The Great War Ignites
Count Hector Marcios was an incredibly handsome man. Among all the people he'd seen in life and death combined, he was the most striking. He looked like a statue meticulously crafted by a renowned sculptor, brought to life and on the move. Tall, with a perfect physique. If there were ever proof of divine intervention in appearance, this man was it.
Right now, he was wrestling alone with stacks of documents, reviewing strategies. But from the way his brow kept furrowing, it was clear something wasn't sitting right. A quick peek at the plans he'd drafted revealed they were utterly ordinary. On the level of top academy students—straight out of the textbook, almost purely frontal assaults.
Frontal assaults aren't inherently bad. They can even be the most reliable approach. Come evening, the staff meeting convened. If it could even be called a meeting—it felt more like a lavish banquet. Among the twenty-odd staff officers gathered for this "meeting" disguised as a feast, only one dared bring up strategy or tactics. And even he was promptly mocked by the others.
Count Hector sighed inwardly. There was a reason he'd been reviewing plans in solitude.
Count Hector Marcios's soul was, by all accounts, impressive. He was undoubtedly a cut above the average. But his opponent was on another level. He couldn't hold a candle to Duke Jona Zartus. No—in fact, most of Duke Jona's staff outshone the count.
There was nothing more to see here. He shifted straight to the Odysseia camp. If even Odysseia matched Silmaron's caliber, Lionia would claim an overwhelming victory in this war.
Odysseia wasn't particularly exceptional in any way. Nor was it notably deficient. It was akin to the Venus Kingdom, just with slightly smaller territory.
Checking Odysseia's camp, the soldiers were elite enough, but morale was low. Plenty were grumbling about being dragged into a dispute between Lionia and Silmaron. The knights were in a similar state—morale wasn't high. Better than Silmaron's, but nowhere near Lionia's.
Examining the mages sparked a twinge of curiosity. Their magical forces were abysmally weak. Far worse than Lionia's, which was already considered deficient in that area. Digging around for intel revealed that any competent mages had flocked to Silmaron.
The scales were tipping ever further toward Lionia.
Finally, he located the command tent. Odysseia's supreme commander was Crown Prince Grun Odysseia, who had taken personal command. Of course, the prince was likely just a figurehead. The real power would be at his side.
As expected, Crown Prince Grun Odysseia wasn't bad. Quite impressive, in fact. His soul outclassed Count Hector Marcios's by a wide margin. But the presumed actual commander, General Gerkan Pichione, was the problem. Despite his upper-rank knight prowess, the general's soul was subpar even among his peers. It might've been better if the crown prince handled command himself.
Clashing opinions mid-war could prove a major liability.
Nothing more worth seeing. He returned promptly to Ioville and drafted a message for the king: 'Lconia Absolute Superiority.'
Ioville dispatched it via transmission magic to the palace without delay. His work was done. As a spy, could anyone do better?
He planned to stick around. He informed Ioville as much, then detached from the group. He'd rejoin once news of Venus's forces arrived.
He wanted to witness war up close. Tragic as it was, this was the first great war in three hundred years. From a historical observer's standpoint, it demanded attention.
Besides, his strategic and tactical knowledge was outdated—book-learned theory. Watching Duke Jona of Lionia command a massive army firsthand would be invaluable study.
So he returned to the Lionia camp first. As suspected last time, Lionia had prepared meticulously for this war. Conscripted common soldiers arrived in remarkably good shape. No one would mistake them for starved peasants from a famine-ravaged land.
The supply depots brimmed with provisions. A great famine had indeed struck. Yet this state of affairs suggested they'd anticipated it—and used it as a pretext to ignite the war.
Why provoke conflict so deliberately, all of a sudden? He hungered for the reason.
He shadowed Duke Jona and his core staff relentlessly, but the motive eluded him.
Then Lionia finally declared war on Silmaron. Silmaron fired back with a condemnation, and Odysseia followed suit, declaring war on Lionia for attacking its ally and announcing intervention.
Exactly two days later, Lionia's army crossed into Silmaron territory, heralding the great war's outbreak.
The first battle defied expectations: Silmaron won. A massive magical barrage hammered Lionia's deep-penetrating forces, forcing a major Lionian retreat.
At Duke Jona's side in the Lionia camp, listening to nonstop reports, he found himself silently wishing Silmaron luck.
Lionia's retreating army had been bait. Casualties were light. Foolishly, Silmaron concentrated its premier magical forces to crush the incursion, exposing weaknesses elsewhere on the line.
"Strike the flanks as planned."
At Duke Jona's order, the knight commanders of the left and right wings bolted from their tents.
"What about the fools charging into the trap?"
"Shouldn't we just oblige them with death?"
One staffer smirked at the duke's question.
"I'll leave it to you."
"Gladly!"
The staffer dashed out, eager as could be.
Silmaron's army, chasing the "retreating" Lionian forces across the border deep into Lionian soil, was textbook folly—even to someone versed only in histories and academy texts. Given Count Hector's talent, he doubted the count had issued such a boneheaded order. Some frontline commander or ambitious staffer had gone rogue for glory.
Reports soon poured in. The flanking knight units shattered enemy lines effortlessly, wreaked havoc, then withdrew. The Silmaron forces that had pursued into the Lionian center suffered near-total annihilation; only a handful escaped.
He lingered in Duke Jona's tent. For now, war remained abstract numbers.
It was just beginning. In a day-plus of fighting, Lionia lost 2,000; Silmaron over 10,000. Lionian morale soared with the great victory. Silmaron's, he imagined, cratered.
But this was merely the opening. The three nations had committed over 400,000 troops combined. Tens of thousands—perhaps 300,000—would die or be maimed before it ended.
Mere numbers to some. Yet each represented a soul-bearing life. Hearing reports in digits, after just one day, drove home how fleetingly those lives vanished.
He wasn't averse to touring the battlefield personally. Wars birthed countless deaths and souls—a prime chance to grow stronger. He'd absorbed some in the past, but instinct balked at more.
Meanwhile, reports arrived: Venus Kingdom siding with Lionia. Duke Jona's expression was complex—relieved, yet like a predator robbed of its prey.
Even with Venus's declaration, they couldn't join immediately. Mobilizing from the capital would take time. Given the enigmatic king's nature, preparations might be advanced. Still, no Venus troops for at least a day or two.
Silmaron and Odysseia weren't idle. Venus's involvement would have reached them; no fools, they'd aim to end it—or tilt the odds—before Venus arrived.
The hitherto quiet Odysseia launched probing attacks. Unlike Silmaron's blunder, they were relentless skirmishes, denying Lionia rest. It tied down significant Lionian forces.
Duke Jona and his staff remained unflustered. Silmaron, meanwhile, repeated its prior tactic: massed assaults. But shallower this time, avoiding total wipeout.
Lionia shifted defensively—seemingly awaiting Venus. Outwardly, at least.
It wasn't. Duke Jona Zartus was digging traps.
He slipped from the Lionia camp, passing Odysseia's skirmish zones. Small- and large-scale clashes eroded stamina and will without heavy losses—a war of attrition.
Odysseia's HQ was chaos, as predicted. Crown Prince Grun and General Gerkan clashed. Yet both agreed: act before Venus arrived.
Gerkan pushed for ending skirmishes and launching a Silmaron-style grand offensive. Grun favored intensifying attrition to crack Lionia's line.
Staff split evenly; consensus seemed distant.
Silmaron was a mess. Count Hector had zero control. Those banquet idiots were undermining him. No smooth operations here anytime soon.
Now for the site of the grand maneuver—Odysseia front, per Duke Jona's strategy.
Days later, Lionia's offensive erupted. The "crack" Odysseia sought appeared first on their side.
Lionia, foreseeing it, rotated troops meticulously to minimize fatigue. Odysseia did too, but defense saps less than constant attack—especially with Gerkan hoarding forces for his push, botching rotations worse than Lionia's.
Lionia's elite knights—strongest among neighbors—smashed the lax Odysseian line, followed by heavy infantry. The front collapsed in moments. Odysseia panicked, but Gerkan's reserved strike force briefly restored balance.
But only briefly.