Chapter 154
Chapter 154
[If we fall, their next target will be the neutral factions. They'll use cooperation with us as an excuse. The Third Prince won't remain idle either.]
'The insolent bastard. All this because of his own mess...'
The Sword Duke's lips twisted into a bitter smile as he recalled his disciple's request, which bordered on a threat.
Yet the reasoning behind that threat was so undeniably sound that he had no choice but to act.
The only problem was the impossibly tight timeframe.
—Only the Esperanza Knights and cavalry?! That's too dangerous! Even if we rallied every neutral faction, we'd still be severely outnumbered—
—MacLaine might be annihilated in the meantime.
—It's the same even if you go! MacLaine won't last a single day! Our forces will be crushed, Your Excellency!
[We can hold out.]
His adjutant Louis's pragmatic objections clashed with his disciple's baseless confidence.
Had he chosen the latter out of affection for his student, or was it the instinct of an Aura User?
Though he prided himself on decades of discipline, the truth was that even he couldn't fully grasp the depths of his own heart.
Rather than searching for excuses for what was already set in motion, the Sword Duke focused on the reality before him.
In the distance, the chaotic battlefield—a swirling mass of countless combatants—was beginning to take shape.
"Prepare the Sacred Spear!"
"Yes, sir!"
Thud-thud-thud-thud.
250 knights and 3,000 cavalry.
And himself.
Compared to the enemy forces ahead, which numbered in the tens of thousands, their numbers were pitiful—not even a tenth.
But the Sword Duke could declare with confidence:
Even if they were outnumbered by the Walterheim Knights, when it came to individual skill, his order was the strongest in the kingdom.
Their standard knights were mid-tier Force Users, with forty high-tier knights among them. Two supreme-tier knights, and himself—an Aura User.
Even with some elites like Louis detached to guard the Third Prince, this was a force worthy of being called the kingdom's strongest.
Moreover, the cavalry following them—nearly 300 strong—were led by apprentice knights who would have qualified as full-fledged knights in other territories.
The timing was perfect.
The enemy elites were preoccupied with the siege at the front, and some, perhaps emboldened, had pushed even further forward.
The moment the sound of hooves reached them, the pale faces of the rear-guard soldiers turning in shock were etched clearly in his vision.
"Break through in a straight line and shatter their core!"
"Yes, sir!"
The surest way to end a war with minimal forces.
The Sword Duke's blade pointed toward the Second Prince's main camp.
***
The moment his master's sword aimed forward, most of the brave knights charging toward him were suddenly lifted into the air.
It looked like magic, but Logan, watching from afar, understood the principle.
'Heavy Sword Pressure used like that...'
The charging horses were bound by an invisible force, their legs freezing mid-stride before they tumbled to the ground.
Then, for the briefest moment, the knights hung suspended in the air—just long enough for a crimson line to slice horizontally through them.
What followed was a surreal sight: twenty knights, flailing helplessly, were cleanly bisected along that red line, their bodies splitting apart as if by some unseen blade.
"Sonic Blade."
One of his master's secret techniques—one Logan had deemed unnecessary to learn.
But seeing that spectacle now, he couldn't help but burn with the desire to master it.
The few knights who survived the initial strike were swiftly trampled by the Esperanza Knights surging forward in their master's wake.
No resistance was tolerated—just pure annihilation.
With the annihilation of the fifty-strong knight order of a certain viscounty, the Second Prince's rear lines began to crumble.
Schlick.
No actual sound accompanied it, but the way the enemy's rear ranks were torn apart was so vivid that the imagined noise echoed in Logan's mind.
Overwhelming. The word fit perfectly—this was no contest.
Of course, the fact that most of the faction's elites were concentrated at the fortress walls made the slaughter even more dramatic. But regardless, to Logan, it was as if a ray of salvation had descended upon a battle that had been tilting toward disaster.
'Master... Thank you!'
He had practically let his guard down, but no crisis arose from it.
Because that spectacle wasn't impressive to Logan alone.
Even Wicken, his opponent, froze in shock, his eyes widening—effectively halting their duel.
As Logan glanced at him, he saw a wisp of mana fly toward the enemy's ear.
The moment Wicken flinched—
Logan moved first.
Swish.
"Ghk! You—?!"
Damn. Should he have used that move earlier?
"A shame."
Logan concealed his regret behind a mocking grin, provoking his enemy.
But Wicken, grinding his teeth, reacted unexpectedly.
"You're tedious. Let's finish this later."
"Huh?"
Whoosh.
Before Logan could respond, the enemy vanished like the wind.
Wicken Calria's greatest strength—his speed—was something even Logan's Ghost Shadow couldn't match without Time Acceleration.
'Not that I need to chase him.'
The direction Wicken fled.
The owner of that strange, overwhelming mana he had sensed from the southern walls was moving the same way.
Their target was obvious.
'They're after Master.'
—"Hahaha! The Sword Duke?! Perfect. Better than these brats...!"
Luther Kyle's voice, already fading into the distance from the opposite side, confirmed it—at least three Transcendents were moving to confront his master.
Which meant...
Logan's thoughts crystallized in an instant, and he shot toward the eastern walls like lightning.
'Hm?'
His momentary surprise at seeing his father, Victor, and Ronian slumped against the wall—pale and exhausted—was fleeting.
"The Transcendents have left the front lines! Pour everything we have left into crushing the remaining enemies and intercepting the retreating ones!"
In the blink of an eye, Logan cleared the few enemy knights still standing atop the walls, their confusion at the sudden withdrawal of their champions leaving them vulnerable.
Snake Blade's unpredictable arcs, extending 7-8 meters, combined with his razor-sharp reflexes—
None of the enemies who had faced Logan could block even a single strike.
"You think you can—?!"
Thud.
"Ghk...?!"
"Too much talk."
Even Harvey Miller, the knight commander of the Tritan Territory and a supreme-tier knight known as the Ironclad Fortress, met a futile end—his throat pierced mid-lunge.
"H-how...?"
Even in his dying moments, Harvey couldn't believe it—his defense, impervious to peers, had been effortlessly breached.
The ignoble demise of a supreme-tier knight who had infiltrated the fortress during Logan's distraction, only to be cut down in an instant.
With him as the last, every enemy knight who had briefly set foot on Aegis's walls was eradicated.
Bam-bam-bam!
Crash!
"Aaaagh!"
Amid the screams rising from below the walls as MacLaine's forces launched their counterattack—
"Groups 1 through 4—hold the walls! The rest of the knights and crossbow cavalry—mount up! We assist House Esperanza in piercing the enemy lines!"
"Brother!"
"Lord Logan!"
Groups 1-4 were led by Ronian, Victor, Ellen, and Henderson—the strongest mid-tier knights.
Those closest to Logan immediately protested, but—
"Hold the walls! You're the only ones who can defend them with so few!"
His sharp rebuke silenced them.
"Kai! Command the regular soldiers and militia! The moment the enemy shows signs of retreat—!"
"Understood! Leave it to me!"
Kai Solon cut him off—no lengthy explanation needed.
Though pale-faced and bleeding beneath his armor, he showed no signs of faltering in command.
Logan nodded and leaped down into the fortress.
His father, having regained some color, followed close behind.
"Move quickly!"
His eyes met Ellen's for a brief moment as she descended the southern walls, rallying the knights—
Neigh!
"Grick! Enan! Open the southern gate! We sally forth!"
Logan, now mounted, swiftly issued orders to Clayton's top disciples.
They obeyed without hesitation, but a bewildered voice rose beside him.
"The south?! Toward the First Prince's forces? The Sword Duke is engaging the Second Prince's army—"
"We must kill the princes in this opening."
"What?! You mean to assault the First Prince's stronghold with just our knights?!"
"The Freezing Wizard and Stormblade have both gone to face Master. This is our best chance to kill the First Prince."
The reason House Esperanza's forces could devastate the enemy's rear was due to their overwhelming strength—but surprise played a crucial role.
Under normal circumstances, even combined, MacLaine and House Esperanza couldn't handle both factions.
So even if MacLaine aided the Esperanza Knights now, they'd eventually be forced to retreat.
But there was no need to explain all that.
Nor whether killing the First Prince was truly feasible.
His urgency must have shown plainly—because his father relented.
"Fine. If we kill the First Prince and break through toward the Second Prince, that alone will form a pincer."
Patrick, too, spoke only of the best-case scenario, disregarding the odds.
Knights who had leaped down early and crossbow cavalry who tumbled down the stairs mounted the horses prepared inside the walls.
Then—
Rumble.
As the southern gate creaked open in response to the prepared spell, revealing the faces of the enemy outside—
"Charge!"
MacLaine's elites stormed out like the wind.
***
'Just a little more... Just a little more...'
From the battle's outset, Clayton had struggled against the foreign magic binding him, desperately trying to cast his own spells.
But his growing impatience only led to repeated failures.
His disciples were frantically mobilizing golems, hurling Liberatio, and using support magic to pin down enemies on the walls—while he, their master, could do nothing.
The self-loathing was unbearable.
Finally, he shut his eyes, shutting out the battlefield entirely, and plunged into his inner self.
After succeeding in casting Gravity Control with Atran's staff, he had lingered at the boundary between Mana and Magic Force—realizing now that this half-measure couldn't easily repel a true archmage's interference.
There were two solutions:
Either the enemy mage lost the ability to interfere, or he broke past that boundary and grasped true Magic Force.
The former was beyond his control, so he gambled on the latter—no matter how impossible it seemed.
A choice closer to escapism than strategy.
Yet that escapism bore unexpected fruit.
The kingdom's sole archmage's interference had unwittingly shown him possibilities beyond his limits.
Then, as if by miracle, the interference vanished—and his power began evolving, fully embracing that enlightenment.
Hummm.
A complete new ring formed around his heart's circle.
The moment his power underwent a fundamental change—
He realized he had gained another attribute and fully ascended to the realm of archmages.
It felt like a chick transforming into the sky's sovereign—an eagle.
Clayton's eyes flew open as he roared:
"I'll show you hell, Luther Kyle! Gravity Contro— Huh...?!"
But the Transcendent he had meant to challenge was nowhere in sight.
All that answered his unfinished cry was—
"Master! The mage is gone! Just throw some bombs already!"
—the scolding of his head disciple, Grick.
His face flushed with shame, but only briefly.
He quickly realized what he had to do.
Huuuum.
Six circles vibrated powerfully as they expelled Magic Force.
"Summon Golem! Rise, soldiers of the earth!"
At his command, sections of the ground inside the fortress began transforming into golems over three meters tall.
Their sturdier frames resembled armored knights, and their hands were shaped not like human fingers but blunt maces.
Thirty of them.
A miracle conjured without consuming a single Magic Stone.
And more—
"Go! Fight! For victory!"
A bold combat order, disregarding the mental strain golem destruction placed on the caster—something he had previously warned his disciples against.
Their stunned gazes almost made up for his earlier embarrassment.
"Have you lost your mind, Master?! You told us the circles would shatter if we did that!!"
...Almost.
"Shut up! It's different now! Open the gates!"
"Master!!"
Only when Clayton channeled his Magic Force, presenting undeniable proof, did his disciples finally relent.
But by then, thirty minutes had passed since MacLaine's knights had marched south.
The new Transcendent's secret magic made its debut—just a little too late.