Final Battle (2)
“Now!”
I called out again, timing it perfectly. Elena then commanded the wind spirit to relay orders to the priest unit. The range covered Tianis and the entire capital wall. It was too vast.
But Elena delivered the commands without issue. Elves were inherently inseparable from spirits, though their affinity and mana limited spirit arts. She, however, was the captain of the World Tree guardian knights. Young at just over 200 years old, her skills surpassed any elf. Swordsmanship at Master level, spirit arts beyond that, and she even wielded magic to some degree. Directing spirits to pass orders was child's play for her.
Energies surged from all directions. A massive orb of holy power formed in the sky above the walls. A scene we'd repeated several times now. Having learned from countless ally deaths, the monsters instantly shifted their charge path.
“Fucking idiots. Too late.”
They'd delved too deep, with allies holding the rear. Retreat was cut off. Realizing it too late changed nothing for the monsters.
Immediately after, my magic circle amplified the massive holy spell, blasting straight into their center.
KABOOM!!
The ground shook with the thunderous roar. The holy magic's impact reached the walls. But aside from the shock, the terrain took minimal damage—only the monsters turned to ash and vanished.
The monsters were in a frenzy now. Holy power's purifying aura was devastatingly effective against them.
Thus ended the fourth assault. They couldn't approach further and fell back momentarily. The boss monster must have ordered it.
The brief respite. I dashed along the walls, issuing orders to Elena. Every minute, every second on the battlefield was precious. Use downtime to assess and reorganize, or things would grind to a halt unexpectedly.
“Pull all wounded from the east wall back. Over half are injured. Tsk, told them not to overdo it.”
I'd warned everyone to conserve stamina before the fight. Predictably, some had pushed too hard and gotten badly hurt.
“Priests below half holy power, rotate with reserves. Recover fully before the next wave.”
“Understood.”
Most priests were drained after four massive holy bursts. This battle would drag at least half a day, so stamina management was key.
“Have them sharpen weapons now too.”
“Got it.”
Elena relayed the orders as instructed. The walls and inner areas buzzed with movement.
“Oh, right—what about the beastkin and elves?”
“Beastkin are itching to charge out any second.”
“Tell them ahead of time: do it, and I'll beat them half to death myself.”
“Not sure they'll listen, but I'll pass it on.”
Should've broken their spirit once already. Beastkin prioritized strength innately, fighters to the core. That's why Hatan acted somewhat subdued around Elena.
“Your side?”
“My kin await only your command. We're ready.”
“Good enough.”
Diligent, or what? Among non-humans, elves were the most reliable. Just look at them in combat. Elena followed orders despite any gripes. Dwarves or beastkin? No chance—they'd charge on their own stubborn whims.
With things settled, I turned to Elena, who'd worked hard so far.
“So, got something to say?”
She hesitated, lips twitching. To ease it, I added,
“Spit it out. Assisting the commander is your role, right?”
Her face twisted. But she slowly spoke.
“...It was too dangerous. Every battle so far. A split-second delay, and the walls would've breached—this place gone.”
“But the results are perfect, aren't they? Good outcome's what matters.”
“How can you...!”
Elena snapped like in the first clash. But it passed quickly; she sighed and calmed.
“Fine. I acknowledge your command as a saint. Grasping this vast battlefield and deciding in an instant? No general could. But...”
She paused, then continued.
“Separate from that skill, gambling in orders is unwise. Avoid it above all. War isn't swayed by luck.”
She lectured like a reprimand, imparting wisdom.
I smirked faintly.
“How old are you again? 200?”
“...Precisely 199. In a few days. And that's irrelevant—don't deflect.”
So sensitive about age. I chuckled.
“And you?”
“Pardon?”
“How many wars have you fought to speak like you know it all?”
“More than you, at least.”
“How many exactly?”
Irritated but thoughtful, Elena answered.
“Monster Seasons: 38 including this. Other wars push past 50.”
Monster Seasons hit every five years on average. At her age, 50 was plausible.
“50... that's a lot.”
“Yes. So from now on, be more cau—.”
“Learned nothing from those 50?”
I cut her off.
“Usually, yeah, you're right. Commanding on hope's too risky. That's not leading—it's herding allies to death.”
Incompetent commanders. Better cull them early to minimize losses. I'd skipped them first in encounters.
“But did I really rely on luck?”
“......”
“Think. Did all four battles look like luck?”
Someone once said: once is chance, thrice is skill. Universal truth.
“...All calculated timing?”
“Exactly.”
I nodded. It looked precarious to others, but I'd computed meticulously for max efficiency. Tricky as hell—monster speeds, behaviors, spell arrival timing, terrain factors. All factored in. Took me over a decade rolling with monsters to internalize.
“A mere 18-year-old kid calculating that? Maybe a 9-circle mage. Impossible.”
“What's impossible?”
No absolutes. Crowds scream impossible; someone always pulls it off.
“But...”
Elena lingered in shock. To her dazed look, I said,
“Stuck in rigid thinking, how'll you work out with Evan?”
“Wh-what does that have to do with anything?!”
She yelled.
“Think. Evan's the 'common sense' type?”
“Well... no...”
Recalling him, she conceded. Elves balanced across magic, martial arts, spirits. Most races lacked that. But Evan's dual talents defied norms.
Elena flushed, thinking of him. I pressed,
“Tsk tsk, swooning over a guy mid-war? Save boyfriend thoughts for later! Virgin vibes screaming loud.”
“I-I've held a man's hand!”
Scoffing, I asked,
“Whose?”
“Th-that uh...”
Hesitant. Obvious target.
“Lifetime of training. Duh. Just kid-self holding Dad's, right?”
“......”
Silent, she turned, clasped hands, muttering,
“Mother... why make this man a saint...”
Quiet, but clear to my ears. Time to quit teasing. Elves held grudges long; aftermath endless. Praying motionless for hours proved it.
“Hey, quit sulking and move.”
“......”
No reply. I turned.
“Fine, whatever. Was gonna tell you what Evan likes post-season.”
Words barely out, a breeze rustled beside me. Elena was there.
“What, thought you weren't following?”
“...Lead on.”
She glanced sidelong. I stepped off.
“Don't worry. Info's solid. Hung with Evan enough.”
Probably knew him best—maybe better than he knew himself.
We patrolled the walls, prepping for the next clash. Midway, a whisper reached my ear.
“Sigh, if only half like Evan... or keep him from getting tainted...”
See? Grudge game strong.
Meanwhile, same time.
“Huff, huff...”
Evan panted raggedly. Sprawled amid corpses, his heaving form showed the fierce fight just ended.
Someone approached.
“Student Evan. You alright?”
“Ah, Captain.”
The Imperial Knights' captain. Evan tried rising.
“Sit. Not so rigid mid-this.”
The captain sat beside him. Battle over; nearby monster packs cleared. Knights with students mopped up.
“You're a first-year, right?”
“Haha, yeah. Second-year soon-ish.”
Practically second-year already—two semesters done by time.
“Second-year... incredible for your age.”
He'd witnessed Evan's feats repeatedly. Beyond peers—top among continent's knights by skill alone.
“Thanks.”
“No flattery. Know how famous you are in the Empire?”
“Me?”
Evan startled. He knew his fame, but thought Tianis-limited. Top and runner-up in its dual departments.
“Lately overshadowed by that saint you run with, Kyle Arden. But most know. Many watching you.”
“Oh...”
News to him. Never checked his rep. But from the captain? Curious.
“You too, Captain?”
He chuckled. Pure curiosity, unlike sly students.
“Yes. I rate you highly. You for the...”
Paused. Then,
“Imperial Knights...”
Then—
VRMMM!!
Mana surged ahead. Both drew swords instantly.
But faster—space warped, tore. A lifeform emerged.
Faded gray-furred wolf. Over 10m tall, claws outsizing humans.
“Battle stations! Boss appeared—grk!”
Captain yelled, recognizing it. But choked off.
Oppressive aura crushed him. He rallied mana via heart method. Futile.
“Why...”
Mystery gripped him. Then his trembling hand—unshaken even by masters.
Thud.
Boss reached him. Looming eyes stared down. Meeting them, captain realized: terror. Existential dread, reducing him to less than an ant.
Will to fight vanished; helplessness flooded. Forty years felt futile. He murmured,
“Ah, I...”
BAM!!
Boss swatted. He flew light-speed, cratering ground.
Imperial Knights arrived. Same dread hit them.
“Ah, ah...”
“Huff, huff...!”
Despair-struck, they collapsed, swords untouched.
Boss fight seemed futile.
But one stood firm.
“What are you...”
Evan, utterly unaffected by the alpha's pressure.
“Why such sad eyes...”
Evan gazed into the boss's eyes and asked.