The sound of explosions echoed as arrows mercilessly pierced through the Atrodé Army. Those caught in their trajectory were torn apart, leaving no survivors. “Ahhhhhh!” “What is happening? Who is it?” “They’re behind us! The enemy is behind us!” The soldiers turned, their faces filled with shock. A single arrow had displayed an unbelievable power. Already shaken by Jerome’s magic, the Atrodé Army was stunned by this succession of bizarre events, unable to regain their composure. However, the one responsible for this overwhelming display, Ghislain Fenris, wasn’t left unscathed either. He staggered, clutching his forehead as a trickle of blood began to flow from his nose. “Damn, this is exhausting. I feel dizzy.” Though he had only attacked twice, the effort left him drained. The newly obtained power was still difficult to control. Wounded and fatigued from his fight with Aiden, Ghislain wasn’t in any condition to unleash his full strength. Yet, he had no choice but to push himself to redirect the enemy’s focus onto him. Count Vipenvelt turned to look behind him, his brow furrowed. “Fenris Duke.” Though he couldn’t see clearly, the answer was obvious. There weren’t many who could wield such power. The black horse beneath him made his identity even easier to discern. “How bold.” Count Vipenvelt twisted one corner of his mouth into a smirk. What kind of person would appear alone in a place like this? The Duke must have rushed here, realizing the fortress was in danger. Vipenvelt immediately raised his hand toward the rear. “Kill him first!” The war would practically be won just by eliminating Fenris Duke. Now that he was alone, this was their chance. "Charge!" The Atrodé soldiers, heading toward the fortress, swiftly turned back. The elite knights followed suit. “Kill him!” “If we take him down, the ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) war is ours!” “Waaaaah!” Half of the Atrodé forces began moving. To them, Ghislain was a prize too valuable to ignore. Watching them rush toward him, Ghislain smiled. Even with all his strength, he couldn’t handle such a large number of enemies. However, he wasn’t particularly worried. “Your training is lacking. You should be running faster. Tsk, tsk.” Clicking his tongue in mock pity, Ghislain turned to look behind him. Dust clouds began to rise in the distance. The Atrodé soldiers charging toward him gradually slowed and then came to a stop. Thud, thud, thud! Stretching across the horizon, a long line of soldiers appeared. It wasn’t difficult to identify which army this was. At the front were the black-armored knights of Fenris, followed by nearly twenty thousand troops. The cavalry’s fierce presence was overwhelming. The thunderous sound of hooves echoed like a storm, and the ground seemed to tremble beneath their weight. Ghislain glanced back with a smile. The scene unfolding behind him was enough to shatter the enemy’s morale. The Atrodé soldiers began to tense, clearly shaken by the sudden arrival of the massive army. “It’s the Ruthania Army.” 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚 “It’s Fenris Duke’s mobile forces.” “How have they already arrived...?” The Fenris mobile forces had a reputation that preceded them. Even though the Atrodé Army was an elite unit, facing them head-on would make victory uncertain. What’s worse, their priests were already exhausted, and the fortress still had defenders. The Atrodé Army couldn’t possibly handle a two-front attack in their current state. The tide of battle shifted dramatically. The Atrodé forces, who had been fiercely assaulting the fortress, now found themselves surrounded on both sides. Inside the fortress, the mood was entirely different. Marquis Gideon lowered his trembling sword. “They’ve come... The Ruthania Army is here.” A deafening cheer erupted from within the fortress. “Waaaaaah!” “The Fenris mobile forces!” “His Grace the Duke has arrived!” The soldiers shouted like madmen, unable to contain themselves. On the brink of death, they now had a reason to believe in survival. Tears of joy streamed down the faces of the soldiers who had glimpsed hope at the edge of despair. Marquis Gideon seized the moment. “Shout louder! Louder! Shout until they hear us!” “Waaaaah!” “We’ve won!” “The goddess’s blessing is with us!” Though the battle’s outcome was still undecided, the soldiers acted as if victory was already theirs. Their cheers spread across the battlefield, bolstering the morale of their allies. As the cheers from the fortress grew louder, the morale of the Atrodé soldiers plummeted. The confident strides that had carried them earlier began to falter. In an instant, the atmosphere on the battlefield had shifted entirely. “Raise the banners!” The soldiers in the fortress obeyed Marquis Gideon’s command, hoisting the banners of victory high. Their unyielding momentum engulfed the battlefield. The Atrodé Army, once advancing without hesitation, began to retreat. Count Vipenvelt had ordered his troops to withdraw. Clenching his teeth, he glared at the unfolding situation. “Those bastards...” The dominance of Fenris Duke was undeniable. Though no swords had clashed, the course of the battle seemed already determined. In warfare, morale was crucial. Yet, even before the fighting had begun, the mood had turned against them. The cheers from the fortress were an invisible weapon, piercing the hearts of the Atrodé soldiers. The certainty of victory radiating from their enemies steadily eroded the fighting spirit of the Atrodé forces. Clatter, clatter. Ghislain and his mobile forces didn’t charge recklessly as they normally would. Upon arrival, they slowed their pace, advancing steadily before finally halting. The Atrodé Army was now surrounded on both sides. If they engaged the mobile forces, the fortress defenders would emerge to attack them. Gatros grabbed Count Vipenvelt’s arm, his voice trembling with desperation. “What... what should we do?” “...” “Speak! Quickly!” Continuing to fight in their current state would lead to certain defeat. Their priests were utterly depleted. Only one hope remained: the fact that the infamous Fenris Duke hadn’t yet made a move. Vipenvelt understood their intent. Slowly, he began to speak. “We must wait.” “For what?” “I’ve already sent messengers to the other divisions. If they halt their operations and rush here, we can turn the tide and surround them instead.” “What if they attack before then?” “They seem to be waiting for reinforcements as well. We will wait with them.” Both sides maintained a tense standoff, glaring at each other without making a move. Fenris Duke clearly wanted to minimize losses, so he was likely awaiting reinforcements. The outcome depended on who arrived first. Gatros grumbled in frustration. “Jerome! That damned wizard ruined everything! How could our luck be this bad?” If not for Jerome, they would have already taken the fortress. Even if they hadn’t managed to seize it, they could have gathered enough power to confront Fenris Duke. But because of Jerome, they had failed to take the fortress and exhausted all their trump cards. Vipenvelt shook his head. “It’s not luck.” “What?” “That wizard has been disrupting us from the very beginning. It was all part of the plan.” And that plan, Vipenvelt surmised, was devised by Fenris Duke himself. Speed was critical in this war. Fenris Duke had moved swiftly while skillfully hindering their progress. As a result, they were just moments too late. “There’s still a chance. Fenris Duke’s appearance means he has already dealt with the Third Corps. The Second and Fourth Corps remain. If they arrive first, we’ll secure victory.” “Hmm...” “Quickly, recover the priests' energy as much as possible. The final battle is upon us.” “I understand.” Gatros nodded, though he knew rapid recovery was unlikely. Still, any rest, however minimal, was crucial. Gatros and the priests set up a rudimentary magic circle, struggling to extract whatever energy they could from the fallen. However, the energy harvested was meager. The power they utilized required the death of living beings, and the remnants of those already dead offered little to sustain them. Despite this, they persisted, desperate for any shred of recovery. As Vipenvelt had predicted, Ghislain did not advance. He simply held his position, his presence alone an oppressive force against the Atrodé army. However, Ghislain had sent Dark carrying Vanessa to check on Jerome’s condition. As they flew, Dark complained loudly, “Isn’t our master the absolute worst?” “......” “All he ever does is make me run errands. Why not let me do something truly grand?” “......” “Seriously, does he even know how powerful I could be? He could channel all his mana into me, right? Then I’d grow huge, crush everyone, and he wouldn’t have to lift a finger. But nooo, he doesn’t even try! Stingy, that’s what he is. Stingy and cruel.” Having seen Gatros’s enormous form, Dark was particularly enamored with the idea of becoming similarly massive. He fantasized about monopolizing Ghislain’s mana to grow larger, though he lacked the battle skills to wield such power effectively. Still, the dream of size captivated him. “......” Vanessa, however, refused to engage, well aware that any response would only embolden Dark further. “Hey, what if we ran away together? You’ve got the skills, Vanessa. Couldn’t you yank my consciousness out of his control?” “......” “Ugh, maybe I should ask Julien instead.” “......” “Why is it that women never answer me? They’re always too busy or just outright refuse. Is it shyness?” Vanessa wanted to tell him the truth but held her tongue, mustering superhuman patience. Even the Atrodé soldiers noticed Vanessa flying through the air but chose not to interfere. Engaging her now would only spark unnecessary conflict. Thus, the battlefield settled into a brief lull. Both sides waited openly for reinforcements, using the opportunity to regroup. The fortress defenders caught their breath, focusing on treating Jerome with Vanessa’s aid. The Fenris task force, exhausted from their forced march, also took the chance to rest, though uncomfortably. As for the Atrodé army, they rested too, though their nerves were taut. With enemies on both sides, the tension never fully abated. A day passed under this uneasy truce. The priests, having regained a fraction of their energy, anxiously awaited their reinforcements. Finally, the moment arrived. Cheers erupted from the fortress as an army appeared on the horizon. “Waaaahhhh!” It was the Ruthania forces, led by Gillian. Beside him, Kaor screamed at the top of his lungs, “Shiiiiiit! I’m a transcendent now!” Belinda blushed and distanced herself slightly from Kaor, clearly embarrassed by his outburst. The Atrodé army’s morale plummeted. Their already grim odds had grown even worse. “This is impossible,” someone muttered, clutching their weapon tightly. Gatros turned to Vipenvelt, his face pale. “What do we do now? Their numbers have grown!” Vipenvelt’s expression was equally grim. Even the most ingenious tactics couldn’t salvage this situation. Despite the reinforcements, Ghislain still didn’t move. Nor did the new arrivals. They merely held their positions, exerting silent pressure. “They mean to crush us completely,” Vipenvelt thought, teeth grinding. The allied forces were making no secret of their intent. They had cut off every escape route and were slowly tightening the noose. “Should we try to break through?” Vipenvelt considered the possibility but quickly dismissed it. “It’s futile.” Even if they attempted to flee, the enemy’s speed and endurance would ensure their swift capture and annihilation. Their only hope was for their reinforcements to arrive before the allies made their move. But instead of hope, despair loomed larger. The cheers grew even louder. On the opposite flank, another Ruthania force appeared, led by Tenant and Parniel. The Atrodé army was now entirely surrounded. With a thunderous BOOM, Parniel strode to the front of her forces, her mace glowing brightly. “So many to kill today,” she said with a savage grin. Tenant’s troops fell into formation behind her, ready for battle. As if on cue, Gillian’s army readied themselves on the opposite side. Inside the fortress, the defenders gathered near the gates, their resolve hardening. No one needed to give orders—they all knew what had to be done. Ghislain calmly raised his spear, its crimson glow illuminating the battlefield. All eyes turned to him, waiting for his command. “Advance...” The sharp cry of the Black King pierced the air as the steed charged forward. Crimson light flared from Ghislain’s spear, engulfing its entire length. His voice, deep and resolute, echoed across the battlefield. “Annihilate the enemy.” With that single command, the earth trembled as the allied forces began their unstoppable advance.