As the sun climbed higher into the sky, an army of roughly two thousand men spread out across the broad plains of the Coastal Road, forming ranks and preparing for battle.
At the forefront stood their commander.
He wore a black dragon-shaped helmet adorned with stag antlers and a lion's mane. His black armor was inlaid with golden engravings and studded with brilliant rubies.
A black-and-red cloak billowed behind him in the wind. Upon its dark fabric was embroidered a winding crimson river outlined in gold thread, while the edges were trimmed with intricate golden stitching.
Beneath him stood a powerful chestnut warhorse clad in matching armor. The beast snorted heavily and pawed at the ground, having already dug a shallow pit beneath its hooves.
Beside rider and horse, a long lance had been planted firmly into the earth.
A massive greatsword hung on one side of the saddle and a heavy warhammer on the other.
Such a knight, armed from head to toe, naturally drew the attention of everyone present on the battlefield.
Yet Karl merely withdrew his gaze from the crimson comet hanging in the sky and let out a quiet snort.
The red comet had appeared several days ago and remained suspended high above the world, shifting only slightly from day to day.
Taking a deep breath, Karl turned his attention back to the army forming up behind him.
His eyes reflected deep contemplation.
Ever since the appearance of the comet, he had continued his march toward Old Oak with his newly consolidated army.
Now he stood less than five leagues from his destination.
And directly before him stood another army.
Old Oak had already received news of his advance and had chosen to march out and meet him in battle rather than hide behind castle walls.
The time for negotiations had long since passed.
Today, the two armies would settle matters by force.
The only problem was that Karl's army was heavily outnumbered.
The enemy force possessed more than twice his numbers.
As a result, the morale of his soldiers appeared noticeably weaker than that of their opponents.
Yet Karl wasn't worried about victory.
What truly occupied his thoughts was how to win while suffering the fewest possible casualties.
At the same time, he wanted to crush the combined armies of Old Oak and House Tyrell while still preserving enough of their strength for his own purposes.
After all, Karl possessed advantages that no one else in this world could comprehend.
If he truly unleashed his full power, these few thousand soldiers could do little more than force him to decide whom to kill first.
The crimson comet hung overhead.
The magical tide was rising.
Every day, the concentration of magical energy in the world grew stronger.
If Karl wished, he could simply cast Lightning repeatedly and, using the remaining magical potions stored in his inventory, electrocute thousands of enemy soldiers into smoking corpses.
He could make them understand exactly what it meant to face a living God of Thunder.
Of course, real soldiers weren't stationary targets.
But that would only require a bit more time.
The problem was that Karl didn't actually want to kill them.
Not all of them, anyway.
He wanted to win.
Then he wanted to absorb them.
These armies were already assets he considered his own.
The greatest obstacle facing him right now wasn't territory or wealth.
It was manpower.
And war happened to be the fastest method of acquiring it.
No accumulation of wealth could ever rival what was taken directly from others.
This had always been Karl's true objective.
It was also why he had rejected House Tyrell's goodwill and chosen war instead.
He wanted everything.
Victory.
Territory.
Soldiers.
Resources.
And he intended to take it all.
Unfortunately, wanting something and accomplishing it were two different matters.
Now that he stood upon the battlefield itself, Karl realized how difficult such a plan truly was.
The first issue was the enemy cavalry.
Nearly two thousand mounted knights stood among the opposing army.
If they launched a full charge before Karl could act, his own troops might collapse instantly.
That was unacceptable.
After all, he couldn't simply lose his temper, unleash his full power, and slaughter everyone on the battlefield.
That would defeat the entire purpose.
Unable to find a perfect solution for the moment, Karl turned his attention toward the enemy lines.
Less than half a league away, another army was completing its deployment.
Nearly four thousand infantry formed dense battle lines across the center.
The remaining cavalry occupied both wings, hidden partially behind the infantry formations.
Numerous banners fluttered above the host.
The most prominent displayed a golden rose blooming upon a field of green.
The sigil of House Tyrell.
Beside it flew the banner of House Oakheart—a golden field marked by three green oak leaves.
As one of the oldest and most influential noble houses in the Reach, House Oakheart could field an army rivaling many great lords.
Among the enemy commanders sat Garlan Tyrell.
Known throughout the Reach as Garlan the Gallant, he wore polished silver armor beneath a green surcoat decorated with two golden roses, signifying his status as House Tyrell's second son.
Looking across the battlefield toward Karl, Garlan's expression darkened.
"I never imagined it would come to this."
His voice carried bitterness and frustration.
The more he looked at Karl Baratheon, the more anger rose within him.
The man's actions had shattered every reasonable expectation.
Not only had Karl ruined House Tyrell's plans, but he had forced everyone involved to choose sides.
And worst of all—
Margaery Tyrell.
The jewel of House Tyrell.
The woman who had been intended as Renly Baratheon's queen.
She had been completely swept away by Karl Baratheon.
Now the man refused to acknowledge any responsibility and acted as though House Tyrell somehow owed him compensation.
It was infuriating beyond words.
Because of the scandal, Renly's trust in House Tyrell had suffered greatly.
The family had been forced to expend enormous effort proving their loyalty all over again.
It was a disaster from beginning to end.
Garlan ground his teeth.
Fortunately, all of it would end today.
This battlefield would provide the answer.
Perhaps Karl had demonstrated extraordinary abilities before.
Perhaps miracles had followed him.
But this wasn't a tournament.
This wasn't King's Landing.
This was war.
A real battlefield.
The terrain was wide, open, and perfect for conventional warfare.
Six thousand soldiers against two thousand.
No matter how anyone calculated it, the advantage belonged to them.
Unless Karl Baratheon truly knew magic, Garlan couldn't imagine how the man intended to win.
"This is a war that never should have happened."
The voice came from beside him.
Lady Alerie Oakheart sat upon her horse, her gaze fixed upon the enemy formation.
More specifically, upon a certain white-cloaked knight standing near Karl.
Disappointment filled her voice.
"But now that we've come this far, it must be finished."
"Karl Baratheon should never have accepted the Iron Throne."
"The West was already enough for him."
As a loyal supporter of King Renly and the ruler of Old Oak, she had no choice but to stand upon this battlefield.
Her castle lay only a short distance behind her.
Retreat was impossible.
"So let us finish this absurd affair."
Garlan nodded.
The enemy formation was complete.
There was nothing left to discuss.
He raised his lance and issued the order to advance.
Thousands of soldiers moved forward in disciplined ranks.
The earth trembled beneath their march.
Dust rose into the sky.
Six thousand men advancing against two thousand.
They had no intention of hiding behind castle walls.
Overwhelming force was the quickest path to victory.
On the opposite side of the battlefield, Karl watched the enemy advance.
The thunder of thousands of footsteps echoed across the plains.
He casually closed the system panel visible only to him.
A grin appeared beneath his helmet.
"Oh?"
"The enemy not only refuses to surrender..."
"They actually dare to charge me?"
A faint light appeared around his hand.
Beside him, Ser Arys Oakheart and Ser Balon Swann exchanged speechless looks.
They had sworn their loyalty.
No matter what happened, they would stand beside their king.
"Your Grace."
Balon lowered his head.
"We will serve as your shield."
Karl merely glanced at him.
Then he grasped the lance planted in the ground.
The faint light spread instantly from his hand across the entire weapon.
The lance began to glow.
Brighter.
And brighter.
Until it shone like a miniature sun.
Weapon Enchantment.
This was Karl's solution.
If he couldn't simply kill everyone...
And he couldn't leave them entirely unharmed...
Then he would show them a miracle.
As the lance blazed with divine radiance, every soldier nearby stared in shock.
Eyes widened.
Mouths fell open.
Even seasoned knights found themselves unable to look away.
Karl silently observed their reactions.
This was exactly what he wanted.
If he could not defeat his enemies physically at first...
Then he would conquer them psychologically.
He would show them the truth.
He would show them who he was.
"I don't need you to be my shield."
"I only need you to keep up with me."
Fox, enhanced by magical potions and sharing its master's excitement, let out a thunderous neigh.
Then horse and rider surged forward.
The warhorse exploded into motion like a black-and-red streak of lightning.
Its speed became an afterimage.
Karl charged alone.
The crimson river embroidered upon his cloak streamed behind him like a banner of destiny.
His radiant lance lowered toward the enemy ranks.
At the same moment—
Lightning erupted around him.
Bolts of electricity appeared from nowhere, dancing through the air and striking the earth.
Thunder roared.
Dirt exploded upward.
A terrifying aura spread outward from Karl and Fox as they accelerated.
Faster.
Faster.
And faster still.
The glowing lance shone beneath the crimson comet.
Like a divine spear descending from heaven.
And to everyone watching, it seemed as though the story carried within that crimson river upon his cloak was finally beginning to unfold.
Advance Chapters avilable on patreon (Obito_uchiha)