Chapter 19 Battle in Poor Land Part 2

Ar did not answer. His eyes remained fixed on the carriage, which had stopped in the middle of the main road.

Baron Bartemus stepped out of the carriage with heavy, authoritative steps. His large body radiated an aura of power, and although Ar could not hear his words clearly from this distance, he knew one thing: Baron Bartemus was not bluffing.

Ar squinted in the morning sunlight that hit his face. From his perch on the roof of an old three-story building, he crouched and watched the situation unfold below.

The tension on the main street of the Floressia district felt so thick, as if the air was filled with electricity, ready to strike at any moment.

In the middle of the gathered crowd, Uncle Clemente's figure stood tall. His tall, slender frame, with thick, round glasses framing his face, radiated determination. In his hand he held a dull-looking sword, a weapon that had not been used for a long time, but was being raised again today to protect their land.

Several other villagers were also seen armed. Even with only sticks, knives, or other makeshift weapons, they stood behind Uncle Clemente with the same determination.

"We will not let the Kaeliths take this land just like that!" Uncle Clemente's voice echoed through the old buildings. "Baron Bartemus has gone too far! He wants to take over the entire Floressia district!"

There was a small cheer from the crowd, but Ar could hear the trembling tone behind Uncle Clemente's courage.

His sharp red eyes followed every movement below, analyzing the situation. He knew that even though Uncle Clemente was Channeler, his strength was only at Junior Level 1, far too far to match Baron Bartemus' forces, which were filled with Senior Level 2 Channelers, or even several Level 3 Masters who now stood calmly as if this fight was a mere formality.

Uncle Clemente's courage left Ar speechless with admiration. Behind the hidden fear, the old man still stood at the forefront, leading the resistance with his chest held high.

"You know this is not just about this land," Uncle Clemente's voice echoed through the crowd, sharp and confident. He stepped forward, looking at each face filled with anger and fear. "This is about our pride, the Ethels, who have always been oppressed!"

The citizens' cheers echoed in the air, but Ar could clearly see the hesitation in most of them. Their eyes conveyed doubt, fear that could not be completely hidden. The weapons they held, old rusty swords, blunt spears, small daggers more suited for survival than combat, looked fragile compared to the luxurious, glittering weapons that belonged to Baron Bartemus' soldiers.

From where he stood, Ar sharpened his gaze. Far in the distance, the movement of the enemy troops became clearer. Tall men in battle dresses that reflected power, their weapons not only threatening but also radiating a power not to be underestimated.

"Level 2 channelers... there may be Level 3s among them," he murmured softly, barely audible. His fingers gripped the black staff he always carried with him, feeling a faint pulse of power from within.

Before his thoughts could drift further, a movement at the side of the small alley caught his attention. Turning his head slightly, he observed a figure not far from him. Clau, his twin sister, seemed to be busy organizing the children from the orphanage and some smaller children from the district. His face was tense, his jaw clenched, but Ar knew exactly what was going on in his mind.

"Is everyone ready at their respective posts?" Clau asked, his voice deeper than usual.

Thomas, who was in charge of the orphanage, nodded quickly. "Yes, Sister. The trap in the west alley has also been prepared."

Clau replied with a small nod, his eyes as sharp as Ar's as he scanned the area. "Good. Remember, we only move when the signal is given. Don't be reckless." His voice was low, but full of determination.

Ar watched as his twin brother was busy organizing everything. Their plans were well thought out, simple traps scattered throughout the Floressia District. Hidden holes, barricades of large rocks, chains tucked between haystacks, and homemade explosives were all carefully laid out.

Even though these preparations were enough to slow down the enemy, Ar was well aware that their strength was far from enough to face Baron Bartemus' army head on.

From below, Uncle Clemente's voice resounded again, loud and passionate. "Do not be afraid! We are not alone! We have this land, this house, and each other. That is more than enough to fight anyone who tries to take it from us!"

The cheers of the people could be heard again, though to Ar it sounded more like their attempt to convince themselves than true conviction. He looked around and saw their hands trembling slightly as they held their weapons. The fear was still there, even if it was masked by forced courage.

Ar leaned his body against the wall behind him, gripping his staff tightly. His fingers moved slightly, feeling the flow of Essential Power that began to pulse beneath his skin. His gaze was sharp, tracing the approaching army of Baron Bartemus.

Down below, the Floressia District had become a battlefield. The sound of clashing weapons filled the air, combined with angry shouts and cries of pain. Chaos reigned in every corner.

The channelers of Ethel, with little experience and weak Essential powers, fought desperately. Armed only with simple swords and worn spears, they looked so incomparable compared to the weapons of Baron Bartemus' channelers, which glowed with a strong Essential aura.

Amidst the commotion, Uncle Clemente seemed to be holding his own. The old man held a rusty sword, a weapon barely fit for combat, but his spirit remained strong. With unwavering determination, he faced three enemy Channelers at once.

On the other side, the three Channelers wore luxurious, light-reflecting armor and wielded weapons that glowed with their Essential powers.

It was clear how lopsided this battle was, but Uncle Clemente stood his ground, refusing to back down even though the unfairness of the power disparity was clearly laid out before him.

Ar took a deep breath, then pulled back the hood of his black robe to hide his face in the shadows. With a quick movement, he twirled the short staff in his hand. In an instant, a burst of fire shot into the sky, creating a blazing orange light.

This was the signal, a sign that the battle had begun on the main field.

At the front lines, the melee-type Channelers immediately prepared. Weapons were gripped tightly in their hands, swords and spears swung vigorously. Still, Ar could see a hesitation in their movements.