Chapter 150
Chapter 150
The allied faction forces, forced to retreat due to MacLaine's unexpected military strength and Luther Kyle's injury, did not immediately advance again.
Though Logan had anticipated their movements would be slow due to their divided command structure, he couldn't afford to let his guard down.
MacLaine's forces at Aegis maintained vigilance in rotating shifts, while the knights and key commanders spent sleepless nights on high alert.
"Has Sword Duke sent any word?"
"...The neutral forces likely haven't even fully assembled yet. Factoring in the time needed to march, it'll take at least another month. That's probably why the enemy is biding their time."
"That's not exactly reassuring."
"We can hold out. We'll make do with what we have. And we've already succeeded once."
But Logan's confident expression wasn't enough to completely dispel Patrick's unease.
"But the Flame Sword and the Freezing Wizard are said to be a cut above Stormblade and the Half-Giant. Can we really stop them?"
"Those two won't stray far from the first and second princes—the very justification for this war. At most, we'll see sporadic magic attacks from Juan Douglas like yesterday. And that much..."
"Right, your wife handled that well. That sword was a good gift."
"My wi—cough. Yes."
"Sigh. Alright. I'm sorry for sounding weak. Let's keep pushing forward."
The next morning, after Patrick steeled himself again, MacLaine was met with a sight slightly different from what they had expected.
"Cowardly MacLaine rats, stretch out your necks!"
A booming voice echoed across the battlefield.
All eyes turned toward a gray-haired giant whose body shimmered with a crimson haze as he took his first steps.
The moment he broke into a sprint, the haze erupted into towering flames, creating the illusion of a blazing meteor streaking toward them.
Even those who hadn't recognized him at first due to the distance soon realized who it was—one of the kingdom's most infamous figures, unmistakable by his signature aura.
"The Flame Sword!"
"Duke Walterheim!"
Unlike yesterday, the transcendent who emerged from the Second Prince's faction was not the Half-Giant Luther Kyle, but Jordan Walterheim, the Flame Sword—the kingdom's second most powerful aura user and one of the enemy commanders.
"Kill him!"
"If we take him down—!"
Before Logan could even issue orders, several soldiers fired their crossbows.
The rest, caught up in the frenzy, followed suit—even though the duke hadn't yet entered effective range.
The result?
A bizarre spectacle of accelerated fireballs (?) colliding with a hail of quarrels.
Logan, about to roar in frustration, suddenly froze.
As expected—
Thwack-thwack-thwack!
The quarrels bounced off uselessly, and the fireball continued its ascent toward the fortress walls, completely unaffected.
"Where do you think you're going?!"
Before Logan could even call for it, a surge of immense magical energy erupted from behind him.
The fireball plummeted to the ground.
Gravity Control.
The same spell Clayton had used to bring Luther Kyle to his knees now worked on Jordan—a transcendent of even higher rank.
"Throw them!"
Knights near the walls hurled red-hot stones at the fallen duke.
In an instant, over thirty Liberatios struck true—
BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!
A deafening explosion kicked up a massive dust cloud.
"Got him—!"
"Keep throwing! Don't stop!"
Just as the soldiers were about to cheer prematurely, Logan's shout urged the knights to press the attack.
"Damn pests!!"
A bestial snarl—no, something more demonic—rumbled from within the dust as crimson aura surged violently.
BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!
Another barrage of Liberatios rained down, slamming Jordan Walterheim back into the dirt before he could rise.
But MacLaine's new weapon had only a marginal effect on a transcendent.
The crimson aura within the dust didn't diminish—it only grew stronger.
"All units, focus fire on the duke! Keep throwing!"
At Logan's command, the knights' bombardment continued relentlessly.
"Militia Groups 1 through 5! Target that bastard only! He's got the same hair color as me—pretend it's me and kill him!!"
Kai Solon, the infamous drill instructor known as the Demon Trainer, roared as another volley of quarrels streaked through the air.
"Insects...!"
Thwack-thwack-thwack!
CRACK!
'Disgustingly durable. Well, at least that's something.'
Logan gritted his teeth as he watched the crimson aura remain unshaken under the concentrated assault.
The fact that Jordan could withstand such firepower even after being hit by sixth-circle magic was absurd.
But at least they had prevented him from scaling the walls.
If only they could stop other transcendents the same way...
"Grand Prince! The southern side—!"
Screech—!
"I'm on it!"
Wicken Calria, the transcendent from the First Prince's faction, was an opponent against whom projectile weapons were utterly useless.
This wasn't a matter of power disparity—it was a fundamental mismatch in combat style.
'He's one I'll have to face myself.'
Fortunately, Logan had proven yesterday that he could withstand aura's destructive properties thanks to his post-war breakthroughs.
'I can do this. Maybe even more...'
He could feel himself growing stronger with each clash against transcendents.
Fueled by battle fervor, he charged toward the silver wind streaking toward the fortress walls.
Unlike the first battle, the faction alliance didn't retreat easily.
MacLaine's unexpected strength had already been gauged in the previous fight, and today, the transcendents stood firm on the frontlines.
Still, the overwhelming firepower of MacLaine's new weapons inflicted heavy casualties, steadily sapping the enemy's morale—
Except on the eastern wall.
The concentrated fire on Duke Jordan had left gaps in their defenses.
Knights used spears and swords as footholds to scale the slippery, hardened walls, successfully reaching the top one after another.
But what awaited them was—
"Swamp!"
"Solid!"
"Clay Binding!"
The ground turned to mire beneath their feet, shields glowed ochre, and thick mud coiled around their bodies.
The mages of the Golem Tower, deployed en masse on the eastern wall to counter the Second Prince's knight-heavy forces.
"Damn it!"
"Bastards!"
"Mages!"
As the knights struggled, MacLaine's swordsmen descended upon them without mercy.
"Gah—!"
At first, MacLaine's strategic deployment seemed to shine.
But the enemy's numbers were more than double theirs.
And the relentless assault of the allied knights—far superior in quality—continued unabated. More and more enemy knights scaled the walls.
"Lord MacLaine—!"
Slash!
"Ghk—!"
"Yes. That's me."
As Logan cut down enemy knights in a frenzy, Patrick watched his son's struggle with a burning frustration he could barely contain.
Then his eyes landed on figures that filled him with dread.
'Damn it.'
Elite knights lurked just below the walls, deflecting quarrels and bombs with their force blades, waiting for an opening to strike.
'Jorge of House Calria, Harvey Miller of the Tritan Earldom, Oliver Ortega of the Chernov family...'
Just the names he recognized were enough to unsettle him—and there were likely over a dozen more hidden among the enemy ranks.
'If they join the fray in earnest...'
Patrick's thoughts darkened.
But then—
The flow of battle shifted.
Eileen, sensitive to disturbances in the air, swung her sword at empty space whenever she sensed something amiss.
Each time, shockwaves and freezing gusts erupted from thin air.
Fortunately, her sword, Frigus, neutralized most of the cold, leaving only a chilling breeze—barely noticeable amidst the battlefield's heat.
Too busy firing crossbows and cutting down enemies to pay attention.
"A woman—?!"
Slit!
"Ghk—!"
The thirteenth fool today to underestimate her and lose his life.
She took no joy in her gender being a weapon.
She simply honed her senses, deflected long-range spells, and cut down climbing knights—relentlessly.
She had already erased from her mind the fact that she, assigned to the northern wall, was now fighting on the southern side.
'Even Lord Logan is struggling so much...'
Pale-faced, locked in a duel with a transcendent in a realm beyond ordinary combat.
Eileen couldn't even think of intervening—she forced her gaze away and focused on her own role.
Then, at some point—
She noticed something odd.
'They're... retreating?'
Not a full-scale withdrawal, but knights from the First Prince's forces were gradually falling back.
And like Patrick, she noticed the elite knights—instead of scaling the walls—were retreating toward their main camp.
Judging by the scowls and muttered curses, it seemed an unavoidable order had come from above.
'Why?'
Soon, only a handful of knights remained below the walls, deflecting attacks, while a few soldiers fired arrows that barely reached the ramparts.
From a distance, it might have looked like the battle was still raging—
But those defending the southern and western walls could feel the pressure easing as enemy knights disappeared one by one.
'What's going on?'
The inexplicable self-sabotage continued for hours—
Until Duke Jordan Walterheim, who had been consuming vast resources on the eastern front, finally roared:
"Full retreat!! Fall back!"
The Second Prince's forces began withdrawing like a receding tide—and the First Prince's forces, who had been putting on a show, hastily followed suit.
"Huh...?!"
"They're retreating!"
"WOOOOOH!"
"We won again!"
The exhausted soldiers' cheers thundered across the fortress walls.
But even MacLaine's commanders were left bewildered—until Logan spoke coldly, his gaze fixed on the distance.
"The reason is obvious."
"Huh?"
"Compare the number of corpses below the walls."
"Ah—!"
"The distrust between them. That's their greatest weakness—and our lifeline."
Eileen finally nodded in understanding.
As Logan watched the retreating factions with a frosty smile—
A furious roar erupted from the central tent of the Second Prince's retreating forces.
SLAM!
"What the hell is this, Juan?! You're backing out of our agreement now?!"
[Whoa, whoa. Calm down. Our losses were too heavy—we had no choice.]
"So you're forcing us to take losses too?! With the enemy right in front of us?! Even a three-year-old knows that's idiotic! And you call yourself a mage—are you really that stupid?!"
[Watch your tongue, Jordan. It just means we fought harder.]
Juan Douglas' shameless expression on the communication screen only stoked Jordan's fury further.
"Bullshit! Don't take me for a fool, Juan. Your losses only piled up because that brat blocked Wicken. If you were so aggrieved, you should've taken the frontlines yourself instead of him. Like I did! Oh, wait—were you too much of a coward for that?"
[...How pathetic. You only moved your fat ass because Luther was severely injured. I'm more worried about whether he can even protect the prince properly in your place.]
"Are you threatening me now, Juan?! You want us to turn on each other after coming this far?!"
[Let's be honest. Instead of blaming each other, let's address the real issue.]
"More nonsense—!"
Jordan spat, but Juan continued unfazed.
[Why did we stay by the princes' sides? Because we don't trust each other. If we had just trusted one another—if you, me, Luther, and Wicken had all taken the field together—how long do you think those bats hiding in their fortress would've lasted?]
"Pfft—HAHAHA! You want us to trust you after you stabbed us in the back hours ago?! I didn't know you had a talent for comedy, Juan. That was hilarious."
[I'll apologize for withdrawing first.]
"...What?"
Jordan froze—he never expected to hear an apology from Juan.
[So let's make sure this doesn't happen again. If you were in my position, what would you have done? Taken one-sided losses for a common enemy? Don't make me laugh, Jordan. You'd have done the same.]
"..."
[You can't deny it, can you? And while we bicker, the ones benefiting the most are those bats in the fortress. Doesn't that piss you off? So let's make a firm agreement.]
"...Explain."
The conversation between the two transcendents stretched on.