Chapter 97
Chapter 97
KWA-BOOM!
"You little—"
What was that idiot trying to say?
Logan clicked his tongue in frustration as he watched Aslan plunge into the moat with a loud splash. He had missed a golden opportunity.
A reckless high-tier knight charging alone—Logan had thought he could finish him off in one strike. But even while midair and unstable, Aslan had managed to deflect his attack. Though the knight had fallen from the wall, a high-tier warrior like him wouldn't be seriously injured by such a drop, water or not.
Sure enough, the water in the moat erupted violently, and Aslan emerged moments later, drenched but unharmed, standing firmly on the ground.
"Tch!"
But that wasn't the only problem.
The Bifrost knights, now gathered in a tight formation, were blocking Quorrel's arrows more efficiently than before. Behind them, mounted and foot soldiers had spread out along the walls, drawing their longbows.
Logan instantly knew their brief moment of advantage was over.
Still, their initial success had already exceeded expectations.
'If we can just deal with them...'
Aslan and Flanz—two high-tier knights—along with seven mid-tier knights scattered across the northern and southern walls. These were the real threats, warriors capable of not only defending against rapid-fire crossbows but counterattacking within effective range.
'The north and south will have to hold. For now, we deal with this first.'
Logan's crimson eyes locked onto the two high-tier knights preparing to leap from the western wall.
The outcome of this battle—no, the entire siege—hinged on this moment.
Feeling the weight of that realization, Logan pushed his power to the limit.
WHOOSH.
His heart's Force Core surged violently, channeling nearly all its energy into his beloved sword, Lux.
His target? Both high-tier knights at once.
Under normal circumstances, this would be impossible. But perched atop the wall while his enemies leapt up from unstable footing?
This might just work.
Sharpening his senses to their peak, Logan calculated their movements, predicted their trajectories, and swung his sword along the optimal path.
'Die!'
A single strike—Earth Cleave—poured every ounce of his strength into the blade.
A golden light erupted from the tip of his sword, transforming into a colossal blade over twenty meters long, sweeping through the air where his enemies hung mid-leap.
"Huh?!"
"What the—?!"
Logan caught a glimpse of their stunned expressions—victory seemed within reach.
But then—
SWISH-CRACK!
A silver whip of Force lashed out from Flanz's sword, striking the wall. Using the recoil, Flanz twisted midair like an acrobat, evading Logan's attack and landing atop the wall.
BOOOOM!
Logan's full-powered strike vanished into the air, leaving only a golden afterimage.
Flanz smirked, his expression practically mocking him—Did you really think that would work again?
Logan gritted his teeth, but he couldn't afford to lose focus.
"I'll kill you!"
Faster than Flanz, another figure—monkey-like in agility—seemed to warp space itself as he dodged Logan's attack and thrust a crimson sword straight at his face.
CLANG! CLANG!
BAM!
"Ghk!"
Aslan's strikes were relentless now that he had both feet planted firmly on the wall.
Even with Ghost's Shadow and the Wind God's Boots, Logan could barely keep up with his speed.
The crimson Force Blade—strangely short but dense—packed far more power than Flanz's.
"Keep squirming, brat!"
Though forced on the defensive, Logan quickly scanned his surroundings.
CLANG!
"Not a chance!"
His father had returned from the northern wall and was now engaging Flanz.
A good call—even if it weakened the northern defenses, this was their best option for now.
The soldiers who had been guarding the wall were either dead or had long since fled. The flashing Force Blades and lightning-fast movements made it impossible for anyone else to intervene.
Worse, Flanz's silver Force Blade was already tearing apart a section of the western wall. His interference alone had reduced their crossbow volleys by a third, allowing enemy archers outside the fortress to start landing shots on their soldiers.
'Hurry!'
They needed to end this—fast.
The backlash from his earlier failed strike still lingered, leaving his Force reserves below half, but hesitation wasn't an option.
WHOOSH.
Logan forced out every last drop of power, lunging recklessly at Aslan even as he was pushed back.
He didn't even try to block the crimson blade stabbing toward him—instead, he thrust straight at his enemy.
At that moment, a sinister grin curled on Aslan's lips.
His Force Blade suddenly extended like a whip, aiming straight for Logan's heart.
But—
"Ghk?!"
THUNK.
Logan's golden light-beam pierced Aslan's shoulder first.
'End this now!'
WHOOSH.
His Force Core pulsed, sending sharp pain through his body.
Pushing through, Logan unleashed a storm of slashes, driving Aslan back relentlessly.
CLANG-CLANG-CLANG!
BOOM!
The golden sword battered the crimson armor mercilessly, but Aslan refused to fall.
'Tch!'
Despite no major injuries, Logan tasted blood in his mouth, and his chest burned.
Yet his enemy showed no openings.
Minimizing movement in his wounded shoulder, Aslan defended flawlessly, taking minimal damage.
He knew—the moment Logan's assault ended, so would his strength.
The relentless defense, the calculating eyes tracking his every move—Logan felt despair creeping in.
He had trained under his master in the capital, mastered Ghost's Shadow, and grown far stronger than before. He had been confident he could defeat Flanz now.
But Aslan?
Another beast entirely.
No unconventional techniques like whipping Force Blades—just raw, overwhelming speed and power.
'This isn't working...'
As his last reserves of Force dwindled, Logan could already picture himself collapsing under Aslan's counterattack.
And that mental slip created an opening.
FLASH.
A crimson lightning bolt shot from Aslan's coiled arm—Logan realized his mistake too late, swinging desperately.
BOOM!
His golden blade grazed Aslan's shoulder as the red lightning tore through Logan's side and blasted a hole the size of a human head through the wall.
Staring at the gaping breach beneath his feet, Logan felt relief—and confusion.
'Why?'
He had been the one to slip up, yet Aslan's attack had been too hasty.
That haste had saved Logan's life.
Had Aslan used that crimson lightning—a technique stronger than Severing Gold Strike—to aim for a killing blow instead of exploiting the opening for a minor injury, the tide would have turned.
'So why?'
"You damn rat!"
Aslan roared, launching a furious assault.
The momentum had shifted.
His crimson sword drove Logan back relentlessly, but Logan clung on, defending viciously.
And as he endured the frantic onslaught, realization struck.
'I'm not the only one in a hurry.'
They were outnumbered—Logan had pushed himself to maintain their fleeting advantage.
But others were even more desperate.
The strongest of the enemy forces—Aslan, Flanz, and the mid-tier knights—were now deep behind enemy lines.
The longer they fought, the worse it was for MacLaine.
But they were also surrounded.
If MacLaine's knights and soldiers regrouped, blind sword swings or stray arrows could kill them just as easily.
Win or lose the battle, they might die before seeing victory.
Logan had forgotten that simple truth.
The fear of death—it was the same for a foot soldier or a high-tier knight.
Especially when trapped behind enemy lines, facing unexpected resistance.
Finally, Logan recognized the impatience flickering in Aslan's brown eyes.
And he began plotting how to exploit it.
Not long after, Logan's crimson eyes flashed again—seeking an opening.
FLASH.
A golden light-beam shot from his blade mid-retreat.
Aslan, having anticipated the attack, twisted aside to evade—but then—
"ARGH!"
A familiar scream tore through the air from behind.
The sound made Aslan flinch—just enough to slow his sword by a fraction.
For an opponent as fast as the "Knight of Swiftness," that was all the time he needed to dodge.
SLICE.
A shallow cut on Logan's forearm, his nearly depleted Force reserves, his trembling legs—
But it was a trade he'd take any day.
Both Logan and Aslan's gazes snapped toward the source of the scream.
Three Bifrost knights, who had just scaled the wall amid the weakened arrow barrage, now writhed on the ground—impaled by golden light-beams.
"YOU BASTARD!!"
Aslan's eyes burned with fury as he gnashed his teeth, producing a spine-chilling sound.
But Logan endured his attacks and fired another golden beam.
"AAAGH!"
Three more enemy knights, barely atop the wall, were sent tumbling back down.
Logan could feel his limits approaching, but he lunged at Aslan even more ferociously.
"Come on, let's keep playing!"
And then—
"RETREAT! FALL BACK!"
Roger Bifrost's voice echoed from outside the fortress.
Aslan trembled—his rage, already at its peak, surged beyond limits he hadn't known existed.
"You little shit..."
CLANG! CLANG!
BOOM!
The retreat order had been given, but Logan refused to engage head-on, instead picking off Bifrost knights one by one.
Frustrated, Aslan finally disengaged with a furious snarl.
"This isn't over, brat. Next time—"
"Why wait? Let's finish this now."
Though his eyes blazed with killing intent, Aslan chose to leap off the wall rather than press the attack.
Seeing this, Flanz—locked in combat with Patrick—also gritted his teeth and retreated.
The moment they were gone, Logan collapsed to his knees.
"WE'VE WON!"
His father's voice, hoarse but triumphant, rang out as Tomodo Fortress erupted in cheers.
Though the MacLaine forces roared as if they had won the war, anyone with half a brain knew this wasn't the end.
Still, the suffocating dread they had felt when Bifrost's army first appeared had been replaced—at least partially—by confidence.
That alone made this victory worthwhile.
But the commanders' expressions remained grim.
"They won't underestimate us again."
Patrick's face was still pale, his voice tight.
The exhaustion weighing on him proved just how brutal the battle had been—and the deep concern in his eyes was justified.
"I know."
"Is the time you mentioned... still not here?"
"...Not yet."
"And you still can't tell us why?"
"Just... hold on a little longer. Please."
Logan's gaze drifted to the rising moon—full and bright, now beginning to wane.
Under normal circumstances, tonight would have been a celebration—the first day of the new year, marked by joy and hope.
But for Logan, this moon only brought despair.
'By now, we should have heard something.'
Had history changed?
That terrifying possibility was one he couldn't voice aloud.
But perhaps his expression betrayed him.
"Hah. What's done is done."
His father clapped a firm hand on his shoulder.
The knights around them met Logan's eyes, thumping their chests and clenching their fists in silent solidarity.
Watching them, Logan felt an ache in his chest—not from his injuries.
'Because of me...'
These people might all die here.
Just because they had trusted his word.
Had it been right to focus on strengthening their territory instead of fleeing?
Regret, long buried, clawed its way back into his heart.
The terror that everything he had built since his return could crumble in an instant—
That fear gnawed at his soul.
And then—
"ENEMY FORCES! THEY'RE COMING!"
On the first night of the new year, beneath the rising moon—
Bifrost's second assault began.