Chapter 222
Chapter 222
"We shall punish the tyrant. If you fear retaliation, either join us or bow your heads in silence."
The proclamation sent by MacLaine to nobles across the kingdom stirred no small ripple.
Even those who had still clung to disbelief were now convinced of the coming war, while minor nobles who had reflexively gathered in response to the king's declaration of treason hesitated.
In the end, most nobles—excluding those recently appointed as ministers by the king—chose to watch the civil war unfold from the sidelines.
"We lack the strength to act. Our deepest apologies."
One after another, they offered similar excuses.
Unable to predict the future, they refused to even step onto the gambling table.
Neither the royal capital nor Logan blamed them for their indecisiveness—for now.
After all, everyone knew the true protagonists of this war were House Esperanza and House MacLaine.
Indeed, as soon as all his forces had gathered before the royal castle, the Sword Duke declared his march straight to MacLaine Town.
A direct advance, devoid of any hidden schemes or tricks.
Whether this reflected his straightforward nature or his unwillingness to drag out the war remained unclear.
But one thing was certain:
"Let us end this in a single battle."
In an era where magical communication flourished, the fact that this message had been delivered via courier spoke volumes.
Logan exhaled softly as he studied the Sword Duke's firm, unadorned handwriting—so characteristic of his mentor's unwavering resolve.
A swift conclusion to the war was what Logan had wanted as well.
And knowing his mentor, there would be no underhanded tactics.
"Tell him I accept."
"...Understood."
Perhaps the immediate agreement was unexpected.
The messenger bowed slightly, hesitated for half a beat, then turned to leave. Logan publicly announced his departure the very next day.
And that night—
Patrick, who had been closely watching his son's expression since the declaration of war, visited Logan's chambers.
"Logan. Are you inside?"
"Yes. Come in."
Creak.
As the door opened, Patrick saw his son rise from his bed.
Though dressed in sleepwear, Logan's sharp eyes showed no sign of drowsiness.
And in those eyes, Patrick sensed his son's turmoil.
"...Are you truly alright with this?"
A question without context—just pure concern, stripped of subject or object.
Logan responded with a bitter smile.
"I am only doing what must be done. The king has clearly chosen the wrong path."
"Yes. That's true. But tomorrow, the one you must fight isn't the king—it's your mentor."
"I know. And I've prepared countermeasures."
"That's not what I'm asking. Win or lose, I'm asking if you can truly raise your sword against the Sword Duke."
Logan stiffened slightly at those words, confirming Patrick's worries.
Yet, surprisingly, Logan answered in an even tone.
"...It must be done."
"Meaning you can do it?"
"...Yes."
The slight delay in his response was concerning, but if Logan said he was ready, there was little more to say.
Patrick studied his son for a long moment before finally patting his shoulder and turning to leave.
"Good. I trust you."
Creeeak.
The sound of the wooden door closing pierced sharply through the silence, followed by a quiet sigh.
Left alone, Logan stared at the teacup Ellen had left behind earlier—
"Stay strong."
He was grateful, but the situation still drew a bitter smile from him.
'I must have been worrying everyone around me at such a critical time.'
His inner burden had shown on the surface—how could they not notice?
And how much had his wavering affected the morale of his soldiers?
Foolish. He had been lacking.
Yet, even knowing this, the weight in his chest refused to fade.
'Master...'
Tomorrow.
He would have to fight the man who had embraced him, guided him, and always stood by his side—ever since their fates had intertwined through a simple transaction.
'There's no turning back now.'
He had to fight.
And he had to win.
Logan exhaled deeply, steeling his resolve once more.
"Yes. There are things you must do, even if you don't want to."
His heavy murmur echoed through the empty room, voicing the turmoil in his heart.
Bwooooooo—
The long, resonant sound of war horns signaled the advance of the assembled troops.
Just days ago, the townsfolk had trembled with anxiety, but now, watching the formidable MacLaine forces march forward, they found some measure of reassurance.
Of course, the soldiers themselves wore stiff expressions, exchanging uneasy whispers.
"W-we're really attacking the royal castle?"
"They say we'll even fight that man—the kingdom's greatest swordsman?"
"A-are we really going to be okay?"
Voices thick with plummeting morale.
But scattered among them were voices of rebuttal.
"What's there to worry about? The Grand Prince is leading us."
"Huh?"
"No matter how impossible it seemed, everything the Grand Prince has done has succeeded. This time will be no different."
"W-well, that's true."
Baseless confidence.
Strictly speaking, it was nothing more than hopeful nonsense.
Even the soldier who said it likely did so just to soothe his own battlefield nerves.
But Logan's numerous achievements thus far made even such empty words sound plausible.
And unintentionally overhearing this exchange, a faint smile tugged at Logan's lips.
"...Good."
His psychological unease hadn't completely vanished.
But the sight of the formidable forces behind him—his family's strength—erased even the last traces of lingering fear.
At the very front stood Logan himself and Luther Kyle, both Transcendents, backed by his father and a full force of over 1,300 knights.
And right behind them, under Clayton's command, the elite mages of the Magic Tower—including Victoria—pulled hundreds of wagons laden with cargo, each accompanied by their own golems.
All of them carried Liberatio—the crystallization of firepower.
To guard against potential ambushes, the wagons at the center of the formation were surrounded by 7,000 crossbow cavalry, positioned flawlessly, while 15,000 elite soldiers clad in gleaming armor followed behind.
"All of this is the strength of the house you built."
His father's words, spoken as he clapped Logan's shoulder, added another layer of resolve.
'And this isn't even everything.'
Another 30,000 militia—half of the 60,000-strong self-defense force—were scheduled to join them en route.
Only the bare minimum had been left behind to maintain order in the territory.
This was total war.
"We must end this in a single, swift strike. That is the path to minimizing casualties."
The result of Logan's words and the family's unwavering support.
Though rapid-fire crossbows—weapons capable of killing even knights—had since become commonplace across the kingdom, arming commoners with them and training them into a militia had been unprecedented.
Even during the last civil war, the militia had proven their worth beyond doubt in defending Aegis Fortress.
'Yet even Master hesitated to accept that system.'
Handing weapons capable of overturning the social order to the lowest strata of society was unthinkable by noble standards.
Even the victory at Aegis Fortress had been attributed more to the crossbows than the militia—such was the entrenched mindset of the kingdom's nobility.
But Logan had no such reservations.
"That's exactly why we must mobilize them."
Soon, the entire kingdom would realize it.
The fundamental structure of war—where knights and mages decided battles—had changed.
'We will crush them with overwhelming force and minimize the kingdom's losses.'
And to make that possible—
'I must defeat Master—the kingdom's strongest Aura User.'
Logan's face hardened at the renewed challenge.
Success would pave the quickest and easiest path.
Failure would force him down a far more difficult road.
'But the odds are in my favor.'
Thud-thud.
The power surging from his heart, filling his entire body.
Though he had awakened as a Transcendent less than a year ago, Logan was already knocking on the door of intermediate-level Aura mastery.
The unique traits he had meticulously cultivated had proven their worth.
This power, his unique traits, and the might of his new Divine Sword Secret Arts—
'I can do this.'
Amidst the increasingly tense atmosphere before battle, Logan's eyes burned with determination.
Beyond the New MacLaine Plains, past Aegis Fortress, at the foot of the mountain range—
The two armies faced each other across a field, hundreds of meters apart.
'The Esperanza Knights number fewer than 400. But if their selection standards remain unchanged, they cannot be underestimated. Fortunately, their total troops barely reach 20,000.'
Logan swiftly assessed the enemy's forces with hawk-like precision.
The king's new allies had bolstered Esperanza's numbers, but 90% of the army remained purely Esperanza's—well within expected parameters.
Meanwhile—
"W-what the hell? There are so many!"
"This isn't what we heard!"
"What's going on?"
Murmurs of confusion.
Logan could barely make out the enemy soldiers' voices, but their unrest was understandable.
The MacLaine army's numbers dwarfed theirs.
With the 30,000 militia joining en route, Logan's forces had swelled to over 50,000—an overwhelming host.
No matter how brave, few soldiers could remain composed when facing an enemy more than twice their size.
'A good omen.'
Seeing the enemy ranks already wavering, Logan urged his horse forward and roared across the battlefield—
"Listen well, you fools who follow a foolish king and sow chaos! Lay down your swords and surrender! Those who yield will be spared! Join us in punishing the tyrant who ruins this land and ushering in a new era!"
A declaration meant to bolster his own troops' confidence and plant seeds of doubt in the enemy's hearts.
In response, a single figure rode slowly forward from the enemy's front lines.
The face of the man who had always been his steadfast ally—now his opponent.
A mix of warmth and sorrow flickered across Logan's expression as his mentor spoke.
"The king is the nation's heart. As his subjects, we must obey his commands. To call him a tyrant without clear proof is to forsake your duty as vassals. As the royal sword, I follow His Majesty's will."
His calm voice carried unnaturally clearly across the battlefield.
Then—
"In the name of Rogers von Grandia III, monarch of Grandia, we shall crush the traitorous MacLaine!"
The Sword Duke raised his blade, and a crimson aura erupted from its tip—a brilliant light that seemed to pierce the heavens.
"WOOOOAH!"
To Logan, it was just a wasteful display.
But the dazzling spectacle instantly silenced the enemy's unrest.
And then—
"All forces—advance!"
The war had begun.