SSS-Grade Acceleration Talent made me Fastest Lord of Apocalypse-Chapter 75: Cluster ammo

A few moments ago, inside the watchtower.

Carl Luxei lounged atop the elevated command chair like a lion surveying his territory, one leg crossed lazily over the other. His gaze, however, was sharp—locked on the large, flickering blue formation in front of him. Mysterious symbols danced and pulsed within the translucent screen, projecting a broad view of the open plains where the Valthorn army steadily advanced.

Their banners waved defiantly in the wind, a splash of crimson and gold against the green backdrop. Rows of soldiers marched with purpose. But to Carl, the entire display felt laughable.

Around him, the interior of the watchtower buzzed with subdued energy. Soldiers of the Blue Hammer Kingdom moved with mechanical precision, each man and woman trained specifically for artillery warfare. The scent of burnt mana and polished steel clung to the air, mingling with the faint hum of arcane energy pulsing from the spell-guided machinery.

Gleaming black cannons stood in a semicircle along the tower’s edge, their massive muzzles pointed outward like the fangs of a sleeping beast.

"Tch. These people are really foolish," Carl muttered with a sneer, drumming his fingers against the armrest of his chair. His tone was more annoyed than alarmed. "Do they actually think numbers will change anything?"

He leaned slightly forward, peering more intently at the display. "Throwing four hundred men at us, knowing what we did to their spirit fields... Valthorn’s response is nothing but desperation."

His smirk widened. "Or stupidity."

The memory of those blazing spirit fields—of Valthorn’s sacred lands reduced to ash under their barrage—still lingered sweetly in his mind. They had struck a nerve, and now the so-called Crown Prince himself had come to answer for it.

After all, who gave them the guts to actual stary cultivating, it appears the years of peace and filled them with ambitions, but today he would put them back in their place.

Good, he thought. Let the lamb walk into the slaughterhouse on his own two feet.

Just then, the rhythmic clicks of heels echoed across the stone floor, and a composed, bespectacled woman approached.

Carl didn’t even need to look up to know who it was.

His second-in-command—sharp, efficient, and frighteningly cold.

She carried a pristine whiteboard in one hand, her other hand holding a slim mana stylus. Her long black hair was tied into a tight bun, and her military uniform bore not a single wrinkle. Everything about her exuded precision.

"Commander," she began, her tone clipped and professional, "the enemy forces have been successfully assessed."

She tapped the whiteboard, and new schematics bloomed to life—clean lines, diagrams, and movement predictions glowing faintly in blue light.

"A total of four hundred men at various stages of Iron Rank. Their advance is led by the Crown Prince of the Valthorn Kingdom himself," she reported. Her voice was calm, even as she delivered the next line. "There is also the presence of a known fugitive—the former war criminal and current leader of the Iron Dungeon Stronghold."

Carl scoffed. "Of course. One prince and one rat."

The woman adjusted her glasses with a measured gesture before turning the board slightly toward Carl. Her dainty white finger moved across the display, highlighting several overlapping circles and predicted fallout zones.

"This is their current formation," she explained. "Their central lines are too tightly packed—likely trying to minimize exposure. However, this creates a perfect opportunity."

She circled the central column with a flick of her stylus.

"A single concentrated strike here will collapse the structure of their advance. While they scramble to regroup, we will launch a follow-up strike using cluster ammunition. The fragmentation will spread chaos through their rear and flanks."

She paused.

"Minimal mana consumption. Maximum efficiency. Estimated casualty rate: ninety-three percent within the first minute of engagement."

Her face remained utterly still, emotionless. No pride in her calculations, no satisfaction in the projected slaughter.

It was simple math.

Carl leaned back into his seat, letting out a low whistle. "Impressive, as always."

His eyes gleamed with cruel amusement as he gazed back at the flickering image of the Valthorn forces.

"Let’s see how long their little prince can keep that banner flying when his entire army is reduced to smoke and red mist."

"It surely going to be fun, I can already imagine the despair on prince faces when his entire army is reduced to meat patty, right in front of his eyes."

Carl said while smiling.

The woman gave a nod, stepping back into her position without another word. Around them, the crew continued their quiet preparations, tightening bolts, adjusting targeting arrays, and aligning the mana cores inside the cannons.

Outside, the wind howled past the tower windows, but inside—inside, it was the calm before the storm.

A silence sharpened by anticipation.

A stillness just moments away from ruin.

And at its heart stood Carl Luxei, relaxed and unconcerned—

Oblivious to the force that was already hurtling through the skies toward them.

Meanwhile new recruits felt a flicker of unease crawl up his spine.

Cluster ammo.

It was a devastating weapon, something originally crafted to shred through monstrous hordes in the deep wilds—beasts with thick hides and regenerating flesh. Not human bodies. Not battlefields like this.

Its indiscriminate nature made it feared even among the Blue Hammer ranks. Too messy. Too cruel. Too final.

They didn’t say anything aloud, but the slight twitch at the corner of their mouth betrayed discomfort. And she—his second-in-command—noticed.

Without missing a beat, she began to speak, voice calm and clinical as always, likely thinking the commander had misunderstood her suggestion and was hesitating due to a tactical reason.

She had barely opened her mouth when—

Wuuunnnnggggg!

The piercing shriek of emergency alarm bells shattered the calm.

Red glyphs flared to life across the walls. Sirens wailed like the cries of banshees.

A mechanical voice boomed across the command room:

"Danger!"

"Danger!"

"Unidentified projectile approaching at twice the speed of sound!"

"Estimated collision in... 3... 2..."

BOOM!

The explosion that followed was nothing short of cataclysmic.