No One Welcomes the Summer Fever (6)
In this world, what people commonly call magic has various schools of thought, each with its own methods. That's why it's not uncommon for different schools to achieve the same results through entirely different approaches. To use an analogy, there are many ways to light a fire on a branch—gathering sunlight or using friction heat—but the end result is the same: a flame. Consequently, each school pursues different goals, and their methods vary widely, with some suited to certain races and others not.
For instance, dwarves, who are generally short on mana, primarily wield magic that draws out the power and essence embedded in crystals and gems mined from caves. Similarly, orcs and centaurs, also mana-poor, focused on magic harnessing the vital energy of life through hunting or human sacrifices. Unlike them, humans—who aren't mana-deficient—have adopted and developed dozens or hundreds of schools from other races. Yet even humans hesitate to pursue certain powers.
That would be the natural control abilities rooted in the abundant mana reserves of elves and demons. Among them, demons' powers are based on the ability to erode the environment, while...
Elves' powers stem from the ability to adapt to the environment. If we must name the school, they are innate masters of the Nature School.
And that power shines brightest in situations like this one—leaning on the overflowing life force of the surrounding vegetation and the mana surging from it to completely conceal their forms within the terrain.
Screeeeeeeeech—!!
Chilling arrows began flying from the forest, where not a single elf shadow was visible. The assault of the continent's strongest guerrillas, the elf magical archers, had begun.
"Prepare for impact!"
But even with shields up, a direct hit from those archers' arrows was hard to survive unscathed. These unique arrows, infused with mana into their convex shafts, erupted with mana on launch—increasing range and speed, and detonating on impact for devastating power. In my past life, they might have been called fire arrows, rockets, or something even deadlier. That's the elf race's hallmark: unleashing such horrors purely through innate talent.
Thus, like with centaurs, you can't win them in a straight shooting match. Elves' core tactic is to hide in forests, unleash a volley of mana arrows, then exploit their advantages to withdraw swiftly.
Boom, kabaaaang—!!
The merciless explosions from the elves' arrows rocked the front lines, sending imperial infantry screaming to the ground or scattering in disarray. Some had their shields ripped away, leaving them exposed, and they hurriedly swapped positions to reform ranks.
We both knew—the princess and I—that charging blindly into the forest in this skirmish would be a massacre. Our few marksmen couldn't even loose a shot, out of range.
And Prince Wilhelm, who had prepared these forces in advance, must have anticipated this exact flow. That's why he assigned them to the unit now, when we'd held back on heavy resource use until this point.
"Aren't the mages ready yet?"
"Almost done, sir!"
At the rear of the formation, human mages of the common Ritual School clustered, completing their preparations. My instructions to them were simple.
Soon, the intricate white magic circle they'd drawn across the open plain overheated with a flash, chilling the battlefield as it gathered ambient heat into glowing orbs.
"Where should we aim?"
"The forest across the river. If possible, scatter them as widely as you can."
"Understood!"
In line with my request, the searing heat orbs warped the air above us as they launched, soon plummeting into the forest and setting it ablaze.
Field artillery composed of mages—one of the three main reasons why specialists like them end up dragged to the battlefield.
And those massive fireballs bubbled fiercely amid the tree-packed woods. But that alone had limits; without spreading the flames wide, the elves would squeeze out their vitality to extinguish it quickly.
Sponheim's military research department magic lectures emphasize maximizing imagination for such scenarios. After all, if magic bends reality through unknown mana forces, its applications depend on personal creativity.
Of course, I lacked such genius. That would be the princess.
So I merely proposed countermeasures to exploit the current crisis to the fullest.
"Second one. Start as soon as you're ready."
"Got it!"
"Everyone! Brace for gale-force winds on my signal!"
Soon, the white circle activated again, unleashing a fierce gust across the field. The battlefield, where winds were calm and the nearby river made fire attacks disadvantageous, now benefited from this artificial gale to fan the flames far and wide.
The effect was tremendous. The fire, previously confined to the impact zones, surged toward the forest depths, spreading beyond even the elves' ability to contain.
With hiding in the woods impossible—and now fleeing the fire themselves—the elves' desperate counter was singular: abandon their concealed forest positions, rush to the river ahead, draw up water, and summon localized rain.
"Archers, now!"
Of course, that forced sacrifices on their end too, didn't it? Imperial bowmen, useless against hidden foes in the trees, now loosed volleys at the lightly armored elves panicked out by the heat.
No matter how easily they manipulated nature, deflecting a rain of arrows was another realm entirely. Their mana wasn't infinite, and summoning winds to intercept shots risked the rear flames engulfing them instead.
Unable to respond effectively, the elves reaching the water's edge fell one by one to the humans' "unremarkable" arrows.
"Kahaaaak...!"
From unilaterally raining arrows to suddenly taking them, the elves wailed preemptively, hastily reforming their lines.
For these numerically inferior foes—fewer than humans—this jab was no small matter.
This is going better than expected.
I didn't know if the unit's commander facing me was Ludwig or that Hewerin fellow, but their response wasn't bad. However, the forest and river—natural barriers—were now neutralized in an instant.
Before the river channel refilled with water, I made my call: advance.
"Infantry, forward...! Strike while they're disorganized!"
I sent the unit charging, then used communication magic to contact Princess Charlotte waiting at the rear. Unlike last time, no restrictions applied here.
『Then we'll push ahead first. Hold at the rear until the situation shifts. Intervene when Your Highness deems the moment right—that's entirely up to you.』
『Of course. Leave it to me.』
Exchanging intents, I raced with the unit to the dried riverbed. The elves immediately showered us with arrows to halt us, but some sacrifices were inevitable for close combat.
Elves' greatest weakness: numerical inferiority.
As long-lived species outlasting other races twofold, elf society suffers from low population. Their convenient magic prevents labor shortages despite this.
Thus, they dread melee number fights—a well-known Achilles' heel.
Of course, Neustria's ducal forces weren't pure elves; mixed-bloods and humans waited at the rear. But...
The fire's tying them up too.
They'd join late reorganizing. Pressed there, the frontline elves failed to block the crossing with arrows and, instead of meeting our infantry head-on, turned tail.
"Cavalry!"
With them shooting no more and showing backs, it was time for our heavy cavalry, held in reserve. Matching infantry pace at first, they now thundered toward the smoldering forest.
No matter their agility, they couldn't outpace horses; one unit swiftly fell into crisis, caught.
As knights moved to slaughter the gender-mixed elf archers...
"Ahsaaaaaaaa───!!"
With their signature war cries, shield-and-sword bearers surged from the unburnt woods. Minimal armor, shield-reliant, having honed their terrain-blending ability to the max by shedding all gear—a special elf unit.
Elf naked warriors...!
Bodies etched only with mana-fixing runes, they crashed into the cavalry to rescue their kin...!