The Way of Knight
Chapter 35 – The First Clash in the Marsh
The morning fog clung thick over the marshlands of Eisenwald, a pale curtain that swallowed sight and sound alike. The air was heavy, damp, and suffocating. Each step sank into the soft ground with a wet squelch, as though the earth itself tried to drag intruders down.
From the distance came the beat of war drums. Heavy, deliberate, echoing across the veil of mist.
Dum. Dum. Dum.
A banner pierced the fog—black cloth painted with the image of a snarling wolf. Behind it stretched a sea of iron: spearpoints glinting, shields gleaming, and armor rattling in perfect rhythm.
It was Baron Klausen's host, marching deep into the marsh.
At their head strode a man like a beast wrapped in flesh: broad-shouldered, thick with muscle despite his age, his black beard flecked with silver. His eyes, sharp and hungry, scanned the mire with disdain. Baron Klausen von Rottweil.
His hand rested on a greatsword strapped to his side. Around him surged a deep-blue aura, heavy and suffocating, like the tide of a river that could sweep all away when unleashed.
"This stinking swamp…" Klausen spat into the mud, his voice booming. "A fitting grave for frogs and peasants. Today, we will cleanse it—together with the rats who live in it."
A roar of laughter and cheers erupted from his men, steel clashing against shields in savage rhythm.
---
On the other side of the marsh, crouched low behind trenches and wooden ramparts, the men of Eisenwald waited. Their weapons were crude: spears tipped with simple iron, wooden shields thin as bark, bows strung by hand. Yet their eyes burned with something greater than fear.
At their front stood Fenrir Eisenwald. Seventeen years of age, sword in hand, his body lean yet taut with strength. His aura, molten red like liquid fire, pulsed and churned around him. It spread heat into the cold mist, a suffocating weight that pressed on the hearts of all who felt it.
Fenrir's crimson eyes swept across his militia, his voice sharp and steady.
"Listen! Today they come with more soldiers, stronger armor, sharper blades. But there is one thing they do not have."
He raised his sword, the crimson aura surging like a geyser of flame.
"They do not have this marsh! This land is ours, and today, it will drink the blood of our enemies!"
"Eisenwald! Eisenwald!" the militia roared, their cries echoing through the fog, driving back the dread in their chests.
---
Klausen lifted his arm. The drums stopped.
"Archers! Nock!"
A hundred bowstrings creaked, taut with lethal intent.
"Loose!"
Shhhhhhhht!
Arrows blackened the sky, slicing through the fog like a flock of ravens falling from the heavens.
"Shields! Lock tight!" Captain Orwin bellowed.
Thock! Thock! Thock! Arrows slammed into wooden shields, some splitting through, others sinking into mud. Men grunted, a few collapsed with shafts through their arms or legs.
Fenrir strode forward, crimson aura blazing, his blade flashing. With a single sweeping arc, he cleaved two arrows from the air before they could pierce his chest.
"Now! Our turn!" he barked.
From behind reeds and pits, Eisenwald's bowmen rose and fired. Their arrows were fewer, their strings weaker, but they aimed not at armor—no, they aimed at the ground.
Thwip! Thwip! Thwip!
Screams erupted. Arrows lodged into legs and feet, forcing soldiers to stumble on the slick mud. Rows broke formation as men slipped, crashing into each other in the swampy mire.
---
"Forward! Crush them!" Klausen bellowed, unsheathing his greatsword. His aura darkened, pressing like waves upon the marsh.
The vanguard surged. Spears lowered, shields locked. The sound of iron boots thundered as they advanced, spraying muck into the fog.
Fenrir raised his blade, eyes narrowing.
"Deeper… deeper… Now!"
Hidden trenches collapsed as workers upstream broke their makeshift dams. Water surged into the paths, turning firm ground into sucking swamp.
Soldiers at the front plunged waist-deep, thrashing in panic as the mud swallowed their legs.
"Archers, now! Spearmen, strike!"
Eisenwald's men unleashed volleys. Spears and arrows rained on the struggling vanguard. Armor clattered, blood spurted, screams filled the air.
Yet Klausen's men did not break. The rear ranks hauled the trapped forward, while the flanks marched around to bypass the flooded pits.
Klausen sneered, his blue aura surging.
"Child's tricks."
He strode forward himself, raising his greatsword high. With a bellow, he swung.
CRASH!
The blow shattered a wooden barricade, cleaving three Eisenwald men in one brutal arc. Blood fountained.
Fenrir's jaw tightened as he watched from afar. His crimson aura rippled hotter, heavier.
So strong… stronger than I thought. But raw power alone cannot win in this marsh.
---
The two lines clashed. Spears braced, shields smashed. Steel rang against steel, echoing through the fog.
"Hold the line!" Orwin roared, driving his spear into an enemy's throat.
Fenrir surged forward. His blade flared red as he cleaved a mercenary from shoulder to gut. He spun, parried another strike, then thrust, skewering through a man's chest.
Every movement was lava bursting from stone: sudden, searing, unstoppable. His enemies staggered not only from his sword, but from the suffocating heat of his aura, their courage melting away as their skin prickled beneath its pressure.
But the weight of numbers pressed back. For every man Fenrir felled, two more took his place.
---
Then came the roar.
Baron Klausen himself stepped into the melee, towering over his men, greatsword dripping blood. His aura surged like a flood, smashing into Fenrir's molten flame.
"So you're the pup of Eisenwald," Klausen growled, his voice like thunder. "Today I'll gut you, and your swamp will burn."
Fenrir lifted his sword, his crimson aura flaring hotter.
"Try it, Klausen. This swamp will bury you—and your greed—with it."
Their auras collided. Red fire clashed with blue tide, the shockwave hurling mud and water in all directions.
BOOM!
And so, the first duel of the war began.
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[Status Panel – Fenrir Eisenwald]
Name: Fenrir Eisenwald
Title: Baron of Eisenwald, The Crimson Wolf
Age: 17
Level: 12
EXP: 14,200 / 16,000
Aura: 120
Stamina: 135
Strength: 98
Cunning: 180
Charisma: 110
Mental Fortitude: 140
Skills:
[Aura Control Lv.3] – Refined manipulation of aura in combat.
[Swordsmanship Lv.3] – Trained sword techniques, adaptive strikes.
[Leadership Lv.4] – +20% morale to units under command.
[Tactical Instinct Lv.3] – Advanced battlefield adaptation.
Traits:
[Wounds That Shape] – Trauma of war permanently increases Mental Fortitude.
[Lord of the Marsh] (New) – Fighting in swamp terrain grants +25% Cunning and +15% Strength.
Active Quests:
1. Defend Eisenwald from Klausen's Invasion (Progress: Ongoing).
2. Expand Eisenwald's Territory (Pending).
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[Status Panel – Baron Klausen]
Name: Baron Klausen von Rottweil
Title: Lord of the Northern Border
Age: 43
Level: 18
EXP: 38,500 / 40,000
Aura: 160
Stamina: 175
Strength: 150
Cunning: 90
Charisma: 85
Mental Fortitude: 120
Skills:
[Aura Control Lv.4] – Strong, oppressive aura mastery.
[Greatsword Mastery Lv.4] – Deadly heavy strikes.
[Battlefield Intimidation Lv.3] – Lowers morale of enemy units within 30 meters.
Traits:
[Butcher of the North] – Known for merciless victories, grants +15% Strength when morale is high.
Active Quests:
1. Conquer Eisenwald Marsh (Progress: Initiated).
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