Breakdown of Negotiations
A corpse pierced by an arrow is fundamentally different from one shredded by a 20mm autocannon.
No matter how powerful a bow is, it is ultimately a weapon drawn by human hands. Unless infused with mana, once an arrow strikes a body, its work is done. Consequently, the corpse remains relatively intact.
But a 20mm autocannon is a different beast entirely. Propelled by the forces of engineering and gunpowder, a shell the size of an adult's fist completely obliterates whatever it touches. Anyone directly struck by a 20mm round would be lucky to have enough left of them to be called a corpse.
As for those hit by the 76mm anti-aircraft shells, no corpses remained at all. The armor of medieval and early-modern infantry offered absolutely no protection against high-explosive shells. Those killed by the 76mm rounds had quite literally evaporated.
Thus, a scene of devastation unfolded—one so gruesome that it eclipsed all the massacres and atrocities previously committed by the 12th Infantry Legion under the 12th Order of Knights. Even the battle-hardened soldiers of the 12th Infantry Legion, who had pillaged the West alongside Charles at every opportunity, found the sight unendurable.
Until the air defense artillerymen could secure the area, the infantrymen stared blankly at the remains of their comrades. In their eyes flickered the raw terror of men confronting something they could not comprehend.
The same terror gripped the Western delegation as they watched the transmission through the crystal ball.
"How could one of our elite legions..."
"Does this make any sense?"
"Black magic! The South must be using black magic!"
Confronted with an incomprehensible reality, the Western delegation sought explanations outside of reason. They must have allied with black mages. The South is hiring black mages to wage war. We must inform the Holy Kingdom immediately.
Had the crystal ball been provided by the South, they could have denied reality, dismissing the footage as a fabrication. However, this crystal ball had been brought by the Archduke of the West, Charles Raymonds, himself.
A chaotic clamor of opinions erupted. In the center of it all, Kyle Leopold stared intently at Charles. With a relaxed, nonchalant expression, he watched Charles's face flush with boiling rage.
"I've seen the footage you showed me, and it seems you finally understand where we both stand," Kyle said. "Shall we resume our negotiations now?"
At that moment—
Crash!
Charles slammed his mana-infused fist down, splitting the table cleanly in half.
The chaotic conference room fell instantly silent. Charles stood, his entire body enveloped in a suffocating shroud of aura, his sheer presence crushing everyone in the room.
"Kyle Leopold!!!"
As the broken table collapsed, the staff members in the room scrambled to their feet. Before them, Kyle remained seated, legs crossed, and asked with casual ease:
"I'm sitting right in front of you. You can just speak normally. Why are you shouting?"
"Do not dare smile so shamelessly when you've allied with black mages!!!"
Charles, his eyes bloodshot with fury, exuded a murderous intent so thick he looked ready to pounce at any second. Few could remain composed in the face of such pressure. Kyle, however, was one of those few.
"Hmm."
It wasn't as if Kyle Leopold had come unprepared. He had fully expected Charles to fly off the handle. Furthermore, Kyle had unofficially reached the realm of a 9th-circle mage three years ago.
"Allied with black mages? Spreading such ridiculous rumors is hardly fitting etiquette toward a fellow Grand Duke."
Clap.
As Kyle lightly clapped his hands, a blue magic circle manifested above the conference room. A magic circle of colossal proportions, large enough to blanket the entire hall, began to spin threateningly.
"How... how did you..."
As a 9th-circle practitioner himself, Charles instantly recognized that Kyle Leopold was also a 9th-circle mage. What was more, Kyle had reached that pinnacle far faster than he ever had.
"Do you wish to continue?" Kyle asked.
Charles could not bring himself to make a reckless move. In truth, he had never intended to actually attack. No matter how much of an outcast Kyle Leopold was, he was still a Grand Duke appointed to the South by imperial decree. Assassinating such a figure would be a catastrophic crime equivalent to high treason.
Thus, Charles dispersed the aura enveloping his body. Though this defused the immediate, suffocating tension in the room, the negotiations were effectively dead the moment the table was split in two.
The conference in Airestopolis concluded with Charles kicking open the doors and storming out. Yet, this was by no means the end of the tension between the West and the South. The clash at Sarsen had merely been a skirmish. The core conflict remained entirely unresolved.
The West had lost its 12th Legion and yielded Sarsen entirely, but they had only lost the opening round.
The West possessed no major industries to speak of. Yet, the only reason it was treated as a major pillar of the Empire was its formidable Wyvern Knights. Although the world was transitioning out of the medieval era, advancing technologically, and standing on the precipice of an industrial revolution, humanity had not yet conquered flight.
Whether for militaries or merchant coalitions, navigating the skies required wyvern riders. And wyverns were not creatures that could be raised just anywhere. The West had been one of the primary stages of the Mythic Age, and the vast majority of these beasts nested in the region's rare Wyvern Valley.
Adult wyverns were prideful creatures that refused to obey humans. Thus, wyvern riders had to steal eggs from Wyvern Valley and hand-rear the hatchlings themselves. Under these conditions, it was nearly impossible for any region outside the West to produce wyvern riders. While other territories had their own wyvern valleys, none were as vast or densely populated as the West's.
Thanks to this monopoly, the West—and by extension, the Empire—had remained the rulers of the world.
"Battle... report, my Lord," an aide stammered. "Of the Wyvern Knights sent... none have returned alive."
...Until now. The South had completely shredded sixty Wyvern Knights without suffering a single casualty. And they had done so with a mere 230 soldiers. Considering the time, money, and sacrifices required to train a single Wyvern Knight, the casualty ratio was utterly absurd.
"Is it truly... truly not black magic?" Charles muttered.
"Yes, my Lord," the aide replied. "We were so uncertain ourselves that we forwarded the footage to the Cardinal, but he found absolutely no traces of black magic."
This meant the weapons fired at Sarsen harbor were products of pure human technology. At that realization, Charles Raymonds felt a chill of dread. It was the terrifying prospect that, if this continued, the Western Wyvern Knights would be rendered completely obsolete.
"This cannot stand," Charles whispered.
Once the hunt is over, the hound is cooked and eaten. Charles Raymonds feared that very fate. If the Wyvern Knights lost their utility, the West would truly become a worthless wasteland.
He also feared the collapse of his hard-won reputation. The strongest order of knights in the West had suffered a crushing defeat at the hands of the South, a region that barely even possessed a proper army. And they had lost despite an overwhelming numerical advantage of five thousand against three hundred, with Wyvern Knights supporting them.
How could he look his subordinates in the eye now? How could he face the nobles in the capital? How could he ever stand before Aria, his beloved, after being utterly humiliated by Kyle—that bastard who had hurt her ten years ago?
He was terrified. Terrified and furious. Most of all, he loathed admitting that he was afraid.
"Me? Feeling like this because of that worthless Kyle Leopold?"
He remembered Kyle pestering Aria ten years ago. When he had beaten down the bastard who was tormenting her, the young girl had looked up at him with gratitude, making his heart flutter for the very first time. He had felt a profound sense of superiority looking down at the battered Kyle Leopold. A love that a wretch like you could never obtain, no matter what you sacrifice. I can claim it with ease.
And now, he was feeling afraid because of that very same man?
"Me?!"
Consequently, by the time Charles returned to his office, he was in no state to make rational decisions.
"...War."
Yes. He just had to win it all back.
"Prepare for war."
That was how Charles Raymonds, Archduke of the West, had always lived his life. Afraid of technological advancement? Then destroy their factories and slaughter their workers so they could progress no further. Afraid of being mocked for a defeat? Then achieve a military feat so grand it would render the loss insignificant. Afraid of Kyle Leopold? Then crush the South spectacularly to prove he feared nothing.
"My Lord Charles, you absolutely cannot do this!" Albert pleaded, his face pale with anxiety. "The capital is already watching us closely! If we commit more troops now, it will trigger a full-scale civil war within the Empire!"
"Which is precisely why we must crush the South right now, Albert," Charles replied coldly.
Charles had lost too much in this crushing defeat. The very raison d'être of the West was on the verge of vanishing. The only way for him to survive was to ensure they could never produce those mysterious weapons again.
"Once the central government intervenes, we won't be able to fight. Do I, Charles Raymonds, look like a man who will sit idly by and wait for death?"
"B-but... that is truly..."
"It is easier to ask for forgiveness than permission. Besides, the central nobles won't welcome those bastards' weapons either."
The symbol that preserved the Emperor's authority was the 'Golden Bloodline'—the extraordinary magical prowess that flowed through imperial veins. Similarly, what maintained the power of the privileged mage class was their irreplaceable firepower on the battlefield.
"The nobles will absolutely detest the South's new weapons," Charles sneered.
The moment such devastating firepower fell into the hands of ordinary humans, the Empire's power structure would inevitably crumble. It meant that commoners could replace the roles of mages and even the Emperor.
"Therefore, we will gather every available Wyvern Knight and launch a night raid on the South as soon as possible."
However, Charles had just made a catastrophic error in judgment.
"No matter how formidable their weapons are, they cannot shoot what they cannot see in the dead of night. Especially if it is a surprise attack from an unexpected direction."
He was entirely unaware of the existence of radar and flares.
"Assemble the knights as quickly as possible, Albert."
Charles Raymonds glared toward the South, swearing to inflict the exact same devastation upon their cities that his 12th Legion had suffered.