Chapter 99
Chapter 99
Clang—!
The sword rebounded at an utterly unexpected angle.
A pale yet smiling face.
The red-haired Ghost, who should have been impaled through his armor and gut, stood before me completely unharmed.
"You—you bastard?!"
But what truly stunned Aslan wasn't just that.
Creeeak—
"Let's have round two with swapped weapons."
Aslan's face hardened at the enemy's grinding words. Because clutched in that bastard's hand was Velocitas—his beloved sword that had earned him the epithet "Knight of Swiftness," the very artifact that had just skewered the enemy's abdomen moments ago.
The crimson energy rippling across the man's body—no one understood its implications better than Aslan himself. That counterattack had only been possible because of Velocitas's power.
Aslan's face turned deathly pale.
'An artifact. But why does it feel... wrong somehow.'
Logan yanked the red sword embedded in his gut free with one hand and glared at his enemy. After wielding Lux—perfectly balanced for his body—this foreign blade felt slightly discordant. Yet it had undeniable advantages.
Vwoom—
The moment he channeled Force into the blade, an alien energy—mana—coursed through his limbs. He could feel the mana stimulating his nerves, accelerating his consciousness.
"Hoooww aarree yooouuu—"
Aslan's distorted words stretched unnaturally, as if time itself had slowed.
Unlike the Wind God's Boots which enhanced physical abilities, this artifact dramatically boosted cognitive processing speed—the very power that earned Aslan his title.
'So this is what made him the Knight of Swiftness.'
Now he understood why Aslan had seemed so much faster and stronger than Flanz. And that power was his now.
"Let's end this!"
Though stinging pain still radiated from his barely-healed abdomen thanks to the Brace of Regeneration, Logan didn't hesitate. His enemy was in far worse shape.
The royal treasure containing healing magic rivaling high priestly spells—the Brace of Regeneration. This prize obtained during his royal audience had been Logan's gamble, and though it was dangerously close, it paid off.
Clang!
Crash!
Sschk!
Three moves was all it took. When he slashed open the same flank he'd previously impaled, he saw the exact moment Aslan's face twisted in agony. Though the accelerated cognition made his movements feel slightly awkward, the minor discomfort was negligible compared to its benefits.
"Yooouu baaastaaard—"
Thunk—
He'd aimed for the heart but pierced the opposite flank instead—a mistake born of unfamiliarity with this heightened perception. But that was just a matter of time.
'This time I'll finish it!'
Golden Force flared along the crimson blade as Logan pressed his staggering opponent. No healing artifact could instantly mend a gut wound, even one as potent as the Brace. Though Logan himself wasn't at full strength, eliminating one of Vifros's strongest assets was worth pushing through the pain.
Clang!
When Lux went flying from the enemy's grip after a failed parry, Logan's relentless assault seemed finally rewarded.
But—
"Aaaslaaan's miiine!"
"Yooouu!"
"Baaastaaard!"
Even in slowed time, the surroundings grew strangely chaotic. Vifros soldiers who'd been unable to intervene during their duel now charged—proof both combatants had slowed considerably from their initial speed.
He saw Eileen, bloodied but still standing, struggling to intercept enemy knights in slow motion—and those she couldn't stop.
'Damn it!'
Just a little more pressure and he could finish Aslan. But swords were already arcing toward the back of his head.
'Damn it! Damn it all!'
One gamble was enough. He couldn't actually die trying to kill Aslan. The Brace wouldn't work for days now.
Logan's blade—originally aimed for Aslan's heart—diverted toward the charging knights.
Sschk!
Thunk!
"Gah!"
"Argh!"
Despite his exhausted, wounded state, the artifact's power let him cut down three knights consecutively. But it was enough time for others to drag the fallen Aslan away—his abdomen drenched in blood, more spilling from his mouth. Fatal wounds for normal men, but a supreme knight wouldn't die so easily.
More knights appeared, shielding their fallen champion. Logan gnashed his teeth and halted.
Vwoom—
"Ugh!"
A sudden wave of dizziness. His exhausted body had unconsciously withdrawn Force from the blade. As his cognition normalized, the backlash hit—just as enemy swords descended from all sides.
Clang-clang-clang!
"Ghk!"
Miraculously, someone intercepted the falling blades.
'Eileen.'
Lifting his head with effort, Logan saw the pale-faced Eileen, swaying unsteadily yet blocking attacks coming his way. Though barely holding on, it was enough.
"Scram!"
Fortunately, the dizziness passed quickly. Even injured, a supreme knight could easily overpower three regular knights.
Clang-clang!
Logan's roar accompanied a single sweeping slash that repelled the attackers. Eileen stumbled forward and impaled one through the heart.
Thunk!
"Gack—!"
Logan moved like a ghost, beheading two wide-eyed knights.
Schlick!
"Nice work!"
Blocking the path before the collapsing Eileen, Logan raised his sword and bellowed:
"The Knight of Swiftness has fallen!"
Though his own face burned with exertion—a seemingly meaningless act—this was crucial. The cry spread like wildfire through the embattled eastern wall's defenders.
Details varied, but the core message was clear:
Vifros's strongest had fallen!
A minor shift—Vifros forces hesitated slightly, MacLaine troops pushed harder—but the ripple effect was enormous.
The eastern wall had been barely holding. The western and northern walls, collapsing after losing their strongest defender, began reversing their momentum. Retreating lines started holding.
And as Logan joined his father to press Flanz, the Moonlight Knight, MacLaine's morale soared.
—We're winning.
This illusion spread through MacLaine forces being pushed back everywhere except the eastern wall, while Vifros troops panicked.
With one of their twin blades fallen and the other on the defensive, their momentary dominance was forgotten.
—Are we... losing?
The clashing illusions reversed the battle's momentum—a shift starkly visible to one observer.
"Aslan's condition?"
"Signals indicate he'll survive. But having used his supreme potion earlier, he's out for this battle—"
"Tch. Ridiculous. These rats came prepared. No need to force it. Retreat!"
"Yes, my lord!"
"Hmph. Let's see how long they last."
Roger Vifros's confident expression lost some composure, replaced by proportionate irritation.
"They're retreating!"
"Hurrah!!"
Cheers erupted at the enemy's withdrawal. Torchlight revealed corpses littering the darkened walls, but survivors forced smiles.
At the center, Logan gazed at the rising moon, quelling his anxiety.
'Just one more day. A single day's difference.'
The waning moon mirrored his growing dread, but he couldn't show it.
"All troops rest! Treat wounded and maintain watch rotations!"
For now, they had to endure.
That single thought fueled his booming orders.
Next day.
No one knew when the enemy would strike again.
Despite rotating watches, most MacLaine soldiers spent sleepless nights steeped in exhaustion when—
"Enemy reinforcements! Their banner... an eagle over flames... Peretta! Viscount Peretta's forces!"
The grim news arrived.
They could've invaded the undefended MacLaine territory—all key figures were at Tomo Fortress anyway. A MacLaine defeat here meant total annihilation, so Vifros likely sent them to witness their triumph.
Thus began a renewed assault—different from before.
***
"My lord! The east again!"
"Goddamn bastards!"
Gnashing his teeth, Logan had no choice but to move.
Sprinting across the ramparts, he saw Vifros knights retreating from the walls.
'Again!'
Feigned assaults followed by withdrawals—even Flanz, the Moonlight Knight, was among them. Their eyes met; the bastard smirked and vanished.
How many times now? Three days of these mock attacks had Logan's nerves frayed.
After Peretta's forces tasted the repeating crossbows' fury in two full assaults, they switched to these probing strikes from all sides.
The problem? MacLaine had to respond every time.
Though no more lives were lost, the situation worsened.
The mental strain and accumulating fatigue were bad enough, but—
"My lord, our bolt reserves are nearly exhausted. At this rate, within a day or two—"
Supplies brought instead of food—including countless bolt cases—were running dry after just five days.
"Our fortress reserves are dwindling too! How could they leave so little after harvest?!"
The food situation was equally dire.
But the greatest concern—
'Four days overdue. What went wrong?'
The king's death should've been announced by now.
Logan's greatest torment wasn't the enemy, but that very uncertainty.
Tap tap
"Chung! The wall!"
"Fine work."
"Not at all, my lord! We know you haven't slept—"
"Enough. Save your strength."
Halting the overly-polite soldier, Logan gazed beyond the torches at the darkened land. Night raids came daily—they'd feign another tonight.
Vigilance couldn't slacken.
The slightest lapse would bring their full force crashing down.
The waning moon—no longer full—caught his eye first.
'What variable changed...?'
Had relying solely on past-life memories been a mistake?
Gnawing anxiety consumed him.
"Will bandages work? For arrow wounds?"
"Better than nothing. Be glad it's not your leg."
"Wish I was badly wounded too—"
"Don't jinx it! Even minor injuries can't rest now. The knights are relentless."
A whispering exchange between sentries.
"My crossbow string snapped. No bolts left. How—"
"Endure. Just hold spears. Who's unharmed anyway?"
"Can we... survive this?"
"......"
"Look at our situation—"
"...The Grand Prince started this. He must have a plan."
But the soldier's expression was equally grim.
"Does this look like a plan to you?"
"What else can we do, you brat!"
"Why'd the Grand Prince start this war—"
"Shut your damn mouth! The mood's tense enough!"
The distant sentries' conversation weighed heavier on Logan.
'...Goddamn it.'
His enhanced hearing felt like a curse now.
Unable to approach them, he stood frozen on the ramparts when—
"Logan. We need to talk."
A familiar, exhausted voice.
"Father..."
"You know we can't hold much longer. I need to know your next plan."
His father's gaunt face and sunken eyes studied him.
Guilt pricked his conscience, but he couldn't reveal his doubts.
"A few... just a few more days. It's not time yet—"
The same empty reassurance. He couldn't meet his father's gaze.
After a heavy silence—
"...I see. Then we'll endure."
His father nodded again at the meaningless excuse.
The pat on his shoulder felt unbearably heavy.
'Just hold on. Just endure...'
He clung to that fraying hope.
Two more days passed. Food and bolts ran out completely.