The tide of the battle shifted rapidly in favor of Fenris and its allies. The cavalry archers, having shaken off Emerson's pursuit, relentlessly rained arrows upon the divided Desmond forces from the rear. “Arghhh!” Caught between attacks from the front and the back, the Desmond army began to crumble pathetically. The already formidable Ferdium forces, which had maintained an advantage despite being outnumbered, secured a decisive upper hand with the cavalry's support. “Now! Push them back completely!” Among them, Zvalter stood at the forefront, cutting down enemies with a ferocity few could match. It was often the quiet ones who became most terrifying when angered. “Waaaaahhh!” Riding the wave of momentum, the Ferdium army surged forward. The Desmond soldiers under Viscount Garein's command could no longer hold their ground. Fear is infectious. One by one, the soldiers of Desmond began to flee, their ranks disintegrating with astonishing ease. “Don’t run! You fools!” Viscount Garein shouted desperately, but it was futile. The tide of battle was too far gone to be reversed. Even as they coughed up blood, the knights of Ferdium stayed focused, knowing that victory was close. The same was true on the kingdom’s side. With Emerson’s forces split from the Desmond army, the kingdom’s soldiers pressed their numerical advantage steadily. Though not as aggressive as Ferdium, they methodically pushed their enemies back using textbook strategies. With both flanks collapsing, the Desmond army's center found itself surrounded. The central forces could no longer send reinforcements elsewhere. Their formation had already broken due to the combined efforts of Ghislain and Vanessa. Fenris knights and cavalry charged the central forces, their superior defense cutting through the enemy ranks like a hot knife through butter. Among the chaos, three figures stood out. “Phew! It’s unbearably hot!” “Hang in there! We’ve practically won this!” “Look at them—they’re all fleeing!” The demoralized and crumbling enemies rendered even their numerical superiority meaningless. The three men, part of the labor assault unit, briefly opened the visors of their helmets to catch their breath. “Ah, I can finally breathe!” The loudest among them was a middle-aged man, formerly a Desmond spy who had infiltrated Fenris territory and was later conscripted into the labor assault unit. The other two also opened their visors, their faces drenched in sweat, sharing his moment of relief. Even with their highly durable armor, unlike the knights' magically treated suits, their gear lacked such enhancements. Over time, the interior grew unbearably hot. Despite feeling as heavy as waterlogged wool, their faces were filled with exhilaration. “Hehehe... Who would’ve thought that ‘our Fenris’ would actually beat Desmond?” The captain’s words made the other two nod in agreement. “We were planning to flee or switch sides again, but this worked out perfectly, didn’t it?” “Come on, let’s finish off these ‘enemies.’ There’s not much left, and this armor is really something else.” Their skills had always been above those of regular soldiers. Clad in full-body Galvanium armor, they were nearly impossible to kill. The captain gripped his spear and muttered excitedly, “Let’s keep pushing! Once this is over, it’s a fresh start for us!” They had fully committed to defecting to Fenris. In Fenris, they had homes and savings. With Desmond—the northern powerhouse—out of the way, no immediate threats remained. Though Rayfold might rival Desmond, its internal rebellions and civil strife left it in poor shape. If Fenris conquered Desmond, their families in Desmond territory would also be safe. This was their chance to start anew and clean their slates. Missing this opportunity would be foolish. Just as they readied themselves to fight again, a Desmond officer spotted their faces and shouted, “You—It’s you lot!” The three men whipped their heads around, their expressions turning pale. “That bastard!” They quickly slammed their visors shut, but it was too late. The officer pointed at them accusingly. “What are you doing here, you traitorous dogs?!” He was an instructor who had trained and managed Desmond spies. Drawn into this war as Harold had mobilized everyone, even guards, the officer had been placed in charge of a small unit. Now, he was stunned to discover spies he had personally sent to Fenris fighting against Desmond. Realizing their cover was blown, the captain shouted, “Kill him before he says any more!” If the officer spread the word, their new lives would crumble before they began. With resolve, the captain adjusted his stance and roared, “Stream Attack formation! Now!” He hurled his spear without hesitation. Clang! “Ugh!” Caught off guard by the sudden attack, the officer barely managed to deflect the spear. But the assault didn’t end there. Taking advantage of the distraction, one of the other spies closed in and thrust his spear. Thud! Though the officer quickly recovered his stance and blocked the second attack, it was his last stand. “Haaah!” Crunch! The third spy pulled an axe from his belt and swung it at the officer’s neck. Already unsteady from deflecting two consecutive attacks, the officer couldn’t avoid the blow. The synchronized combination of long-range, mid-range, and close-range strikes—their signature move, Stream Attack—proved fatal. “Traitors...” The officer coughed up blood and collapsed, unable to finish his words. Looking around cautiously, the three spies confirmed no witnesses and sighed in relief. “Phew... That was close. If he’d spoken any more, we’d have been in serious trouble. But damn, it feels good to kill the bastard who tormented us during training.” At that moment, Gordon, who had been driving back the Royal Guards and pushing into enemy lines, approached the group. Spotting the fallen officer’s uniform, he exclaimed, “Wow! You three killed an enemy officer! A Desmond officer, no less—he must’ve been quite skilled. Impressive!” The higher the rank of the slain enemy, the greater the merit earned. Laughing heartily, Gordon clapped them on the shoulders. “I can’t believe I doubted you guys just because you were part of the labor assault unit. I’m sorry for suspecting you! I’ll make sure to report your achievement to the higher-ups!” “Haha... Uh, thank you...” “We’re not bad people, really...” “No need to go out of your way...” The three men smiled awkwardly. The last thing they wanted was extra attention. If a captured prisoner recognized them later, it could spell disaster. But Gordon, oblivious to their concerns, grinned and said, “Our lord rewards merit generously! Don’t worry—just keep fighting! We’re almost done!” “Haha... Of course...” Forcing strained smiles, the three men continued fighting. Their inner thoughts, however, were far from friendly. “That musclehead needs to mind his own business!” They silently vowed to eliminate anyone who recognized their faces. Meanwhile, Desmond’s forces were crumbling on all fronts, including the area where the labor assault unit was stationed. From his vantage point atop the highest, safest hill, Harold bit his lip so hard it bled. “My army... My army...” He couldn’t believe it. His troops, renowned as the strongest in the north, were falling apart. Despite bringing an overwhelming number of elite soldiers, defeat was undeniable. The formations were shattered, and deserters fled in every direction. Even Emerson’s cavalry, once a point of pride, was now being slaughtered as Ferdium and the kingdom forces successfully encircled them. And at the center of it all, the man responsible for this catastrophe was charging toward him. “Harold!” Ghislain’s shout echoed with fury and exhilaration as he stormed forward like an unstoppable force. “Ghislain! You bastard!” Harold rose, trembling with rage. That man had ruined everything. His years of triumphs were undone by this single foe. He had poured every ounce of his power into this final showdown, only to fail. Now, he faced the end—not as the great northern lord but as a defeated relic. Everything he had built was collapsing, and all his wealth and glory would fall into the hands of this usurper. A man once dismissed as a northern nobody was now the cause of Harold's eternal disgrace. “I’ll never forgive you...” Consumed by unbridled fury, Harold screamed. His advisors clung to his arms, shouting desperately, “My lord, it’s over! Surrender!” “There’s no hope! Flee to the nearest Duchy!” Slash! 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎 “Gah!” Harold cut down the advisors who dared suggest surrender or retreat. The remaining officers and soldiers around him slowly backed away, fearful of their lord’s deranged state. Harold, his hair disheveled and eyes streaming blood-red tears, stood like a man possessed. The pride and honor of being a great northern lord had kept him alive. Now that he had lost it all, life held no meaning. Only one thing remained: the young man approaching him. Ghislain dismounted from his steed, the Black King, drawing his sword as he stepped forward. “Harold.” “Ghislain.” The two called each other’s names, their voices dripping with venom. For Harold, Ghislain represented the failure of his ambitions. Even though the Duke’s orders had prompted Harold to move against Ferdium, in his previous life, Harold had succeeded in obliterating the Ferdium domain. Their fates were intertwined in a rivalry that only death could resolve. This was no mere clash of swords; it was the culmination of years of hatred. Ghislain, blood-soaked but grinning with unrestrained joy, spoke. “Finally, the time has come to kill you.” Harold let out a twisted laugh, his gaze filled with murderous intent. No words could fully convey their mutual hatred. Their eyes, blazing with fury, said everything. Harold stepped forward, breaking the silence. “That day, I should’ve marched my army straight into Ferdium and crushed it, instead of scheming against your brother.” His first regret. “When you obtained the Runestone, I should’ve personally led my entire army to kill you. Damn the Duke’s orders, damn appearances—I should’ve done it.” His second regret. “When I moved against Count Kavaldi, I should’ve crushed the kingdom’s forces and made killing you my priority.” His third regret. Harold had squandered countless opportunities to eliminate Ghislain. Whether it was the Duke’s orders, concerns over appearances, or political complexities, Harold’s indecision had allowed Ghislain to grow strong enough to destroy him. “But I won’t let this last chance slip away.” Ghislain, bloodied and exhausted, approached Harold alone. It was clear he wasn’t in peak condition after the long, grueling battle. His breathing was erratic, and wounds marred his body. However, Harold was no ordinary man either. As a Count of Desmond, he had mastered the elite swordsmanship passed down through generations and possessed natural talent rivaling the best knights. Though years of ruling had dulled his edge, Harold wasn’t weak enough to falter against a wounded opponent. Boom! Harold summoned every ounce of his mana, pouring it into his body. His resolve burned so fiercely that he began to draw upon his life force itself, pushing his core to the brink of destruction. All that mattered was killing Ghislain. Even if it cost him his life, Harold would restore his pride. “Die!” Harold roared with unbridled hatred, charging at Ghislain with all his might. Clang! The sheer force of Harold’s strike momentarily staggered Ghislain, who struggled to parry the blow. But even as he fought to maintain his footing, Ghislain’s grin only widened. Holding Harold’s blade at bay, he taunted, “The feeling of killing you... I’ve dreamed of it for years.” “You’re insane,” Harold spat back. “You’ll die here today.” “Even after I cut your body into pieces, it wasn’t enough to quench my rage in my previous life. No one came back. Killing you was nothing more than empty vengeance.” Harold’s brow furrowed at Ghislain’s cryptic words. While they sounded nonsensical, the raw emotion behind them struck Harold as unnervingly genuine. Ghislain continued, his bloodied grin unwavering. “This time, it’s different. This time, I know my revenge will mean something.” Boom! Suddenly, an explosion of mana surged around Ghislain. The force sent Harold stumbling backward. Ghislain had opened his core to the third stage, pushing his mana to unparalleled levels. His hair whipped wildly in the storm of energy as his body groaned under the strain. Crack! Ghislain’s already battered body began to bleed from fresh wounds, his muscles twisting under the immense pressure. But through it all, his laughter remained. This pain was nothing compared to the agony of his previous life, where he had lost everything. “I won’t even leave your corpse behind this time, Harold Desmond.” “Good. Struggle as much as you like,” Harold sneered, his grin matching Ghislain’s. “It’ll make your death all the more satisfying.” The two men, consumed by rage and hatred, faced off for the final time. With no hesitation, both charged at each other. BOOM! The clash of their blades resounded like thunder, shaking the very earth beneath them.