Chapter 101
Chapter 101
"The enemy is retreating!"
"Cut them down at the roots!"
Not long after a smile had crept onto the face of Roger Bifrost, who had been watching the battle unfold with fury from outside the castle walls—
BOOOOOOM!
A deafening roar shook the heavens and earth as the entire fortress wall of Tomodo crumbled.
Roger Bifrost, a 5th-Circle mage, immediately sensed the immense surge of mana underlying the spectacle.
But by the time he realized it, it was already too late.
"W-what in the...?"
All Roger Bifrost could do was stare blankly at the collapsing fortress.
His soldiers screamed as they tumbled down with the falling walls.
Even if the walls weren't more than 20 meters high, the knights would have been fine—but for the common soldiers who had already climbed or were still scaling them, it was nothing short of a disaster.
"These damned rats!"
The rats he thought had been completely declawed had been hiding venom all along.
"Crush every last one of them! I'll take care of this myself!"
With Roger Bifrost's furious roar, the final trump card of House Bifrost soared into the fortress like a gust of wind.
Cough. "S-success, my lord...?"
"Shut up and run! What were you even thinking?!"
Logan dragged Victor by the scruff of his neck as they sprinted toward the fortress ahead.
Whether their last-ditch effort had worked perfectly or not, the enemy knights, covered in thick clouds of dust, stood dazed—too stunned to even think of pursuit.
But Logan's expression was even grimmer than theirs.
Bringing down the walls with the Golem Tower had been a desperate, suicidal gambit—a final move reserved for the worst-case scenario.
And even that would barely scratch the enemy's main force, their knight order.
That things had come to this meant only one thing: the end of MacLaine.
Years of effort since his regression had vanished like bubbles in water.
Logan's heart was utterly devastated.
'Should I have grown more steadily? Did I push too recklessly?'
He knew how foolish it was to regret decisions he had already made after careful deliberation.
But he was only human—seeing the fruits of his labor crumble into such a miserable failure made regret unavoidable.
"All forces, regroup!"
For those who had survived, none of that mattered.
For a while, the fortress of Tomodo was filled with nothing but the instinctive joy of those who had narrowly escaped death.
Fortunately, the furious voice of Roger Bifrost snapped Logan out of his self-reproach.
'Fight... to the very end.'
If this truly was the end, then he would at least deal as much damage as possible to the enemy before him.
Pushed to the brink, Logan's mind recalled the rallying cry of the resistance that had fought against the Empire for over twenty years with hopelessly insufficient forces.
"I'll give my life—now give me your arm in return."
The chilling, madness-laden battle cry of the Grandia Liberation Front—the one that had made Imperial troops tremble.
A joke spat out by souls filled with nothing but spite in the face of overwhelming odds and hopelessness.
A joke that had eventually become their official motto.
Logan MacLaine, the old mercenary-turned-rebel, had been there for every step of that journey.
'I never thought I'd be thinking of that again after returning to the past.'
Resolved to struggle until his last breath, Logan reached the designated rally point.
But the moment he faced his father, his brother, and their retainers—all with haggard expressions—his defiance wavered slightly.
"...Forgive me, Father. It seems I acted recklessly."
Before the inner fortress stood what remained of their forces—reduced to nearly half.
Bowing his head before his retainers, who wore dark expressions of grim determination, Logan waited for the reprimand.
"...Did you do your best?"
"Yes. But now..."
"Then that's enough."
"...What?"
"If you did your best, there's no need for apologies. Without you, we wouldn't have even made it this far. Thanks to you, we at least drew our blades against our ancestors' enemies—we won't die in shame."
Logan had braced for a scolding, but the unexpected answer left him speechless.
"That's right! It's not your fault, Brother!"
"...Ronian?"
"You told us to hold on—we're the ones who couldn't. It's our weakness that failed us! If we had held out just a few more days..."
His younger brother, whose arms and legs bore at least five or six sword wounds, trembled as he clenched his fists.
The sheer rage in his voice wasn't directed at Logan, which only left him more bewildered.
And then—
"Young master, thanks to you, we dreamed big. Dying on the battlefield is better than rotting away in some countryside sickbed. We'll fight to the end."
At Heinkel's words, the knights beside him nodded in agreement.
"Ha... This is..."
Overwhelmed and choked with emotion, Logan slowly scanned the faces around him.
The emotions reflected in their gazes pierced his heart.
Especially Victor, pale-faced, and Ellen, visibly uneasy.
They were all talents too precious to die here—yet it felt like his own greed had doomed them.
Not everyone shared the sentiments of his father, Ronian, or loyal knights like Heinkel.
Among the many eyes fixed on him, there were surely some filled with resentment.
No—perhaps those were even the majority.
But there was no time left to dwell on their grievances.
Only one thing remained to be done.
'Show them everything I can—fight to the very end.'
Perhaps it was a mad resolve—to drag every last survivor down into hell with him.
But Logan could think of no other choice.
"...We'll settle this. No—we'll defeat Bifrost. Lend me your strength one last time."
"Yes!"
The madness in Logan's eyes spread like wildfire through the remaining MacLaine forces.
Just as the certainty that they wouldn't die meaninglessly took hold—
Beyond the settling dust, Bifrost's army advanced.
"Make way."
Thud. Thud.
Even combined, their numbers still exceeded several thousand.
But the footsteps of a single man walking through the divided Bifrost ranks echoed clearly in everyone's ears.
Emerging at the forefront, Roger Bifrost wore an expression that was either eerily calm or barely suppressing seething rage as he slowly spoke.
"This is... unbelievable."
Roger Bifrost gritted his teeth as he surveyed his remaining forces—barely 200 knights and "only" 2,000 soldiers.
Even excluding Max Peretta's dazed troops watching from the rear, he still outnumbered MacLaine two to one. But the losses were staggering—unthinkable.
By any measure of military history, losing 30% of your forces against an enemy half your size, even in victory, would earn a commander nothing but ridicule.
By that standard, Roger Bifrost had just crowned himself the king of fools.
The sheer, dizzying rage left him at a loss for how to vent it.
But he forced a composed expression and continued.
"I still can't fathom why you'd do something like this. What possible reason could there be for this madness? Did you all collectively lose your minds and decide to commit suicide?"
The answer to his question, however, was something entirely unexpected.
"All forces—prepare for battle!"
"Yes!"
Clang!
The fanatical glint in the exhausted eyes of the MacLaine soldiers as they formed ranks forced a hollow laugh from Roger Bifrost.
"Mad dogs. Every last one of you. Fine—have it your way. Kill them all!"
With that command, the war that had briefly paused resumed.
"Kill them!"
"Die!"
Clash! Clash!
BOOM!
Flanz and Patrick crossed Force Blades once more, while Logan engaged the remaining high-ranking enemy knights in a desperate struggle.
Though the MacLaine forces fought with suicidal resolve, sheer numbers couldn't be overcome by desperation alone.
One by one, the knights who had abandoned defense to take down as many enemies as possible began to fall.
'No!'
Logan inwardly screamed as he saw a section of their formation collapse.
With their already meager forces stretched thin, the breaking of their lines would only accelerate their defeat.
And that would mean the end of MacLaine.
Just as Logan steeled himself for one last, desperate stand—
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
A bizarre, resonating sound pierced the air, followed by a crimson beam of light erupting from the fortress spire.
Simultaneously, the expressions of several people on the battlefield twisted.
"Kill them! Now! Target the MacLaines first!"
Roger Bifrost, who had been coldly observing the enemy's last stand, suddenly drew an artifact and began channeling mana.
And then—
"Hold out just a little longer!"
Logan's shout was echoed by a similar cry from deep within the Bifrost ranks.
A second crimson beam shot up from the direction of Bifrost's main stronghold.
Only then did the combatants, lost in the frenzy of battle, realize something was amiss.
At that moment, Clayton burst out from the fortress, carrying a crystal orb larger than his own head.
"Lord Logan!!"
His face alight with joy, Clayton sprinted forward faster than anyone—despite having exhausted his mana collapsing the walls.
From within the crystal orb, an elderly man with a white beard spoke in a solemn voice.
[I repeat—His Majesty the King has passed. All nobles of the kingdom must prioritize attending the state funeral!]
"Kill them! Slaughter those red-haired vermin!"
Ignoring the old man's words, Roger Bifrost roared.
But his frantic command was drowned out by an even louder proclamation.
"Defense Minister Dylan! This is Tomodo Fortress! The enemy refuses to cease hostilities!"
The crystal orb in Clayton's hands reacted to his mana, transmitting the battlefield's situation directly to the royal officials.
Whether it worked or not, Dylan Ruhart—the Defense Minister presumably engaged in mass communication—shifted his gaze toward the battlefield visible through the orb.
[That banner... Bifrost?]
The moment his voice rang out, Roger Bifrost's face twisted in horror.
[What is the meaning of this, Count Roger Bifrost?]
'What kind of divine lightning strike is this?'
Roger Bifrost inwardly cursed.
Of all times—for the king to die now?
A state of emergency he had only ever heard of, never witnessed—unfolding right before his eyes?
His mind reeled, but there was no time to waste.
[Count, what are you doing? Do you intend to commit treason?]
Gritting his teeth, Roger Bifrost's mind raced.
But there was only one conclusion—he wasn't foolish enough to act rashly now.
'...The succession isn't settled. I can't give the First Prince's faction any ammunition.'
This war no longer mattered.
With a contorted expression, Roger Bifrost let out a furious roar.
"Damn it all!!"
[Count! Right now—]
"Bifrost forces—cease attack! House Bifrost will comply with the royal decree!"
His command was spat out with a glare that could have shattered the communication orb.
Though his expression and words didn't match, Dylan Ruhart smiled crookedly and nodded.
[Good. That's how it should be.]
He seemed almost pleased to see a high-ranking noble—a border lord no less—bowing to a mere bureaucrat like himself.
Regardless of the minister's feelings—
"You... MacLaine rats. Don't think this is over. Just you wait."
Without waiting for a response, Roger Bifrost turned away, his face still twisted in fury.
Stunned by the sudden turn of events, both armies could only stare blankly at the communication orb.
The Bifrost forces, looking equally bewildered, soon followed their lord.
And after a long while—
Once Roger Bifrost and his army had vanished beyond the ruined fortress walls—
The MacLaine soldiers, who had remained tense until the very end, began collapsing to the ground one by one, as if their souls had left them.
"W-we're alive!"
"We survived!"
"We made it!"
"Damn it! I really thought we were done for..."
"WAAAAAAAAAAH! WE'RE ALIVE! ALIVE!"
Some cheered.
Others wept with relief at having survived.
Some hugged each other and jumped in place.
A cacophony of raw human emotion erupted across the battlefield.
And at the very end—
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Logan laughed almost hysterically, his voice cracking as he shouted.
"WE WON!!"
"WAAAAAAAAAAH!!"
Whether this was truly a victory or merely averted defeat—no one could say.