"Cough!"
Blasker coughed as he felt his insides churn.
At the same time, a few drops of blood mixed with his saliva and splattered out of his mouth.
"M-Master!"
"Silence! Stop making a commotion!"
Blasker shouted at the panicked voices of his disciples.
When those above wavered, those below only grew more confused.
At times like this, he had to force himself to appear composed, no matter what.
"The damage—what about the damage? The soldiers? His Majesty and the other commanders?"
"His Majesty is safe, and most of the commanders avoided harm. However, the soldiers…"
The disciple who had been reporting quickly trailed off.
Sensing something was wrong, Blasker forcibly lifted his eyes and looked around.
Then, at the sight that immediately caught his attention, he clenched his teeth.
"Damn it. At this rate, there are hardly any soldiers left who can fight."
Blasker's response had clearly been swift.
Before the enemy's magic struck the camp, he erected a barrier with mana and diverted most of it away, avoiding direct hits except in a very few cases.
The problem was that the majority of the soldiers had been stationed near the stream, and parts of their bodies were soaked with water.
Even though they avoided being struck directly, many were electrocuted as the current traveled through the wet parts of their bodies.
"Ghk! Lord Blasker, what in the world is going on!?"
The first among the noble commanders to regain consciousness was Marquis Bernhardt.
Between the flash of light, the thunderous roar, and the shockwave, his vision and one ear were still ringing, but he forced his body to move.
Blasker hurriedly explained the situation.
"It was the enemy's attack. They manipulated atmospheric phenomena with mana and called down lightning. Fortunately, we avoided direct strikes, but the residual moisture on the soldiers' bodies allowed the current to flow through their muscles—"
"Forget the scholarly jargon and explain it plainly! Even if you talk like that, I won't understand a word!"
"There aren't many dead, but the aftereffects have rendered most of the soldiers combat-ineffective! They won't be able to move unless they rest for at least four or five hours!"
"Damn it all!"
At the worst possible answer, the marquis rose to his feet, clutching his one bloodshot eye.
Aside from a few who had been burned black to death, most did not appear to have suffered serious injuries.
However, a large number of soldiers were unconscious, and even those who had come to were writhing on the ground, unable to move their bodies properly.
"Your Highness! First Prince, Your Highness!"
"Ugh… aaah…!"
The First Prince, Claude, the supreme commander, seemed to have been startled senseless by the lightning; his legs had given out, and he could barely even speak.
Grinding his teeth at the sight, Marquis Bernhardt strode over to Claude and snatched the command baton from him.
"Your Highness! Given the unavoidable circumstances, I will assume command in your stead!"
"Uuugh…!"
Even after having the command baton snatched away, Claude failed to come to his senses and could only let out low groans.
Some of the commanders, Blasker among them, frowned at the marquis's high-handed seizure of authority, but none voiced an objection.
With Claude in that state, the situation would never be brought under control unless someone else took command.
"First, we must get an accurate grasp of the damage! How many soldiers are currently able to move—!"
—Waaaaaah!
Before Marquis Bernhardt could even finish issuing his order, a roar of battle cries came from the distance.
Startled, he turned his head, only to see troops that had been hidden in the forest charging straight toward the allied forces.
"This is insane…!"
The distance was still far enough that an ambush should have been meaningless.
But under these circumstances, ambush or not hardly mattered—the enemy's attack itself was lethal.
The marquis desperately shouted at the soldiers with all the strength he could muster.
"Get up! The enemy is coming! If you don't want to die lying on the ground, get on your feet now!"
"Ghhk!"
At the marquis's cry, the soldiers began struggling to lift themselves up.
When he saw about half of the fallen soldiers manage to rise, the marquis's expression brightened for a brief moment—only to crumple again just as quickly.
Of those who stood, half could barely remain upright, and only the remaining half were actually capable of fighting.
"Lord Blasker, can't you do something with magic!?"
"It's not possible here!"
The marquis tried to rely on Blasker, the mage, but one of Blasker's disciples stepped forward instead and answered.
"There isn't enough time to cast spells, and this is open plains—the focus is far too wide! If we were on a hill, maybe, but at this distance, even if we use magic, it'll almost all miss!"
"Then we just wait and use it while the enemy closes in during the time it takes to chant the spell, don't we!"
"If they get any closer, there's a risk our own side will get caught in it!"
Useless, the lot of them.
Faced with a situation with no answer in sight, the marquis swallowed a curse.
Was there truly no other way?
Pshiiing, pop-bang!
"Master?"
"Silence—be quiet…!"
At the sudden, raucous noise, the marquis turned his head.
At some point, without him noticing when it had been fired, multicolored sparks were now painting the sky.
It was fireworks—the sort a fire-school mage occasionally put on display during festivals.
Dumbfounded, the marquis glared at Blasker, thinking he had wasted magic on something so pointless.
"What do you think you're doing right now? Are you telling the enemy to enjoy a fireworks show before they leave?"
"Listen carefully. Lord Lucian is following behind us with a thousand elites of the Valdeck family."
"What!?"
"It's insurance, just in case. What I fired just now was a signal flare. Go and spread the word at once—let the troops know and raise their morale. Cough!"
Blasker staggered and dropped to one knee.
Having forced himself to use magic again, he looked no longer able to speak properly.
The marquis wanted to ask more, but the situation was too urgent, so he shouted immediately instead.
"Hold the enemy back! We have reinforcements! The forces of the Valdeck family are coming to support us! The signal has been sent—they'll arrive shortly!"
"Protect the First Prince! Once the reinforcements arrive, victory will be ours!"
In that desperate situation, the allied army—whose morale had sunk to rock bottom—snapped to attention, eyes blazing.
If the marquis's words were true, then at the very least, there was hope.
—Waaah!
—Die, you dogs of the Empire!
—You cowardly bastards!
The clash of weapons, curses, screams, and shouts rang in the ears.
Catching the rancid stench of blood, Count Dominic's lips curled upward.
This war was already as good as won.
Yet no matter how many they killed, the allied forces showed no sign of collapsing, and his smile quickly faded.
"…Strange. Why are they resisting so desperately?"
A war does not end only when one side is annihilated.
If victory is clearly impossible, even an army that still has the strength to fight usually collapses on its own.
Unless they were a suicide force that had thrown away their lives from the start, even elite troops were no exception.
And yet, with fewer than a quarter of their soldiers truly capable of fighting, they were resisting this fiercely.
It's almost as if they think they can win.
Without every soldier being convinced there was a chance of victory, morale like this would be impossible.
But what possible winning hand could they have?
Unless they had reinforcements—yet all forces should have already been gathered here.
Could it be that the Empire's mage is preparing some kind of spell? No matter how powerful the magic, with both sides pressed this close together, they shouldn't be able to use it…
Bwooooo—
A deep, heavy horn blast reached Dominic's ears as he was lost in thought.
At that sound, not only Dominic but even the allied forces froze in place.
Turning his head, he saw a host advancing from afar, lion banners held at the fore.
"…Valdeck!?"
"It's Lord Lucian! Reinforcements from the Grand Ducal House of Valdeck have arrived!"
"Waaaaaah!"
Along with Dominic's shock, the marquis's excited shout rang out.
The allied forces instantly regained their morale and surged forward more fiercely than before, while the flustered Krepfeld army was gradually pushed back.
Faced with this unforeseen turn of events, Dominic's face twisted violently.
"Damn it all!"
So that was why he hadn't seen the banners of the Grand Ducal House of Valdeck—they had been hanging back.
With the situation reversing in an instant, Dominic felt his head spin.
Even with them added in, we still have the numerical advantage in soldiers who can actually fight. But since we're already fully engaged, aside from a small reserve, we can't reorganize our forces…!
At this rate, they would be struck in the flank while unable to maneuver at all.
If he didn't want the formation to collapse and be swept away, he had to stop it before that happened—by any means necessary.
There were two options.
Either capture the First Prince and end the battle outright, or seize Valdeck's commander and bring their advance to a halt.
The first will be difficult.
The enemy knew just how important the First Prince was and was guarding him with utter desperation.
Marquis Bernhardt, Blasker the head of the Fire School, and the imperial guard knights led by Jürgen.
Even if he threw everything he had at them, he wouldn't break through before they arrived.
That left only one choice: capture Valdeck's commander first and stop them in their tracks.
Dominic bit his lip and shouted.
"Reserve forces, follow me!"
***
"Good. They're holding out well."
Lucian urged his horse forward as he surveyed the allied forces' situation.
They were being pushed back, but it didn't look as though they would collapse anytime soon.
Perhaps because of the Valdeck family's banner, there were even signs that the enemy was hesitating.
"Third Young Master, please give the order to attack!"
"We'll take them on the flank like this—… Wait, what's that up ahead?"
Lucian blinked at the sudden group of soldiers charging toward them.
No matter how he looked at it, the numbers were far too few to stop Valdeck's elites.
If they pressed forward as they were, those troops would clearly be swept away without a trace.
As everyone stood there, puzzled as to what the enemy was thinking, a single knight leapt forward.
"My name is Dominic Lire! Count of Krepfeld and commander of this host! Commander of Valdeck, if you are not afraid of me, come forth and cross swords with me!"
"Madman."
Gerard, his aide, let out a hollow laugh.
They were the ones who had broken the Grand Pact, yet now he was demanding a duel.
The sheer audacity of it was almost laughable.
"Third Young Master, there's no need to humor him. Let's just crush them as we are."
"No. I'll accept."
"Pardon? What are you—!"
"But don't stop. Just slow the pace a little. It'll be over soon anyway."
"Third Young Master!?"
Before Gerard could say anything more, Lucian spurred his horse forward and burst out ahead.
Seeing Lucian advance while protruding from the formation, Dominic momentarily relaxed, thinking his plan had worked.
But he soon realized that Lucian had only slowed the advance, not stopped it at all, and shouted in alarm.
"What is this supposed to be!? If you've accepted the duel, halt your advance first! Do you not even know the proper conduct of a duel!?"
"That's not something I need to hear from scum who broke the Grand Pact. And what kind of 'conduct' is needed to deal with a piece of trash like you?"
"What!?"
"In any case, I heard your name well enough. You don't need to know mine. I'll clear you out and move on."
"You bastard…!"
Dominic's face turned beet-red.
Though clad in armor, his build and voice made it clear he was barely of age.
To be treated like garbage by such a green youth—not even a veteran—was more than he could bear.
No matter how hard he tried to stay calm, his insides churned with rage.
"Very well! Pay the price for that arrogance!"
The enraged Dominic immediately spurred his horse and charged straight at Lucian.
It differed slightly from his original plan, but the fact remained: the enemy commander had stepped forward.
If he could take his head here, the Valdeck soldiers would plunge into chaos all at once.
Even if he died as well, as long as he could pin the enemy here, it would be Dominic's victory.
Judging by his stance, he plans to finish it in a single exchange. The famous Lionheart Sword, is it?
Dominic grasped Lucian's intent the moment he saw his charging stance.
The Lionheart Sword was famed for its overwhelming ferocity.
In mounted combat, where elaborate techniques were difficult to employ, it would indeed be overwhelmingly advantageous.
But that very choice made Dominic smile instead.
Just as I thought—still a greenhorn. No matter how powerful the strike, as long as its path is limited, there's a way to meet it.
Since intricate techniques were hard to use, he couldn't slip inside and cut.
But he could collide head-on, matching the enemy's movement.
By coincidence, Dominic's own sword style also emphasized brute force.
If they clashed directly, the shock would send both of them tumbling from their horses.
And while he's flustered from the fall, I'll recover my stance and strike first.
Dominic had been thrown from his horse several times in battle—but what about this youngster?
Anyone faced with such a situation for the first time always needed time to regain their bearings.
No matter how great his sword style, he would surely fail to respond properly.
Now!
Claaang!
The moment the two closed to within striking distance, Dominic swung his sword.
Just as expected, a tremendous impact slammed into his body.
And at the same time, Dominic's head flew through the air.
A heartbeat later, Dominic realized—too late—that his own blade had shattered, while Lucian's sword remained intact and had swept cleanly through his neck.
Catching Dominic's severed head, which had died with a look of why? still in its eyes, Lucian muttered,
"Sorry about that. My sword's a bit high-grade."
READ MORE CHAPTERS HERE: https://shinchangreat.sellfy.store/