Empty Fort Strategy (7)
Marco, that mad knight, started focusing solely on carving up the infantry right in front of him.
“Uh… uhh?”
The sword strikes overlapped in a whirlwind—shashashashashasha!—moving so fast it evoked a spinning fan, burying the soldiers under a storm of blades.
“Gyaaah!”
The targeted infantryman was shredded in the blink of an eye, reduced to literal minced meat.
“Fuck! Stop that right now!”
“Kuhahaha! Try and stop me, mage! For everything you stole from me, I’ll take back just as much!”
Whoosh!Boom!
It was a Fire Javelin launched from his blind spot, yet Marco blocked it like he had eyes in the back of his head.
Whether he’d sensed the mana or simply heard it coming didn’t matter. Either way, the man was a monster.
Damn it. If I’d had more time after reaching the 5th Circle, I could’ve gotten a lot more comfortable with offensive magic. If that had been the case, I would’ve had plenty of ways to shut him down.
But with my current firepower, stopping him wasn’t easy. Even if I dumped every last drop of mana into 4th Circle spells until I ran dry, it felt like it would only take care of him and nothing more. And then I’d have no way left to hold back the rest of the knights.
“There’s an opening!”
“Push through!”
“Fire Javelin!”
Whoosh!Boom!Fwoooosh!
“Graaagh!”
The moment an enemy knight broke into the formation Marco had torn open, Sir Levenstill cast a 4th Circle spell and incinerated the man on the spot.
“Fire Ball! Fire Ball!”
Kwa-boom!Bang!
Hans was also barely holding the line from atop his horse, using the height advantage to lob deterrent fireballs over the infantry formation.
“Kuhahaha!”
Slash!
“Kyaaaa!”
But as long as that insane knight Marco kept clinging to one side of the infantry line, total collapse was only a matter of time. We were barely managing to keep any fatal holes from opening, but if the casualties on Marco’s side kept piling up, a massive breach was inevitable. Once that happened, the scattered enemy knights would swarm the weak point, and the entire infantry line would disintegrate.
That was why I desperately poured out magic, doing everything I could to pin Marco down.
“Silent Field! Fire Javelin! Wind Blast!”
"Silent Field."
"Fire Javelin."
"Wind Blast."
⟨ TRIPLE CAST ⟩
Since it seemed like he was blocking by sound, I turned the area around him into a zone of absolute silence and fired a Fire Javelin at the same time. I finished by layering a Wind Blast on top, doubling the impact to knock him off balance—but.
Whoosh!Bang! ———!
Everything was blocked and sliced apart.
‘Damn. So it really was mana detection, not sound. I deliberately overlapped the firing lines, yet he handled it perfectly. What a monster.’
Even after blocking the spells, he didn’t show the slightest opening. At the very least, I’d hoped the impact from the Wind Blast following the Fire Javelin would push him out of position or make him drop his sword.
“———!”
The Silent Field prevented me from hearing anything, but his expression made it clear he was mocking me again. Realizing blocking sound was pointless, I canceled the spell.
“Kuhahaha!”
The laughter hit me the instant the field dropped, and irritation surged through me. I regretted it for a second, but quickly changed my mind. Right now every single drop of mana was precious.
‘Damn it. Is there really no way?’
What I’d just done was close to my best possible combination. Simultaneous 4th Circle casting followed by the fastest possible triple 4th Circle barrage. Even though I could handle 5th Circle magic, anything beyond that wasn’t easy.
‘Then maybe triple 4th Circle casting… No, that takes too long. The infantry line would collapse even faster in the meantime. Then…’
“Fire Javelin!”
Even while my mind desperately searched for a breakthrough, I couldn’t stop attacking. The moment I let up, Marco’s blade would carve through the infantry. So even though I knew I was being drained dry, I had no choice but to keep firing spells like I was clinging on for dear life.
But in the end, this formation meant one-sided depletion. A battle of endurance was something a mage could never win against a knight in the first place. The difference was obvious from the most basic mana cultivation methods. A mage’s circles focused on compressing mana and manifesting spells with it, while a knight’s aura specialized in long-term mana operation through bodily awakening via mana circulation.
At least the opponent was also continuously burning sword energy to block my magic. Still, I was the one who would run out first.
‘If I dump everything at once, it’s neck sliced and The End. If I keep dragging this out, I’ll run out of mana anyway and it’s still The End… Is this a dead end?’
Even while thinking that, I kept launching spells.
“Wind Blast!”
Pshoo!Bang!
“Hup!”
Clang!
Of course the enemy cut my magic apart like it was nothing.
“Stop these meaningless actions and come down to receive my judgment, why don’t you? Kuhahaha!”
“Bullshit. Wind Blast!”
Pshoo!Bang!
It’s not over until it’s over.
That was how I kept desperately clinging to Marco, refusing to let go.
Clop, clop.
The sound of horse hooves echoed from afar, and soon—
Thududududu!
It grew into a thunderous roar that seemed to fill the entire plain. The flag they carried was, of course, the 1st Prince’s.
Fuck. I told you, didn’t I? It’s not over until it’s over.
Damn, that saying really delivers.
Changing both perspective and time frame to shortly after Count Wint-Hafen had ordered the attack on the Weistenfel territorial forces.
Pshooooong!Boom! Boom! Boom!
Orange flames bloomed from far below the mountain, painting the sky.
…The flames were so sudden that anyone could tell at a glance they were some kind of signal.
Count Wint-Hafen’s mind raced.
‘It must be a prearranged signal with a specific purpose. The most important thing at this moment is…’ “Hah.”
“Recall every man deployed against the 1st Prince’s forces immediately! It’s a trap!”
“A trap, my lord?”
“Yes! The moment we committed our knights below, they sent the signal. What else could it mean!”
The count reacted swiftly the instant he saw the signal, but it was already far too late.
Thududududu!
The 1st Prince’s knights, having seen the signal, were already charging toward the 2nd Prince’s army’s exposed flank.
“Charge!”
Thududududu! Craaaash!
At the very tip of the spearhead stood the 1st Prince himself. Blue mana wrapped around his lance as he charged forward without a trace of fear, his knights forming a perfect wedge behind him, grinding through the infantry like a meat grinder.
“Damn it all! So you had even this outcome accounted for!”
Clatter!
Count Wint-Hafen hurled the sword in his hand to the ground. It was the treasured blade given to him by the 2nd Prince as a symbol of command, yet he tossed it aside without a second thought.
Instead, he was completely focused on identifying the culprit who had devised such a meticulous plan.
‘The 1st Prince? Too precise, and far too dependent on luck for one of his schemes. If it were him, he would have sought a straightforward clash between knights.’
Therefore, the 1st Prince was not the mastermind. He would have trusted in the elite quality of his troops and chosen a frontal decisive battle.
‘The 3rd Prince excels at politics, but he doesn’t possess this kind of military talent. Besides, the core of this ambush was ultimately the mage… Wait.’
A mage? The core was a mage…
The count reorganized the thought that had caught in his mind.
‘Yes. From last night’s raid until now, the core of every single attack has been the mage.’
He recalled the formation damage caused by the mage that they had overlooked during the night raid. It was eerily similar to today’s bombardment—attacks aimed with surgical precision only at the encampment, only at the infantry.
It was too similar to be mere coincidence.
Then the person who had orchestrated this current operation couldn’t be all that different.
A figure centered around a mage, sweeping across the battlefield and using overwhelming firepower to neutralize the enemy’s numerical advantage.
‘Alvaro Sternfeld.’
He was the culprit. Count Wint-Hafen was certain. That man had been at the heart of every one of these tactics.
The count turned his gaze toward the base of the mountain he couldn’t even see, staring at it intently as if the person in his thoughts were standing right there.
“My lord! You must retreat at once! The enemy is already upon us!”
Thududududu! Waaaaah!
The thunder of hooves mixed with the enemy soldiers’ war cries, echoing across the field. The messenger was telling the truth. The 2nd Prince’s army’s flank had already been shattered, and the infantry could no longer perform their role.
The count slowly turned to look at the messenger. The man was likely one of several couriers sent to ask the overall commander of the 2nd Prince’s forces what they should do.
The count opened his mouth and issued the order.
“We retreat. Southeast direction.”
“Th-then what about the forces on the opposite side…?”
It seemed the messenger’s master was over there. His hesitant demeanor made it obvious he was worried for his lord.
But to the count, that was completely irrelevant.
With a cold expression, the count turned away and delivered the order to the entire army in a booming voice.
“Southeast! Retreat toward the southeast!”
“Retreat! Retreat!”
The soldiers took up the count’s call, and soon the area was filled with the sight of only the unharmed troops being organized for withdrawal.
The messenger simply stared at the count with a hollow expression, but the count acted as if nothing had happened. He casually picked up the treasured sword he had thrown to the ground earlier and left.
‘Alvaro Sternfeld. I will remember that name.’
There would be no next time.
His eyes burned with seething fury.
Whew. I barely made it out alive.
The arrival of the 1st Prince’s knight order here probably meant the battle up above had already concluded. Whether the 2nd Prince’s forces had retreated or been annihilated right at the start, our operation was already a success.
I called down to Marco from the air.
“So, ready to come down and receive judgment now?”
“…Damn it.”
Only a low, beast-like growl of a curse returned.
Heh. Just the words of a loser. They didn’t sting or tickle at all.
“Hup!”
Swish!
Was this his final struggle? Marco suddenly leaped over the infantry line, aiming for the center where Hans and Levenstill stood.
“Wind Blast!”
Bang!
I quickly chanted the spell and blocked him. Marco was sent flying into the distance, but he didn’t seem to have taken any fatal damage.
‘…Huh. It almost feels like he took the hit on purpose?’
“Retreat!”
Looks like my guess was correct. Even after taking damage, he’d used my own magic to create distance.
Having flown far from the infantry line, Marco immediately shouted orders to the remaining enemy knights and began to flee. His decision-making was frighteningly fast.
“All that talk about avenging your daughter, yet in the end you’re running because you don’t want to die!”
I tried provoking him until the very end, but—
Whoosh!Clang!
Whoa, shit. He hurled the longsword he’d been holding like it was a throwing dagger. The aim was dead on. If I hadn’t barely managed to pull out the dagger from my chest to block it, I would’ve had my neck sliced clean through right after winning.
‘My physical stats are so bad that I’m always one foot in the grave every time I act.’
Sigh. This really is the limit of being a mage.
Having thrown away his main weapon and fled, Marco was already too far away to catch.
So instead, I vented my frustration on the remaining enemy knights while expanding our results.
Boom! Kwa-gwa-gwang! Bang! Bang!
After landing hits on the backs of five or six of them, no enemy knights remained. The rest had all run away.
Our allied knights finally arrived and linked up with our forces.
I spoke to them.
“Aren’t you going to pursue them further?”
“Mm, we were engaged in battle above as well and came here in a hurry.”
The man answering my voice appeared to be the leader of the 1st Prince’s knight order.
“That said, I don’t often find myself speaking while looking up like this. It’s quite a refreshing experience, hahaha!”
…? His tone and overall vibe felt strange. And that face looked somehow familiar.
Wait… didn’t he resemble the 3rd Prince?
“Nice to meet you! So you’re that oddball from Sternfeld who became my little brother’s vassal?”
Ah… So it was the 1st Prince.
…Which meant that when I was talking to him earlier, the 1st Prince had literally been looking up at me? Like I was some lord receiving a report while someone knelt before me?
When I glanced around, the knights’ gazes were anything but friendly.
…Yeah, I guess that makes sense. I probably just got labeled as an insolent bastard.
…Fuck. I’m screwed.