Chapter 143
Chapter 143
"It's merely the casting effect of the activating magic. Endure it!"
He spat out an excuse that wouldn't convince a child and swiftly cast consecutive spells using magic stones.
Now, his targets were not Wicken Calria, the original opponent, but other enemies.
The movements of the Walterheim Knights scaling the fortress walls abruptly slowed, exposing vulnerabilities one after another, and the tide of battle gradually began to balance out.
'This is something Jordan could never do.'
Protecting the prince while simultaneously contributing directly to the battle—this was the advantage of being a mage.
No matter how highly regarded Jordan Walterheim was as a peer transcendent, this was something he could never achieve.
'So come out, Jordan.'
If Jordan, enraged by this, personally stepped forward, the hidden blade left near his faction would slit the Second Prince's throat before the final move had to be made.
Juan Douglas's eyes gleamed maliciously.
"Wicken Calria is already here?!"
No one answered Jordan's muttering.
Unless one was observing the battlefield from above, it was impossible to grasp the entire situation at once.
Jordan hadn't expected an answer either, so he merely smirked bitterly.
He had tried to preserve and study MacLaine's defection, but that had been a misstep.
"Pointless hesitation. Use it now!"
"Yes!"
"Keep pushing forward! We'll end this civil war soon!"
"Yes!"
Following Jordan's orders, several carts raced toward the base of the fortress walls.
And moments later—
Deafening explosions erupted all along the walls.
BOOM!
CRASH!
KABOOM!
"Break through! Keep advancing! Move the troops faster!"
The firepower of Liberatio shifted the tide back in favor of the Second Prince's faction.
With momentum on their side, the Second Prince's forces pressed forward relentlessly.
The First Prince's army, despite Wicken Calria's reinforcement and the advantage of high fortress walls, was gradually being pushed back.
But the First Prince's side had also held onto a trump card.
"Detonate them all!!"
The moment the mages of the Glacier Tower shouted from various points along the walls—
Pure-white explosions of frigid air erupted in succession, minimizing the impact of Liberatio's blasts.
Soon, the Second Prince's stock of Liberatio was inevitably depleted.
"Blizzard Scrolls?! They still had that many left? Devious bastards!"
"To waste one of our trump cards here... How infuriating."
Even as the leaders of both factions cursed, screams continued to erupt along the walls.
Neither the attackers nor the defenders could retreat.
"Their weapons are spent! Crush them all!"
"They've exhausted their tricks too! Finish them off!"
The Second Prince's forces, aiming to secure victory in MacLaine's absence.
The First Prince's forces, whose future would grow uncertain if they lost momentum.
The battle between these two factions, neither able to retreat, became the fiercest conflict since the civil war began.
By the time the day's fighting ended—
Both sides had suffered devastating losses and were forced into another stalemate.
But the outcome of that day's battle carried more significance than any previous engagement.
The great nobles of both factions, who had fought while minimizing damage to their personal forces, suffered their greatest losses since the war began.
What should have been a normal occurrence in large-scale warfare had only just happened, but to the nobles, the scale of the losses was unimaginably horrific.
Both factions were wholly preoccupied with damage control in the aftermath.
And from that day onward, the course of the civil war began to shift once more.
Just a day after overcoming a major crisis, the news that arrived made the MacLaine father and son smile.
"Everything has gone as expected—no, even better than expected. Now, with grudges piling up on both sides, they won't be able to fight half-heartedly."
"Yes. That's how it's turned out."
Logan had assumed that if Roger Vifros leaked information to the First Prince's faction, they would send out forces equivalent to two border lords to intercept them.
The original plan had been to trap and defeat them, feign heavy losses in the eastern gate assault, and then withdraw from the faction.
But everything changed when Vifros's forces pursued them directly.
The fact that the intercepting force included Wicken Calria and his knights was an unexpected crisis, but fortunately, they escaped with minimal losses.
In the end, everything had turned out better than planned.
Now, the path to ending this civil war seemed truly within reach.
Logan conveyed his next steps to his father, his voice brimming with emotion.
But Patrick's expression remained grim throughout.
"......Logan. Are you certain we can't simply withdraw from this faction war?"
His pale complexion, still recovering from his injuries, made the question sound even graver.
Logan answered firmly.
"Yes. Whether the First Prince or the Second Prince takes power, neither will leave us be afterward."
"But the Second Prince's faction..."
"Jordan Walterheim is a man who forgets favors but never grudges. Even in the best-case scenario, we'll face severe pressure."
"......I see. That makes sense. But is your plan truly feasible?"
"We'll make it feasible."
"Hah....... Still, if things go as you say, it might be better to wait and observe for a while. Is it really necessary to take such risks?"
"......I'll discuss that after returning from the capital. There's no guarantee the plan will proceed as I've laid it out."
Patrick fell into thought before nodding heavily after a long pause.
"Fine. Then so be it... Cough!"
Hack! Hack!
"Father!"
Blood seeped from Patrick's lips as he coughed violently.
Logan shot to his feet in alarm, but Patrick waved him off.
"Ah, it's nothing. Just lingering internal injuries. I'm almost recovered."
"......Even high-grade potions couldn't fully heal you?"
"You've fought an Aura User yourself—you know how vicious their energy is. It's a miracle I'm even this functional after being pierced by it."
Patrick forced a smile, but Logan couldn't bring himself to return it.
"We're out of high-grade potions. You should return and see a priest as soon as possible."
"I will. Don't worry. I can hold out until then."
"Still..."
"Stop fretting over me. You took serious internal injuries too—take care of yourself. Aura is more vicious than I expected."
"I'll be..."
Logan's complexion wasn't much better, but he wasn't worried.
He was confident he'd recover in a few days even without potions.
"I should recover in a day or two."
"......Hah. Your injuries seemed worse than mine. Youth really is something."
Is it really just youth?
Thump-thump.
Logan exhaled softly, feeling the faint pulse of the Force Core in his chest.
"Make sure to call a priest when you return. Don't try to tough it out alone."
"Of course, boy. Your old man isn't the type to pointlessly stubborn."
Really? Were you always like that?
Logan swallowed a dry laugh and quickly changed the subject.
"I'll head to the capital immediately."
"Now? Right away?"
"Yes. The sooner, the better."
"Fine. Do as you must. I've trusted you this far—might as well see it through to the end."
"Thank you, Father."
"Don't thank me. You'd have done it even if I objected, wouldn't you?"
"Ah... Haha. W-Would I?"
Logan averted his gaze, his expression guilty. Patrick chuckled but soon grew serious again.
"Be careful. Extremely careful. If word of your trip to the capital gets out..."
"Of course. I'll ask Master Clayton to change my hair and eye color. I'll carry only essential equipment and plan to camp out whenever possible. I'll only use cheap inns as a last resort."
"......Good. Do that. But stay alert—someone might still notice you. Even at a glance, mercenaries and nobles carry themselves differently."
Patrick's concern was valid, but Logan had to suppress the urge to laugh.
"No need to worry about that. In my..."
"In your what?"
"Ahem. I mean... I was thoroughly trained by people who used to be mercenaries."
"Ah. With your acting skills, I suppose there's no need to worry."
"Not my combat skills?"
Pfft.
Patrick's expression finally softened at Logan's jest.
"Yes. That too."
Knowing his son's strength had far surpassed his own, Patrick concluded the conversation with a proud smile.
And that night—
A lone figure slipped out of MacLaine's camp like the wind, vanishing northeast.
As MacLaine's army marched home—
Word spread among the troops that the Grand Prince, suffering a relapse from injuries sustained in battle with a transcendent, was receiving intensive treatment in a sealed-off wagon, guarded by elite knights.
The sight of knights standing vigilant around the wagon lent credence to the rumor.
But the soldiers, overjoyed to finally be returning home, soon stopped paying much attention to the absent Grand Prince.
"Let us in!"
"We're citizens of this kingdom too!"
"Open the gates!"
The capital of the thousand-year-old Grandia Kingdom—the colossal fortress city of Gran—was packed with a suffocating crowd even from a distance.
With the kingdom in turmoil from civil war—
Refugees seeking safety in "the most secure city" had swarmed Gran in increasing numbers.
What they didn't realize was that Gran's population had long exceeded its capacity.
The number of "residents" living outside the inner and outer city walls far outnumbered the "citizens" within.
And now, even those residents couldn't enter Gran.
Knights bearing the crest of a phoenix soaring skyward were ruthlessly shoving back the very people they were sworn to protect.
"Ahh! Why?! Why?!"
"Take another step and I'll cut you down! Back off!!"
The chaotic screams and furious roars painted an ugly scene.
A brown-haired, brown-eyed mercenary frowned at the sight.
"......Since when has it been like this?"
"How should I know? Those lunatics won't let anyone in—damn it all! I walked two weeks to get here! Feels like my guts are boiling! You a mercenary, young man?"
"Ah, yes. For now..."
"Lucky you made it. Heard the factions started conscripting low-rank mercenaries everywhere."
"Ah. Is that so? Guess I got lucky."
The mercenary's expression stiffened oddly despite his words.
'Much faster than in my past life.'
Which meant the unusually large crowd was likely...
"Things were bad enough when the nobles started their squabbles. But now they're dragging people off to castles and looting grain—how are we supposed to live?"
The middle-aged man's haggard face twisted with frustration. The mercenary—Logan—could only offer a bitter smile in response.
The fact that even low-rank mercenaries, whom nobles usually ignored, were being conscripted meant one thing:
'They're committing to total war.'
All of this was the result of his actions.
Events that had unfolded in his past life were now happening two years ahead of schedule.
'It had to be done. To end this chaos quickly.'
Biting his lip, he vanished into the crowd like a ghost moments later.
"So if you're a mercenary, maybe you could talk to those knights... Huh? Where'd he go?"
The refugee who had been lamenting his plight blinked in confusion, left alone to scan the crowd for his vanished conversation partner.