"Haah!"
Irian's spear clashed against Hernandorf’s massive blunt weapon.
That moment signaled the start of the battle, as soldiers from both sides surged into combat.
In terms of sheer numbers, Serpina’s army had the advantage, as the Aishus forces were spread across multiple battlefronts.
However—
More than half of the Aishus troops present here were elite soldiers originally stationed at Valharat Castle for the planned invasion of Laccline Castle.
These soldiers were not ordinary.
They were highly trained veterans, seasoned by war, and further honed by the exacting discipline of Airen Juliet.
Serpina’s army was formidable as well, but their recent campaigns had left many wounded, and they had also absorbed a number of former Brans soldiers who had yet to fully adapt to their ranks.
This slight disarray in their formations meant that, in a direct fight, Aishus forces had a noticeable edge.
And then—
Clang!
"Urgh...!"
Irian clenched his teeth as he staggered back.
His spear had just met Hernandorf’s strike head-on—
and in an instant, he realized the difference in strength.
"What the hell...?! How is this brute so absurdly strong?!"
Back when he graduated top of his class from the academy, when he cut through Brans Army on the battlefield—
He had begun to believe that he was far stronger than he had originally thought.
Even though he regretted not having the chance to test himself against Carlints Brans,
he had never faced a true defeat since stepping onto the battlefield.
But reality was harsh.
He was still young—barely past the age of twenty.
And Hernandorf—
He was not just some ordinary soldier.
He was a legendary warrior, one of the key figures responsible for building an entire nation through war.
Comparing himself to Hernandorf right now was simply unrealistic.
Perhaps, one day, when he fully realized his potential, he could stand on equal ground.
But this was not an academy.
This was a battlefield.
Growth, talent—none of that mattered here.
If he lost, he died.
"If I lose here... I won’t get another chance!"
Irian withdrew, pulling back into the ranks of his soldiers.
Hernandorf let out a booming laugh, raising his weapon.
"Are you running, boy?! Such big talk, and now you flee like a coward!"
"Tch. Let him talk."
Irian was proud, but he was not the type to waste his life over honor.
"If I die, it’s over."
This was a lesson from his father, who had perished long ago.
Besides—
If he kept fighting, knowing he was at a disadvantage,
and ended up dead, it would be Serpina’s army that suffered.
If their commander was cut down, their morale would collapse,
and the advantage Serpina had meticulously crafted would crumble in an instant.
Irian feared that outcome far more than death itself.
"Pathetic!"
Hernandorf scoffed, but instead of chasing after Irian,
he turned his attention elsewhere—
And massacred the soldiers around him.
With each swing of his weapon, multiple soldiers were sent flying.
Irian swiftly slung his spear over his back, switching to his bow instead.
Drawing his arrow, he aimed at Hernandorf and let loose—
his arrows striking the enemy ranks to break their focus.
"Do not panic! Hold the line! We have the advantage!"
"Waaahhh!"
The frontline battle was progressing in favor of the Aishus Army.
They weren’t overwhelming Serpina’s troops,
but they were steadily pushing forward.
The real problem—
Was the rear guard.
"Uaargh!"
"Help me!"
"Fight until your last breath!!"
Unlike the frontlines, where soldiers had braced for battle,
The rear guard had been caught completely off guard.
Formations collapsed, and soldiers were being cut down mercilessly.
Should I recall Hernandorf to reinforce the rear?
Anima frantically analyzed the situation—
But recalling Hernandorf would mean losing the advantage at the front.
"Damn it...!"
She had studied war tactics endlessly,
devouring countless military treatises—
Yet, at this critical moment,
she could not think of a single way to turn the tide.
"Damn it all!"
She remembered the moment she lost her arm.
Back then, she had not despaired—
Because, truthfully, she had never been attached to the sword in the first place.
She had only pursued swordsmanship because it was something to learn—
not because she had any real talent or passion for it.
Even during her academy days, what truly fascinated her was not her own skills—
But rather, watching Yuri flourish.
So when the time came, she had let go of her identity as a swordswoman without hesitation,
pouring herself fully into strategy.
At first, she had believed that being a strategist was her calling.
Even when she stepped down as national strategist, handing the role to Jinor Nighhardt,
she had no doubts.
But now—
Maybe... I was never meant to be anything special at all.
Maybe that was why she was the first among her peers to fall from power.
Yuri... had always been better than her in every way.
That was a truth Anima knew better than anyone.
So, perhaps...
From the moment Yuri chose Jinor—
She had already fulfilled her purpose.
"No—focus!"
Slap!
Anima slapped herself hard, snapping herself back to reality.
Right now—
This carriage was a liability.
The soldiers were guarding it, but if the enemy realized she was inside—
They would prioritize capturing her.
I need to get out of here.
Making her decision, she opened the door and surveyed her surroundings.
So far, the enemy forces had not yet reached this position.
"Lady Anima! It’s too dangerous here!"
One of the soldiers rushed over, panic evident in his voice.
But Anima simply gave him a calm look and spoke with measured precision.
"I am leaving this place. Can I count on you to cover me?"
"Lady Anima...!"
The soldier hesitated, staring at her in silence—
Before nodding with a look of determined resolve.
"...Understood! I swear I will protect you!"
"I appreciate it. You’re a reliable one."
Offering him a gentle, reassuring smile,
Anima took his offered hand and carefully stepped out of the carriage.
"Come, this way! I will ensure your safety, my lady—"
Then—
His voice faltered.
His eyes widened.
Anima’s breath caught in her throat.
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"...?"
Anima barely managed to catch the collapsing soldier with her single arm, stabilizing his body just before he fell completely.
For a brief moment, she searched his face—
But his expression was gone.
His features were frozen in an empty, almost mechanical stillness—
And then, she noticed it.
A sword.
Piercing straight through his armor.
A deep stab wound, driven through his abdomen.
"!!!"
Shhhhk!
As the sword was ripped out, blood gushed forth like a fountain, drenching Anima in a cascade of red.
With a dull thud, the Aishus soldier—
no, the man who had once been a soldier—
collapsed lifelessly onto the ground.
And behind him—
Emerging from the shadows—
A man.
A towering, black-haired, middle-aged warrior, gripping a bloodstained blade.
A man as large as Hernandorf, radiating the presence of someone who had been forged in battle, someone who had lived and breathed war for his entire existence.
"...!!!"
The moment Anima saw his face, something inside her clicked.
This man—
He was missing an eye.
A long scar ran over his closed left eyelid, and he made no attempt to hide it.
And at that moment, Anima finally understood the truth about the enemy forces attacking their rear.
"...Sade Astron...?"
"Oh?"
Sade Astron.
The notorious leader of the Astron Mercenaries—
a group infamous for their ruthless tactics, especially ambush warfare.
Unlike other mercenary bands, which typically pledged loyalty to a single nation,
the Astron Mercenaries had no such allegiance.
They were willing to fight for anyone who could afford their price,
earning them a reputation as opportunists with no sense of honor—
But their effectiveness was undeniable.
If a ruler had the money to hire them,
they were a tempting and deadly asset.
So now—
They had joined Serpina's army.
"You recognize me?" Sade let out a gruff laugh, shaking his head.
"Hah! That’s why it pays to be famous. Even a cripple with one eye gets recognized."
"..."
"But seriously... what’s a pretty little thing like you doing out here on the battlefield?"
His eyes swept over her, examining her with a casual smirk—
until his gaze locked onto something.
Her right shoulder.
Or, more specifically—
The cloak draped over it.
"..."
Shhkk!
With a sharp flick of his sword, Sade cut away the fabric, revealing—
Nothing.
No arm.
His smirk widened, his one remaining eye gleaming with amusement.
"Well, well. That explains the carriage."
He let out a loud, hearty laugh—
"You really are the infamous one-armed strategist, Anima Ingram!"
Anyone who moved in military circles knew that Aishus' chief strategist had only one arm.
Just as Anima had recognized him by his missing eye,
he recognized her by her missing limb.
Sade clicked his tongue, shaking his head.
"Damn, I wasn't expecting to reel in such a big fish today."
"...!"
"Whoa, whoa. Why the glare?" He chuckled.
"That pretty little face of yours is gonna wrinkle if you keep that up."
Then—his grin widened even further.
"Us cripples gotta stick together, don’t you think?"
Anima’s instincts screamed at her.
This moment—
It was as dangerous as the day the academy had been attacked.
***
"I don’t have time—!"
Covered in blood, Hernandorf continued to fight ferociously,
refusing to let himself be pushed back.
But—
He could tell.
More and more enemy soldiers were pushing in from the rear.
He had realized it early on—
They had been encircled.
His original plan had been to break through the frontline, defeat Serpina’s forces as quickly as possible,
then turn around and eliminate the enemy forces behind them.
But—
Clang!
"Haah!"
Irian blocked his path,
his spear clashing against Hernandorf’s blunt weapon.
Hernandorf gritted his teeth.
"If this keeps up—Anima is in danger!"
The longer they dragged out this battle,
the more likely they were to lose everything.
Even a brilliant general could not simply ignore the numbers gap.
And it wasn’t just about numbers—
Their rear guard had been completely blindsided.
They were being cut down mercilessly.
"Damn it all...!"
Ever since Anima had been forced out of her role as chief strategist—
Hernandorf had blamed himself.
He had been too weak.
He had failed to execute her strategies properly.
Every mistake had stacked up, one after another—
Until it had led to this moment.
And so, he had trained relentlessly.
He had thrown himself into battle, over and over again.
He wanted to grow stronger than even the best generals—stronger than Emma, stronger than Epinnel.
He wanted Yuri to look at him and reconsider—
To realize that he was worthy.
And this time—
He had promised himself that he would not fail.
"I told them—I told them to order me however they wanted."
"I swore I would win."
"That’s why—I endured all of this training—for this moment!"
But—
"Hah... Hah..."
His vision was beginning to blur.
He had lost too much blood.
If he didn’t pull back now—
He would die.
But—
"I... can’t lose...!"
Even if it killed him, he would see this through.
Even if he had to claim Irian’s head as his final act—
He would not let Anima go down as a failed strategist.
That single, unyielding conviction—
Was the only thing keeping him standing.
"UAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!"
Despite being half-covered in blood, Hernandorf roared, tearing through the battlefield like a beast.
To Serpina’s forces—
He was a nightmare made flesh.
"A-a monster!"
"Don’t panic! He’s just one man! Surround him and take him down!"
Irian’s commanding voice rang out—
"Akhil! Verdo! Flank him! We take him down now!"
Two Serpina officers charged forward, spears at the ready.
"Yes, General!"
"We obey!"
"Come on then, boy..."
Just as Irian and the other warriors rushed in—
The battlefield shifted.
"Fall back!"
"Pull back the troops!"
"Retreat!"
"...?"
Irian’s expression hardened.
Within moments—
Serpina’s forces began withdrawing.
"...What... is this?"
Hernandorf stood, watching them retreat.
What had just happened?
***
At Valharat Castle,
Inside the throne room—
Yuri and her advisors waited anxiously.
Then—
The doors creaked open.
A young man with white hair stepped inside.
"Swen! You made it back!"
"...."
The white-haired strategist knelt before his liege, Yuri.
"We were not too late."
"...Really?"
"Yes."
Lifting his head, Swen smiled confidently.
Then—
He spoke the words Yuri had longed to hear.
"Do not worry. Serpina’s forces will retreat."