The Night Raid
Whisper-soft footsteps cut through the dark.
Using the night itself as a curtain, the Silent Spear advanced. At the head of the column, Arteon raised a clenched fist as the Kar encampment drew steadily closer.
Fist after fist went up behind him. The entire unit froze in place.
They could not risk spoken orders—not when silence was survival. Visibility was so poor that each man had to watch the hand signals of the comrade directly ahead.
When every soldier had stopped and dropped low, Arteon quietly studied the distant points of firelight.
…About twenty of them up front, give or take.
If they could cut those sentries down quickly enough, the path into the camp would open.
Arteon cast his mind back to his previous life, to the way the Kar Tribe posted watch. Unlike the Empire, where even perimeter duty was drilled into rigid systems, the Kar moved with far more improvisation.
You have to account for what you can’t see.
Sometimes their lines looked almost careless. Sometimes that carelessness hid sudden, lethal surprises. You had to stay sharp.
Arteon extended his index and middle fingers and flicked them lightly. Grein and the other squad leaders slipped forward to his side at once.
“We move to within fifty meters of their camp, then everyone goes prone and stays hidden. From there, only the vice platoon leader and the squad leaders follow me. We take out the forward sentries fast and put on their clothes.”
“Won’t Barter stand out too much?”
Arteon glanced at the big man beside him. Barter’s height and bulk were hard to miss. The Kar had their share of oversized warriors, but Barter would still draw the eye.
Arteon nodded.
“Barter, the moment I give the signal, you lead the rest of the unit in. I’ll take three more men with me instead.”
“Dinbel, Orphe, and Belgra would be best.”
“Get them ready and move the unit forward.”
No one wasted breath on unnecessary replies. The squad leaders melted back to their places. Arteon rose again and started forward.
Speed mattered—but so did staying low. The original Fourth Platoon men dropped into a duck-walk so fluid it looked second nature. The newer arrivals stared, wide-eyed, as their comrades shot ahead in a low crouch at a pace that seemed impossible. They managed to bend at the waist and keep up, but doing it while carrying spears and shields was anything but easy. They swallowed groans and pressed on until Arteon finally halted.
A quick hand signal. The chosen men closed on him at once.
“Squad leaders go with Grein,” Arteon said. “The other three come with me.”
Nine men in total. The four squad leaders—Barter excluded—formed up with Grein. Arteon took the three he had just named: Dinbel, Orphe, and Belgra. All of them were fast, and all of them excelled at ambush work.
“Armor, spears, and shields stay here,” Arteon said. “If we don’t finish them in a single strike, things get dangerous. Move fast.”
Nods all around.
The moment the armor came off, a cold that felt almost unbearable slammed into them. Each man held nothing but a short dagger. Arteon kept Iglis in its inert rod form and looked to Grein.
A silent nod. Ready.
Arteon faced forward, watching the space ahead of the enemy camp. The sentries began to drift apart, opening the distance between them—and in that exact instant, Arteon spoke.
“Now.”
He exploded forward like a hunting beast. Dinbel, Orphe, and Belgra scrambled after him.
But—
H-how is he that fast…?
I-I have to catch up…!
They had five sentries to mark. If the kills were not nearly simultaneous, the whole effort could unravel. Dinbel, Orphe, and Belgra raced after Arteon, daggers ready—
And when they arrived, five Kar warriors were already collapsing, blood pouring from their throats.
“Put on their clothes and hold,” Arteon said.
“Y-yes, sir.”
“Clear the bodies and the blood before anyone else shows up.”
The three men dragged the corpses into the dark and flung them away, then brought snow to cover the stains on the ground. In moments the scene was clean. Arteon looked toward Grein’s position on the opposite side.
That side looked settled as well. Grein drew a circle overhead in silent signal.
“Hoo…”
A thin plume of white breath scattered into the dark.
Now…
It begins.
Arteon’s eyes flashed, sharp as a predator’s. His gaze swept the interior of the Kar camp. He spread his senses on a thread of mana, checking for anyone approaching.
These are all the sentries?
Unless they were absolutely certain no attack would come from this direction, the line should never have been this loose.
…Is there really a spy inside our own unit?
A faint crease touched Arteon’s brow. He set the thought aside. Right now there was only one thing that mattered.
He nodded toward Grein. Grein and the squad leaders closed on him at once. Arteon pointed deeper into the Kar camp.
“Dinbel, Orphe, Belgra—join Vice Platoon Leader Grein. Grein, take the left. Eliminate the sentries as quietly as you can. If you’re spotted, fall back and draw their eyes.”
“Understood.”
“In the meantime I’ll burn their supply depot and link up with you. Give the signal then and call the unit in.”
It was the dead of night; most of the camp was asleep. A fire in the supply stores would throw the entire position into chaos.
“Kill as many as you can in the confusion, then get out fast. Remember—this whole operation has to be finished inside an hour.”
“Understood.”
Grein’s answer was echoed by the others’ nods.
“Begin the operation.”
Arteon moved out alone.
On the right wing of the Kar encampment, Morkadon was in a foul mood.
Houkutaru, who held the left, was already in motion—thanks to a spy’s report that the enemy would strike the left the moment dawn broke.
“Of all people, it had to be that bastard…!”
If the chance had fallen to him instead, he would have claimed the glory twice as fast. Morkadon’s combat strength dwarfed anything Houkutaru could boast. Pure ability put him comfortably at four marks, and five was not out of reach.
Ability, however, was only half the story. Morkadon had a habit of killing his own warriors whenever his temper flared, and the warnings and disciplinary marks had piled up. In a way, this posting was exile.
But the coming battle mattered even to him. If this line broke, the Empire would hold Belikezel for the first time in history.
“Shit. So I just sit here and watch until the main force moves?”
Anger had kept sleep away; that was why he was still awake at this hour. At last he dropped onto his cot with a scowl. Raging would change nothing, and he knew himself well enough—if a subordinate got under his skin right now, there would only be more trouble.
Morkadon closed his eyes and let out a long breath.
Then—
“……?”
He jerked upright and stared at the closed flap of his tent. Just now—briefly, almost too briefly to trust—
I felt a pulse of mana.
Morkadon’s sense for energy was exceptionally keen. The flicker had been so short he might have imagined it, and yet—
A sudden glare of light beyond the tent sent him bolting outside.
Flames were climbing beyond the rows of tents. Morkadon’s face went rigid. He knew exactly what was burning.
“Which son of a bitch dares—?!”
His roar cracked across the camp, and with it came the shouts of Kar warriors:
“I-it’s the Empire! We’re under attack!”
The cry rolled through the entire encampment.
Arteon tore through the Kar camp without hesitation.
Same as ever.
When the Kar built a large position, they fell into certain patterns. For all the size of this encampment, Arteon ran toward his target as if he were reading a map laid flat on his palm.
“Who goes—!”
A sentry on patrol rounded a corner. Arteon hauled mana through his body and closed the gap in a single surge. For an instant it looked as if he had simply vanished into the dark. The sentry tried to track the movement—
And died with a wet choke, never managing a proper cry.
Arteon caught the falling warrior and eased him to the ground. A sharp-eared commander could notice even a sound that small.
Almost there.
He cast a quick glance behind him. No uproar yet—Grein and the others were still working clean.
I have to move first on my end.
Draw every eye this way, and the Silent Spear could pour in through the opening.
No time to catch his breath. Speed was everything. Arteon sprinted straight for the warehouses that held the enemy’s food and supplies.
And just as he had expected—
The guard detail was heavier here. This was the heart of their logistics.
Arteon dropped low in the shadow of a tent corner and counted.
Two… six… ten… fifteen?
More than he had hoped. Six or seven would have been manageable. Double that, and even he could not erase fifteen sentries in complete silence all at once.
But—
I’m already here. Hiding any longer is impossible.
Arteon tightened his grip on Iglis. The weapon was still a plain rod, empty of mana.
“…Going in.”
He whispered it like a vow and poured mana into the shaft.
A heavy stamp of his foot—and Iglis snapped into spear form with a sharp crack. Arteon’s body shot forward like an arrow.
“……!”
“E-enemy—!”
The spear punched straight through one warrior’s throat, then swept sideways and carved through the man beside him. Two dead in the blink of an eye. The remaining guards at the warehouse entrance stared, eyes wide, as their comrades dropped.
When had anyone gotten this close—?!
“Enemy!”
“There’s only one! Kill him!”
“You dare come here?!”
Kar warriors from every side bellowed and charged.
In that same breath, a fierce aura erupted from Arteon’s spear.
He watched them come and spoke, voice cold as iron.
“Thanks. You just saved me the trouble of hunting you down.”
“A-aura!”
“Get clear!”
They shouted too late.
“You’re already dead.”
Iglis scythed through a wide half-circle. Four Kar warriors split apart in a single stroke, blood spraying across the snow. The path to the entrance lay open. Arteon strode straight into the supply depot and scanned the interior.
First priority—
“Found it.”
He hooked the handles of large jugs on the tip of his spear and hurled them through the warehouse. Glass shattered. Clear liquid fanned across timber and stacked goods, and a sharp, acrid stench flooded the air.
Not the usual black oil—the pale, natural oil harvested in the north.
Arteon snatched a torch from outside the door.
“Now it starts.”
A vast sheet of flame roared up through the supply depot, climbing into the night.