Just as the squad successfully finished off the third Rift Beast, disaster struck on the outer perimeter.
The Operator who had been leading the remaining two Rift Beasts in a high-speed "train" accidentally tripped over a loose rock, severely twisting his ankle, and crashed heavily to the dirt.
At that exact moment, the two massive Rift Beasts were less than five meters behind him!
At their top running speed, it would take them barely a fraction of a second to pounce and tear him to shreds.
In that critical millisecond, both Flandre and Sharp acted simultaneously.
Flandre transformed into a golden streak, diving headfirst toward the lead Rift Beast.
Sharp, without pausing for a single breath, drew his heavy longsword and hurled it like a javelin straight at the head of the beast behind it. Though the thrown blade failed to pierce the dense skull plating, the sheer kinetic impact staggered the creature, forcing it back a few paces.
The lead Rift Beast, seeing its human prey fall right before its eyes, snapped its massive, bloody maw open to strike.
Just as its jagged teeth were inches away and the fallen Operator could smell the putrid, metallic stench wafting from its gullet, a staggering, monstrous force slammed into the creature's flank, sending the multi-ton predator flying several meters through the air like a ragdoll.
The next second, Flandre was seen scooping up the injured Operator by his vest, gliding smoothly backward through the air to safety.
A heartbeat prior, Sharp had caught a clear glimpse of Flandre's small leather shoe delivering a clean, flying kick directly into the Rift Beast's ribs. The massive creature had been blasted sideways as if hit head-on by a heavy, high-speed armored truck.
Hiss—
Sharp couldn't even fathom the sheer physical output contained within that tiny leg, but right now was hardly the time to ponder it. The second Rift Beast—the one he had momentarily distracted with his thrown sword—was already roaring and lunging straight for his throat.
Reaching down to his hip, Sharp drew a secondary longsword from its scabbard and charged forward to meet the beast head-on.
Focusing his concentration to an absolute razor edge, his blade moved in fluid, unpredictable arcs. The ancient, deadly sword techniques of the Sargon Royal Court displayed their terrifying efficiency in his hands. Every advance, dodge, and parry was timed to absolute perfection.
With every pass of his blade, deep, crimson gashes opened across the monster's hide. Within minutes, the Rift Beast's eyes flickered with genuine fear, and it turned to flee—only for Sharp's razor-sharp longsword to drive clean through its rear flank from behind, piercing deep into its core.
Sharp gripped the hilt with both hands and wrenched the steel with brutal force.
The Rift Beast let out a agonizing, gurgling wail and collapsed onto its side. Yet, its chest was still heaving.
Sharp strode forward, retrieved his thrown primary sword from the dirt, and thrust it violently straight into the creature's eye socket, driving the point all the way through to its brainstem.
Having suffered fatal, structural destruction at both ends, the beast finally let out a final shudder and breathed its last.
With the battle concluded, Sharp let out a long, weary sigh of relief, suddenly remembering there was still one more beast to account for.
He turned his head to check on Flandre, only to see the stiff corpse of the fourth Rift Beast lying headless in the dirt a short distance away, its massive severed head resting nearby.
Further off, Flandre and the rest of his squad were staring back at him with expressions of unreserved, intense disgust.
After all, Sharp's brutal execution strike from behind just now had caused not only a geyser of blood, but also a considerable amount of internal waste to spray out across the ground. Half of his combat uniform was now splattered in a foul, yellow and red mess.
"That... that is the most vulnerable structural point on the lower anatomy, and the absolute best angle for a single-hit kill," Sharp attempted to explain, holding up a bloodied hand.
In response, every single Operator sub-consciously clenched their buttocks and turned their backs on him in unison.
"We... we understand the tactical logic, Captain..." one of the men muttered, wincing. "But visually... that was really hard to watch."
"The visual impact was simply too traumatic," a female Operator who had assisted in taking down the earlier beasts added, pointing a finger toward a winding stream off in the distance. "Why don't you go rinse yourself off over there first, Captain?"
Sharp shook his head helplessly; he certainly hadn't anticipated his pragmatic, efficient execution move being met with such absolute disdain by his own subordinates.
After taking a quick plunge in the river to make himself slightly less foul-smelling, Sharp walked back over and inquired about how the fourth beast had been handled.
It turned out that while he had been occupied in single combat, the Rift Beast Flandre had kicked away had scrambled back to its feet. However, rather than re-engaging, the battered creature had attempted to turn tail and flee across the plains.
Naturally, Flandre had zero intention of letting it escape.
After handing the rescued Operator over to the rear guard, Flandre summoned Laevateinn into her hand and shot through the air. Although a Rift Beast possessed incredible burst speed on land, its mobility was laughable compared to Flandre, who moved through the sky like a fish through water.
Flandre intercepted its path within seconds, severing its head cleanly from its shoulders with a single, casual sweep of her fiery blade before the beast could even process her presence.
By the time she finished, Sharp was still locked in his duel with the final monster. Flandre had originally intended to fly over and lend a hand, but upon seeing the last beast attempt to run, only for Sharp to drive his sword into its rear—followed by the resulting explosion of filth—Flandre had decisively abandoned any thought of stepping in.
It was simply far too gross! If she were ever forced to intervene in a scenario like that, she definitely wouldn't engage in close quarters; she would stick strictly to long-range Magic saturation.
"What happened to the supply convoy that sent the distress signal?" Sharp asked, looking down the dirt road. The transport trucks were nowhere to be seen.
Flandre pointed toward the distant silhouette of the landship, explaining that the moment her squad drew the beast pack off the main highway, the drivers had slammed on the gas, speeding past the battle site straight toward Rhodes Island's lower hangar. Ten minutes had elapsed since then; they had likely already cleared the entry checkpoint.
Sharp didn't offer any criticism; under those circumstances, staying behind would have served zero tactical purpose for civilian drivers. Rather than remaining on the field as unpredictable liabilities, clearing the zone immediately was the correct decision, allowing the Operators to fight without worrying about collateral damage.
Just then, two heavy off-road tactical vehicles roared up to the site.
Over a dozen reinforced Operators poured out, letting out collective sighs of relief upon seeing the battle was already over and Sharp's team was safe. Medical staff immediately set to work treating the archer's twisted ankle and dressing the other Operator's leg wound, while field logistics personnel pulled out heavy tools, discussing how to butcher and process the massive Rift Beast carcasses to haul back to the ship's galley.
The reinforcement squad was led by a white-haired Sarkaz veteran.
He inspected the carnage, listened to the brief tactical report from the field Operators, then turned to Flandre, offering a respectful nod and a sincere expression of gratitude.
"Miss Flandre, thank you for your prompt assistance," he said warmly. "If you hadn't stepped in to intercept that beast when our scout fell, I'm afraid we would have suffered serious casualties today."
Flandre waved her hand dismissively. "Even if Flandre hadn't acted, with Uncle Sharp's skills, handling those two beasts wouldn't have been a problem at all. At the very least, he could have easily held out until your reinforcements arrived."
Saying this, Flandre looked around at the Operators who were already cheerfully carving up the prize meat with practiced skill.
"Your people are genuinely impressive!" she praised candidly. "Far more impressive and disciplined than many formal armies I've seen across the land."
Flandre wasn't exaggerating. Although Rhodes Island operated with relatively small field numbers, every single combatant could be classified as an elite specialist.
During the chaotic engagement, the squad members hadn't even needed to shout verbal commands; the moment steel was drawn, every person knew precisely where to position themselves, what their role entailed, and how to maximize damage while covering their teammates' blind spots.
For instance, when the first Operator sustained his injury, it occurred because the beast executed a sudden, lateral swipe that grazed his thigh. Yet even before the blow landed, his squadmates had already shifted their stances to cover his retreat. Had they not provided that instant cover fire, a direct strike from a Rift Beast's massive claw wouldn't have resulted in a simple flesh wound—he would have lost half his leg on the spot.
Then there was the archer kiting the perimeter. The exact moment he stumbled into danger was precisely when the main squad had just brought down the third beast—the single instant when combatants naturally experience a momentary lapse in focus. Yet Sharp's eyes had never left his position for a single second, allowing him to react instantly and throw his sword to break the beast's charge.