190-Military March 5

The second and eighth troops all hurriedly set up their bows.

The wyvern in the sky above us is now visually about the size of a pigeon. You can tell from this distance that it is not a bat. I can see its long neck.

And it's getting closer and closer.

'Everyone! Don't shoot it as soon as it's in range of the bow! We're all going to fire our arrows at once! Wait for my signal! The ballista will give you separate instructions, so wait for the signal to fire!

Patrick shouts loudly.

The first wyvern is almost here. About a hundred meters away.

You can't reach it with your bow and arrow. And even if they did, they're not strong enough to penetrate.


At the sound of his voice, about a thousand arrows swoosh through the air and fly.

Some arrows pierce the body of the first wyvern, others break through the membrane of its wings.

The wyvern, unable to fly properly due to the holes in its left and right wings, falls to the ground.
When you see him hit the ground with a thud..,
Patrick shouts.

As Wayne runs to the side,

'Ballista! Fire at the next nearest wyvern! Soldiers, prepare for a second shot!

At the same time, a huge arrow was fired from the ballista, piercing the body of the second closest wyvern with a thud.

The third wyvern followed shortly after.
'Bow and arrow! Let go!'
Patrick shouted, and though his timing was a little off, he managed to hit the wyvern with his arrow.
The wyvern doesn't come crashing down, but it flaps its wings desperately, trying to escape high into the air, but it can't quite get up.

'Ballista, do you have any more arrows?

'Two more arrows, sir!

'Fire another one at that wounded wyvern!

'Yes, sir!

'Archers ready! They're still coming!

While he was saying that, the ballista fired a second shot, which also hit the body, and the wyvern spun around and fell.

Patrick could see two more wyverns in the distance.


Wayne ran up to the crashing wyvern, which was about three meters long and seven meters wide with its wings spread out, and tried to get close to it, avoiding its flapping wings. He dodged, slashed at it with his spear, and dodged again.
In the meantime, I managed to slice off one of the wings.
Blood was spurting from the base of the right wing he had cut off. I thrust my spear into the wound.
He pulled the spear out as if twisting it, and thrust it repeatedly as if slamming it into the noisy mouth.

The wyvern coughed up blood and collapsed, and when it stopped moving, he ran to stop the second wyvern, which had been pierced in the torso with a ballista and had fallen, from breathing.