Chapter 142
Chapter 142
The leaders of the two factions, separated by over a kilometer, faced each other in the open field between their forces.
Thud.
Roll.
"This is Roger Bifros' head. A bit old, but... Would you like to inspect it further?"
"No need. I'll take your word for it. But if you go back on your promise..."
"Spare me the empty oaths. We've had enough of war—we won't be participating again."
At Logan's words, Wicken Calria gritted his teeth.
"Hmph... Fine. You've earned the right to say that. We'll meet again, Logan MacLaine."
"You'd best hurry back. The Second Prince's faction will launch their attack soon."
"What?"
"The moment you attacked us, I already sent word."
(Truthfully, he was about to send it now.)
"What?! Damn it—!"
"You don't have time to waste being angry with me."
"You... Just you wait."
Despite his words, Wicken Calria retreated while keeping his glare fixed on Logan, as if wary of any sudden moves.
It was as if the wind itself carried him—his feet never moved, yet he slid backward effortlessly.
Even that retreat was swift as a gale, and before long, he had already reached the rear of the Calria Knights.
—All forces, withdraw! Full speed back to headquarters!
Only then did Logan turn away and finally spit out the blood he had been suppressing.
Cough.
"Ugh..."
"Grand Prince!"
A voice called out to him through his fading consciousness, but Logan didn't have the strength to respond.
Maintaining his composed act had reached its limit.
I need to send the communication soon... I have to make them tear each other apart...
But even that thought had to be set aside for now.
[Bifros launched a surprise attack. And right after, the First Prince's forces struck us. How exactly am I supposed to take this, Your Grace?]
The pale-faced youth visible through the communication orb.
His crimson eyes burned with deep contempt.
Under normal circumstances, Jordan Waltermein would have ripped out those insolent eyes, but he couldn't bring himself to raise his voice.
Because through the orb, he could see the MacLaine forces in real time—utterly devastated.
"...This is entirely my oversight."
An apology he had never once uttered in his life.
"To think the weapons I gave you to supplement your forces would be turned against you... No words can excuse this."
He tried speaking in an unfamiliar, humble tone, but—
[Roger Bifros was known by all as Your Grace's right-hand man. And yet, you claim to have had no idea what he was planning?]
—it didn't work.
Of course, even if it was my doing...
Jordan Waltermein clenched his teeth.
He had a bad feeling about this, but right now, he had to persuade Logan at all costs.
With Bifros' forces annihilated, losing MacLaine too?
All the momentum they had painstakingly built would vanish in an instant.
"Listen to me! What he did was truly—"
[We sacrificed everything for the faction, laid ourselves bare. And this is how we're repaid. What would you do in my place?]
Jordan couldn't even get angry at being cut off.
The calm tone carried a deep, seething fury.
"Lord Logan. Calm down and hear me—"
[We turned the tide of the war, sacrificed ourselves to end it—and this is our reward? I never imagined Your Grace's pettiness ran this deep. Do you want me to defect to the First Prince's faction?]
"Just listen to me!!"
[Who's the one losing their temper—?!]
"If I truly wanted to strike you down, would I have sent just Roger? Think calmly—calmly! This was his own doing!"
He had meant to placate Logan, but now he was the one losing his temper.
He forced himself to restrain his anger, hoping to show sincerity—and it seemed to have some effect.
[Hmm... That much is true.]
"Then don't misunderstand! I'll compensate you for all your losses. Just calm down and let's talk."
[Hah... Your Grace, how exactly do you plan to compensate us?]
"Well... After the war ends, I'll grant whatever reward you desire—"
[Aft—ter?]
Logan's mocking tone made Jordan's blood pressure spike.
He had been exercising the greatest patience of his life these past few decades, but—
[Are you joking? After being stabbed in the back, after suffering all this—only after the war? Haha. So Your Grace intends to flip my robes inside out right now, is that it?]
The sheer audacity of that tongue.
Rage bubbled up from deep within, but Jordan had no choice but to endure.
"...Tell me what you want. If it's within my power, I'll grant it."
Finally, with a deep sigh, he effectively surrendered.
Whatever Logan asked for, keeping MacLaine on their side was the priority now.
I can always pretend ignorance later.
But Logan didn't even accept that.
[First, my family and I will return to our territory.]
"What?!"
[Continuing to fight in this state is impossible. And, though I truly regret it, I can no longer trust the faction. Therefore, MacLaine will withdraw from this war entirely. Once you achieve victory, just honor our original agreement—that's all I ask.]
"Reconsider, Logan. MacLaine's value is greater than you think. Even if you don't fight, just returning to supply weapons would guarantee our victory. I won't force you to participate—"
Jordan desperately laid out his terms, but—
[After being brutally betrayed, you still expect me to supply weapons? Your Grace, forgive me, but I'm not that much of a fool.]
Logan's stance was unwavering.
"I told you, that was Roger's own—!"
[I believe that—which is why I'm not defecting to the First Prince's side. But aiding the faction is out of the question.]
"You—!"
[If my stance changes, I'll contact you. For now, MacLaine withdraws from the battlefield.]
"No! Just think a little more—"
[As a final courtesy, I'll share this: 'Yesterday,' it was the Calria Knights who attacked us. Marquis Wicken Calria was among them.]
"...What?!"
Why was that bastard there?
My spies reported nothing!
And you survived despite facing the Stormblade?!
The unexpected information left Jordan's mind reeling.
[Then I bid you farewell. I hope to receive the promised rewards after the war.]
Bzzzt.
The communication cut off unilaterally.
For a moment, Jordan Waltermein stood frozen—before his fury erupted.
BANG!
"Luchen Talos! Bring me Talos! And prepare the entire army for deployment!"
—Y-yes! At once, Your Grace!
The panicked voice from beyond the door only stoked his rage further.
"Damn it all! How did things turn out like this?!"
"Finally—we can pull out!"
The grand actor, having finished his performance, cheered loudly.
Balancing the two factions, igniting their conflict, and slipping away—
The seemingly impossible plan had succeeded brilliantly.
And those watching couldn't help but share his excitement.
"Hahaha. It really worked this smoothly?"
"Magnificent, Lord Logan. The plan concluded much faster than expected."
At their praise, Logan wiped away his exhilarated expression and responded with a composed smile.
"We dealt significant damage to the First Prince's faction and eliminated Bifros from the Second Prince's side. There's still some Liberatio left, so if the Second Prince's forces have any sense, they'll resume their siege soon—before they hear we've withdrawn. And we..."
"Just sit back and watch them tear each other apart, right?"
"Exactly."
"And after that?"
"I have ideas. I'll explain them in time."
"Good work. Let's go home."
Patrick laughed and clapped his son on the shoulder.
Then—
"Everyone, rise! The play is over!"
Beyond the communication orb, soldiers drenched in fake blood and sprawled across the ground began stirring.
"It's over? Really over?"
"Yes. We're going home!"
"Wahhh!"
Even Henderson, the knight who had buried himself up to his neck in the ground, blinked awake.
"G-get me out of here!"
"You damn fool! Who told you to dig yourself in like that?!"
"It's more realistic this way!"
"Honestly, your enthusiasm is misplaced..."
Dygrom sighed as he picked up a shovel.
But despite his exasperation, a bright smile lingered on his face.
Force—an extraordinary ability that manifests in rare individuals through rigorous training, though the exact criteria for its awakening remain unclear.
Unlike Force, the talent for wielding Mana reveals itself naturally.
Most who can sense or manipulate Mana from a young age—even weakly—are born with the potential to become Mana Users, or mages.
Thus, many mages carry a sense of elitism, believing themselves chosen.
The stronger the talent, the more pronounced this tendency—especially among those who spend decades holed up in magic towers, pushing their limits through relentless experimentation.
As a result, many high-ranking mages are... eccentric.
And most of these eccentrics share a common trait:
They view everyone beneath their own level as inferior.
In that regard, Juan Douglas—born as the heir of a ducal house, with a royal princess for a mother, hailed as a prodigy from childhood, and reaching the level of a 6th-Circle Archmage by his forties—was the pinnacle of such warped personalities.
His noble status usually masked his arrogance and elitism.
But when cornered in a situation he had never faced before, that twisted nature couldn't help but surface.
"Stop them! Why can't you block something so simple?!"
His forces were gradually being pushed back by the sudden, relentless assault.
The more enemy knights breached the walls, the more his frustration grew.
The Walterheim Knights—numerous but crude—should have been no match for his elite mages from the Tower of Glaciers, who prided themselves on rivaling the Five Great Towers.
Yet they were failing.
And the biggest reason was one man—no, one monster.
A giant who rendered hundreds of repeating crossbowmen useless and leaped onto the walls.
CRACK.
The moment Luther Kyle reached the ramparts, Juan's magic trapped him in ice—but cracks were already spreading as the giant strained to break free.
"Bring me Magic Stones! All of them!"
If he could get closer, he'd finish the job himself—but for now, he had to rely on inefficient long-range spells fueled by Magic Stones.
And once those ran out, he'd face a dire choice:
Risk exposing the prince to danger by entering the battlefield himself—or watch as Luther shattered his forces.
The thought made him seethe at another Transcendent—his subordinate and son-in-law—who had recklessly charged out to capture some brat despite Juan's orders to send only the border lords' elites.
"That bastard Wicken dared to ignore my command."
Normally, he would have brushed it off with a facade of magnanimity.
But now, his suppressed fury erupted unchecked.
Unconsciously, the Freezing Archmage's rage froze the air around him, forcing his aides to shiver uncontrollably.
"W-we've signaled him! He'll return soon!"
"He's already nearby!"
The slightly reassuring news came just as—
CRASH!
—Luther burst free from the ice.
At the same moment, his rival reappeared on the western wall.
—It's the Stormblade!
—Marquis Wicken is here!
Finally exhaling in relief, Juan Douglas glanced at the frost-covered command post and forced an awkward smile.