What am I regretting now?
Noah stood beneath his command tent, eyes scanning the horizon. The Empire of Keenheart—once humanity's greatest empire—now teetered on the brink of extinction. Even now, the foolish heir of the late emperor wasted his last day in decadence, oblivious to the storm that approached. I can hardly believe that such a man is a descendant of Emperor Theo Thalric—a strategist whose foresight shaped history itself.
I had warned him: the kingdoms were uniting. A coalition was forming against our weakened empire. Our forces were insufficient. A nationwide draft was necessary.
And the response? That Viens—the capital—was too far. That it would take a hundred years to reach it. At most… a few cities would fall.
Bloody hell.
Ha… what am I regretting now? I tried everything. I had not sullied the name of my house—House Boldwyn, one of the founding pillars of the empire.
But betrayal had crept quietly among them. The nobles had abandoned the empire, striking secret deals with the invading kingdoms, dividing Keenheart into four separate realms.
A commander approached, urgency in his voice:
"My lord! The 200,000-strong coalition army has been sighted to the east. Our detached forces are already clashing with their advance units," he reported.
Noah stepped to the edge of the hill, eyes narrowing at the plain below. The enemy stretched in a sea of banners and armor, numbers dwarfing his own forces. We've done well… but they still outnumber us four to one. Fifty thousand against two hundred thousand. Action must be swift before the coalition can regroup.
The crown prince bit his nails nervously. What will happen after this? There is nowhere to go. Even the capital has fallen… maybe surrender is the only way to survive.
Five of his commanders sat nearby, shoulders slumping, faces pale with doubt.
I gritted my teeth. I am done with this weakness.
He thought of the lives lost—how many comrades had fallen for this battle? And now, some dared speak of surrender?
Noah drew his sword. The prince fell in a single, swift motion.
Was that sacrifice—my son Hans gave for nothing? Or the soldiers raised since childhood?
This was the final warning. Any thought of retreat or surrender—no matter who spoke it—even a king—would be answered with death.
"Is it clear?" Noah demanded.
Voices shouted in unison:
"Understood, General!"
They understood him. Cowards would have fled. They would not.
Noah turned to Jeff, one of his most trusted commanders.
"Take your troops into position. Strike at the heart of their command. Stop this army right where they stand," he ordered.
"At once, my lord," Jeff replied, steady as ever.
Both armies took positions.
The coalition army placed 50,000 on the left, 100,000 in the center, and 50,000 on the right—a simple formation, relying entirely on overwhelming numbers. Dust swirled across their ranks, rising in clouds that smelled of smoke and earth. Armor clanged with every movement, and distant shouts echoed across the plain.
Noah's forces moved with precision:
10,000 on the left wing
5,000 between left and center
1,000 cavalry behind the left flank
Two units of 5,000 in the forward center, with two units of 5,000 infantry behind
10,000 on the right wing
Four units of 1,000 cavalry positioned strategically
Total: 50,000 soldiers.
Noah glanced at Jeff. He was no ordinary foe, but Noah already had a plan. He leaned closer to his most loyal commander.
"My boy… you are one of my most trusted officers. The least I can do is place my trust in you," Noah said.
Jeff flinched slightly, reading the unspoken meaning: a mission, then.
Your loyalty is commendable, Noah thought. I would not have blamed you if you had deserted. You have surprised and impressed me. I thank you from the bottom of my heart.
There was no plan to fully defeat the coalition army. All Noah could do was delay the inevitable—or perhaps lay the foundation of a new nation from the ashes of Keenheart.
Jeff's eyes widened. Even I cannot overturn this position?
Noah chuckled softly. Achievements aside, I am known as "Undefeatable." I defeated 100,000 Valkan soldiers at the Battle of Heffa Ridge with only 10,000 of my own. I have never lost a battle.
But for generals like me, men who have lived on the thin line between life and death… we can sense when the end is near.
He remembered it all: the battles fought, comrades lost, soldiers trained like children, lives sacrificed to protect the empire his family had safeguarded for generations. Perhaps even the souls of the fallen, for every soul must taste what he endured.
Noah whispered the mission and plan to Jeff. The commander froze, eyes wide, staring at him. His expression pleaded silently for reconsideration.
Noah smiled faintly, covering his mouth. Shhh. Questioning orders was never part of your training.
His hand trembled slightly as he composed himself.
"Understood, my lord," Jeff whispered, kneeling, tears streaming down his face.
Jeff mounted his horse and rode off to carry out the orders.
Now… it is time for the last dance, Noah thought, allowing himself a quiet, grim smile.
Sid Ramires sat in his command tent, swirling wine in a glass, eyes locked on the battlefield.
"Well, would you look at this," Sid said, smirking. "The so-called undefeatable general is organizing a last stand. Interesting, don't you think, Isaac?"
Isaac Dimitri, muscular and wielding a mace, nodded silently. A woman poured more alcohol into Sid's glass.
"Who cares?" she scoffed. "I can just smash through my lord's army with my mace."
"Now, now," Sid replied, cautious. "Give him his due respect. He is a legend of the old era. And we must be careful."
The troops took their positions. Everything was set.
Both Sid and Noah shouted simultaneously:
"Now… let's begin!"
Noah ordered the left flank forward. Ten thousand infantry surged ahead while Sid committed all his forces to the center. Seeing this, Noah sent 5,000 additional infantry into the fray. Simultaneously, he advanced 10,000 soldiers on the right wing, while 3,000 cavalry circled toward the coalition HQ.
Sid's eyes widened. Does he think I cannot see his tricks?
The coalition's numerical advantage began pushing Noah's soldiers back. Dust, smoke, and the acrid scent of blood filled the air. Sid laughed fanatically, reveling in the chaos.
"Hahahah! Kill them all! Tear them to pieces!"
Then… the thunder of hooves erupted from the right.
Noah's 1,000 cavalry had silently moved behind the left flank, charging toward Sid's command. Horses screamed, armor clanged, and the metallic scent of war cut through the dust.
Sid scrambled—but it was too late. He had been outmaneuvered.
The cavalry struck like lightning, shattering the elite unit and clearing a path to Sid.
"Well, we meet, brat," Noah said, confronting him.
Sid froze. Death itself had arrived.
Noah slashed. Sid tried to block, but his sword slipped from his hand.
"Wait!" he screamed—but Noah did not hesitate.
One clean strike decapitated him. Noah dragged the head to the ground. Soldiers cheered, but he knew the battle was far from over.
"It's not yet time to celebrate!" Noah shouted. "The work is far from finished!"
At the rear, Isaac Dimitri received a report. He raced with 2,000 men to the coalition HQ—but found Sid's severed head skewered by a spear. The battlefield was littered with corpses, the screams of the wounded echoing across the plains. Rage consumed him.
"Damn that bastard! I will kill him!"
Before he could strike, a sword pierced his chest. He turned—and saw Noah.
"You… bastard…" he gasped.
This was a trap—designed by a warrior and general known as indomitable and undefeatable.
"Shrink their numbers as much as possible!" Noah shouted.
The same command rippled through all commanders on the main front. Dust, blood, smoke, and the screams of battle surrounded them—this was war in its purest, most terrifying form.
When the sun began to set and the dust finally settled, Noah—bloodied and battered—stood among the last twenty of his soldiers. One by one, his men had fallen. Kneeling amidst the carnage, he laughed, a deep, exhausted sound.
What a life… truly a great life. I have enjoyed it to the fullest.
With grim determination, he planted the Keenheart flag into the ground with one hand, balancing himself as he drew his sword with the other. He would die standing.
Unbeknownst to anyone, Jeff was already on the way with a thousand Boldwyn cavalry to the Boldwyn estate on the Dawn Peninsula—a nearly impregnable stronghold. As Noah had commanded, a separate kingdom would rise from the ashes, with his son, Hans Boldwyn, as its king.
In that war alone, the coalition suffered 170,000 casualties, halting their advance.
TO BE CONTINUED…