Chapter 268: The First Continental War (6)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 268: The First Continental War (6)
A few days ago.
At a meeting of the Western Front's high command, Flora Lawrence presented their worst-case scenario.
"We have completed all preparations for the war against Kronos. We invested an astronomical sum to reinforce the castle walls and gathered the combined forces of Cairo and Dmitry. The problem is what happens if we cannot hold out, even after giving it our all. If that happens, stubbornly clinging to the Western Front when defeat is certain will be meaningless."
"But the moment we lose the West, it is only a matter of time before the Kronos Imperial Army descends upon Cairo."
Baron Noel interjected.
Flora Lawrence met his gaze, acknowledging the validity of his point.
"You are correct. If Cairo falls into enemy hands, we won't be able to stop the domino effect of our collapse. However, this war requires us to take risks from the very beginning. To realize the plan Lord Roman Dmitry spoke of, preserving as much of our forces as possible is far more important than winning a single battle. If we pour all our strength into defending a battlefield where defeat is inevitable, what will we do when we lack the troops needed for what comes after? We must choose our battles and focus our efforts. We are not giving up the West for nothing; by yielding it and preserving our forces, we can buy time."
"That makes sense, Flora. I assume you have devised a detailed plan for this?"
"Yes."
Marquis Vandenberg voiced his support.
As Flora Lawrence had once been a key strategic asset of the West, her words carried immense weight.
With a crisp rustle, she unrolled a map across the table.
Pointing to the frontline defense post of the Western Front, she said,
"The land we stand on right now is a crucial strategic stronghold. If this place is breached, the entire Western Front will inevitably collapse like dominoes. Therefore, the Kronos Empire will likely commit all its forces to crush us here in the very first battle. The Plan B I am about to explain is the option we must choose if we cannot withstand their onslaught. No—in truth, it is our only choice."
All eyes locked onto her.
Some might have called it madness.
Making such thorough preparations for a siege only to fall back on a contingency plan would undoubtedly raise objections.
But...
Her past experiences gave Flora the resolve to make this hard decision.
"Plan B is to abandon the castle and retreat. If our defeat becomes obvious, the enemy won't find it strange if we abandon this fortress faster than expected. Furthermore, if we leave behind all our military supplies, there will be no room for suspicion. That will be our opportunity. When the enemy rushes into the castle to claim it, we can secure a decisive advantage by sacrificing those supplies and blowing this entire place sky-high."
Prepare for any contingency.
On a battlefield fraught with variables, that was the sacred duty of a strategist.
* * *
The decision had been made.
Marquis Vandenberg roared as he cut down a wave of rushing enemy soldiers,
"All forces, retreat! Abandon the castle and fall back to the rear!"
"Retreat!"
The order echoed across the battlefield.
Adjutants relayed the Marquis's command at the top of their lungs, while others sprinted to beat the drums signaling a full retreat. The battlefield instantly descended into chaos. Although the common soldiers didn't know the exact details of Plan B, the high command had warned them that they might have to abandon the castle in a worst-case scenario.
The soldiers pulled back.
While the frontline vanguard couldn't immediately flee due to being locked in bloody combat with the Imperial Army, the rest of the troops swiftly followed orders. Remaining on the battlefield while everyone else fell back was suicide. As the Cairo-Dmitry Allied Forces pulled back, the enemy surged into the castle, eagerly filling the vacuum left behind.
"Attack!"
"Kill them all!"
Screams echoed from every direction.
The Kronos Imperial Army slaughtered the straggling soldiers of the Kingdom Alliance. Those trampled beneath the advancing boots were crushed into a bloody pulp. The battle was completely lost. The tight equilibrium of the siege had tipped irrevocably the moment the Alliance took a step back.
At the very front—or rather, what had now become the rearguard—stood Chris.
Holding the absolute rearguard, he bought precious time for the soldiers to escape.
Flash!
The rushing enemies were blasted away.
Even with a sea of enemies filling his vision, Chris retreated in an orderly fashion, his sword dancing in his hands. With just one or two swift counterattacks, the heads of the Kronos Imperial soldiers fell like autumn leaves. A battle of the few against the many—it was a familiar situation for him. Having survived the extreme crucible of Valhalla, Chris's skills had evolved to a completely new level.
Thwack!
His blade pierced an enemy's throat.
Just as he was about to turn and rejoin his retreating forces, a sudden, bone-deep chill made him violently jerk his head back.
Rumble!
A fiercely blazing aura grazed right past his eyes.
His skin stung from the sheer heat of it.
Though it was too early to be absolutely certain, Chris instinctively knew that the power within this aura had reached the 6-Star realm.
"So you're the one called Chris!"
Crash!
Boom! Boom!
An unidentified figure pressed him relentlessly.
Chris avoided clashing swords directly, using swift footwork to deflect and parry the incoming strikes. Even so, his body was violently pushed back. The residual shockwaves of the aura pressed heavily against his chest.
From above, a blinding cluster of light descended.
Chris rolled across the dirt, dodging the devastating strike by a hair's breadth.
Crash!
Rumble!
"Just what is Roman Dmitry's true identity? To reach the 6-Star realm in his mere twenties, and to raise a swordsman like you in a pathetic piece of land like Dmitry... It's magnificent. I want to capture you alive, peel your flesh off piece by piece, and interrogate you for the truth."
Chris looked up.
The pale-faced man standing before him had a striking scar running from his eye across his nose.
In that instant, a name flashed through Chris's mind.
Rank 2 in the Kronos Rankings.
Rank 3 in the Continental Rankings.
It was the Evil Ghost, Hannibal.
His long, shaggy curls, deathly pale complexion, and that hideous scar were the defining features of Hannibal. Goosebumps erupted across Chris's skin. If the commander of the Kronos 2nd Knights Division had personally taken the field, there was virtually no way to defeat him here without Roman Dmitry.
'Damn it.'
Clack.
He adjusted his grip on his hilt.
He was going to die here.
Chris knew he was standing on the absolute brink of death, but he could not show his back to Hannibal.
The very second he turned around, Hannibal's sword would cleave him in two.
Rather than dying a pathetic, cowardly death, Chris resolved to fulfill his duty to the bitter end.
'I am sorry, my Lord. It seems I won't be able to achieve my dream of surpassing you.'
He flared his aura to its absolute limit.
Just as he was about to charge forward with all his might—
"I will handle things here."
Count Richard Nicholas.
He stepped directly in front of Chris.
* * *
It was a completely unexpected turn of events.
Before Chris could even process the situation, Count Nicholas spoke in an unyielding tone.
"For the Kingdom Alliance to win the war ahead, we need you—someone who has fought directly alongside Roman Dmitry. So, leave this place to me. I will defeat Hannibal and catch up with you shortly."
"...Count!"
"Go, quickly!"
Count Nicholas shouted.
Both of them knew the grim reality.
The Kronos Imperial Army was surging in like a tidal wave, and even a ten-second hesitation would completely sever their escape route. Knowing this, Count Nicholas had chosen to sacrifice himself. Having witnessed the brilliant, rising talents of Roman Dmitry and Chris, he knew exactly what he had to do for the future of the kingdom.
Hesitation would only render his sacrifice meaningless.
Seeing the unwavering resolve in Count Nicholas's eyes, Chris gritted his teeth.
"I will never forget what you have done today."
He spun around.
The moment Chris moved to retreat, Hannibal thrust his sword forward like a bolt of lightning.
Crash!
Rumble!
Count Nicholas intercepted the strike.
Against the fiercely blazing 6-Star Aura, Count Nicholas exploded his own 5-Star Aura, stubbornly refusing to yield a single inch.
A massive shockwave erupted between them.
Blood welled up in his throat, but Count Nicholas only smiled.
"I've always wanted to fight a top-tier ranker like you at least once."
In the distance, Chris's figure was rapidly disappearing.
Seeing Hannibal's slightly displeased expression, Count Nicholas suppressed the agonizing tremors wracking his body and focused his mind.
'All my life, I have yearned to reach the 6-Star realm.'
The First Sword of Cairo.
That was his grand title.
But after facing the swordsmen of the Continental Rankings, he realized that being the strongest in a weak nation meant absolutely nothing. In the grand scheme of things, he was merely at the bottom. He couldn't even claim to be outstanding compared to other 5-Star swordsmen, and the existence of the Twelve Swords of the Continent—monsters who had reached the 6-Star realm—seemed like an unreachable sky.
But the day he was defeated by Roman Dmitry, Count Nicholas saw a brand new world.
The overwhelming swordsmanship that had cleaved through his defenses was the realm beyond the heavens he had always yearned for.
Immediately after his defeat, he had locked himself inside his training room.
Even while his body was still recovering, he had struggled desperately to emulate even a fraction of Roman Dmitry's form.
His past reputation, his pride, his age marked by the graying hairs on his head—none of it mattered anymore.
Returning to the humble mindset of a beginner, Count Nicholas had finally succeeded in grasping a piece of that profound realm.
Boom!
Rumble!
"I am Richard Nicholas. And I am the First Sword of Cairo."
Even after the Dmitry Duchy was established, the title of the kingdom's number one had once again been bestowed upon him.
Count Nicholas flared his fiercely blazing aura, determined not to bring shame to that name.
Flames.
It was a tremendous, roaring blaze.
His entire being burned as he became one with his sword, clearly signifying that he, too, had finally stepped onto the threshold of the 6-Star realm. The First Sword of Cairo was not weak. He had touched the 6-Star realm—a stage that even the mighty Empire had only produced twelve of—becoming the first from the peripheral kingdoms to join their ranks, excluding Roman Dmitry.
He kicked off the ground.
Enveloped in a tempest of aura, he charged straight at Hannibal.
In that very instant—
"You arrogant bastard. You don't know your place."
Flash!
The flames split apart.
An aura that exploded like an erupting volcano tore right through Count Nicholas's flames, neatly splitting them in two with a single strike, as easily as parting the sea.
Hannibal.
The third strongest existence on the entire continent.
Just as there were vast differences in power among 5-Star swordsmen, Hannibal was a monster who had no rivals even among those in the 6-Star realm.
Spurt!
A fountain of blood sprayed into the air.
Count Nicholas's body was torn to shreds. He collapsed heavily to the ground, unable to hold out for even a single minute against Hannibal's might. Had he focused entirely on evasion like Chris, he might have lasted a bit longer, but his bold attempt to face Hannibal head-on in a direct clash had brought about this tragic, instantaneous result.
His broken body trembled violently.
As if pleading with the monster not to advance any further, he weakly grabbed Hannibal's ankle with a blood-stained hand.
At that,
Hannibal crouched down to meet Count Nicholas's fading gaze.
"Shall I tell you a few interesting facts?"
"Cough."
More blood spilled from his lips.
The blood flowing from Count Nicholas's wounds had already formed a dark, pooling puddle beneath him.
"First. There are many people in Kronos who are stronger than me. So, if you couldn't even withstand this much, it means you never stood a chance from the start. And second..."
He smirked cruelly.
"We anticipated your little plan to blow up the castle from the very beginning."
He stood back up.
And then,
Crunch.
He ruthlessly stomped his boot down on the face of the despair-ridden Count Nicholas.
* * *
It had been a perfect plan.
The soldiers had successfully escaped.
At the absolute last second, Flora Lawrence triggered the explosion just as planned.
Boom!
Crash! Crash!
Rumble!
A massive, deafening explosion erupted from the heart of the fortress.
She had expected the Kronos Imperial soldiers to be completely swept away by the blast. However, a white-haired mage stepped forward, channeling his mana to form a massive black hole. The raging explosion that was meant to swallow the entire castle was instantly sucked into the void. With the initial blast suppressed, the intricate devices set up to trigger a chain explosion were rendered completely useless.
Witnessing this sequence of events unfold,
Duke Bamford strolled into the castle with an expression that said he had expected this all along.
"The choices available to the weak are always so painfully predictable."
An 8th Circle Mage.
And the Kronos 2nd Knights Division.
It was a genuinely overwhelming force.
Based on his vast military experience, Duke Bamford had been absolutely confident that he could crush the Western Front in the very first battle. If so, there was only one worst-case scenario for the enemy. If even Roman Dmitry could not arrive in time to create a variable, abandoning the castle and turning it into a giant trap was their only viable option.
A veteran of a hundred bloody battles.
Or, as he was better known,
The Maestro of the Battlefield.
Duke Bamford's reputation was no empty boast.
He was not an opponent who would easily fall prey to the desperate tactics of weak nations with limited options.
He looked over at the white-haired mage and said,
"Thank you for your hard work, Lord Shepir."
"It was nothing."
The white-haired mage, Shepir, responded calmly as he pulled his hood down further over his face.
Then,
Duke Bamford turned his gaze forward and shouted to his soldiers,
"Hear me, soldiers of the Kronos Empire! The enemy is cornered! Let us ride this momentum and turn Cairo and Dmitry into a sea of fire!"
The enemy would be forced to remember this day forever.
They would learn what it truly meant to oppose the mighty Kronos Empire.
For they had not yet experienced true, living hell.
* * *
A few days passed.
Contrary to Duke Bamford's expectations, the Kronos Imperial Army continuously failed to catch the tail of the retreating Kingdom Alliance.
"Cunning bastards. They made incredibly thorough preparations just to buy time."
The castle's explosion had only been the first phase of their plan.
They had prepared second and third layers of traps specifically designed to hinder the Kronos Empire's advance.
Because of this, the Imperial Army's pursuit was inevitably slowed to a crawl.
Seeing the enemy's clear intention to delay them at all costs, Duke Bamford couldn't help but wonder.
'Just why are they buying so much time? Even as the Western Front fell, Roman Dmitry did not show his face. This means their stalling tactics must be directly connected to Roman Dmitry's absence.'
Judging by the man's past actions,
there was a slight possibility that Roman Dmitry had secretly infiltrated the Imperial Capital to directly assassinate the Kronos Emperor.
But that was impossible.
The Kronos Imperial Court was heavily guarded by the 1st Knights Division, and above all, hidden monsters completely unknown to the public stood faithfully by the Emperor's side. No matter how monstrously strong Roman Dmitry was, penetrating the capital's absolute defenses to assassinate the Emperor was utterly unrealistic. If he had actually planned such a reckless operation, he could not be called a strategist.
A fool who ran wild relying solely on his own personal strength—
such a shallow existence was bound to be broken by an even greater power.
'For us, continuing our advance like this is the best course of action. If they want to buy time, we will simply crush them underfoot before they can achieve whatever their goal is.'
But later that very day,
he received a truly shocking report.
A scout who had sprinted over in a sheer panic gasped for breath as he delivered the news.
"Commander! Roman Dmitry has captured Kortas!"
Kortas.
At the mention of that name, Duke Bamford's face contorted in absolute shock.
It was a natural reaction.
Much like the Western Front, Kortas was a vital strategic stronghold located in the eastern territory of Kronos.
And located right within that stronghold—
was a Warp Gate.