“What? We failed?” Marquis Falkenheim furrowed his brows in disbelief. Of the knights he had dispatched to Swipel’s domain, only two had returned. And even they had come back with their mana cores shattered. “No... How could he...?” The force he had sent had included top-ranking knights, and Swipel’s own knights had fought alongside them. Not even a transcendent should have been able to face such overwhelming power head-on and emerge victorious. He had personally reviewed battle scenarios involving the transcendent under his command countless times. After summoning his strategists and listening to the full report, Falkenheim ground his teeth. “Gascot... That idiot...” Why on earth had he suddenly decided to engage in a one-on-one duel in the middle of battle? Even if the opponent had been confirmed as a miracle-born transcendent, throwing himself into a duel for the sake of pride was sheer stupidity. That was all Falkenheim could think about. Of course, Gascot’s decision wasn’t purely out of arrogance. He had fallen for Ghislain’s schemes. However, the knights who had survived the battle were completely unaware of this. So naturally, the Marquis directed his fury at Gascot. It wasn’t just Gascot—those who had surrendered were a problem as well. If they had fought to the bitter end, the Swipel forces might have been able to finish the job. And yet, the moment the tide turned against them, they surrendered outright. The sheer disgrace of it all made Falkenheim seethe. But the most infuriating news was still to come. “They betrayed me?” Among the knights who had survived, more than just the two who had returned were still alive. The rest had been captured and then... defected. Upon hearing this report, the Marquis ground his teeth harder. He could guess their reasoning—they had turned traitor to save their own lives. But betrayers would ultimately meet death at his hands. They knew this. And yet, they had still chosen to betray him. “They turned just to protect their damn mana cores?” Falkenheim’s fury erupted. As someone who was not a knight himself, he could not begin to comprehend their reasoning. “Prepare a new strategy immediately! No, mobilize the army! We’ll crush them first! Any traitors we find—behead them on the spot!” The justification for war had already been abundant. Initially, he hadn’t planned for House Falkenheim to act directly—he had intended to let Julien’s mercenary corps deal with it. But now, with things as they were, he had no choice but to act personally to maintain his house’s dignity. He wasn’t the least bit concerned about provoking a greater conflict. There was no force in the kingdom that could challenge him. The king was a mere puppet. The kingdom itself was already within his grasp. A few neutral nobles existed, but their influence was insignificant. Just as he was preparing to march against both Nottinghill and Raks, a series of urgent reports flooded in. “My lord, the king has raised an army!” “What? That fool raised an army?” “Yes! He has declared you the leader of a rebellion and formed a suppression force!” “That worthless wretch... how did he even manage to raise an army?” “The 2nd Corps of the royal army stationed near the capital has defected! We’ve also received intelligence that Nottinghill’s and Raks’s forces are joining them!” “The 2nd Corps... defected? What happened to their commander?” “The commander was executed for treason! The current acting commander is... the vice commander of Julien’s mercenary corps.” “The vice commander of Julien’s mercenaries? Don’t tell me...” “Yes. It’s the transcendent we tried to kill.” “They struck first.” Falkenheim’s face twisted in fury. The king, Nottinghill, Raks, and Julien’s mercenary corps—they were all as good as dead. Their final, desperate struggle was unfolding. “Damn it... Damn it... Just a little longer and the ceasefire would have been secured!” The Empire’s opinion had slowly been turning in his favor. If only he had waited a little longer, everything would have fallen into place. But now, this unexpected development had thrown everything into chaos. With the current state of affairs, the Empire would discreetly withdraw its support. If they openly backed one side in a civil war, it would incite backlash from other kingdoms. Especially if they supported a rebellion with no legitimacy. Blinded by rage, Falkenheim snapped at his retainers. “Hurry up and prepare for war! It’s not like they have that many troops! Crush them in one swift strike and capture the king! Lock him in the tower once he’s caught!” His retainers scurried to carry out his orders. However, things did not unfold as he had anticipated. More troubling reports soon followed. “Nobles from territories near the capital are surrendering! The suppression force has swelled to thirty thousand!” “...” “Royal troops across the kingdom are defecting to the suppression force! Their numbers have risen to fifty thousand!” “...” “My lord, we have a serious problem.” “...What now?” “Neutral lords and nobles are joining the suppression force! Their numbers have now reached one hundred thousand!” “...” “The suppression force has begun advancing towards the great lords’ territories! The great lords are surrendering without resistance!” Even the most powerful noble houses—ones Falkenheim had assumed would hold out in their fortresses—were laying down their arms. Not one of them was willing to fight the suppression force. It made sense. No one was foolish enough to throw away their own life just to buy time for Falkenheim. They all knew it—being the first to resist meant dying a meaningless death. “...” Falkenheim remained silent for a long time, his expression a mix of disbelief and fury. At last, he spoke. “And how, exactly, are they maintaining supplies and logistics with an army like that?” “They are seizing provisions and conscripting soldiers from every territory they pass through! They aren’t maintaining a frontline—they’re simply moving as a horde of locusts!” “...” Falkenheim felt his mind go numb. This... This was not how war was fought. An army assembled like that would collapse the moment it lost a single major battle. And yet, they were pushing forward with this strategy. “So their only goal is to bring me down.” Falkenheim’s gaze turned cold. This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight. His enemies were charging forward without thinking of the aftermath. They weren’t fighting for territorial control or stability. They were fighting to end things in a single decisive strike. “A clever move. Do they really think they’ll be safe after I fall?” If they continued their reckless march, the backlash would be devastating. The great lords weren’t surrendering out of loyalty to the king—they were surrendering because they had no choice. If Falkenheim were to fall, the king might survive for now, but the absence of a dominant ruler would throw the kingdom into chaos. “...Tch. I should have killed him sooner. Is this how desperate he is to survive?” Falkenheim muttered to himself, then suddenly considered another possibility. “Could they be planning to trigger a Rift outbreak?” If the Rift were to open, the kingdom would unite in an instant. Nothing was more urgent than stopping an invasion from humanity’s greatest enemy. But Rift outbreaks were unpredictable. It could happen tomorrow, or it could happen ten years from now. No one would gamble everything on such uncertainty. Falkenheim shook his head, clearing his thoughts. He had been overthinking things. “This just means I need to crush them.” The suppression force had grown large, but at its core, it was an uncoordinated mess. There was no way such a haphazard army could defeat a disciplined force. “If they want a single decisive battle, we’ll give them one.” A ragtag army could never stand against a well-trained, united force. That was an undeniable truth of war. The only real threat was the transcendent leading Julien’s mercenaries. Falkenheim needed someone to deal with him. “Send Counts Godif and Grozian.” He had just named two of his own transcendents. Only they could ensure Astion’s capture. “Leave only the minimal forces to defend our strongholds. Deploy all available knights and mages. Have our remaining vassals mobilize and merge their forces with ours. We’ll crush them in a single, overwhelming strike.” "We're hastily assembling our troops, but our situation is still better than that of the suppression force." Marquis Falkenheim's words left his strategists looking troubled. "We still haven't secured stable supply lines. Our provisions are also insufficient," one of them pointed out. "If we deploy in such haste, troop management will be chaotic," another added. Bang! Falkenheim slammed his fist down on the table. "And what, are we just supposed to sit back and watch the suppression force run rampant? Can you not see that their numbers are increasing by the hour?!" Even if they were an undisciplined rabble, the suppression force had grown far too large. Worse still, even the neutral lords who had been lying in wait had now joined them. Having chosen a side, they could no longer back down. They would undoubtedly try to reduce Falkenheim’s remaining vassals by any means necessary. He had to move quickly and rally his own forces before it was too late. Given that both sides were making hasty movements, some disorder was inevitable. At that moment, one of his strategists hesitantly put forth an alternative suggestion. "What if we deploy but maintain a defensive stance for now?" "What do you mean?" Falkenheim asked. "The suppression force is an army of conscripts. Many of the lords who surrendered probably did so out of fear rather than conviction. If we prolong the standoff, we could turn the situation to our advantage." "Hmm..." "If we engage them head-on, we will undoubtedly win, but at great cost. Their numbers are simply too high." "Go on," Falkenheim urged. "The suppression force is sustaining itself by looting nearby territories. Unlike them, we have a stable supply chain. Over time, their ranks will inevitably fragment." It was a logical argument. Falkenheim nodded in agreement. Indeed, the suppression force’s very existence was abnormal. They were desperate to end this conflict as quickly as possible. "There’s no need for us to suffer unnecessary losses. As long as we keep our vassals from being overrun, the enemy will eventually crumble on their own." "Not a bad idea." "In reality, they are the ones desperate for a decisive battle. There's no reason for us to play into their hands." The strategist was right. The suppression force was past the point of no return. If they stopped advancing now, they would be doomed. They had no choice but to maintain their momentum and settle everything in one final clash. Falkenheim decided to adopt this strategy. He had no reason to take unnecessary risks. "Fine. Suspend the attack for now and focus on protecting our remaining vassals. Let it be known that we are preparing to move." "Understood." With that, Falkenheim’s hastily assembled force of 80,000 began mobilizing. The remaining troops followed, laden with supplies to sustain the frontline. Watching his army march, Falkenheim's eyes gleamed coldly. "The king must be declared dead amidst the chaos of war." Since they had made the first move, there was no need for hesitation. He had no intention of granting the fool an easy death. He would ensure that the king paid dearly for this blunder. *** "Can... can we really keep going like this? We might have exceeded our capacity," Andrew muttered nervously to Ghislain. The suppression force had swelled to a staggering 150,000 troops. With such numbers, they no longer had to worry about the lords from Falkenheim’s side attempting any sudden betrayals. Their army was simply too large for defection to be a viable option. Even if the vassals conspired among themselves, their forces were too disorganized to act effectively. The participation of the neutral lords had also been a great boon. Having staked their lives on this cause, they were taking an active role in maintaining order within the army. However, the sheer size of the suppression force presented its own set of problems. Having rushed into battle without proper preparation, their supply lines were beginning to strain. At this rate, they would collapse under their own weight before even reaching Falkenheim. Despite Andrew's concerns, Ghislain merely smirked. "No need to worry. We keep going just like this." As always, Ghislain exuded an air of absolute confidence. It was as if he didn't even see the chaos unfolding around them. Andrew swallowed his anxiety and chose to follow. It was both nerve-wracking and fascinating. "Unbelievable... We’re actually managing to fight while sticking to roads that ensure supply access." It was an absurd strategy. And yet, it was working exactly as Ghislain had planned. Even seeing it firsthand, Andrew found it hard to believe. "I suppose if I were in their shoes, I'd be terrified of facing a transcendent leading an army of this size..." Anyone could entertain the possibility of such a tactic. But to actually execute it—to confidently march forward without hesitation—required an extraordinary level of skill and conviction. No one but Ghislain could have pulled this off. As they made their way through the kingdom, the suppression force finally arrived at Count Billeren's territory. Count Billeren was one of the great lords. As expected, his massive fortress was fully garrisoned, its defenses bristling with troops. As always, Ghislain strode to the front of the army and bellowed, "I won’t waste words! You’ve heard the news. I’ll give you three seconds to think about it. Surrender!" A magically amplified voice boomed back from the fortress. "Three seconds? I wouldn't surrender even if you gave me three years, you lunatic mercenary bastard!" By now, Astion's name had become infamous across the kingdom. To everyone who had heard of him, he seemed completely deranged. Count Billeren hurled a stream of furious curses at him. Yet, no matter how much he was insulted, Ghislain remained completely unbothered. "You know, I’ve always felt that no matter how much people insult me, it never really gets to me. I must be growing as a person." The only one suffering was Astion, trapped within him. While the insults had no effect on him, Billeren was certainly the most openly defiant noble he had encountered thus far. Narrowing his eyes, Ghislain considered the situation. "Hmm... He’s being more aggressive than expected. I was told he wasn’t the type to make a stand like this." Count Billeren commanded a formidable force of 20,000 troops. Not an insignificant number, but hardly enough to stop the suppression force. They lacked siege weapons, but their mages numbered in the hundreds, and they had over a thousand knights. If Ghislain simply led the charge himself while the rest swarmed the walls, they would take the fortress in no time. Billeren had to know this. And yet, he was holding firm. "Falkenheim must have finally made his move." That would explain Billeren’s confidence. If Falkenheim’s army was on [N O V E L I G H T] its way, then Billeren likely believed he stood a chance at victory. Ghislain immediately ordered the army to pull back slightly. Then, he dispatched Dark and his scouts in all directions. Before long, the reports came flooding in. "Falkenheim’s forces have established a forward base nearby!" "They're stretching their frontlines across multiple territories!" "Their numbers are around 120,000! Judging by the banners, their vassal forces have also joined them!" Upon hearing the reports, Ghislain nodded. "Well, it was about time for this phase to end." They had gained immense momentum through rapid, unexpected movements. But this approach was never going to last indefinitely. No doubt Falkenheim’s remaining vassals were now converging on the battlefield. The reason they had not immediately engaged the suppression force, instead choosing to extend their frontlines, was also clear. "They want to delay the fight while preventing any more defections. Not bad." If the war dragged on, it would put the suppression force at a severe disadvantage. With no true supply chain, their army would eventually fall apart. Meanwhile, Falkenheim’s forces would only grow more stable with time. Even now, they were rapidly regaining their footing. But this much had been within Ghislain’s expectations. Smiling brightly, he murmured to himself. "Alright. Time to begin the next operation." Among all the scenarios he had prepared for, this was the one he had hoped for the most.