Chapter 164
Chapter 164
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 164
Chapter Title: Strategy, Tactics, Stratagems, Mind Games (2)
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*
“This operation is a race against time.”
“And it’s an extremely unfavorable one for us.”
Fernandez and Aeren exchanged a brief glance. Raised from childhood as a shieldmaiden, she was already a warlord with ample tactical instincts. She could convey more information with a single look than with a thousand words.
-Not bad.
‘If she’s born with the makings of an archangel, she has to be at least this good.’
Fernandez nodded and looked back down at the map. It was a parchment map crudely charting the northern continent’s topography. The terrain was marked with sloppy stitching, but it lacked nothing in tactical details.
“From here to Hazat Kazal by sea. If we take the fastest route, how long?”
“Two days by sea. Five days overland via the mountains.”
Fernandez stroked his chin as he stared at the map. Hazat Kazal and Hazat Palan shared a border centered on the mountain range. An invasion from sea to sea would take two days...
“To be frank, your forces won’t hold out for half a day.”
“I know.”
Distance is time itself. Fernandez tapped the map thoughtfully. A diversionary tactic required perfect timing from both sides without the slightest discrepancy, but even if Aeren’s forces formed the optimal defensive line and held firm, they couldn’t last two days.
‘Should I take the front lines myself?’
-We’d be slower.
Feizashi let out a short groan. The time it would take Fernandez to kill enemy soldiers and push them back would be longer than the time it took for Aeren’s forces to be wiped out. In a small skirmish, maybe, but with the enemy deploying massive forces now, achievements on one front wouldn’t lead to overall victory.
‘Have to conserve magic.’
Excluding fog manipulation, simple spell counters, and wedge spells—those “light” incantations—the reserves of the Bronze Throne weren’t sufficient for so-called signature spells, the “named” ones.
Moreover, using such spells would immediately draw Sadarkelia’s attention. For now, they likely only knew one inquisitor had infiltrated, but if Sadarkelia turned fully hostile, operating in the unfamiliar north would be nearly impossible.
Time, troops, magic—all impossible. It was like fighting a raging giant with hands bound. Fernandez narrowed his eyes and glared at the map.
“Hazat Turan—are they allies?”
“They came to us for alliance talks but got caught in the offensive. Kazaldar’s forces are probably attacking them too.”
“So Kazaldar is fighting on two fronts?”
“If we view it positively, yes. It’s just speculation. How could we know what’s happening beyond those mountains?”
Fernandez gazed at the other cities occupying the southern coast of the northern continent. Hazat Turan, Hazat Kazal, Hazat Palan. The three greatest tribes. And the smaller domains scattered about.
Five days around the mountains, two days by sea. The raid was two days ago, so by now the enemy forces had likely crossed the border. That left one day until they reached this ruin.
One day. If they could just hold out for one day, it would be their victory. Fernandez slowly closed his eyes. No need to stare at the map any longer. His memory could project it in his mind like a photographic slide.
A more three-dimensional, dynamic map unfolded in his head. Once more, a rough hand appeared from afar. A scaly, crude hand. Sadarkelia’s hand moved.
-Tak.
Her pieces shifted at her gesture. One square at a time, like a noose tightening around the throat. Slowly but surely. The capital was in ruins, and they had to assume maximum enemy forces.
In contrast, Fernandez’s pieces were thin and frail. A ruin without barricades, warriors wrapped in despair and defeat. By human numbers alone, Hazat Palan was a great tribe and wouldn’t be outmatched...
‘The variable is the demon.’
As he thought, a hand from the darkness moved smoothly. As if mocking his moves. He could almost hear the great demon’s whisper. ‘What can a mere inquisitor do?’
His flashy performance on the last battlefield had been somewhat intentional. Sadarkelia could observe the material world through her demons’ eyes. All demidraco were her children.
Thus, what Sadarkelia knew was only Fernandez’s existence. A southern warrior with overwhelming might—that was all.
Fernandez slowly surveyed his pieces. Amid them stood a woman. Looking down coldly on the battlefield, stylishly puffing a pipe in one hand, elegantly. Whoosh—. Smoke curled at her lips.
‘Our variable is the greatest field commander of the Great Wilderness. The undefeated Kirhas.’
Fernandez reached out. His joker card to buy one day. But at that moment, his hand froze in midair. He had told them to prepare for chains. That applied equally to everyone who had to stay here as bait.
If he ordered her to help them, Kirhas would obey without a word. But that would mean ordering her to prepare for dismemberment.
-Swish.
In that instant, a warm hand covered Fernandez’s. Emerging from meditation, he slowly opened his eyes to find Kirhas before him.
“Benefactor.”
Kirhas’s turquoise eyes sparkled. Fernandez gazed at her silently.
-Damn. Haha, she’s incredible.
Feizashi chuckled. Narrowing from grand strategy to tactical level, no field commander in the north surpassed her. Thus, having spent the most time with Fernandez, she read his strategy from his silent contemplation.
“I’ll do it.”
She would gladly be the bait. Buy the one day Fernandez needed. Her eyes told him that.
I can’t lose you. You deserve to shine on greater battlefields and receive a hero’s welcome. Instead of saying that—
“I trust you.”
—was all Fernandez could say, meeting her steadfast gaze. Kirhas smiled radiantly at his words.
“I trust you too, Benefactor.”
Holding out for one day was a prerequisite for the operation. Success or failure hinged on striking the enemy’s depth in that gained day.
It was like fighting a fully armed, raging giant with limbs bound. It meant placing full faith in that unreasonable feat.
Thus, Fernandez placed his hand on her hair. She lowered her eyes and purred softly. Answering with that gesture, he turned to Aeren, who was watching the map.
“I’ll revise the plan.”
“How?”
“Cede your forces to me. I’ll land at Hazat Kazal myself. Aeren, you head for the Turandar clan. Gather reinforcements and prepare for a counteroffensive. Even in the worst case, you’ll have laid the foundation for revenge.”
“...You’re telling me to abandon my tribe?”
“No. Entrust them. To this one here.”
Fernandez said, glancing at Kirhas. Feeling his touch, she slightly opened her eyes.
“The material world’s greatest field commander will buy us the one day we need.”
In battle, distance is time, and time is an absolute consumable. One day until enemy forces arrived; two days for Fernandez to strike Kazaldar’s depths.
Even if all went perfectly, that absolutely short “one day.” Simple arithmetic—an irreversible physical limit—that this girl would secure. That’s what Fernandez declared.
Aeren wore an incredulous expression for a moment, then met Fernandez’s eyes and realized it was sincere.
“Let’s hear it. How you plan to buy that day.”
*
Navigating a destroyed strait at midnight—unlit lighthouse, swarming with debris and reefs—was exceedingly dangerous. Even more so without lanterns.
Fernandez sat still in the boat, occasionally gesturing. The rowers felt like blind men charging toward a cliff, gripped by terror.
The depth-strike force dispatched to Hazat Kazal. With a dozen men aboard the sole intact swift boat, Fernandez had commanded immediately upon boarding.
‘Head straight full speed in the direction I point.’
No time for persuasion or safer paths. He simply ordered straight ahead, fast. The warriors, half-subdued by the mighty fighter who slew a demon in three exchanges, rowed.
-Splash...
Soon, the wind shifted. The rowers sensed the current change, the wind’s feel altering. Northerners were all seasoned sailors; the strait was like home.
Thus, they realized the miracle unfolding and shuddered. Full speed through battle debris, past ruined lighthouse and port reefs.
One mistake, and the wooden swift boat would’ve grounded. In the dark night, they’d have sunk without rescue.
A difficult feat by day, achieved in pitch-black midnight. Just by following gestures straight! The warriors stared blankly at seated Fernandez, forgetting to row.
“Tired?”
“Uh, n-no, sir.”
“Then why’s everyone slacking? We’ve just cleared the strait. We row nonstop for two days.”
Yes. Fernandez cracked his eyes open. At his words, the warriors hastily resumed rowing. With creaking friction, the swift boat glided into the open sea.
Fernandez sank back into inner consciousness amid the sounds. Sea breeze rattling the anchor, currents brushing the waterline, faint mana echoes scattered in the air and their reflections.
Open senses despite closed eyes, weaving into a sixth sense. Palms quietly folded. [Third Eye]. Or [Mage Sight], the spell called.
Below his eyelids, emerald sparks flew, eyes blazing. His sight bypassed physical eyes. He viewed events within a radius.
Currents and fish below, wind and insects between, birds. Or mana swimming through air gaps. Flows. Like prophets, he became an info-reflective entity.
A gaze observing event collisions, vortices birthing data. Transcending flesh and cognition limits—an absolute’s sight.
-Thump, thump, thump, thump.
Heart pounded madly. Brain boiling on overload felt alien. Like great magics, mage sight brought vicious backlash.
Madness from info overload. Lifespan drain. Fortunately for Fernandez, both were expendable resources.
*Cough*. After a dry hack, blood spurted from ruptured organs through blood pressure, trickling past lips.
Fernandez didn’t bother wiping, sustaining mage sight relentlessly. Dodging potential reefs, driftwood, shipwrecks. Repeatedly succeeding in full-speed acrobatics through them.
Madness was his gift, lifespan his favorite consumable. To him, this spell had no side effects. So thinking, Fernandez pointed ahead again.
Toward where Sadarkelia lurked beyond.