The most foolish commander in the world, Jaxon, stood just behind the vanguard.
His gaze was fixed on Enkrid, who was leading the charge.
Now, what should he do?
He observed the enemy soldiers.
To be more precise, he read the entire enemy force through his senses.
There was no need to see everything with his eyes.
His trained senses allowed him to judge the enemy's strength just by hearing.
Unhesitant steps, confident shouts, the speed of their approach, and their calm gaze amidst it all.
Jaxon, analyzing his opponents in his own way, distinct from Audin's, slid his sword between the ranks.
A long blade emerged from his waist, thrusting forward.
"Kill them all!"
At first, it was a heavyset soldier wielding a warhammer.
The hammer, with a weight at its end, struck one of his allies' shields.
After the hit, the hammer bounced back with the elasticity of a spring, and the soldier recovered it.
With a swift motion, Jaxon’s blade pierced the soldier’s belly.
It thrust in deep and quickly retracted.
"Huh?"
What was that?
What else, it was just a blade.
Behind the shield, a cold gaze watched the enemy soldier.
With a swift motion, the sword, curving like a serpent, sliced the soldier's neck.
This was a technique Jaxon had roughly interpreted from observing Enkrid's sword technique.
It resembled a technique for a short blade, but it was different from Enkrid’s signature move.
"0|... Grrr..."
The man who had been about to speak collapsed, clutching his throat.
Whether he bled foam or not, both allies and enemies stepped over the soldier who had dropped his hammer.
Jaxon continued to repeat the same actions.
Hiding among his allies, he would stab once, then retreat.
His targets were only the elite soldiers.
A few, those whose deaths couldn’t be assured in one strike, he left alone.
Jaxon did his job thoroughly.
His own soldiers didn’t notice anything, but some of the commanders felt an unusual flow in the battle.
"Why does it feel like we’re winning?"
One of the allied platoon commanders asked.
Wasn’t the overall strength still evenly matched?
So why were they winning?
No one knew.
Did it matter now?
No.
"Fight! Push forward!"
The commander did his job.
He shouted until his throat was hoarse.
"Stay together, don’t scatter!"
The continent’s infantry battles were basically chaotic.
The more they grouped, the better their chances; if they spread out, it was dangerous.
Both sides fought in similar ways.
The Border Guard reserve army, which had come for reinforcements, was also fighting fiercely.
"Move to the side! Don’t let those bastards get away!"
"You can’t kill me with pain!"
"Pain only makes me stronger!"
"Pain!"
"Strength!"
Those who had survived the previous battles were all seasoned veterans.
Their unit was far more experienced than the one stationed at Green Pearl.
They stood firm against the enemy’s attempt to curve right.
"It’s the Grey Dogs!"
"Persistent bastards!"
The enemy’s unit was notorious even among the allies.
They were executing a flanking maneuver.
The Border Guard reserve army was holding them off.
"Mad bastards."
The Grey Dogs were indeed the Grey Dogs.
Even though the Border Guard reserve army outnumbered them, it seemed like they were being pushed back.
But it didn’t matter.
There were those rampaging at the front.
Enkrid continued to strike with his long sword, and Jaxon hid among the Green Pearl troops, picking off the skilled soldiers and those giving orders.
It was because of this.
Normally, they would have been overwhelmed by Azpen’s strong forces, but somehow, the balance shifted.
Ragna fell behind Enkrid’s left flank.
He planned to deal with one enemy at a time and do his part.
Ragna, swinging his sword, was starting to feel a sense of purpose.
He hadn’t felt any desire to fight for years.
Still, he needed a trigger to act with enthusiasm.
Ragna was the type to get started slowly.
It was in the middle of this when he felt a murderous intent from the left, and just as he sensed it, metal flew past his face.
Ragna tilted his head back.
He barely managed to avoid it.
He was slow to react due to his warmed-up body.
Luckily, whether late or not, his body instinctively reacted to the attack.
Blood splattered as the blade grazed his cheek.
The leather helmet that had covered his face was sliced by the sharp blade, falling in tatters.
"You avoided that?"
The man who had thrust his sword stepped back.
Ragna immediately recognized him.
"A skilled fighter."
Although he himself wasn’t aware of it, he felt a strange sense of excitement.
He had longed for a challenge like this.
The blood, the life-and-death battle—this was what Ragna had craved.
There was no need to find a way.
He had no reason to get lost.
Chasing the retreating man’s back was all he needed to do.
Ragna threw off his uncomfortable helmet.
After a few steps, an enemy soldier with a short sword stood in his way.
"You bastard!"
The one who had wounded him earlier had surely retreated to the rear, where his allies were.
If Ragna pursued him, he would be entering the enemy lines.
The enemy soldier reacted.
Ragna reacted even faster.
As he moved forward, he thrust his sword, pulled it out, and struck.
A clean strike pierced the soldier's neck.
With the momentum of the spear thrust, the body leaned forward and collapsed.
As the man fell, Ragna quickly cut down five more soldiers and broke through the enemy lines.
It was a reckless charge, but it caused the enemy’s formation to fall apart.
As a result, the allied commanders nearby once again felt that the battle had strangely become easier.
"Easy, isn’t it?"
The plan for a rearward advance, preparing for a retreat, seemed futile now.
"Fight! Kill them all!"
The formation had long since fallen apart.
In chaotic battles, killing more meant gaining the advantage.
The platoon commander knew this well, and he kept shouting without pause.
"Pain!"
It had already spread as a battle cry.
"Allies are being pushed back."
At the adjutant's words, Abnaier laughed.
Since things were going as planned, how could he not laugh?
"It’s exactly as I thought."
The adjutant bit his lip.
He couldn’t understand this strategy.
Wasn't success almost the same as failure?
"I’ll be the infamous fool who killed a thousand soldiers."
Abnaier spoke.
"Is this right?"
"Mag..."
There was no doubt in his voice.
The genius’s voice was clear and steady.
The adjutant lowered his head.
Now, there was no stopping him.
"Now, show me what you’ve been hiding."
Kreis watched the movements of the enemy.
They would do something.
After all, Enkrid was rampaging like that.
Thanks to Jaxon, the enemy’s momentum had been shattered.
In the meantime, Ragna, though lost, was still fighting.
"This isn’t the end, is it?"
He had kept Sinar and Dunbakel as trump cards.
One never reveals all their moves until they’ve seen all of the enemy’s.
"King’s Eyes, I want to fight."
Dunbakel, with his hand on his scythe’s handle, poked at him.
"Wait."
"Am I a dog?"
"Just wait."
Shinar stood silently beside them, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded.
"Try to stay as calm as the Fairy Company Commander."
"I'm a beastkin, not a fairy."
Even as he soothed Dunbakel, Kraiss's gaze never left the battlefield.
The overall battlefield was maintaining an odd balance, but in the smaller clashes, their side was steadily gaining ground.
In the end, all these small victories would accumulate into complete domination of the field.
That was the picture Kraiss had painted.
He didn't let the variables remain just that—he turned them into a force that influenced the entire battle.
If the enemy made a move, he had already planned for a strategic withdrawal to buy time. But so far, there had been no need for it.
That was the situation up to now.
So why was Azpen just watching?
Why wasn't he playing his hidden card?
Something was definitely there—something that hadn’t been revealed yet.
Otherwise, why had he advanced so sluggishly and deliberately started the battle at the very end of winter?
Is there no hidden gambit?
Is he just an idiot?
Of course not.
"Messenger incoming!"
A runner was sprinting toward them from the rear.
Kraiss had deliberately pulled Nurat, who led a keen-eyed and swift-moving unit, back to the rear.
Garrett was left in the command tent as a symbolic figure.
But the one actually leading the Green Pearl Battalion in combat was Nurat.
She had sharp eyes and a quick mind.
And just when they needed it, she had done exactly what was required.
"A portion of the enemy forces is flanking us! Their numbers aren't insignificant!"
As the report reached Kraiss, a map formed in his mind.
He visualized the terrain, the trajectory of the enemy’s movement.
What was their objective?
Updated from freewёbnoνel.com.
The Border Guard.
They were targeting their rear.
Some of them might have already slipped past.
"To the rear!"
Dunbakel and Shinar moved immediately.
It was time to counter the card their opponent had played.
"A second flanking force has been spotted!"
"Good!"
At that, Abnaier clapped his hands together.
Nothing ever went entirely according to plan.
The battlefield was a living, breathing entity.
But if one focused on a singular goal—
That could be achieved.
The battlefield was ruled by an elite few.
Abnaier knew that well.
So what if they simply eliminated those elites?
Geniuses weren’t unlimited.
They were finite.
How many true prodigies existed in an era?
Not many.
The limited number of knights in existence was proof of that.
And so—
Sacrificing one battlefield.
Winning the war would make it worthwhile.
Even if he became known as the greatest butcher in history, the most foolish commander to have ever lived, Abnaier would laugh in the end.
"Are we ready?"
"It's done."
"Good. Proceed."
His adjutant nodded and withdrew.
As Kraiss had predicted, Abnaier had dispatched part of his cavalry to target the Border Guard.
"Enemy forces incoming!"
The Border Guard, naturally maintaining their vigilance, spotted them early.
Rem, who had been grumbling all day, suddenly sprang up.
The news was enough to make him forget about the cold in an instant.
"Who is it?"
Even if a long-lost lover had returned after ten years, he wouldn’t have been this excited.
"Brother, if you're too hasty, you'll step in a puddle and soak your shoes."
Audin stepped in behind him, offering words of caution.
"Then maybe you should leave your club behind before you start lecturing me, huh?"
"Haha, Brother."
The Apostle of the War God grinned.
What a fitting attitude for a man determined to kill everyone in his path.
Teresa had also been about to stand, but she caught sight of Audin’s gaze and froze.
The wound she’d suffered while killing the Wolf Bishop was still severe.
Fighting in her current condition would only destroy her body.
Audin wouldn’t allow that.
"Sister, you stay here."
"...Understood."
Teresa was deeply reluctant, but she held herself back.
Just as excited as Rem, Audin rushed out to meet the enemy—but their expectations weren’t met.
"What is this?"
Something was off.
For an attack on the fortress, the number of cavalry present was pitifully small.
And rather than charging in, they lingered at a distance, hesitating as if waiting for the right moment.
Rem waited for two days.
"These bastards."
The enemy didn’t engage.
They only wasted time.
It was one of Abnaier’s tricks.
Previously, Marcus had played a similar move against Azpen, feinting toward Cross Guard and dealing them a massive blow.
Though the circumstances were different, the results were nearly identical.
Abnaier had shackled the Border Guard in place.
With so few cavalrymen, they couldn’t breach the walls, nor could they disrupt supply lines.
If anything, Azpen’s cavalry were the ones in greater need of supplies.
And their numbers weren’t even significant.
Upon closer inspection, Rem realized that each rider had two or three horses.
A pathetic attempt to make their forces seem larger.
"Do these fuckers have nothing better to do?"
It left Rem thoroughly frustrated, but Abnaier had gotten exactly what he wanted.
He had temporarily blocked the reinforcements coming from the Border Guard.
He had bought himself time.
And for Abnaier, that was enough.
Esther caught the scent of magic.
A fairly high-tier spell.
She followed the trail.
Step by step, she climbed a small hill until she saw the gathering.
One among them snapped his eyes toward her, locking onto her presence.
"You."
It was Gallaph, the man who had seized control of the river’s flow and carved his name into the world of spellcasters.
A mage.
Short brown hair, an elegant face.
His true age was unknown, but he had looked the same for the past ten years.
It was said that he had drunk from the River of Life.
Of course, that was just a rumor.
Esther stared at him, her expression unreadable.
"They said you were broken by a curse."
Gallaph’s voice carried his surprise as he took in Esther’s human form.
She said nothing, merely watching him.
She had tracked his magical signature here by pure chance.
The flow of mana, the traces of his prepared spells.
Was it fate? The guidance of the stars?
No.
She didn’t believe in gods.
She only believed in herself and the world of magic she had built.
That was the only thing worthy of her faith.
"Master."
One of Gallaph’s apprentices stepped forward.
Gallaph was famous for raising numerous disciples.
At present, he had six under his wing.
"Leave."
Gallaph dismissed them, his gaze fixed on Esther.
He could tell just by {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} looking.
She hasn’t completely lifted the curse.
The witch wasn’t at full strength.
"The Witch of Strife."
Gallaph spoke.
"Are you here to fight?"
His apprentices could handle their prepared mission even without him.
There was no need for him to personally intervene.
Likewise, he had no particular reason to fight the witch.
Esther didn’t know exactly what they were doing here, but she knew one thing.
It was a threat to her den.
Otherwise, why would a mage of this caliber be present?
The den she resided in—Enkrid himself.
Magic was a danger to that man as well.
She had gained something by staying in this den.
So this much, at least, she had to protect.
"Drumuller’s Scythe."
Instead of answering, Esther recited the spell.
A vacuum-slicing spell materialized in the air, tearing through space.
One of her signature incantations.
"Vartan’s Shield."
A blue barrier flared up, blocking the scythe’s edge.
The barrier rippled like waves on water.
Separated by the shimmering blue dome, the two spellcasters opened their domains of magic.