Chapter 152
Chapter 152
'No!!'
Logan also witnessed his father's peril.
But he couldn't easily disengage.
The relentless silver storm of aura swirling before his eyes was no pushover—reckless movements driven by emotion would be fatal.
Because of that, Logan could only watch helplessly as Heinkel suffered grievous injuries.
A severe wound inflicted by aura. The sight of bright red blood gushing from his mouth suggested internal injuries far worse than just losing an arm.
Falling with such wounds in the heart of the battlefield, facing a Transcendent, was practically a death sentence.
And seeing his father barely dodging the Transcendent's attacks while carrying Heinkel made Logan's vision blur with rage.
'I have to go...!'
But the price for that momentary distraction came swiftly.
Ssskik.
Thud.
'Damn it!'
A glancing slash—just enough to effortlessly cleave through the plate armor and the chainmail beneath, leaving a shallow but long gash on his side.
The pain snapped him back to focus.
With gritted teeth, Logan drew upon the power embedded in his beloved sword, Lux.
The awakening magic he could use only once a day—Time Acceleration.
A trump card he had kept hidden to sever the Transcendent's breath.
Hoping for an opening against the Stormblade, Logan unleashed the power he had been saving.
Whoosh.
To him, his body moved at a speed only slightly faster than before, but to his enemy, it would seem like an impossible burst of velocity.
"......!!"
The shock was evident on his foe's face.
The golden Force Blade, accelerated threefold in an instant, gracefully curved past the wind aura and sliced across Wycken's flank.
Sssshhhk.
Wycken's face twisted in horror.
Despite the fierce battle, this was the first proper injury he had sustained—one that had always held the upper hand.
Yet Logan's expression remained grim.
'Damn it. I should've saved this for the perfect opportunity.'
He had repaid his wound several times over, but he couldn't exploit the opening further.
Now that Wycken had experienced it, he would surely prepare countermeasures against Time Acceleration.
But there was no other choice.
Saving his father's life took precedence over cutting down the enemy.
Logan feigned pursuit as Wycken slid back, then vanished like a ghost.
The next moment, he reappeared within the gap left by Jordan, who was fending off a barrage of quarrels and magic bombs.
Right behind his father, who was barely managing to evade while carrying Heinkel.
Oooong.
"Fa...ther...?"
Patrick, his face pale as he desperately dodged the Transcendent's onslaught, widened his eyes when he saw his son stepping forward to confront the blazing aura.
Wycken Calria and Jordan Walterheim were on a different level.
If his son, who had struggled against the Stormblade...
"......It's fine!"
But then—
Ssskik.
With a faint sound, the torrent of fiery aura pouring toward them split apart and scattered.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Only when the weakened flames parted, revealing the flickering serpentine eyes, did Patrick recall the technique his son had demonstrated just before the battle.
The reason Logan had confidently claimed he could face a Transcendent.
That astonishing sight barely steadied Patrick's trembling heart.
Moreover—
"Ugh!"
Whether from shock or overexertion, a quarrel slipped through the wavering red aura and embedded itself in Duke Jordan's shoulder.
Kwa-kwa-kwa-BOOM!
The following barrage of bombs sent him staggering back in disarray.
The pitiful sight of the Transcendent, renowned across the kingdom as the Blazing Sword, retreating in such an undignified manner brought Patrick a sliver of relief.
And in that moment, he realized what he had to do.
"Heinkel! Stay awake! You must not lose consciousness! Understood?!"
"Hng... My lord...."
"Father...?!"
Ignoring Logan's attempt to calm him, Patrick leaped with all his might toward the fortress walls.
The moment he reached a relatively safe spot inside, he poured the highest-grade potion—one of the few left in their territory—down Heinkel's throat without hesitation.
"I... apologize...."
"What do you have to apologize for?! This is my fault! Focus on your wounds! Keep your Force moving!"
The sudden retreat of the lord and the knight commander sent shockwaves through the MacLaine forces.
But Logan's roar from below the walls had an even greater impact.
"The Blazing Sword retreats! Wipe them all out!!"
Jordan Walterheim's withdrawal signaled a morale collapse for the entire Second Prince's army.
Indeed, as the enemy forces began to slowly retreat, MacLaine's morale soared uncontrollably.
"Fire!"
"Kill them all!"
MacLaine's still-intact firepower exploited the Transcendent's absence, inflicting devastating losses on the Second Prince's army.
"Jordan's out of range! Don't waste arrows! Focus fire on the knights below the walls!"
The triumphant voice of High Instructor Kaisolon hinted at imminent victory.
Even the First Prince's forces, witnessing the Second Prince's retreat, halted their assault and began withdrawing swiftly.
Despite suffering far fewer casualties.
Watching this, Patrick let out a bitter sigh.
"To think Heinkel was wounded because of these rabble...."
What use was their strength in numbers?
What use was their overwhelming force?
Seeing the enemy's laughable lack of coordination—shameful even for an alliance—only deepened his grief for his friend's sacrifice.
"They don't trust each other. A blessing for us, but... Father, are you alright? What about Sir Heinkel...?"
"......He lost an arm, and his Force core is severely damaged. I don't know if he'll survive."
To Patrick, Heinkel was more than a subordinate—he was a lifelong friend.
Seeing him teetering between life and death plunged Patrick's heart into despair.
'And it's my fault.'
Not wanting to show his anguish to his son, Patrick covered his face with his palm.
But closing his eyes only made the memories clearer.
—"New recruit Heinkel, at your service. Young lord, I look forward to working with you."
—"Ah. Likewise."
Their first meeting, when both still brimmed with youthful vigor.
—"My lord! You must stand again! You cannot remain like this! You must protect MacLaine Territory, the family! Young Lord Logan is watching!"
The voice that had pulled him from the depths of despair after his wife Reyna's death.
—"Ah, forget about me and go help my son."
—"No matter what you say, I will retire alongside you, my lord."
—"Stubborn fool... Hahaha."
The lighthearted, warm exchanges when a brilliant future seemed within reach.
All flashed through his mind in an instant.
"Absolutely not. I won't let him die like this."
"Yes. Sir Heinkel is resilient. He will rise again."
"I know, I know. But I won't be satisfied until I've repaid Jordan in kind."
The lord who had nervously spoken of retirement before the battle was gone.
In his place stood a man filled with cold fury.
Before him, Logan could only bow his head silently.
"The faction armies won't keep repeating this foolishness. Once they reach some agreement, they'll come at us with everything—no more half-hearted retreats. But!"
Bang!
Logan slammed the table, drawing all eyes to him.
"We've already repelled them three times flawlessly. The cumulative damage we've inflicted has significantly narrowed the gap in strength. Even if they come at us in full force, we can hold! All we need to do is endure until reinforcements arrive. Time is on our side!"
Despite Logan's bold declaration, the faces of the gathered knights remained somber.
Their knight commander had been critically wounded and withdrawn.
Reinforcements were uncertain.
No one was blind to the harsh reality Logan's words tried to mask.
The attacks had paused, but everyone present had gone two sleepless nights.
Only the Force Users among the knights could endure this—many soldiers, fighting in endless shifts, were already collapsing from exhaustion.
Logan knew this too, but he had nothing more to offer.
'I did rush them, but the exact date...'
If he made a premature promise, morale would crumble the moment it passed unfulfilled.
As Logan bit his lip, searching for words, Patrick stepped forward quietly.
"Feeling stifled? Hopeless?"
"......."
"It's alright. I feel the same."
"Father!"
"My lord...?!"
The knights murmured in surprise.
"I'm not refuting Logan's words. Time is indeed on our side, and we've performed admirably so far. The problem is that the remaining hurdles will be far more dangerous and grueling than before."
"Father...."
Logan tried to interject, but Patrick raised a hand to stop him. Standing before the knights, he spread his arms wide.
"Many of you here may not see each other again after the next battle—just like my friend Heinkel today, or the countless others who have already fallen to the enemy's blades."
The atmosphere grew solemn in an instant.
"The faces of our fallen comrades will haunt you. Memories of them will keep resurfacing. I feel the same. Even with the enemy before me, sorrow keeps clouding my thoughts."
The lord seemed to be sapping morale further.
'Is he truly alright? He must be shaken by Heinkel's condition. I should stop him—'
As Logan clenched his teeth and prepared to intervene—
"But then I wondered—what would my fallen friend think if he saw me like this?"
Patrick's gloomy voice suddenly shifted.
"Would my friend truly want me to wallow in grief and collapse? Or would he want me to fight?"
"He would want you to fight."
Logan's unconscious reply drew nods from most knights.
"Exactly. If I were Heinkel, that's what I'd want. The enemy is strong? So what? Who's won so far?"
"We have!"
Seeing the knights clench their fists, Patrick grinned.
"Right. We've won. Against what might as well be the bulk of this kingdom's military might."
Unknowingly, smiles spread across the knights' faces.
"Only five Transcendents exist in the kingdom—and four are out there. They lead the elite forces of two ducal houses and two marquisates. Not to mention all the border lords from east to west. Ah, except for Bifrost, who we've already crushed. Viscounts? Barons? Anyone bothered counting?"
"No!"
Henderson's booming voice stoked the rising fervor.
"Exactly. We've repelled that absurd force three times already. Thanks to all of you—and the comrades who couldn't be here today."
The tent's atmosphere grew solemn, but the knights' eyes burned fiercely.
"When I meet our fallen comrades in the afterlife, I want to proudly tell them—just a few years ago, we were merely a baronial house! And yet, we shattered the united elites of the kingdom!"
"......."
"The feats we've achieved are already monumental! Don't you agree?!"
"Yes!!"
A deafening roar threatened to tear the tent apart.
Amidst the clamor, Patrick nodded calmly.
"Good. I want to tell you all—you've done enough. I want to praise you endlessly. 'Well done,' 'You've surpassed all expectations.' You've exceeded even my wildest hopes."
Patrick raised his voice further.
"But I also want to ask—do you want to stop now? Is that truly the case?!"
"Never!"
"Not a chance!"
"We'll fight to the end!"
The tent erupted in fervor once more.
Patrick took a deep breath, his face flushed with passion, and smiled.
"Good. I feel the same. The end? We decide when it ends. Not until every last one of us has fallen—we'll fight until the bitter end! Let's see with our own eyes—who falls first, them or us?!"
"Yes!!"
"And if we must close our eyes, let's tell our reunited comrades—the end we witnessed!"
"Yes!!"
"And I—I'd prefer that end to be theirs. Any objections?"
"None!!"
"Good. We've won so far, and we'll keep winning. And I want to share that glory with every one of you here. Let's show them our strength—our resolve!!"
The moment Patrick's voice faded—
Thud. Thud.
"Glory to MacLaine!!"
"For the undying flame!"
"We pledge our lives to your command!"
One by one, the knights knelt, fists pressed to their chests.
The oppressive gloom had vanished without a trace—only scorching determination remained.