Odysseia Forgets Something Crucial
Odysseia had forgotten something very important. Lionia had a decisive weapon ready to deploy at any moment...
Duke Jona Zartus, who had been hiding among the knights without his flagship, suddenly burst forth. It was my first time witnessing the might of a Master-class knight. It was like watching a lion charge into a flock of sheep.
The dozen or so knights led by Duke Jona sliced through the Odysseia lines like a red-hot knife through butter. The academy teaches that no tactic can stand against overwhelming force. And here on the battlefield, the duke was making it real.
Of course, this power was relative. I briefly imagined swapping the Beast King into the duke's position—what would happen then? It was a pointless comparison, really. The Beast King, or his foes like the Titan Snake or the Black Twin-Headed Ogre, were all off the charts. If even one of them dropped into this battlefield, could all 400,000 troops here combined take it down without losing more than half? That was the vibe I got.
Anyway, the duke wasn't some outlier, but his power still created a massive asymmetric advantage on this field. He charged straight through the enemy lines, striking at Odysseia's command post near the front, where they were directing their troops.
Crown Prince Grun's guard knights and the high-ranking knight General Gerkan put up some resistance, but they couldn't hope to stop a Master-class knight. With a few swings—like twisting a child's wrist—the general's head flew through the air.
"Duke Jona Zartus claims the head of enemy commander Gerkan!"
Before the head hit the ground, the duke snatched it midair and bellowed with aura, his voice booming across the field. For a moment, the battlefield—swarming with tens of thousands—seemed to freeze.
Seizing that gap, the duke and his knights retreated in a straight line, just as they'd come.
Left alone in the command tent, Crown Prince Grun's face drained of color as he stared blankly, then rallied the surviving officers and barked orders in a furious voice.
"Retreat."
If they'd beheaded or captured the crown prince too, maybe the war would've ended right there. But no. Killing or taking him prisoner would've dragged it out until one side—Odysseia or Lionia—was utterly destroyed.
As Odysseia retreated in decent order under the prince's command, Lionia didn't pursue recklessly. Some detachments peeled off swiftly to redeploy elsewhere, though.
Silmarron hadn't scored any major victories, yet factions kept ignoring supreme commander Count Hector's orders, chasing personal glory with reckless assaults. So Hector decided to roll with it: he assigned rotations for leading these pushes and gave minimal tactical guidance to match.
This assault's spearhead was Silmarron's pride: their mage corps. Elite high mages from the Silmarron Mage Tower mobilized in full force, hungry for big merits.
No one beats mages in burst firepower. Rain down dozens of high-tier spells from afar, then charge—it's a tactic that's brutally hard to counter even if you see it coming.
Count Hector joined this push personally. With so many troops committed, it was basically an all-out offensive. He'd heard Venus Kingdom was sending reinforcements and felt the pressure to gain ground before they arrived.
"The whole army, advance!"
Aboard a flawless white steed, sword raised high, Hector cut a picture-perfect figure issuing the command. His flawless looks often overshadowed his skills, but he was undeniably exceptional. He'd wrangled the Mage Tower's stubborn old monsters into line, analyzed terrain and scout reports day and night in place of useless staffers, and crafted tactics on the fly.
Under Hector's orders, a massive magical barrage hammered the Lionia front. This was leagues beyond prior assaults. Flames erupted, earth exploded and flipped, soldiers flew skyward in the blasts, and those wreathed in fire screamed and flailed before collapsing.
"Knight orders, charge!"
At Hector's command, knight detachments plunged into the gaping holes blasted in the enemy line. Textbook stuff. But the kind that's hell to stop even forewarned.
Not impossible, though. Lionia had been waiting for this.
Where the hundreds of charging knights hit, deep pits yawned—traps. Sure, that alone wouldn't faze aura-wielding knights; they'd leap lightly from falling mounts. But waiting for them were arrows pouring from all sides.
"Ha! This trash?"
A Silmarron knight snorted, batting away arrows with his sword. But the next instant, one pierced his helmet before he could feel it, ending him.
Mixed among the archers were those wielding bows twice the standard size. Their arrows glowed bluish. Lionia's elite special forces—all magic archers, honed with massive effort.
As frontline knights crumpled in droves, the charging ones slowed, alarmed. Lionia's waiting knights countercharged, tangling everything into melee chaos.
Silmarron's knights couldn't match Lionia's in raw numbers. Choosing melee anyway? They feared the mages' follow-up fire.
Count Hector had seen it going south early. He hesitated to order retreat—not from pride, but because a total rout in his first planned op would leave him no leverage over the disobedient nobles.
As Lionia enveloped Silmarron's knights like hostages in the melee and pressed forward, Hector made his call.
"Blast them with the same magic as before. Wipe 'em out."
The mage leader balked. "Our knights haven't retreated yet. Are you mad?"
"Think they'll escape now if I order pullback? Turn tail, and those arrows rain down. I'll take the blame—just attack!"
Hector's eyes blazed red; a hint of madness gleamed. Overawed, the mages unleashed another massive barrage. The ground quaked again, explosions erasing countless lives.
In my sight, it was crystal clear: thousands of human souls rocketing skyward at once. Spectacular, in a grim way.
Ultimately, Hector's order wasn't a bad play. A huge dishonor, sure—friendly fire—but it traded for most of Lionia's knights and some special archers.
Lionia's troops were fearless. Witnessing thousands vanish in magic right before them, they still charged full tilt through the gap. Classic: exploit mages' cooldowns by closing fast before round two. Easy in theory, hell in practice—especially with huge armies.
Then, reinforcements hit the flank. The elite detachment that vanished after crushing Odysseia reappeared. Naturally, Duke Jona Zartus.
Assailed front and flank, Silmarron fell into chaos. With knights decimated, they lacked the punch to repel the duke's stab.
Hector agonized. Blast him with magic alongside friendlies, like before? Without knights, stopping him seemed impossible.
As he dithered, the duke carved closer, heads rolling like a human reaper.
Hector raised a hand to signal the mages. But panicked casters acted first—not offensive spells. Thick fog rolled in, blinding even nearby faces.
Hector sighed, ordering his aide: "Full retreat."
No choice left. He could already picture his fate back home. As he turned his mount, brooding on failure, an arrow pierced the fog and his chest.
"Gahk!"
Hector tumbled screaming from his horse. Baron Jeremy Hansword, captain of Lionia's Sharpshooter magic archer special forces, had lost over half his decade-honed unit to Hector. He infiltrated the horde, sensed through the fog with god-given instincts, and landed the killing shot. Success.
Rescued by subordinates, Hector died en route. Unlike with Odysseia, Lionia hounded the retreating Silmarron relentlessly. Leaderless and panicked, Silmarron's losses were devastating.
One day's battle tipped the war's scales. Lionia seized the chance, expanding deep into Silmarron territory to re-form the front.
Suddenly, stalemate. Silmarron and Odysseia had bled heavily, even losing commanders. Lionia won big but took hits too. Both needed regrouping—an unspoken truce.
Peace talks were already rumored. I dug for intel, but it was baseless chatter.
My sole gain: one soul. Plenty of chances to absorb more, but I passed. The one I took? Count Hector's.
Average prodigy-sized soul, but his perfect looks made me hope for extras. Nada. Maybe beauty talent, but what's a handsome soul good for when no one—including me—can see it?
Then word came: Venus Kingdom's army had arrived. I flew straight to their camp to meet Ether.
Ether was in the command tent. A prince's retinue, but still a young boy, so Marquis Kantana Aegis handled real command.
I knew the marquis well. He'd taught military science at the academy for years; I'd sat in on his lectures. A soldier with flexible thinking. His tactics and strategy classes stressed improvisation, his personality shining through.
Not a bad commander. Ideal for now, really.