Transmigrated as a Peasant: I Conquered Magic With Science

Chapter 8

Both massive beasts crashed violently into the stone wall of the burning house, their bones cracking loudly against the hard surface. They collapsed in a tangle of rotting limbs, stunned and trying to stand on the slippery ice. 

Arthur didn't give them the chance. 

He walked calmly across the ice, his boots crunching softly. He stepped up to the struggling beasts, raised his kinetic pitchfork, and thrust it downward twice in rapid succession. 

BOOM! BOOM! Two deafening explosions of kinetic force shattered the air. The skulls of the Grave-Hounds evaporated into fine dust, leaving nothing but headless, rotting piles of flesh on the ground. 

Arthur pulled his weapon back, the geometric runes slowly dimming to a soft glow. He looked at Victor Kelly. 

Victor was breathing heavily, holding his empty hands up. He stared at the pulverized monsters, then looked at Arthur. Victor had fought in massive magical wars. He had seen elite Sorcerer-Knights cast great fireballs and lightning storms. But he had never seen anything like this. This boy didn't waste energy screaming spells. He fought with a cold, terrifying, calculated efficiency. 

"Who... what are you, kid?" Victor asked, his voice rough. 

"I am someone who wants to live," Arthur replied plainly. "Pick up your sword, Victor. We aren't done."

Arthur knelt down next to the largest of the dead beasts—the Alpha Hound. The creature’s head was gone, but its thick, rotting neck remained. 

Arthur reached into the filthy, dark fur. His fingers brushed against cold metal. He pulled hard, ripping a heavy iron collar off the beast's neck. 

He stood up and wiped the thick black mud and dried blood off the iron. 

Victor stepped closer, looking over Arthur’s shoulder. The villagers slowly crept out from their corner, joining them in the alley. The fog was beginning to thin slightly, but the night was still dark. 

Engraved deep into the iron collar was a symbol. A burning sword resting over a silver shield. 

Victor’s eyes widened in recognition. "That... that is the family crest of Baron Dominic Sullivan."

Arthur nodded slowly. His face was hard, completely devoid of emotion. 

"I don't understand," one of the terrified villagers whispered. "Why would the Baron’s pets be hunting us? The Commander said they would tax us tomorrow. He said if we gave them the tithe, they would leave."

"There is no tax," Arthur said loudly. His voice cut through the cold air, drawing the attention of other surviving villagers who were beginning to peek out of their hiding spots in the alleyways. "Think about it. Grave-Hounds are rare. They are expensive to create. You do not waste undead magic on a village of starving peasants just to collect some wheat."

Arthur turned to face the growing crowd. Jason Lee was among them, clutching his arm, looking terrified and ashamed. 

"They didn't come here for grain, and they didn't come for slaves," Arthur explained, holding the heavy iron collar up for everyone to see. "They came for the land. There is a massive Ley-crystal buried beneath Oakhaven. It’s what has been killing our crops for years. The Baron wants it to power his own city. But the King's laws say a noble cannot seize peasant land unless the village is abandoned or destroyed by monsters."

Victor Kelly swore loudly, spitting on the ground. "A false flag. The Baron uses his own monsters to wipe out the village in the night. Tomorrow, he reports to the King that Oakhaven was destroyed by wild Abyssal beasts. He sweeps in, claims the empty land, and digs up the crystal. A perfect, legal crime."

The realization hit the villagers like a physical blow. Panic erupted. People began to cry and shout. 

"We are dead!" Jason Lee cried out, dropping to his knees. "The soldiers have the roads blocked! They are waiting for sunrise to finish the job! We can't fight knights! We have nothing!"

"Silence!" Arthur commanded. 

His voice wasn't just loud; it was laced with a tiny fraction of his Aetheric Core’s power. The sound vibrated in their chests, forcing them all to fall instantly quiet. 

Arthur walked to the center of the alley, looking at the tired, starving, terrified faces of his neighbors. 

"You have been told your whole lives that you are dirt," Arthur said, his eyes scanning the crowd. "You have been told that magic belongs only to the highborn, and that you must suffer and die when they demand it. But the rules have changed tonight."

He pointed the rusted, glowing pitchfork toward the blocked main road of the village. 

"They are out there, sitting by their warm fires, waiting for the sun to rise so they can slaughter your children," Arthur continued, his voice rising, filling them with a strange, impossible courage. "They think we are weak. They think we are helpless prey. But they are wrong."

Arthur tossed the heavy iron collar onto the ground at Victor Kelly's feet. 

Arthur turned back to the gathered, trembling villagers. The glow of his weapon illuminated his sharp, determined face. 

"They aren't coming to tax us tomorrow," Arthur declared, his voice ringing with absolute authority. "They are coming to slaughter us. We have six hours until the sun rises. We have six hours to build a fortress, or we all die."