The weapons system had been integrated into the ship's design as a contingency for exactly this kind of unforeseen catastrophe.
"Fire!"
As Hishiri Adashino's command echoed across the deck, the twelve members of the twelfth team, each manning a station, squeezed their triggers in unison.
Twelve unwavering streaks of orange light tore into the sky.
The rhythmic roar was like continuous thunder.
Twelve massive clusters of explosive light blossomed within the black cloud.
The ammunition had been specially modified, a volatile mixture of high-grade propellant and concentrated magical energy. It tore through the outer layers of the swarm with surgical precision, reducing hundreds of crows to ash in a heartbeat.
The twelfth team didn't hesitate. Their own magecraft neutralized the bone-jarring recoil as they emptied entire ammunition belts in a matter of seconds.
A magnificent display of pyrotechnics unfolded in the sky.
The thunderous booms arrived in a rapid-fire staccato. Before the initial impacts could even fade, a second wave of explosive rounds arrived, the overlapping shockwaves creating a literal storm of fire and light.
Accompanied by the simulated lightning and thunder of the rounds, a rain of blood began to fall from the heavens.
As the gory mist neared the cruise ship, it was deflected by the shimmering magical barrier, splashing harmlessly against the invisible wall before sliding into the sea.
The surrounding waters were quickly stained a deep, murky red.
Hishiri Adashino's expression remained calm, though her focus was absolute. The anti-aircraft fire had significantly blunted the swarm's momentum, but victory was still far from certain.
She looked toward the distant horizon, where the massive black tornado was still swirling with terrifying intensity. "Elena, is the ritual array ready?"
"It is." Elena stood on the expansive forward deck, a massive and incredibly complex magical circle glowing beneath her feet.
It was a septagram--a seven-pointed star--that radiated a deep, abyssal blue.
Seven was a number of profound magical significance.
In countless ancient texts and legends, the number seven appeared as a fundamental anchor: the seven days of creation, the seven deadly sins of man, the seven princes of hell.
This particular septagram was a derivative of the works of Solomon, the King of Magecraft.
Legend spoke of ten rings bestowed upon him by God, each possessing unimaginable power over the world.
The disciples of Solomon had devised this specific ritual array based on the properties of his seventh ring.
Under Elena's leadership, a hundred magi had worked in perfect synchronization, using a fortune in precious gemstones to manifest the array in a fraction of the time it would have normally required.
"A Sixth-Rank ritual array, approaching the boundary of the Grand level: The Ring of the Seven," Elena announced. "Any enemy who attempts an attack within its influence will be subjected to a series of debuffs--reduced offensive power, magical sealing, and intense mental disorientation."
As she finished her explanation, Elena raised her hand. Her magical energy flooded into the septagram, and a brilliant blue light enveloped the hundred magi. The radiance expanded, rising to shroud the entire cruise ship in a shimmering cocoon of abyssal light, replacing the earlier, simpler barrier.
Wayland stood on the shore, watching the other crows practice their new magecraft. He felt a surge of genuine, if avian, satisfaction.
Until he felt a pair of hands seize him by the scruff of his neck.
He froze for a heartbeat before letting out a series of indignant shrieks.
"I am the Raven King who serves the Supreme Sovereign! Who dares lay a hand on me?!"
But no matter how much he struggled, it was useless.
The hands were like iron clamps, accurately seizing his very fate.
"Little one."
Wayland heard the voice behind him--it was like a clear spring flowing through a mountain valley on a moonlit night, cold yet incredibly melodic.
"I am the one who summoned you."
Wayland immediately stopped struggling.
"Interesting. You can actually understand my words." The woman let out a low, amused laugh. "In another life, I might have made you a true familiar of my own."
She set Wayland on her shoulder and knelt, her slender, pale hand searching through the sand of the beach.
Wayland didn't dare move. He could only tilt his head to catch a glimpse of the woman.
But her black hood obscured her face, leaving only the sight of long, golden hair cascading from the collar of her robe.
"Found it."
The woman pulled a conch shell from the sand. She rinsed it in the seawater before using a simple spell to dry it instantly.
It looked... familiar.
Wayland's red eyes stared at the shell. He was certain he had seen it before.
"I lived by a lake for a time," the woman said, waving the shell before Wayland's eyes. "There were similar creatures in those waters. Back then, aside from my two sisters, there was no one else. When I was bored, I would use these shells to play a few melodies."
She brought the shell to her lips.
A cheerful, captivating song drifted across the beach.
Wayland realized this was the call that had brought them all here.
To use a simple melody as a catalyst to forcibly command tens of thousands of crows and grant them the power of familiars... such strength was almost beyond comprehension.
As the final note faded, the woman let out a long sigh. "I had decided to sever my ties with the past... I didn't expect to play this song again today."
She looked at the shell in her hand for several minutes before tossing it casually into the sea. It skipped across the surface with a series of small splashes before sinking into the depths.
Wayland tilted his head in confusion.
"Mother."
A knight approached from the distance.
He had a massive, imposing frame, clad in gleaming white armor. His short golden hair and gentle smile made him look like a knight stepped straight out of a legendary epic.
But Wayland's attention was drawn to the massive broadsword gripped in the knight's hand.
As it rested on the ground, the deep blue hilt reached the knight's shoulder.
He had never seen a blade of such gargantuan proportions.
"Everything is prepared," the knight reported.
The woman turned and began to walk inland. She gave a casual wave of her hand, and the murder of crows in the sky immediately spiraled into formation, following in her wake.
[Translated and Rewritten by Shika_Kagura]