Before Ruho could even process the fact that Napoleon fucking Bonaparte was apparently spectating his life, a new presence materialized in his consciousness. This one felt different from the gods—older, more solid, distinctly human but with an edge of authority that made Ruho's spine straighten involuntarily.
"Alors, c'est l'homme qui refuse de mourir?"
The words were sharp, clipped, spoken with the kind of confidence that came from commanding armies. Ruho had no idea what they meant.
"Huh?!" Ruho said eloquently.
"He said, 'So this is the man who refuses to die?'" Azirel translated helpfully.
"Oh," Ruho said. "Uh. Thanks? I guess?"
Napoleon's presence shifted, taking on a more analytical quality. When he spoke again, Azirel translated in real-time: "A beast of this size must be attacked from below. Shots to the upper armor will be minimal in effectiveness. The underbelly, the joints, the throat—these are your targets."
"He's right," Vexor chimed in, sounding pleased. "The Gigantosuchus has reinforced dorsal plating. You'd need siege-grade weaponry to penetrate from above. But the ventral side is comparatively vulnerable."
"This reminds me," Napoleon continued, his voice taking on a nostalgic tone, "of the Italian Campaign of 1796. I was twenty-six years old, placed in command of an army that was starving, demoralized, and facing a numerically superior Austrian force in the Alps. Everyone said it was impossible. Everyone said we would fail."
Another thud from outside. The castle walls shuddered slightly.
"We need to move," Ruho said urgently. "Like, right now."
But Napoleon was in full storytelling mode, his words flowing through Azirel's translation. "The key was understanding that superior size does not guarantee victory. The Austrians had more men, better supply lines, fortified positions in the mountain passes. But they moved slowly. They were predictable. We struck at Montenotte, then Millesimo, then Dego—rapid, concentrated attacks at weak points. We didn't try to match their strength. We exploited their vulnerabilities."
"That's a fascinating parallel to Ruho's current situation," Vexor said, completely ignoring the fact that Ruho was currently in danger. "The Gigantosuchus is larger, stronger, more heavily armored. But it has weak points. Predictable movement patterns. If Ruho can position himself correctly—"
"I'M GOING TO THE ROOF!" Ruho shouted, already running out of the kitchen. "You guys can discuss military history after I'm not being hunted!"
He sprinted through the entrance hall, his bare feet slapping against stone, and found the staircase. Up. He needed to go up. The cannons—or ballista, or whatever Vexor had installed—were on the top left wing. Northwestern tower. Fourth floor.
He took the stairs two at a time, his legs burning. First floor. Second floor. The walls shuddered again. Something heavy scraped against stone outside. The Gigantosuchus was testing the castle walls, probably trying to figure out how to get to the screaming food inside.
Third floor. Fourth floor. The staircase ended at a heavy wooden door. Ruho slammed through it and found himself on the roof.
The plateau stretched out in all directions, bare rock glittering in the sunlight. And there, maybe fifty meters away and closing, was the Gigantosuchus. In daylight, it was even more terrifying than it had been at night. Its scales gleamed like polished armor. Its eyes tracked him with predatory intelligence. Its jaws opened slightly, revealing those rows of teeth. (2 to be exact)
But Ruho's attention was immediately drawn to the weapons mounted on the roof.
There were three of them, positioned at the northwestern corner just like Vexor had said. They were... complicated. The center one looked like a cannon, bacic, a massive metal tube mounted on a base, with what appeared to be magical runes carved into the barrel. But flanking it on either side were two much stranger contraptions.
They looked like ballistas giant crossbows, essentially but supersized and over-engineered to an absurd degree. Each one was maybe twelve feet long, with arms made of what looked like reinforced steel rather than wood. The projectiles loaded in them weren't arrows. They were bolts the size of telephone poles, with pointed tips that gleamed with the same magical runes as the cannon.
"Mon Dieu!" Napoleon's voice cut through, impressed. "Monsieur Vexor, you are a man of refined taste! To incorporate both siege ballista AND arcane artillery you must be well-versed in military engineering!"
Vexor's presence practically glowed with pride. "I studied extensively! Every great siege in human history, every defensive fortification, every innovation in warfare! When I designed this castle, I wanted it to be capable of repelling any threat!"
"The ballista design is exceptional," Napoleon continued. "The torsion mechanisms, the reinforced frame, this could punch through cavalry formations with ease!"
Ruho ran to the nearest ballista, the one on the left. Up close, it was even more intimidating. There were handles for aiming, a crank mechanism that he assumed was for drawing back the arms, and a trigger mechanism near the rear.
The Gigantosuchus was forty meters away now. Moving steadily toward the castle.
Ruho grabbed the aiming handles and tried to swivel the ballista to point at the approaching predator. The mechanism was smooth but heavy, requiring real effort to move. He grunted, his muscles straining, and managed to angle it roughly toward the crocodile.
"Non, non!" Napoleon's voice cut in. "You must aim for the chest or throat! The armored back will deflect the bolt!"
"I'm TRYING!" Ruho shouted back, still wrestling with the aiming mechanism.
Thirty meters.
"Perhaps the cannon would be simpler?" Vexor suggested. "Point and fire. Very straightforward."
"Don't be a normie," Azirel said immediately. "Cannons are boring. Everyone uses cannons. Ballistas are way cooler. Plus they're better for armor penetration the bolt maintains velocity over distance better than a projectile blast."
"Absolutely correct!" Vexor agreed enthusiastically. "The ballista bolt will pierce through those reinforced scales. A cannon blast might just knock it back."
Twenty meters.
Ruho finally got the ballista aimed sort of. The crosshairs, or whatever they were, were roughly centered on the Gigantosuchus's chest area. Close enough. He reached for the trigger mechanism, a large lever near the back of the device.
He pulled it.
Nothing happened.
The Gigantosuchus kept coming. Fifteen meters now. Close enough that Ruho could see the individual scales on its snout, could see the way its muscles rippled beneath its armored hide.
"Why isn't it firing?!" Ruho screamed, yanking on the trigger again. "What's wrong with it?!"
"You, uh..." Azirel's voice was hesitant. "You forgot the safety."
Ruho froze. "The WHAT?"
"The safety. It's that small switch near the trigger. Red means armed, green means safe. You need to flip it to red before—"
"WHY THE FUCK WOULD A BALLISTA HAVE A SAFETY?!" Ruho's voice cracked. "It's a MEDIEVAL WEAPON! Safeties weren't invented until—you know what, FINE!"
Ten meters.
His hands scrambled over the trigger mechanism, found the switch Azirel mentioned. It was green. He flipped it. It turned red. The entire ballista hummed, and the magical runes along the arms began to glow with a fierce blue light.
The Gigantosuchus opened its jaws wide, ready to strike.
Five meters.
Ruho grabbed the trigger and pulled.
The ballista fired.
The sound was nothing like what Ruho expected from a crossbow even a giant one. It was closer to artillery fire, a deafening CRACK-BOOM that echoed across the plateau and probably woke up every creature within a kilometer. The arms of the ballista snapped forward with such force that the entire mechanism rocked backward on its mounting, and the bolt that telephone-pole-sized projectiled its way FOWARD!