The Empty Stronghold
"Your Highness the Prince!"
"No need to say it! They're rushing straight for their own graves!"
Following the information obtained from a nameless commoner whose name had barely registered in Lucas's memory, the charge continued. Soon, a small group of soldiers appeared ahead, as if trying to block the assault team's path. With just over ten in number, their intent was clearly to buy time, but Lucas had no intention of playing along.
"We'll smash through them in one go!"
"Yes, sir!"
The closer one's mana approached Red Light, the higher the efficiency of internal enhancement became, while external efficiency plummeted. Weapons wielded as extensions of the limbs suffered relatively less loss, yet even so, the effect was inferior to pouring the same amount of mana into something like the official "Weapon Reinforcement Formula." From that perspective, the sword Prince Lucas carried was undeniably a famed blade and an extremely high-grade magical tool.
When Lucas channeled mana through the hilt, rather than diminishing, the power was amplified, unleashing a massive slash. A crimson crescent moon carved through everything in its path with a menacing aura. Some enemies tried to intercept it with arrows or by throwing small orbs, but every attempt was repelled, unable to withstand the force.
At that exact moment, a small-statured girl at the enemy's vanguard leaped forward. Swinging a jet-black longsword, she intercepted the crimson slash. A thunderous clash, like steel striking steel, rang out. The crescent vanished, and the girl was flung backward, tumbling across the ground.
"What?"
Lucas's eyes filled with disbelief. He had believed that slash could cleave even an iron golem, yet it had been stopped by a ragtag group working together. If the Southern Army Commander himself had stepped in, he might have understood, but Kalyos was nowhere to be seen among the enemies.
Only then did Lucas examine the opposing force more closely. While a few knights appeared to be from the Southern Army, the core of the group consisted of others: the girl who had rolled across the ground yet rose lightly as if unharmed, a huntress in attire but holding no bow, and a burly youth with the build of a warrior yet wearing something resembling a scholar's robe. They looked more like wandering mercenaries—or, more harshly, a troupe of street performers—than proper soldiers.
"Academy students, are they?"
At the sight of those who could be considered one of the main culprits behind cornering him, Lucas's gaze twisted viciously. Strictly speaking, it had been Lucas's side that first provoked the Academy by targeting Lyla, but such trivial details meant nothing to him.
"Know your place! How dare those who receive the Empire's grace point their swords at an imperial prince without so much as a word! State your names at once!"
Pointing out that they had "drawn swords without declaring names" rather than simply "drawing swords" was Lucas's own form of consideration, given that this was during a friendly match. Unfortunately, that consideration failed to land.
The black-haired girl in the long, fluttering sleeves tilted her head and asked the brown-haired girl, "Didn't that guy swing his sword first? Don't you have to greet the one who swings first in this place?"
The brown-haired girl shrugged. "According to my employer, there are people in this world who twist the order of events to suit their own tastes. Those people generally fall into one of two categories."
"What are they?"
"Idiots. Or brats."
"Aha! So that guy's either an idiot or a kid! Which one is it?"
"Why not both?"
At their nonchalant exchange, Lucas stood with his mouth agape, the central army soldiers widened their eyes, and even the southern army soldiers—who should have been allies—recoiled in shock. The green-haired girl in hunter's garb ground her teeth, muttering, "Making me team up with these idiots… just you wait, rich-glasses…!" but only the youth in the scholar's robe beside her noticed.
Lucas's mind, which had momentarily failed to process what he had heard, belatedly grasped the situation. Understanding brought with it a surge of intense rage that set his body ablaze.
"You bitches!!"
Though his mental discipline might have been lacking, his innate talent for martial arts and the enhancements funded by his royal status were the real deal. Unlike moments ago when distance had allowed time to react, the slashes unleashed at point-blank range were far more ferocious and vicious. Ligret and Joy—the two who had made names for themselves in the martial tournament—dodged with all their might, yet both they and Pino still received wounds of varying severity. At the same time, the rest of the central army lowered their stances to charge.
Lucas's prowess was undoubtedly the strongest in this match. Not only in the commander's skill, but also in the quality and numbers of the soldiers, Lucas's assault team overwhelmingly outmatched the obstructors before them. There was no reason for defeat. At least, not "here."
At that moment, a communication device from Lucas's side blared.
[Report from the defense unit! "Blue team" spotted! Southern Army Commander Kalyos Schmidt and what appears to be his southern army forces—approximately twenty-five in number—are approaching our position!]
A ripple of unrest spread through the assault team. Even if each central army soldier was individually skilled, the southern army was not far behind when selecting only their elites. Moreover, if the Southern Army Commander himself was leading them and they outnumbered the defenders more than two-to-one, the defense would not hold for long.
"What does that matter?! Tell the skirmishers to return and strike their rear—kgh!?"
Though Lucas snapped in irritation while issuing orders, Ligret and her companions were not so lenient as to allow such an opening mid-battle. A sharp sword strike grazed above Lucas's head, and five iron orbs hurtled toward his vital points. Even an arrow imbued with fierce wind mana shot toward his legs with lethal intent.
It was a coordinated assault that would have claimed the life of any ordinary expert in an instant, yet Lucas not only blocked every attack but even launched a counterattack. Ligret's calf was sliced by the undulating crescent moon, and Joy hurriedly rolled away from an attack that grazed her nape. Rabaul took the strike aimed at Pino in her stead, but even his sturdy body could not fully suppress the damage—a massive wound carved across his chest and abdomen.
As members of the assault team rushed toward those trying to tend their injuries, Lucas, freed from the concentrated assault, regained his freedom of movement. He roared.
"You think you can defeat me with such petty tricks?! I'll turn every last one of you into rust on this blade!"
Though Lyla's absence still weighed on his mind, that was all. If the skirmishers struck the southern army from behind, the main camp could be defended. Capturing the southern army and seizing the base ahead would effectively end the match at that point.
As Lucas had predicted, the battle that followed was little more than a slaughter. The southern army soldiers accompanying them seemed to be among the weaker members of their unit, unable to properly handle even a single central army soldier. The Academy students fought valiantly, but the fundamental difference in numbers was too great. Had the brown-haired girl not displayed the astonishing feat of facing three central army soldiers simultaneously, or had the black-haired girl not resorted to throwing Attribute Stones instead of iron orbs to create explosions, the outcome would have been decided much sooner.
Shaking the blood from his sword, Lucas clicked his tongue in annoyance.
"Shameless lot! Choosing to drug themselves into unconsciousness the moment things get dangerous—what happened to a knight's honor?!"
The central army members also questioned whether throwing away one's life in such a fight was truly honorable, but that was not the matter at hand.
"We have lost contact with both the defense unit and the skirmishers. It seems they are engaged with the southern army. What are your orders, Your Highness?"
"Hmm…"
Lucas fell into brief contemplation. Five had fallen in the previous battle, leaving fifteen in the assault team. The fact that they had sent an interception force instead of defending the main camp suggested the defenders there were few, but it was also possible the enemy had deliberately sent people to block the path to create that impression. Adding the southern army numbers from the last report to those they had already defeated here, the remaining enemy force numbered around ten. Their leader had to be Lyla.
"Five of you, follow me to seize the enemy main camp! The rest, support the defense unit! Move quickly!"
"Yes, sir!"
Even if the missing Lyla and her remaining forces were all holed up in the main camp, his own skill would allow him to break through. In that case, they would achieve both "defeating the enemy commander" and "occupying the main camp" to secure victory. Conversely, if Lyla had left the main camp empty to attack Lucas's own base, it would be somewhat troublesome, but the central army would not fall so easily, and they would have inflicted at least twenty casualties. Combined with those Lucas had already defeated, they would achieve both "defeating thirty or more" and "occupying the main camp" to win.
Lucas's calculations were not wrong. However, when even a single premise in an equation changes, the result can shift dramatically—
"……What?"
The fact that only an empty, desolate clearing existed where the enemy main camp should have been was a variable sufficient to overturn the entire match.