Chapter 390: The Second Continental War (13)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 390: The Second Continental War (13)
It was midday.
While the Umberto faction was causing a massive uproar, the Commander of Valhalla gazed toward the Hector Kingdom's camp.
"Laughable fools. How dare they think they can stand in Valhalla's way."
Just moments ago, Valhalla had demanded their unconditional surrender.
The terms were simple: if Hector quietly opened the path to Dmitry, Valhalla would acknowledge their cooperation and accept them as a vassal state. It was an incomparably better alternative to total annihilation. However, Hector had delivered a violent response—beheading the envoy—sending the Commander of Valhalla into a towering rage.
A council of war was immediately convened.
Standing before the gathered high command, the Commander of Valhalla spoke in a heavy, imperious voice.
"Our strategy is simple. We will march directly to Hector's borders, capture their Frontline Defense Posts, and secure their Warp Gate. Once we seize the Warp Gate connected to Dmitry's border, we can drastically reduce our travel time. Laying waste to Dmitry, exactly as planned, is the ultimate goal we must achieve in this war."
"We await your command."
"We await your command."
Valhalla's strategy was incredibly crude.
It was nothing more than a brute-force march to crush the enemy, yet none of Valhalla's high command raised a single objection.
Except for one.
One battle-hardened commander mustered the courage to speak up. "If Hector is prepared for war, they must have something up their sleeve. Wouldn't it be wiser to assess the situation more carefully and find the optimal strategy to bring them down?"
"Tsk. Your judgment fails to grasp the true crux of the matter."
The Commander's face contorted in displeasure.
Their opponent was Hector. Not Kronos, but a mere minor kingdom. With his extensive battlefield experience, the Commander of Valhalla was highly skilled at measuring disparities in military strength.
"Hector is a weak nation that lost its past war against Cairo, and its national power has been severely depleted by a devastating famine. Though they have recently shown signs of recovery with Dmitry's aid, they are far from capable of enduring a total war against Valhalla. Above all, the Valhalla Imperial Court has ordered us to show results within ten days. If we rely on your 'optimal strategy' to isolate and starve them out, we might eventually bring Hector down, but we will utterly fail our primary objective."
A swift victory was paramount.
While Roman Dmitry was tied down in Valhalla, they had to inflict as much damage as possible. The real war would begin after that. Once Roman Dmitry returned and reclaimed control of his army, they absolutely needed to have capitalized on this window of opportunity to stand a chance against him. Thus, the Commander ignored the warning. The current powerholders in Valhalla were traitors, prioritizing their servitude to Kronos over the safety of their own empire.
The objection was thoroughly crushed.
Looking down at the bowing officer, the Commander of Valhalla raised his voice to a roar.
"One hour from now, we march to Hector's border! We will trample Hector underfoot for daring to block Valhalla's path!"
Marching north.
A massive shadow loomed over Hector.
* * *
Valhalla's advance was immediately reported to Hector.
Seeing his soldiers trembling with anxiety, Edwin Hector donned his armor and stepped forward.
"People of Hector, hear me."
He channeled his mana. At his heavy, commanding voice that dominated the entire encampment, the people raised their heads to look at Edwin Hector.
"Valhalla is marching to destroy Hector. They threatened to trample us to dust if we do not open a path for them to attack Dmitry. Let me ask you: over the past few years, when our people were dying of starvation due to the famine, which nation came to our aid?"
"It was Dmitry!"
"Yes, it was Dmitry. Dmitry helped us. If we were to betray Dmitry's grace just to secure our own safety—if we survived so despicably only to degrade ourselves into Valhalla's vassals—who would ever trust us again? Valhalla and Kronos have been in league from the very beginning. And by turning Odelia into a sea of fire, Kronos made it clear that they will tolerate no independent nation other than themselves. I refuse to live like a dog. I refuse to submit to a wretched existence, begging for scraps thrown to us out of pity and serving the Empire like slaves."
The faces of the crowd flushed with emotion.
He made it clear there would be no compromise.
Standing on the edge of a precipice, Hector's fate hung entirely on this war. Rather than swaying to the enemy's enticements, he declared that they would remain Hector, even if it meant falling into the abyss.
"From this day forward, Hector will live as Hector. To secure our rights, we must neither submit to the Empire nor shift the blame of this war onto Dmitry. Let us show them our strength! Let us show them what kind of nation Hector is, and how terrifying the latent strength of a kingdom once called a great power truly is!"
"Let's show them!"
"Let's slaughter those Valhallan dogs!"
The crowd was swept up in a surging wave of shared emotion.
Hector's Star.
The fact that this hero—the pride of Hector—was the heir to the royal family was accepted by the people as an undeniable decree of heaven.
"For Hector!"
"For Hector!"
"For Hector!"
The crowd boiled over with fervor.
As the atmosphere reached its absolute peak, Edwin Hector's cloak fluttered as he turned, walking toward his battle station to join the fray himself.
"Everyone, to your positions!"
* * *
The battle was imminent.
Looking down at the Valhallan army from atop the castle walls, Butler asked in a cautious tone, "...Do you believe we have a chance of winning?"
Hector and Valhalla.
The disparity in their military strength was severe. Logically, it was a fight they could not win, no matter how desperately they struggled.
Edwin Hector replied flatly, "There is no chance."
"And yet, you intend to fight to the end?"
"If the war drags on, our defeat is inevitable. However, the first one or two clashes are a different story."
"...What do you mean by that?"
In this war, Edwin Hector was focused on the core issue.
"The reason Valhalla is rushing is to make the most of Roman Dmitry's absence. Their goal is not to destroy Hector, but to march past us to Dmitry. Because they are in a hurry, they will be willing to take risks. If this were the Valhalla of a year ago, we wouldn't even be able to block such a reckless advance. But today's Valhalla is different. They are rotting from the inside due to civil war, and they lost countless troops in their conflict with Roman Dmitry. Furthermore, a portion of their forces is currently tied down in the south dealing with him. While they are indeed an empire, their current strength does not live up to their reputation."
"Even so, it is an undeniable fact that they are stronger than us."
"I agree. That is why the first battle, where we can exploit the enemy's arrogance, is crucial."
At that time, the situation of the Kingdom Alliance was desperate. Since news of Dmitry's victory had not yet arrived, Edwin Hector sought to turn the tide with his own hands.
"Butler, do you remember the battle on the Southern Front?"
"...Of course. Though we now follow Dmitry, I will never forget what happened then."
"Why did I lose to Cairo back then, despite dominating the situation? It was because of my arrogance, believing we had the absolute upper hand. Having secured the Warp Gate in the rear, I was confident that as long as I neutralized the variable that was Roman Dmitry, nothing could go wrong. The enemy was just a small force. So, I pushed my troops into the mountains, only to face a monstrous, logic-defying martial power that slaughtered countless of our soldiers. It was the worst possible outcome."
The memory of that day was devastating.
Yet, Edwin Hector did not turn a blind eye to his failure. By reflecting on his mistake, he had learned a bloody lesson to ensure he would never repeat it.
"Valhalla is making the exact same mistake I did. Believing Hector is nothing, and that their military strength is overwhelmingly superior, they are pushing their forces forward even more carelessly than I did. If we can deliver a powerful blow that defies their expectations in a situation like this, we can defeat Valhalla at least once, just as I suffered a crushing defeat back then. And that single blow will be the catalyst to turn the tide."
Butler swallowed hard.
The heir of Hector—when on earth had he grown this much? The longer he stayed by his side, the deeper Butler's absolute loyalty to Edwin Hector became.
"Understood. If it is Prince Edwin's command, I will leap into the pits of hell with you."
Butler nodded. He would follow him to the end. It didn't matter if it was the right choice. Butler was simply grateful that Edwin Hector was the leader of this country.
It was then.
"Attack!"
"Waaaaah!"
In the distance, the Valhalla Imperial Army surged forward like a tidal wave.
At Edwin Hector's signal, the Hector Kingdom Army prepared for battle, while their Magic Defense Formation flared to life, shielding them from the barrage of spells raining down from the Imperial Army. It was a battle on which the very fate of the nation hung. Although the soldiers were visibly anxious, Edwin Hector calmly bided his time until the enemy had pushed sufficiently deep.
Just as expected.
The enemy had not thoroughly inspected the battlefield. Though barrels of oil were buried right beneath their feet, they chose to charge blindly.
The enemy forces filled his field of vision.
At that exact moment, Edwin Hector roared like thunder, "Attack!"
As Hector's soldiers unleashed a devastating volley of arrows, Edwin Hector opened his Upper Dantian, unleashing an explosive torrent of mana.
Whoosh!
By absorbing the Master of the Sky Magic Tower, he had reached the 7th Circle. It was a realm of power that could not be quantified by mere numbers alone.
A mage who had displayed power far exceeding his realm even when he was only at the 5th Circle had now completely resolved his casting time—the only weakness ever attributed to him. His mana surged as if about to go supernova. Through his relentless research into the Upper Dantian, he had made immense progress, most notably succeeding in double casting high-circle spells, a feat widely considered impossible.
"Burning."
Whoosh! Blaze!
His body erupted in brilliant flames. Immediately after adopting the Phoenix's secret technique, he chanted:
"Earthquake. Fire Storm."
Rumble! Whoosh, blaze!
He cast two 7th Circle spells simultaneously.
The ground violently collapsed as an earthquake tore through the earth, and the Fire Storm instantly swept away the Valhallan soldiers whose movements had been restricted by the shifting terrain. At the same time, the buried oil ignited, triggering a chain of violent explosions. The defensive spells of the Valhallan mages completely failed to break through the onslaught.
Edwin Hector's eyes dyed a deep, glowing blue. With his red hair fluttering in the surging mana, he split his consciousness into multiple threads, intercepting the enemy's spells mid-air and launching immediate counterattacks.
The words of the Master of the Sky Magic Tower were true: Edwin Hector's talent was the real deal.
He was, quite literally, a variable Valhalla had never anticipated—a walking disaster.
That day, Valhalla suffered catastrophic casualties. Failing to breach the walls, they were forced to order a humiliating retreat. This was the news of Hector's first victory that Umberto had received.
* * *
About a week had passed since the outbreak of the war.
Count Soler, the commander of the Kronos Imperial Army tasked with attacking Umberto, watched the bloody scene unfold before him with a calm expression.
"Kill them!"
"Wipe out every last one of those Umberto bastards!"
Umberto was cornered.
After their Frontline Defense Posts collapsed, they had fled with their tails between their legs, but now they were waging a final, desperate battle just outside their capital. Their capital was not well-suited for a siege. Thus, they had locked the gates at an intermediate stronghold known as the Iron Fortress, and Count Soler had immediately ordered his forces to assault it.
There is no time.
Over the past week, a succession of bad news had arrived, completely contrary to their expectations.
The Valhalla Empire had reported that they could not hold Roman Dmitry for long, and the forces that had attacked Dmitry and Hector had both suffered shocking defeats. Of course, the overall tide of the war was still heavily in their favor. Although the force that attacked Dmitry had been annihilated, the battle between Valhalla and Hector was still ongoing, and the Cairo Kingdom and the Southern Three Kingdoms were hanging by a thread under the fierce onslaught of the Kronos Empire.
Kronos clearly held the advantage.
However, there was no telling what would happen once Roman Dmitry returned. While Valhalla was still holding him back, they had to wipe out Umberto at all costs.
Count Soler shouted, "Our opponents are nothing but the dregs of Umberto! Crush them in a single blow! If we win this battle, we will plant our flag in Umberto's capital within a few days and throw a wild victory party! When that time comes, I will grant you all the rights of victors, including pillaging!"
"Waaaaah!"
"Charge!"
Their momentum was unstoppable. The fall of the Iron Fortress was imminent.
It was then.
"Commander, we have an incoming magic communication request from Valhalla."
"We are in the middle of a battle. Once everything is wrapped up—"
"It is marked urgent."
He stopped mid-sentence. An urgent call meant he had to take it, no matter what. Feeling a sudden, creeping premonition of dread, Count Soler took the magic communicator.
"This is Count Soler. What on earth is so urgent that you are requesting magic communication now?"
* * *
From the other side of the communicator, Count Snodin's trembling voice came through.
[We have lost track of Roman Dmitry.]
"What?!"
He gasped in shock.
It had only been a week. To lose track of Roman Dmitry already... This was completely different from their original plan.
[We have no excuses. What is certain is that Roman Dmitry has completely broken through our encirclement, and given his absurd speed, we cannot guarantee where he might be. We have already contacted the other units, but please be careful, Count Soler, just in case.]
"Damn it."
Click.
With that, the communication cut off.
They had even less time than he had thought. Just as his urge to end this war quickly grew stronger, a strange, chilling thought suddenly crossed Count Soler's mind.
...Wait.
Umberto.
They had been continuously pushed back. They had been severing their own tail to buy as much time as possible, yet they had suddenly chosen to make a desperate stand here, even if it was at the Iron Fortress. At first, he had thought it was their final struggle—that they believed they stood a better chance fighting here rather than in their poorly fortified capital.
But what if... what if their courage did not stem from being cornered at the edge of a cliff, but rather from the presence of a single being?
It was then.
"Aaargh!"
From the rear of their formation—a place where no screams should be heard—the sudden, wet cries of dying soldiers rang out.
In that instant, Count Soler whipped his head around toward the source of the screams.