Chapter 96
Chapter 96
"Heh, it actually worked."
Under the warm midday sun, Clayton let out a hollow laugh as he surveyed the fruits of his and his disciples' labor.
The view from atop the fortress walls revealed a moat over five meters deep and wide, now brimming with shimmering water. Any knight unfortunate enough to fall into it while clad in heavy armor would struggle to climb out, regardless of their skill.
Though it was a one-time construction project that didn't require extensive planning, the fact that they had dug a waterway from the Luther River tributary to the moat—accounting for elevation and terrain—in just five or six hours was nothing short of astonishing.
Even with their accumulated experience...
Even with the liberal use of magic stones and golems...
Clayton hadn't expected it to be this easy.
"See? If you push through, it gets done."
"......"
Of course, the cost was that all his disciples had collapsed from exhaustion, and he himself was on the verge of doing the same—so calling it "easy" wasn't entirely accurate.
But it was certainly easier than he had anticipated.
"Prince Logan, this was still an unreasonable request. There are limits to what people can achieve through sheer force of will..."
"But it worked, didn't it?"
"......"
If you pushed them hard enough, squeezed them dry, they could do anything.
But instilling that mindset in an employer would only lead to trouble in the future.
The best construction projects were those completed precisely on schedule—neither too early nor too late.
As Clayton opened his mouth to protest further, he suddenly chuckled at the absurdity of his own thoughts.
'Employer? Construction?'
Somehow, his train of thought had naturally drifted toward that of a laborer.
"Ah, anyway. With our tower's entire combat strength now exhausted, isn't this a waste of resources right before an imminent battle?"
"You weren't going to be much help in combat anyway. Except for you, Master Clayton."
"Ah..."
It was a painful truth he couldn't refute.
Logan smirked and offered him what could barely be called consolation.
"Of course, this alone has been an enormous help. So you can rest now, Master Clayton."
"...Thank you."
"The battle could break out today or tomorrow, but what can you do? If you're tired, you should rest."
"......"
What kind of answer was that?
Just as Clayton, exhausted from the all-night construction, was about to vent his frustration—
"However, there's just one last favor I'd like to ask."
"Yes?"
"You still have some Collapse Scrolls left, don't you? With those and your magic..."
Logan's voice grew quieter, carrying an unexpected and grave implication.
It was certainly possible, but...
"Is that really necessary?"
"It's the situation we're in."
At those words, Clayton studied Logan's face again.
In truth, Logan had spent the entire night overseeing the moat and waterway construction, directing manpower and supplies as needed.
Though their levels of fatigue might differ, the fact remained that this young Grand Prince hadn't slept a wink either.
Clayton stared at him for a long moment before slowly nodding.
"I'll prepare it."
"Thank you. And what I said earlier was a joke. Please get some proper rest."
Who knows when we'll need you next?
Swallowing those bitter words, Logan watched Clayton walk away before shifting his heavy gaze beyond the fortress walls.
'Perfect timing.'
As if they had been waiting, an army appeared on the horizon. Logan gritted his teeth.
"Enemies spotted! All troops, prepare for battle!"
Soldiers who had been catching brief naps in their tension, knights who had been sharpening their blades in anticipation—all burst out of their barracks at once.
The MacLaine army swiftly began forming their battle lines.
"Huh? Since when did Tomodo Fortress have a moat?"
Having rushed here like the wind before even properly setting up camp, Roger Bifrost frowned in disbelief as he surveyed the transformed fortress.
"...It didn't," his subordinate answered.
"So they built that overnight? Hmph. They've got some skill, I'll give them that. Not that it'll make any difference. Aslan!"
"Yes, my lord."
Aslan Rhyer, the Knight of Swiftness and captain of Bifrost's knight order, immediately stepped forward.
"What are the enemy's forces?"
"Based on reports from our retreating soldiers: fewer than 150 knights and under 2,500 troops."
"Variables?"
"Their lord seems to be a high-tier knight. And there are about ten earth mages among them."
"Ha... So they've prepared some secret weapons, have they? Heh. Expected outcome?"
"Our overwhelming victory."
Aslan's reply came without hesitation.
Roger Bifrost agreed wholeheartedly.
"Right. No matter how much they struggle, it's pointless. Lentor, any external variables?"
"Harvest season is over, and most of their food supplies have been sent to their main stronghold. The fortress doesn't have enough provisions to feed nearly 3,000 troops. If we just wait, they'll have no choice but to come out—unless they want to starve to death."
At his adjutant's answer, Roger Bifrost's smile deepened.
"Good. A war we win just by waiting. But do we really need to prolong the lives of these insolent fools who dared invade my territory?"
"...Do as you please."
Before long, the Bifrost army finished organizing their ranks and began their advance.
"Over 300 knights and easily more than 5,000 soldiers? And those figures scattered among them—are those mages?"
"...Judging by their sky-blue robes and storm insignias, they're likely mages from the Wind Tower. Roger Bifrost and his son are from that faction."
Logan's elaboration on his father's analysis darkened the expressions of everyone around them.
A numerical disadvantage of nearly two to one.
And the Bifrost army's strength wasn't just in numbers.
"That silver-haired man must be the Moonlight Knight you mentioned, and that monkey-looking one in red armor..."
"Aslan Rhyer, the Knight of Swiftness. And Roger Bifrost himself is a 5th-Circle mage—though publicly, he's known as a 4th-Circle. Be cautious."
"Hmm..."
Two high-tier knights and one 5th-Circle mage.
Of course, MacLaine wasn't entirely outmatched.
Patrick MacLaine was undeniably a high-tier knight, and Logan—though officially a mid-tier—demonstrated combat prowess rivaling high-tier knights.
Then there was Clayton, Master of the Golem Tower.
'But honestly, it's still unsettling.'
Logan exhaled quietly.
Bifrost's high-tier knights had been making names for themselves for over a decade, while his father had only recently reached that level.
Logan himself, despite his practical combat strength, was still technically mid-tier.
And Clayton, a 5th-Circle mage whose greatest specialty wasn't suited for direct combat.
Compared to the Bifrost forces, they were slightly lacking in every aspect.
But there was nothing to be done about that.
'Still, I've done everything I can. Up to this point, I've followed the best possible choices.'
More concerning than the numerical disadvantage was the fact that there was still no sign of that news—even though it should have arrived by now.
The best-case scenario Logan had envisioned was this siege never happening at all.
But judging by the current situation, it seemed he'd have to abandon that hope.
-To the trash who dared invade the land of their rightful Lord, I declare...
Roger Bifrost's voice, amplified by magic, echoed across the battlefield, dripping with killing intent from the very first word.
"Since when was that bastard a Lord...?"
Listening to his father's furious muttering, Logan calmly shouted to his troops:
"Prepare to fire!"
"Ready!"
With the echoing response, soldiers positioned between the fortress wall's battlements raised their repeating crossbows in unison.
Though the repeating crossbows hadn't been particularly effective during the previous siege, the situation was reversed now—they were firing down from the walls.
Over two thousand repeating crossbows aimed at the Bifrost army.
-...Now, you shall answer for your crimes.
"Aren't we going to respond?"
"Why waste the effort? Let him rant alone."
Before Heinkel's question even finished, Logan replied coldly.
-I shall tear out MacLaine by its roots! All forces, charge!
With Roger Bifrost's command, the Bifrost army surged forward.
As expected, the knights led the charge.
Three hundred cavalrymen clad in resplendent armor that glittered under the sun, each emblazoned with a flaming rose insignia—the sight alone was enough to instill psychological pressure.
But as Logan watched them advance, something felt off.
'They're just charging straight in? Without even shields?'
If they'd heard about the repeating crossbows, they should have prepared defenses. Yet they seemed completely unconcerned.
"...Are they that confident in their skills?"
Perhaps thinking the same, Heinkel muttered in disbelief.
"Even if they were, preparing would've been easier. This is just..."
As he spoke, Logan became certain.
"They're underestimating us. They didn't do their research. Or they heard and ignored it."
The relaxed posture of the charging knights.
Their visors still raised, faces exposed even as battle commenced.
The Bifrost knights' demeanor radiated nothing but arrogance.
In truth, they had heard about the repeating crossbows from retreating soldiers—but those soldiers had only seen the bolts harmlessly bouncing off fortress walls.
So they hadn't bothered preparing.
That realization made Logan smile.
"Perfect..."
For this moment, his worries about the future vanished.
"Absolutely perfect."
This was his chance to deal a devastating blow to the Bifrost knights.
An unexpected stroke of luck—courtesy of the enemy's own arrogance.
He didn't even glance at the 1,500 cavalrymen hot on their heels.
"Aim for the knights only! Make sure they feel this!"
"Yes!"
As Logan's command ended, the enemy knights entered the crossbows' effective range.
And then—
"Fire!"
THWIP-THWIP-THWIP-THWIP!
With the order, a storm of quarrels turned into a rain of death, engulfing the silver knights in black.
Even from a distance, the widening of their eyes in shock was unmistakable.
THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD!
"Ugh!"
"W-What the—?!"
"Block them!"
Unfortunately, the vanguard knights didn't suffer as much as hoped.
Though many were wounded, they hastily raised their Force and deflected most attacks with their swords, avoiding fatal injuries.
But the regular knights behind them weren't so lucky.
"ARGH!"
"Ghk—!"
"W-What kind of—?!"
THWACK-THWACK-THWACK!
In the first volley alone, nearly thirty knights were unhorsed, tumbling to the ground.
Those who managed to scream were the fortunate ones.
Many died instantly—skulls, eyes, or hearts pierced—without even a chance to cry out.
'Yes!'
A grin as bloodthirsty as the Reaper's spread across Logan's face as he roared again:
"Focus fire on the rear knights!"
Another wave of quarrels filled the sky, raining down mercilessly.
THWIP-THWIP-THWIP-THWIP!
"AAAAAH!"
"URK—!"
As the Bifrost knights' screams echoed—
A silver curtain of Force erupted at the forefront.
"Knights, disperse left and right! Target the other walls!"
The face at its center was all too familiar to Logan.
'Flanz.'
The Moonlight Knight, Flanz. The whip-like silver Force Blade extending from his sword formed a defensive barrier ahead of the charge.
Instantly, a significant number of quarrels were deflected—but even that wasn't perfect.
'Not a chance.'
There were limits to its range, and that whip-like Force Blade was undoubtedly wasteful.
'Go on, burn through your energy, High Knight.'
The battlefield was unfolding far better than expected.
Over fifty Bifrost knights already littered the ground.
"North and south walls! The knights are moving! Follow them! Keep firing!"
As Logan directed, the MacLaine forces moved according to plan.
His father led a contingent to the northern wall, while Heinkel, Henderson, Nadal, and other senior knights raced toward the southern wall with their own troops.
But in that brief moment when the western wall's arrow storm weakened—
A figure clad in red armor leaped toward the fortress from the enemy's front lines.
Disproportionately long arms for his small frame, a face more simian than human.
Though they had never met, his distinctive appearance made him instantly recognizable.
Aslan Rhyer. Bifrost's other high-tier knight.
"Where do you think you're going?!"
Logan sprinted toward the spot where Aslan was scaling the wall.
"I'll carve you all to pieces!"
Aslan roared with fury.
The once-proud charge of his knights had suffered humiliating losses.
He had scoffed at the rumors of MacLaine's new weapons.
-Arrows? Crossbows? Don't make me laugh. If you can't handle that, you shouldn't be a knight.
Driven by insecurities over his appearance, Aslan had trained relentlessly to reach his current level.
To him, the very idea that foot soldiers could threaten knights was laughable nonsense.
Even his lord had understood his confidence, and Flanz, his vice-captain, had respected his decision.
Yet this was the result.
But Aslan wasn't one to take responsibility for his mistakes.
A high-tier knight who had risen by trusting only his own will and convictions—
That stubbornness cut both ways.
His judgment had been correct. The fault lay with the enemy for resorting to cowardly weapons.
So he would make them pay.
Channeling his rage, he launched himself forward.
A wall slicked with mud and oil wouldn't stop hi—
SLIP.
CRASH!
"Guh... You damn...!"
His face burned with humiliation and fury.
The wall, coated in a mixture of mud and oil, was far slicker than he'd anticipated. Barely managing to dig his fingers into the stone, he hung suspended.
And then—dozens of quarrels rained down on him.
"Damn it all!"
THWACK-THWACK-THWACK!
As if mere crossbows could take him down.
True to his title as the Knight of Swiftness, Aslan deflected the bolts one-handed while bracing himself against the wall.
Then he lunged upward again.
"I'll slaughter every last—"
Just as the terrified face of an enemy soldier came into view—
A golden sword descended upon his head.
KABOOOOOM!