I Waited for This
Starlight lay thin across the northern sky.
Hadel stepped out of the tent, pulling his coat tight against the cold wind that snapped at its hem, and fixed his gaze on the forward reaches of the Fourth Defense Line.
The dark kept him from seeing far, yet he could almost picture the ferocity of the fighting as if it stood plain before his eyes.
"…Arteon."
He spoke the name under his breath.
When he had first laid eyes on the boy, distrust had come first.
Too young.
And achievements that, set against that youth, defied all reason.
Everything had smelled inflated, staged — a fixed game.
Of course, once he heard that the Imperial Palace itself had held a ceremony of merit, his mind had known the accomplishments were real.
And yet… why?
Had he simply not wanted to admit it?
Nothing about the young man at that first meeting had sat well with him.
A frame still unfinished, light as a child's.
A calm manner of speech that clashed with it completely.
But…
After the platoon assignment, everything Arteon showed him had been the opposite of what Hadel had imagined.
In this brutal northern theater he trained every single day and steadied his comrades.
In a matter of days he had the entire platoon in the palm of his hand.
And then that absurd operations plan…
Clear judgment. Instant resolve.
And above all else… those eyes.
A gaze far too deep and sharp to belong to a fifteen-year-old — it was still burned into Hadel's mind.
The more he turned the memory over, the colder the chill that ran down his spine.
That look was not something mere combat talent could buy.
It was the gaze of one who had watched countless men die.
Something only those who had crawled up out of the mud could carry.
Which made it all the stranger.
How could a soldier so young possess eyes like that?
"…You will come back. You must."
Knowing Battalion Commander Leorn's temperament, failure would mean a punishment no one could dodge.
Even so, more than the success of the operation, Hadel wanted the men to return alive.
Failed mission.
Disciplinary action.
Given enough time, none of that would mean a thing.
What he could not bear was watching a soldier of such staggering potential snuffed out in a place like this.
How many gifted northern soldiers had he already watched die absurd, senseless deaths?
Since joining the army he had led countless men and sent countless comrades away.
But this time…
The eyes Hadel turned toward the front held a hope more desperate than any he had ever known.
Beyond the brush, through the thick fog, an enormous silhouette took shape.
A coat of beast hide covered his upper body; beneath it, thick muscle was mapped with the deep scars of long experience.
In his hand, a massive axe.
Ulgraak scowled with pure rage and glared toward the direction the javelins had come from.
"Damn it all… you filthy Imperial bastards… what the hell kind of shit did you pull…!"
The words came low, but the killing intent inside them was murderous.
Then Ulgraak lifted his head and looked at the man standing beyond the brush.
"…"
The build was a man's, yet the face glimpsed through the dark still held a touch of youth.
But the pressure rolling off him…
Ulgraak knew at a glance that this one was an Imperial commander.
His grip tightened on the axe haft.
And the moment their eyes met—
Boom!
"…!"
Without so much as a second's hesitation, the boy charged straight at him.
It happened in an instant.
Yes, the Imperials had them surrounded — but this was still a battlefield thick with Ulgraak's own warriors.
"You've got guts, I'll give you that. But guts like yours don't live long!"
Ulgraak bellowed and raised his axe.
At the same time he slammed a foot into the earth—
Boom!
Every blade of grass around him shuddered as a crushing wave of force exploded outward.
And then—
Fwoosh!
As Arteon cut through the undergrowth like a fish through water, every Kar warrior — Ulgraak included — filled his field of vision.
The hallucinations from the Pimacho smoke were fading; most of them looked to have come back to their senses.
But…
The aftereffects had not fully cleared. They still could not throw themselves completely into the fight.
If not now…
He would never get another chance to face the enemy commander without interference.
Arteon's movement was as swift as a predator's and as silent as a shadow.
At that strange, never-before-seen footwork, Ulgraak's pupils flickered.
But—
"You think cheap tricks like that will so much as scratch me?"
Ulgraak swept his axe in a great arc toward the charging Arteon.
From upper left to lower right.
The diagonal cut came down like a guillotine, aiming straight for Arteon's skull.
Arteon's eyes locked onto the swinging blade.
He had faced Kar warriors who fought with axes that size before.
Dodge the strike and the man would spin with the momentum and come in even faster on the next blow.
Lose the initiative and the style became a nightmare.
It was the pure crushing-power type — fail to break that power and you spent the rest of the fight dodging until you had no choice but to run.
Which is why…
He would deflect it.
Arteon poured every scrap of mana he could currently command into Iglis.
Vmmmmmm!
As the fierce surge of power flooded in all at once, Iglis hummed with something like joy.
And then — one strike only.
He swung the spear with everything he had, straight into the warlord's descending axe.
CRAAAAASH!
A thunderous impact rolled across the field.
Warriors nearby flinched and froze where they stood; the brush at the point of collision lay flattened in a perfect circle.
But no one in that space was more stunned than Ulgraak himself.
His own arm and axe had been driven skyward.
His eyes shook violently — he could not even grasp what had just happened.
"You… deflected my attack?"
How could a frame that small produce force like that?
But the thought did not last long.
If that was how it was, he would simply hit harder — hard enough that deflection became impossible.
Vmmmmm!
Blue mana flared and writhed around Ulgraak's body.
His aura climbed, thick with overwhelming pressure.
"Try this one!"
The axe that had been flung skyward came down in a straight vertical chop.
KRAAAAAAASH!
Destructive force on a completely different scale.
The ground shattered; stone shards and shredded brush went flying in every direction.
"…?"
Ulgraak's brow twitched.
He had believed the blow nearly impossible to evade — yet his axe was buried deep in the dirt.
And in that instant—
Swaaaaaash!
Arteon, who had slipped aside, thrust his spear straight at Ulgraak's ribs.
Startled, Ulgraak twisted hard and barely cleared the point.
He wanted nothing more than to seize the shaft and snap it, but the spear recovered even faster than it had struck — the speed was monstrous.
This bastard…
Ulgraak's gaze settled on Arteon.
Youthful face or not — none of that mattered now.
He's seasoned.
Seasoned specifically in fighting men like us.
None of the textbook Imperial footwork was there.
Unlike ordinary Imperial soldiers, those who reached commander-level strength were almost always forged through systematic education and training.
They carried the polished feel of orthodox swordsmanship or spearmanship — nothing like the raw, wild quality of the Kar.
And men like that tended to collapse the moment they met an unexpected variable.
Hadn't more than ten Imperial officers already died to Ulgraak that way?
But this one…
This one was different.
He could not pin down exactly what the difference was, and yet—
"You little shit…"
It was as if the boy carried a scent close to their own.
Ulgraak's brow furrowed as he raised the axe again.
The boy still looked young.
Which meant there was still room left for him to grow far beyond this.
If I let him live…
There was no predicting what he might become.
Ulgraak's instincts were screaming danger signals at full volume.
Do not let him leave alive.
If he grows any further, he will become a serious threat.
Decision made, Ulgraak surged forward, aura flaring, and charged at Arteon.
Even if it cost him men here, he intended to kill this one for certain.
"Hup!"
Through twisted air, Ulgraak's axe came screaming toward Arteon.
It skimmed past hair, splitting empty space, then reversed for a second cut without losing momentum.
But—
Tap!
On the razor's edge of death, Arteon calmly slipped the attacks.
And whenever Ulgraak's strikes began to build speed and power—
"Hup!"
CLANG!
"…!"
—Arteon cut the flow, accepting the shock if he had to, severing the rhythm cold.
"You bastard!"
Every time it happened, Ulgraak roared and swung even harder.
Just as the tide of the fight was about to tip his way, Arteon would ghost in and shut it down — and the sheer frustration of it set Ulgraak's blood boiling.
"I'll kill you!"
Rage finally drowned out reason.
Boom!
Ulgraak launched off the ground and hauled the axe high overhead.
Blue lightning flickered along the edge like a living thing, pouring out thick, choking murder.
Arteon's eyes flashed.
"HRAAAAAAAAAH!"
Under any other circumstances that strike would have been something you dodged without thinking.
The Arteon of the past would have dodged it too.
Now…!
But the Arteon who had mastered Vargas Northern Spearmanship took a completely different approach.
The instant Ulgraak poured everything into a single killing blow—
Fwoosh!
—Arteon shifted sideways, set Iglis across his left arm like a shield, and drove the flat of the spear straight into the side of the descending axe.
It was less a block than a full-body ram — spear locked against flesh, his entire frame behind the impact.
And the moment Arteon's spear slammed into Ulgraak's axe—
KRAAAAAAASH!
A shockwave tore the air apart. Ulgraak's axe was blasted aside.
The weapon that had been meant to split him in two buried itself deep in the earth instead. Ulgraak staggered back a step, stunned that the blow had been stopped at all.
"You insane little—!"
He lunged to wrench the axe free and set up his next move.
But then—
It stuck.
"…!"
Had he driven it in too deep?
The axe would not come free in a single pull.
No…
Ulgraak's eyes went wide.
Had this green boy planned the entire exchange?
His thoughts tangled.
And in that heartbeat—
"I waited for this."
In the split second Ulgraak froze, Arteon seized the opening and gripped the spear in both hands.
The earlier impact had left his left arm blackened, torn, and streaming blood.
A wound that should have been crippling — and he did not so much as blink.
Both hands locked on the shaft, Arteon poured every last ounce of power he possessed into a thrust aimed straight at Ulgraak.
Swaaaaaaaaaash!
The air itself seemed to rip.
The spear shot forward in a perfect line, locked dead on Ulgraak's heart.
And the instant the point touched the warlord's body—
Shlick!
"Tamaaaaaaan!"
From the rear of the fighting, Ulgraak's deputy Moldur's raw, desperate scream tore across the entire battlefield.