One Hour Until Sunset
Whoosh!
Dodging an arrow streaking in from behind, Arteon plunged into the reed field.
But the instant he parted the stalks—
Swoosh!
A hand shot out from the side, snatching him by the nape of the neck and hauling him hard toward the rocks.
"...!"
"You lunatic. Keep that up and you won't even die of old age."
The rough breathing that came with the words belonged to Isaac, his voice low and gravelly.
Arteon answered with the faintest curve of a smile.
"Isn't that just another way of saying I might live longer than I was supposed to?"
"It usually means the opposite, idiot."
Isaac's eyes flashed sharp, but a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth all the same. He knew perfectly well that the only reason they were still breathing in this moment was the man beside him.
Isaac flicked a glance beyond the edge of the reeds. The wind howled, thrashing the entire field into violent motion. Through the wildly swaying stalks he caught fleeting glimpses of enemies boiling forward in a seething rush.
Ordinarily he cursed this wind for the cold it always brought; today the fierce gale felt almost welcome.
"The wind's strong enough that the whole field is thrashing," Isaac said. "Even if we move a little... they won't find us easily."
Arteon nodded. The gale kept every reed in constant motion, true enough. Then he lifted his gaze to the sky. The sun, already tilting red, stretched long shadows across the tops of the stalks.
"If we hold out for one more hour... the sun will be completely down."
"One hour..."
Isaac's eyes narrowed.
"Not going to be easy."
Savage presence pressed in from beyond the reed field. At any moment the enemy might come crashing through the stalks. The reeds rose as tall as a man, screening them from sight and forcing the hunters to hesitate—but that would only last so long.
Kar war cries rose outside. One by one, warriors began pushing their way into the field.
Isaac and Arteon tightened their grips on their weapons. There was no other choice. They had to hold. They had to survive, no matter what.
Isaac gave a firm nod, face set hard, and whispered,
"Let's get home alive."
"Yes, sir."
Their eyes locked on the Kar warriors who had entered the reeds. Then the wind whipped through, setting the stalks surging like waves—
Whoosh!
Arteon was the first to move, lunging toward them like a beast of prey.
Beyond Helikel Canyon stood the great northern encampment. There, the imperial reinforcement force under Brentar's command arrived in full strength.
Velkain, already waiting to receive them, took in the vast host that would form the backbone of the coming war and fixed his gaze on Brentar at the head of the column.
"Welcome, General Brentar. You've had a hard road to get this far."
At Velkain's deep voice, Brentar offered a faint smile.
"Thank you for the welcome, Legion Commander Velkain."
He dismounted and asked at once,
"How stands the mood here? Can we march immediately?"
"We are making every preparation for battle. However..."
A strange weight rode in Velkain's brief answer. Brentar's brows drew together.
"Is there some problem?"
Velkain fell silent for a moment, then glanced at the soldiers behind them.
"You've come a long way; you must be weary. Shall we speak inside?"
"...As you wish."
Guided by Velkain, Brentar entered the command tent. The interior was warm after the biting air outside, yet a peculiar tension coiled through it.
"How stands the Center?"
"They are taking a keen interest in the North. His Highness the First Prince, Sedrian, has been especially attentive."
At the mention of Sedrian, Velkain's expression hardened. The reminder of how critical this place truly was settled over him anew. But only for a moment.
"So... what is the problem?"
"...A small difficulty has arisen."
Velkain exhaled a quiet sigh and explained the recent deaths of the reconnaissance units. As the account unfolded, Brentar's face grew dark.
"...A less than favorable situation. Which means... there is something out there we do not yet know."
Beyond this canyon lay the plain. What they had assumed to be empty was clearly full of variables.
"Then shouldn't we abandon further reconnaissance?" Brentar asked.
"We cannot. To advance without any grasp of the terrain would expose us to risks far too great."
"That is true enough..."
The air inside the tent sank deeper. Velkain continued,
"Which is why I have sent one last elite scout party. I am placing my hopes on them."
"When are they due back?"
"By tonight. Strictly speaking... if they do not return before the sun sets, their chances of survival grow slim."
"...The sun is already setting, is it not?"
At Brentar's words Velkain simply pressed his lips tight. Brentar shook his head.
"Coldly speaking... I believe we must consider this operation a failure as well."
He began weighing what came next. As Velkain had said, they could not risk a march with no terrain reconnaissance at all. They needed another way. But then—
"...No."
Velkain's eyes flashed cold. At the steel in his expression Brentar flinched despite himself and stared. Velkain rose from his seat.
"They are not men who die so easily."
The absolute certainty in his tone set the air inside the tent trembling.
"If they do not return, then tonight... I intend to launch a rescue operation for them."
At the resolve in those words, Brentar's face hardened as well.
Whooooosh!
The wind tore through, setting the reeds surging like ocean waves. Silver leaves clashed against one another, their rustle melting into the gale.
And into that sound—
Rustle.
Kar warriors carefully stretched out their axes and parted the stalks to either side.
"...Where are they?"
Cautious footsteps. The reeds thrashed so violently that even the warriors' own positions were impossible to fix. Right now, even if the enemy moved slowly, they would not be found at once.
They're definitely somewhere close...
He drew a deep breath, but only wind and the scent of reeds struck his nose. Yet the instincts honed by long years on the battlefield whispered that the prey was right nearby.
The warrior following him gave a short snort of laughter.
"They're just digging in and refusing to come out. Who knows? Maybe they already slipped out the far side of the field."
The lead warrior shook his head.
"If they had, Lord Bowukartaon would already have signaled."
After all, the man stood atop the great rock overlooking the entire reed field, watching everything. His arrows could punch clean through a man at well over two hundred meters.
The Kar warriors swallowed hard and pressed slowly deeper into the stalks. Distinguishing whether a reed's movement came from the wind or from a living body was nearly impossible. Tension crushed their shoulders.
And then—
Slash!
The reeds beside them split cleanly to either side.
"Enemy—!"
One of the Kar warriors's eyes flew wide as he started to shout. The warning never fully left his lips.
Thrust!
A spearpoint drove straight through the warrior's torso. His lung was pierced; a wet, wheezing rush of air escaped him.
"Guh...!"
He never finished the scream. His body folded bonelessly around the shaft.
Arteon ripped the spear free in a single motion and twisted. The axe of the warrior right behind the first was already hurtling toward him.
Whoooosh!
At that razor-thin distance Arteon snapped the spear shaft sideways, deflecting the axe's path clean off-line.
"...!"
Ghostly precision. How could a spearman move with such delicate control? Had the angle been even slightly off—too little or too much—the axe would have ridden the shaft and severed Arteon's wrist.
"You—!"
The Kar warrior yanked his axe back and spun toward Arteon again—
Thrust!
The spearpoint punched through the side of his neck. Crimson sprayed across the silver leaves. He too died without even a final cry.
"Hah... hah!"
Two men gone in an instant. No exaggeration, no flourish—less than five seconds and both were dead. Warriors who each bore two feather tattoos.
He's... not someone I can face...!
The remaining warrior's pupils shook wildly. In any normal fight he would have screamed to alert the others that the enemy was here—but the sheer absurdity of what he had just witnessed shattered his reason.
"S-spare me! Guhk!"
He spun to flee. Escape was the only thought left in his head. But before his body could turn a full one hundred eighty degrees, the judgment of the spear-wielding reaper fell upon him.
Thud.
"...Hah."
A short breath. The thick scent of blood scattered on the wind. Arteon pulled his spear free from the back of the fallen man and instantly reined in his mana. The power that had erupted outward sank back into the reed field as if it had never been, every trace of presence vanishing without a seam.
To any watching eye there would be nothing but reeds thrashing in the wind.
And within that cover—
Rustle...
Arteon's form melted away like a shadow.
Moments later Kar warriors who had reached the spot found the corpses of their dead. A sharp, piercing whistle rose—danger signal—and warriors converged on the place in a rush. Men who had died without offering even token resistance. The faces of the survivors hardened. The realization that they were facing enemies far more dangerous than they had imagined shook them to the core.
But the one more shaken still was Bowukartaon.
"...That mana."
Released for the briefest instant, then reclaimed without leaving so much as a footprint. And in that flicker of release he had felt, faint but unmistakable, the trace of aura as well.
But how...?
How could anyone recover it that fast, that cleanly? He had tried to fix the man's position by the mana signature, yet every trace was already gone. That level of control was something only a gifted genius might achieve after decades of grinding refinement.
"...Perhaps the ones who won't be going home are us."
Staring into the reed field, Bowukartaon felt his throat work in an involuntary swallow.
Whooooosh!
Another hard gust tore through, setting the reeds thrashing wildly. And somewhere inside them, an invisible beast seemed to be hunting them instead.