Julien quickly discovered the Atrodé Army’s 5th Legion. They, too, were moving to link up with the 6th Legion.
No words were needed. As always, Julien charged in alone and began his slaughter.
Slash!
“Guaaaargh!”
A priest, confident in his strength, lunged at Julien—only to lose his head in a single swing.
Julien turned his gaze. Experience had taught him that there was never just one priest.
And yet...
Whooosh!
One priest was fleeing at an astonishing speed, already putting considerable distance between them.
It was Flakus, who had previously escaped from the Ruthania Kingdom.
The moment Flakus saw Julien, he recognized him. And within seconds, he made his decision.
‘That’s the guy rumored to be as strong as the Duke of Fenris. There’s no way I can win!’
Ever since his humiliating defeat in Ruthania, Flakus had memorized the portraits and information of every notable superhuman.
That knowledge now guided his “rational decision.”
‘Counts Phalantz and Balzac from Ruthania both died to the Duke of Fenris. And this guy is supposed to be his equal? Why the hell would I fight him? At least someone like Lord Gatros would need to be here for that!’
He justified his decision to himself. For a brief moment, he had considered fighting. But it was impossible no matter how he thought about it.
The very fact that they had encountered the enemy here meant something had already gone wrong. Their forces were also much smaller.
Running away to deliver this news was the better choice.
Flakus fled with all his might, sparing only a brief glance back to confirm.
‘See? I knew it!’
A fellow priest’s head was severed with a single strike. He resolved not to look back again.
He would charge forward like a man, without ever turning around.
Count Poleno, the commander of the 5th Legion, wore a disbelieving expression.
“W-What in the...?”
They had been moving to link up with the 6th Legion. Their plan was to secure the enemy’s supply lines and intercept reinforcements.
But now, they found themselves in battle against an unexpected force. At first, he hadn’t been too concerned.
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He had simply thought it was a coincidence that their trail had been discovered.
Their numbers were smaller, but they had a superhuman. That alone was enough to boost his confidence.
Yet one of the two priests leading the charge had suddenly turned and fled.
And not just any priest—the one who always acted so arrogantly and dismissed their enemies.
As Count Poleno stood there in confusion, the other priest fell, decapitated with humiliating ease.
And then the slaughter began.
Slash!
“Aaaaaaagh!”
No one could stop the approaching figure. Anyone who challenged him fell instantly.
Count Poleno, frozen in place, could only watch the chaos unfold. He wondered if this was a dream.
Did strategy or tactics mean anything against such overwhelming power?
‘N-No. We can’t do this. We need stronger superhumans. We need more soldiers.’
They had lost their superhuman far too quickly. Without him, they couldn’t win.
Rumble, rumble, rumble!
As the allied cavalry joined the assault, the Atrodé Army’s 5th Legion collapsed with shocking ease.
Count Poleno could do nothing but watch his soldiers die.
Before he knew it, a man appeared in front of him.
Seeing that impassive face, Poleno realized who he was.
“The Prince of Tur—”
Slash.
Before he could finish, Julien’s sword cleaved through his neck.
With their commander dead, the remnants of the 5th Legion scattered, fleeing in all directions.
The battle ended quickly, almost anticlimactically. Julien’s absolute power had made it inevitable.
Stopping him would require stronger superhumans and far larger numbers.
“Haaah...”
Julien let out a shallow sigh.
It was rare for him to sigh. To minimize allied casualties, he hadn’t held back, pushing himself to the limit in an intense, relentless march.
As a result, his mana had been significantly depleted. Still, his expression gave no indication of it—a testament to his composure.
Looking at Dark, who had become noticeably larger, Julien asked, “Where’s Ghislain?”
“He’s on the move.”
“I’ve dealt with everything here. What do we do next?”
Dark closed his eyes for a moment, standing still as he communicated with Ghislain through their shared consciousness.
Soon, Dark whispered something to Julien. Hearing this, Julien gave a slight nod.
“Understood. I’ll proceed as planned.”
After resting for a day, Julien and the allied forces began moving toward their next destination.
***
Count Vipenvelt, commander of the Atrodé Army’s 1st Legion, was deep in thought.
“There’s been no routine contact.”
To increase mobility, the legions had been split, though practically, they were grouped into three clusters:
Their mission was to sever enemy supply lines and intercept reinforcements.
A hidden objective was to use the spy’s information to sap the Allied Forces’ strength and morale.
“It was all proceeding as planned...”
Not long ago, he’d received reports that the 5th and 6th Legions, and the 7th and 8th Legions, had annihilated two Allied Legions.
But considerable time had passed since then. A new report should have arrived by now.
He’d given orders for constant messengers to be sent to relay the situation, even if nothing had happened.
“And yet... nothing.”
Information always moved slowly on the battlefield. It was essential to make guesses and judgments based on the current circumstances.
Vipenvelt smiled suddenly.
“They’ve fallen for it.”
In truth, he had been waiting for this silence.
Reports said the Duke of Fenris and the Prince of Turian had begun their pursuit. If they were truly on the move, the lack of contact made perfect sense.
Vipenvelt couldn’t hold back his grin.
“The strategy is finally coming together.”
The battlefields that the Duke of Fenris and the Prince of Turian had moved toward were far from the main Ruthanian forces.
That was exactly what he wanted.
Cutting off supply lines or intercepting reinforcements was a mere distraction. He had manipulated even his own forces as bait.
For Count Vipenvelt, the only thing that mattered was drawing the two of them away from their main forces and killing them.
To achieve this, the remaining four legions had been lying in wait elsewhere.
Still, one question remained.
“Why did three locations fail?”
There had been no contact from the 9th and 10th Legions. Not even routine updates, let alone battle reports.
Given the distance, the Duke of Fenris or the Prince of Turian couldn’t possibly have reached those legions. That meant someone else had dealt with them.
But as far as Vipenvelt knew, the only remaining army, apart from the Ruthanian forces, was the one led by Marquis Gideon of Turian.
“Marquis Gideon isn’t a terrible commander, but...”
Gideon’s forces wouldn’t be able to withstand the 9th and 10th Legions without the Prince of Turian.
So who had done it?
Vipenvelt fell back into contemplation. The spy had said nothing about another Allied army.
But what if the Duke of Fenris had already discovered the spy’s identity and fed them false information?
“If they knew this quickly... they must have been suspicious all along.”
That was the most likely scenario. The 9th and 10th Legions must have been defeated in an ambush.
But the question remained: by whom?
“Could it be...”
Vipenvelt finally arrived at an answer.
“The Ruthanian Army is on the move!”
It was the only explanation. The Ruthanian Army had split into two, and even divided, their combat strength was immense.
One half must have made their move.
That meant that wherever the Duke of Fenris or the Prince of Turian went, they could only face one force at a time.
“The best move now is...”
After long deliberation, Vipenvelt made a decision. He would tweak the original plan—a bold adjustment.
“Relay my orders to the remaining legions.”
His ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) commands were quickly relayed across the ranks.
“The 3rd Legion will head to where the 5th and 6th Legions were stationed. If you find the Duke of Fenris or the Prince of Turian, hold them off as long as possible. Kill them if you can.”
“The 2nd and 4th Legions will move to where the 7th and 8th Legions were stationed. One of those two must be there. You are to kill them without fail.”
“Contact the spy. Their cover is blown, so they’re to regroup with me.”
Vipenvelt’s eyes gleamed as he declared,
“We will strike the Ruthanian main camp immediately.”
His 1st Legion had originally planned to move with the 3rd Legion. Their goal had been to kill either the Duke of Fenris or the Prince of Turian.
But strategies must adapt to circumstances.
“This situation is the best-case scenario I could’ve hoped for.”
Either the Duke of Fenris or the Prince of Turian would die. The pursuing forces alone wouldn’t be able to withstand two legions.
The remaining main legions each had at least four superhumans, bolstered by priests from other regions during the siege of the Grimwell Kingdom.
With them were Aiden and Leonard, two of the strongest superhumans.
“No matter how strong the Duke of Fenris or the Prince of Turian is, they can’t endure this.”
The same applied to the Ruthanian forces. Though they had known superhumans, splitting their forces meant splitting their strength.
No one could oppose this army, which had the greatest number of priests, led by Gatros himself.
If the spy’s legion also joined, they would have numerical superiority.
“The Ruthanian Army will lose half its strength. Either the Duke of Fenris or the Prince of Turian will fall. From there, victory is ours.”
The enemy had taken the bait perfectly. There was no way they could lose this fight.
Vipenvelt stood, his expression resolute.
“Prepare to move! We march immediately!”
The 1st through 4th Legions were made up entirely of elite cavalry. Their speed was unmatched.
Though they were stationed far from the battlefield for coordination, they could arrive quickly if they rode at full speed.
It was easy to predict where the Ruthanian forces had set up their base.
“The ones who defeated the 9th and 10th Legions must have come from the closest camp. That leaves only one place.”
As the four legions prepared to move under his command...
Suddenly, the space in front of Count Vipenvelt began to ripple violently.
“Hm?”
“Watch out!”
Gatros stepped forward, shielding Vipenvelt as he extended his hand.
At that moment, someone burst out of the spatial distortion, radiating immense mana.
BOOOOOM!
The clash of energy sent shockwaves across the area, seemingly targeting the surroundings on purpose.
The priests easily blocked the blast, but the high-ranking knights were pushed back, gritting their teeth. The weaker officers, however, were not so lucky.
Splat!
Unprotected, their bodies exploded under the force.
Gatros frowned deeply. The figure who emerged was a young man, grinning brightly.
“Who are you?”
“Ah, me? I’m Jerome. I’m currently working as an advisor—well, a mage consultant—for the Ruthanian Army.”
Jerome’s cheerful expression briefly darkened, a flicker of melancholy appearing. But he quickly smiled again, as if shaking off an unpleasant memory.
The surrounding soldiers widened their eyes in shock. For a Ruthanian mage to appear just as they were about to strike the camp...
Gatros sneered, his face twisted in mockery.
“Your magic is impressive. To use spatial magic so effortlessly...”
“Well, I’m pretty good at magic.”
“Such confidence. But you’ve chosen the wrong place.”
At Gatros’s signal, the knights stepped back with Vipenvelt, creating distance.
The remaining troops surrounded Jerome. The mages unleashed their mana, forming barriers, while six priests advanced, radiating overwhelming power.
Gatros sneered once more.
“Even the Duke of Fenris would die alone here. Are you ready to throw your life away?”
Jerome glanced around, smiling faintly. He knew facing all of them alone would mean death.
But he hadn’t come here to die.
Ziiiiiing—!
Massive mana blades surged to life in Jerome’s hands.
With an easygoing smile, he said,
“You seem like you’re in a hurry... Why don’t you stay and play with me for a bit?”
No, he hadn’t come to die.
Just to cause a little trouble.
A very small amount.