The Spearman's Shadow
“……Defeat?”
Bractus stared at the soldiers who had fled back to camp, disbelief etched across his face.
Turak lowered his head.
“I… I have no excuse.”
“What exactly happened?”
The original plan had been to withdraw the warriors as night fell, keeping the enemy’s eyes fixed on them until they could unleash the Jireun.
Instead, they had not pulled back—they had run.
Bractus’s question hung in the air. Turak answered.
“Some of the enemy soldiers attacked from the central region.”
They had not even anticipated that the formation on their flank would be breached.
If they had prepared for such a scenario, they would have thrown far more fighters into the fray.
Bractus’s expression hardened.
A place that must never be broken had been torn open.
That meant only one thing.
‘……There is a variable I did not foresee.’
It had never happened before.
He had known the imperial soldiers defending the first line quite well.
“New reinforcements arrived?”
“Yes, but upon investigation, the officially dispatched support from the imperial center has not yet arrived. We pulled some from other lines to reinforce.”
“Among those reinforcements, there is no doubt a variable I do not know.”
They had smashed through far more than twice their number of warriors.
‘The soldier who can reach the center in such a short time and strike…’
A new arrival.
That was why, right now.
“We must update our intelligence on the enemy. Is there still no new spy?”
“Yes, the informant who supplied us with information is dead, and no prominent figure has stepped forward. However, the higher-ups are searching for those who can pass on enemy information from within the center, so we are to wait a little longer.”
“Hmm…”
The atmosphere had grown strange lately.
A relatively high-ranking imperial soldier who had been providing information was dead.
For no reason whatsoever.
‘That means we must have sensed that he was a spy to some degree.’
Bractus exhaled quietly and looked toward the battlefield of the first line.
This battle for the first line was more critical than any before it.
‘Only if we tear through this line…’
Could the prepared Kar army advance northward and devour the imperial territory.
It was vital to hide their full strength now and break through the first line.
That was why the higher-ups had sent him here.
Even reinforcing him with three times more warriors than the previous deployment.
“The Jireun will move according to plan?”
“Yes, regardless of the outcome, the enemy will be greatly exhausted after this one battle. Or, they may grow even more lax in their guard due to the thrill of victory.”
“A better situation than expected.”
Bractus’s eyes flashed sharply.
While the enemy sang of their victory.
‘My sharpest blade will strike straight for the enemy commander.’
The Jireun tasked with killing the imperial commander.
Bractus gazed toward the direction of the Empire’s dogs.
Perhaps the situation had improved even more.
‘Though this small defeat stings.’
If he could take the enemy general’s head, it might even be a divine blessing.
Bractus simply waited in silence, their victory unfolding before him.
* * *
“Steel Heart! Private Arteon! Reporting to Captain!”
Arteon entered the command tent upon hearing the cry, his posture ramrod straight.
Peyland, who had been busily writing reports, looked up.
“Come closer.”
He stood the moment he saw Arteon.
Swoosh.
Peyland’s gaze locked onto him.
He was barely in his late teens now.
Peyland’s eyes narrowed at the youthful appearance.
‘A mere boy… who accomplished such feats.’
Rumors said he had broken through the western line and slain the enemy commander on the central battlefield, turning the tide of the operation.
Given such achievements.
‘Age is irrelevant.’
No, what was truly unusual was something else.
Peyland spoke to Arteon.
“I have heard of your exploits. Without you, the operation might have failed.”
The look in his eyes, his expression.
It was nothing like the demeanor of an ordinary soldier—determined, commanding.
A bold decision for someone so young.
Peyland wondered why he had made such a call… then realized.
‘I am keeping such a soldier.’
Peyland asked Arteon.
“How long have you been in the army?”
“Just over a year.”
“……What?”
Peyland could not hide his shock.
A soldier barely over a year in service looked so composed?
It was not merely about talent or achievements.
The way he carried himself was far too natural.
Peyland had assumed he was at least four or five years experienced.
Peyland asked.
“Which platoon do you belong to?”
“Despite being short-staffed, I am acting as platoon leader of the Fourth Platoon.”
‘If it is the Fourth Platoon of the Third Company…’
He had heard it was where the most troublesome criminals were gathered.
Among them, the Fourth Platoon was the worst of the worst.
No wonder the Benhard Ogre had promoted a one-year veteran to platoon leader.
Peyland nodded.
“I look forward to your future contributions. This award is meant for the operation, but I can offer no additional rations or supplies.”
“Steel Heart! I thank the Captain for his consideration!”
“Return to your quarters, then.”
Arteon turned on his heel and headed toward the platoon barracks.
Receiving extra supplies from the north would at least make the frigid nights a little warmer.
But…
Thud.
Arteon walked toward the barracks, then immediately pivoted and walked somewhere else.
The recent battle.
‘It is still far from sufficient.’
He had not even properly utilized Vargas Spearmanship, and his mana movements had felt forced.
During the journey here.
‘I thought I had trained diligently…’
Arrogance.
He had neglected his own training while instructing the platoon’s combined techniques.
‘He must grow stronger.’
Arteon knew how harsh the northern battlefield truly was.
Though he had acquired Vargas’s Mana Cultivation Method and supreme spear arts.
‘One cannot obtain results without effort.’
Arteon quickened his steps toward the place he had scouted earlier.
Raising the platoon’s skill mattered, but.
‘Right now, I must pull them along.’
If that line collapsed, the current formation would crumble like sand.
How could they hope to defeat the vicious Kar tribe with mere days of training?
Eventually Arteon reached a secluded spot where tall trees and rocks formed a natural screen. He sat and closed his eyes.
Any posture would do, but according to Wolfhart’s memory, this one maximized focus.
Whoosh.
With his eyes shut, his other senses sharpened.
Especially the north’s piercing cold, now felt vividly alongside hearing.
Arteon began Vargas Mana Cultivation.
Uuuuung!
The mana around him trembled faintly, resonating with Arteon.
With every breath, mana flowed in and out of his body.
Inside him, the mana stirred in sync, writhing.
‘Faster than before…’
The sensation of mana gathering was unmistakable.
Creating the mana core had taken quite some time, but now that he could manipulate it, the acceleration was beyond comparison.
But how much time had passed?
Night had fully fallen, the northern darkness descending like ink.
“……?”
His senses, honed razor-sharp by the cultivation, detected something unfamiliar.
‘Not the soldiers inside the camp. Moreover, this movement…’
Fast.
Arteon knew instantly.
This was no ally within the camp.
‘Ambush!’
He sprang upright.
The cultivation had kept his mind clear and condition excellent.
“Is this direction?”
Arteon moved toward where the enemy had shifted.
Soon he understood what they targeted.
‘How… how could they know the exact position so precisely?’
The command tent he had scouted earlier.
Without hesitation, the enemies advanced straight toward it.
And…
“……You bastards.”
On the path to the commander’s tent.
Arteon frowned at the soldier bleeding out on the ground.
It was no illusion.
An enemy ambush.
“Enemy! Enemy has infiltrated the commander’s tent!”
Arteon poured mana into his voice and roared.
At that instant.
Piiiiiing!
A sharp, piercing flute wailed across the night.
“Where?! Who is it?!”
“Ambush?! Where is the ambush?!”
The soldiers inside the tent burst out in panic, shouting at the top of their lungs.
The enemies would be thoroughly disoriented now.
Arteon hurled himself toward Peyland’s tent.
Crash!
And…
‘Found…!’
Black-masked men charging toward the commander’s tent.
Arteon’s eyes blazed.
Though masked, one glance revealed them as Kar tribe warriors.
‘I recognize you fools from behind…!’
Arteon snatched the rod at his waist, infused it with mana.
In that moment.
Pakang!
Iglis revealed its true form.
Simultaneously, Arteon pushed off the ground and launched himself at them.
Crash!
“……?!”
The sudden appearance of Arteon caused the Kar warriors’ expressions to twist in shock.
Their movements suggested they had been perfectly aware of his approach.
“Attack!”
Leading the Jireun, Lokudam immediately ordered his warriors as he spotted the charging Arteon.
Together with the three Kar fighters nearby, they rushed him.
“Haaaah!”
“Die!”
Since they had already been detected, there was no reason to fight passively.
Kill the enemy swiftly and take the commander’s head.
The enemies shared the same thought and swung their axes toward Arteon.
But…
Crunch!
“……?!”
“What, what is this?”
“Ghk!”
In almost the same instant, the three Kar warriors’ attacks were repelled.
Impossible spear arts.
How could a boy who did not even look like a youth wield such craft…?
But there was no time to ponder.
Soon the enemy rushed forward at monstrous speed.
Slash!
“Ghk…!”
A crimson line appeared across the Kar warrior’s throat, and his body collapsed to the ground.
Thud.
The others flinched, staring at the youth.
An unassuming face.
Yet the eyes staring back were terrifying.
They had fought on the battlefield for over ten years.
‘What… eyes.’
‘Overwhelming killing intent…’
Their own throats tightened as Arteon’s pressure bore down on them.
Then…
Srrring.
Arteon lightly scraped the ground with his spear, lifted it, and pointed it straight at the Jireun leader.
Arteon spoke.
“Your operation has failed. Therefore…”
Flash!
“Become my offering here.”
He would kill them.
‘And ascend even higher.’
Arteon’s shadow surged toward the enemy like a beast.