Half of the Atrodé mages had already fallen to Vanessa’s devastating magic. With the mana barrier weakened, the other Fenris mages joined the assault.
BOOM!
Fire and lightning rained down, and stone walls erupted from the ground, trapping and crushing the enemy forces. Ghislain himself joined the fray, further decimating the Atrodé soldiers.
“Arghhh!”
The battlefield echoed with screams as the Atrodé troops were massacred. Orders to retreat had already been given, but even the most resolute soldiers had lost their fighting spirit. Their sole focus now was to escape and deliver news of this disaster to their allies. However, the enemy’s relentless attacks left them no chance to flee.
Every path was blocked, and in mere moments, the Atrodé Army crumbled entirely.
Count Jairus stood trembling, helplessly watching the carnage unfold.
“Ugh... Ugh...”
Even he couldn’t flee. Crimson flames surged all around him, trapping him like a cage.
He had made a grave mistake. He should have waited for the Second Corps, even if it delayed their plans. Now, he was witnessing firsthand just how wide the gap was between the Fenris forces and the Ruthania Army he had underestimated.
Clop. Clop. Clop.
The ground shook with the sound of approaching hooves as the Black King, radiating a menacing aura, carried Ghislain closer. Jairus’s troops had been annihilated, and no one remained to protect him. The few survivors were being slaughtered mercilessly.
Death was inevitable. Resigned to his fate, Count Jairus steadied his trembling heart, though a burning curiosity remained.
“Duke Fenris,” he began, “why are you here?”
He had assumed Ghislain was fighting elsewhere. How had he known to come here?
Ghislain gave him a sharp grin. “Why? Am I not allowed to be here?”
This chapter is updat𝙚d by freeweɓnovel.cøm.
“...”
“You put a lot of effort into your little plan. You planted spies, deceived your own allies, and laid traps to corner me, no matter which choice I made. Isn’t that right?”
“...”
Ghislain was spot-on. If he hadn’t responded to their bait, they had planned to stir up chaos across the continent, prolonging the war and exploiting the fractures within the Allied Forces.
Their best-case scenario, however, had always been to eliminate Ghislain and the Ruthania Army here, even if it required overextending themselves.
Ghislain rested his spear shaft on Count Jairus’s shoulder as he continued, “But you made one critical mistake.”
“And what would that be?” Jairus asked, his voice quivering.
“You’re slower than I am.”
The words were dripping with arrogance, yet Jairus couldn’t deny them. Every path had been rigged to trap Ghislain, yet he had arrived first, shattering their plans before they could even spring the trap.
How Ghislain had discovered their strategy or reached this location so quickly was beyond him.
“You thought I’d dance to your tune?” Ghislain sneered, moving the spear shaft across Jairus’s shoulder. “All I had to do was get here first and crush everything.”
“How did you know?” Jairus demanded. “We planned every move so carefully. How could you anticipate all of it?”
The strategies had been layered with traps and countermeasures for any response. Yet Ghislain had seen through it all and arrived here, leaving other regions vulnerable to attack.
Ghislain smirked and tilted his spear slightly. “I know Count Vipenvelt quite well. Not that you’d understand.”
Jairus bit his lip. Ghislain’s reputation for spouting nonsense was well-known, but the insult only added salt to his wounds.
“You seem so confident,” Jairus retorted, glaring at Ghislain. “But don’t you realize that your presence here leaves your other forces vulnerable? It’s reckless—coming all the way here like this.”
It was the only explanation that made sense to him. Ghislain must have abandoned his other troops, driven by his infamous bloodlust and arrogance, believing he could handle this alone.
Ghislain chuckled softly and shifted his spear a little further. “If that helps you die in peace, then sure, think that way.”
“Don’t get cocky!” Jairus spat. “The remaining corps are not like us! Your arrogance will—”
CRACK!
Ghislain’s spear, glowing with crimson energy, smashed into Jairus’s neck. The sheer force caused it to burst, killing him instantly. It wasn’t even the blade but the shaft that had delivered the fatal blow.
THUD!
As the Count’s lifeless body hit the ground, Ghislain glanced down at him and muttered, “The others will die too. Every single one.”
He would ensure it.
Ghislain surveyed the battlefield. The Atrodé Army had been completely annihilated—no one had escaped.
“One down,” he murmured to himself, his expression cold. “Just as I thought.”
He had anticipated that Count Vipenvelt would focus on cutting off his movements while disrupting the Ruthania forces. Vipenvelt’s expertise lay in sowing confusion and systematically eliminating targets.
“But I doubt he expected this.”
Ghislain had preemptively targeted the Atrodé Army’s main force, a move no one had seen coming. It had required sacrifices, but Ghislain hadn’t simply abandoned his allies. He had outmaneuvered his enemy with a strategy they couldn’t predict.
Like Vipenvelt, Ghislain knew the importance of speed and decisiveness.
Summoning Dark, Ghislain issued his next command. “Dark, follow the direction these bastards came from. There’s bound to be another corps nearby.”
The recently destroyed Atrodé forces were clearly not enough to challenge him. A larger, more capable army was likely en route.
Dark nodded and began to rise into the air. “And Julien?” Ghislain asked.
“He’s moving in the direction you ordered,” Dark replied. “If anything changes, I’ll let you know immediately. It’s a good thing Julien can maintain my duplicates—it’s quite convenient.”
“Right,” Ghislain said with a ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) smirk. “He’s full of surprises, isn’t he?”
“Absolutely. But don’t worry, I won’t betray you. I prefer being on your side—it’s much more comfortable. You get me?”
“...”
“Julien, though? That guy’s so cold and distant. Makes me wonder if he even likes people.”
“Enough. Just go.”
Dark winked playfully before spreading his wings and taking off. Ghislain, meanwhile, prepared to intercept the next wave.
“Vipenvelt, Gatros, Aiden, Leonard... None of them were here,” Ghislain mused.
That could only mean one thing: one of those heavyweights would lead the next army.
A cruel smile played across his lips.
“It’s time to start taking down the big fish. Hopefully, it’ll be Aiden.”
Ghislain and his cavalry began returning to their original position, intent on regrouping and preparing for the next battle.
As fate would have it, the Second Corps’ commander marching toward them was none other than Aiden, just as Ghislain had hoped.
***
Aiden had been tasked with merging with the Fourth Corps.
He thought it would be an easy task. Two corps working together would be more than enough to eliminate the pursuers—the likes of Fenris or the Turian prince—once and for all.
"Finally, some action," Aiden said with a pleased grin. The overarching goals of the war didn’t concern him.
Fenris and the Turian prince had been gaining immense renown recently. Even Parniel, who had been with the Ruthania forces for some time, was achieving fame.
For Aiden, all that mattered was boosting his own reputation by killing them. That was his sole objective.
"Though, I’d prefer if Fenris were on my side of the field," he muttered, licking his lips. Fenris had the highest notoriety, and Aiden didn’t want to share the glory with anyone.
As Aiden began mobilizing the Second Corps, a strange tremor rippled through the air ahead of him.
Whirrrrr—!
Sensing something amiss, Aiden immediately drew his sword and slashed at the disturbance.
BOOM!
A burst of powerful mana erupted around him. However, the damage was minimal, as Aiden’s Silver Knights absorbed the impact with their bodies, retreating slightly but remaining intact.
Aiden frowned as a figure emerged from the mana storm.
"And who the hell are you?"
"Ah, I’m Jerome," the figure replied nonchalantly. "Just passing through with a little business here."
"Business? You insolent bastard."
Aiden’s lips curled into a sneer. How dare someone appear here, alone, as if they owned the place?
But Jerome wasn’t particularly interested in Aiden’s irritation. His goal was simply to create more chaos and stall the Second Corps.
"Well, before you go, why don’t you spend some time with me?"
Jerome had already caused havoc within the First Corps and, after regaining some mana, had now shifted his attention to the Second Corps.
However, Aiden’s expression twisted with rage as he swung his sword at Jerome without hesitation. For this man to appear, spouting nonsense about “playing,” was the height of insult.
BOOM!
And so, the battle began. Aiden, disliking one-on-one duels, immediately called for reinforcements.
"Kill him! Now!"
Four priests and the Silver Knights joined the fray, forcing Jerome to click his tongue.
The First Corps, led by Gatros, had been formidable. But this was proving to be even more challenging. Aiden’s skills were exceptional, and the knights’ coordinated attacks were dangerously effective.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Jerome managed to hold out for a while, causing considerable chaos. But in the end, he was forced to flee.
Though he escaped, Jerome did not leave unscathed.
Having already fought the First Corps, he wasn’t in top condition. Despite his efforts to recover some mana along the way, his exhaustion hadn’t fully dissipated.
Ultimately, Aiden’s blade had slashed across Jerome’s chest, leaving a long, bleeding wound.
"You bastard! Where do you think you’re going?!"
Aiden roared, his disheveled appearance reflecting his simmering fury. He was livid—not just at Jerome’s audacity to attack him directly but also at his inability to finish the job. Letting the man escape was an unbearable humiliation.
"Bring me a mirror!" Aiden barked.
The mage had used magic to escape through space, but Aiden was confident in his ability to track him down. He had the skills to do so.
The residual mana and Jerome’s trail of blood would be enough. Aiden swore he would find and kill him.
Despite his anger, Aiden took a moment to compose himself, adjusting his disheveled clothes and smoothing his hair before mounting his white horse.
"What are you waiting for? Get ready to pursue him!" he barked at his subordinates.
However, his strategists quickly intervened. "Commander, we cannot. The current operation is too important."
"You must prioritize capturing Duke Fenris and the Turian prince," another added.
"The mage is undoubtedly part of the Ruthania forces. We’ll catch him eventually," they assured him.
Aiden glared at them, his frustration boiling over. "You expect me to let someone who humiliated me go free?"
Never in his life had Aiden suffered such disgrace in front of so many. His pride was in shambles.
But as Aiden seethed, the vice-captain of the Silver Knights stepped forward.
"Commander, if this operation fails, your reputation will take an even greater hit. Duke Fenris will gain even more notoriety."
Aiden fixed the vice-captain with a sharp stare before exhaling deeply.
With great effort, he managed to rein in his fury. As much as he hated it, the vice-captain was right. Failure would only elevate Fenris’s fame while tarnishing his own. That was something Aiden couldn’t afford.
"Bring me a chair," he ordered.
The waiting attendants scurried to fetch a chair, and Aiden sank into it, muttering, "Bring me cold water. I need to calm down before we proceed."
Aiden, for all his arrogance and self-centeredness, wasn’t stupid. His troops waited patiently for him to cool off, knowing full well that the entire corps would grind to a halt if his mood wasn’t placated.
Meanwhile, they took solace in the fact that the Fourth Corps had already departed ahead of them. Even if there were an engagement, they believed the Fourth Corps would buy enough time.
After all, the Second Corps was considered the elite of the Atrodé Army. With their speed, they could reach the battlefield quickly and reinforce the others.
Finally, after a long pause, Aiden rose from his chair, his composure restored.
"Let’s go. We’ll catch up to the Fourth Corps soon enough. Half a day’s march at full speed should suffice," he declared, mounting his horse.
As the Second Corps began their march, Aiden sent scouts ahead with specific orders. "Find the Fourth Corps and have them wait. It would be better to move together."
Given Jerome’s strength, Aiden suspected the mage might target the Fourth Corps next. The priests and knights in the Fourth Corps should be able to hold out, but he didn’t want to take any chances.
The Second Corps advanced quickly, focusing solely on movement. It wasn’t long before one of the scouts returned, his horse panting heavily.
"Commander! Sir, there’s terrible news!" the scout shouted, his voice trembling.
Aiden scowled, already anticipating trouble. "Let me guess. That damned mage struck again? What’s the damage?"
While not as strong as the Second Corps, the Fourth Corps still had four priests and a considerable number of knights. They were well-equipped to handle even a strong mage, especially one already injured.
But the scout’s next words left Aiden in stunned silence.
"The Fourth Corps has been annihilated! All of them are dead! Not a single survivor remains!"
Aiden’s mind blanked, his sharp gaze losing focus as the impossible report sank in.