against low-level transcendents, but against those with reaction speeds pushed to the very limits of human capability, it hardly posed much of a threat.
As long as they could break out of the encirclement, they could survive.
The bandits' steam-mechanical constructs were like Lego toys. They weren't a single welded whole, but rather a "Frankenstein's monster" of various compartments serving different purposes, bolted together with rivets and suspension systems.
"Cut loose the compartments, dump everything expendable except the power boiler!"
"Cut the carriages, get the weight down to the bare minimum!"
"Overpressure the boiler, run in overload mode..."
"..."
The vast majority of bandit gangs' mechanical cities had been modified at black-market mechanical refit yards, fitted with plenty of quick-release systems specifically for emergency escapes.
These mechanical cities, which cost a fortune to build, were the bandit gangs' most important assets — the very "lifeblood" their leaders took pride in!
But at this moment, to survive, those decisive gang leaders had no choice but to abandon years' worth of accumulated wealth, stripping down to flee light.
...
"Free ride's here!"
Ryan knew perfectly well that on foot alone, he'd never get far.
Having watched the edge of the battlefield closely for a while, he didn't dare pick one of the large bandit gangs, which the Ormar Empire was giving special attention — instead, seizing his moment, he climbed onto a small mechanical city that had already been stripped down to almost nothing but its bare frame.
Only with the resolve to "cut off one's own arm to survive" did one stand a chance — unlike certain fools still trying to keep their gang's mechanical city intact while breaking through the encirclement...
Southwest was the only weak point in this encirclement, and only the gangs that could spot this gap now had any chance of escaping.
...
Meanwhile, elsewhere on the battlefield.
An elegant middle-aged man, dressed in a perfectly tailored tailcoat, draped in a cloak with a red interior and black exterior, wearing a top hat, sat quietly sipping a drink, every movement radiating the refinement of high nobility.
Even with the fierce battle raging not far off and the deafening roar of cannon fire, not a flicker of emotion crossed his face.
"This one didn't go as planned."
The middle-aged man's faintly greenish pupils shimmered with an eerie glow as he murmured to himself, "No wonder so many court retainers showed up — turns out those Ormar people had this prince factored into their scheme too. Heh, quite the clever plan indeed..."
At the round table, an elderly man dressed as a butler poured a bright red liquid into the middle-aged man's crystal goblet and asked, "My lord Prince, what should we do now?"
Had any outsider been present, they'd have recognized this tailcoat-wearing middle-aged man at once as none other than the Sid Empire's [Blood Prince], William Dracula!
"What else can we do?"
Prince William sighed faintly, an expression of considerable helplessness crossing his face as he said, "After all, the contract's already been signed. The Ormar side hasn't broken the terms, so we have no choice but to hold up our end as well."
"Yes, my lord."
The butler nodded, then added, "What a shame... the bandit gangs you've been backing in southern Ormar, my lord, are about to be wiped out entirely, it seems."
"Indeed... what a masterstroke — killing multiple birds with one stone!"
Prince William rubbed his temples, gazing off into the distance at the thundering battlefield.
After a moment of thought, he spoke again. "Use [White Wolf] Basil's hand to gravely wound that Grand Princess, then use our own hand to finish her off. That eliminates the greatest threat to the throne succession..."
He paused, then continued, "And throughout the entire assassination, not a single Ormar royal was directly involved — keeping their hands entirely clean of any trouble. From now on, they won't have to worry about the council members who support Yumir stirring up any unrest either... This trick of 'borrowing a blade to kill' — they really played it masterfully."
Having said this, the Prince couldn't help but sigh in admiration, making no attempt to hide his appreciation for the scheme. "This southern bandit problem was never something that could be truly wiped out — and yet those people pulled off this stroke of genius with the 'fireworks assassination.' With the bandit crisis all but settled now, First Prince Quentin's prestige will reach its absolute peak — the first-in-line succession is his, and his alone..."
Furthermore, the forces the Sid Empire had been backing among these southern Ormar bandit gangs had also been wiped out in this same stroke — a bitter loss they couldn't even complain about openly.
Prince William felt a knot of frustration tighten in his chest.
His eyes glinted with sharp light as he sighed once more. "Whoever devised this plan... has real talent!"
The butler beside him took the opening to ask, "My lord, shall I have someone look into who that person is?"
"Mm. If possible, see whether we can win him over..."
Prince William nodded, then added lazily, "Though, someone with that kind of strategic vision probably isn't easy to win over."
Then, as if something had just occurred to him, he asked, "Ah, right — has that item in Baron Morin's possession been found yet?"
"Still no leads."
The butler replied, "However, Quinn of the 'Weasel Gang' sent word that he's got some clues — says there's a new recruit under heavy suspicion. Our agents have already been notified on the Ormar side, and we're trying to keep that person alive. We're just worried they might die before we can get to them first..."
Prince William's expression darkened somewhat as he grumbled, "Damn it! If it weren't for this war, things wouldn't have gotten this complicated. If we'd gotten that item, Ormar's technological edge would've been wiped out entirely..."
Before he could dwell on it further, he suddenly seemed to sense something and said, "Enough of that — the target's here. Get ready to move."
Reflected in the far distance of his gaze, the wounded Ormar Grand Princess Yumir was slowly approaching, escorted by her guards.
At that moment, the Prince bared a pair of sharp, pointed vampire fangs.
...
Meanwhile.
[White Wolf] Basil, who moments ago had been full of fury and sworn to kill every last one of the Ormar group, was now in a thoroughly wretched state.
His brothers were dead or scattered, and he alone now had to fend off several royal retainers surrounding him.
At this point, the once-towering silver wolf no longer carried the same might as before — his entire body was covered in torn, bleeding wounds. The black flame magic of the Grand Magus [Yama] Helmos clung to him like a malignant curse, scorching his fur black. Even the werewolf's extraordinary regenerative abilities could do nothing against this kind of dark, sorcerous flame.
Against just one such enemy, Basil could still have relied on his werewolf physique to fight through, brute force against brute force.
Even if he couldn't win, he could at least escape.
But now... surrounding him for the kill wasn't just Helmos, but several Ormar royal retainers as well!
He couldn't win the fight, and he couldn't escape either.
Basil's expression turned incredibly grim.
...
In stark contrast to the tense, brutal atmosphere of the battlefield, First Prince Quentin, watching the battle from a relaxed distance not far away, was in an excellent mood.
"Ha ha ha... [White Wolf] Basil is done for this time."
Watching the state of the battle unfold before him, he could barely contain his excitement.
This "Ten Legendary Demon Hunter" was the very ceiling of the bandit world, a ruthless figure who had given even his own imperial father endless headaches, and against whom countless legion commanders had repeatedly failed.
And today, he was going to die right in front of him.
This was an unprecedented, glorious achievement!
Quentin glanced at the black-robed aide beside him, dropping any pretense of royal airs, making no effort to hide his gratitude as he said, "Mr. Metternich, this bandit-suppression campaign owes everything to your planning! If I ascend the throne one day, I will surely grant you the title of prince!"
The black-robed aide's tone remained as calm as still water, neither proud nor hasty. "Your Highness is too generous... this humble one merely did what needed to be done."
"You're far too modest, sir!"
Quentin's heart surged like a tide as he took in the magnificent state of the battle before him.
These were all his own military achievements — achievements that would surely be recorded in the history books.
After today, whether it was the Third Prince, the Fourth Prince, or anyone else... in terms of merit and prestige, no one could possibly compare to him anymore!
But then, glancing over at the small groups of bandits fleeing toward the southwestern gap, Quentin frowned in confusion. "Mr. Metternich, why didn't the mechanical legion's encirclement fully close off the southwest as well... wouldn't that let a great many bandits escape?"
"There are no shortage of experts among the bandit gangs — a direct clash would win us the fight, but at heavy cost to the royal legion. Surrounding three sides and leaving one open keeps a cornered beast from turning desperate..."
The black-robed aide explained, "Rest assured, Your Highness. The First Legion's mechanical cavalry is already waiting for them over there. A few small fish might slip through the net, but a major gang like the 'White Wolf Gang' will absolutely not be allowed to escape. A low-casualty bandit suppression is what will truly let Your Highness's brilliance dazzle the entire imperial court..."