The Mad Spearman's Northern Front
The forest lay shrouded in darkness, its tranquility suddenly shattered by a deep, resonant thump-thump-thump.
A scent of damp earth and trampled grass lingered in the air. Beneath it, the faint, lingering stench of blood.
Moldur knelt on one knee, palm pressed flat against the ground.
Behind him, dozens of elite Kar Tribe warriors stood in rigid formation.
“……”
A few scattered branches lay broken on the forest floor, their ends still sharp. Beside them were the deep, unmistakable imprints of imperial soldiers’ boots.
'He hasn't gone far.'
By the dryness of the snapped twigs, the passage had been recent. Only hours, at most.
With the same thought, Moldur recalled the corpses of the warriors they had encountered along the way.
'More than a hundred.'
He let out a short, silent sigh.
In barely two days, the enemy had eliminated more of their own warriors than he cared to count.
Most had died from single, brutal strikes.
No prolonged frontline clash—merely hidden ambushes delivered in a single, merciless moment.
The implication was clear.
'These are fighters who excel at small-scale warfare.'
Moldur remained cautious.
If the enemy had set an ambush to draw them in, the situation could become far more dangerous.
But…
He crushed a small branch in his fist and rose to his feet.
'Given our pace and the signs of combat, they must be at their limit.'
Humans, after all, could not fight indefinitely.
Even if a battle broke out here, it would favor them.
“Listen up, warriors.”
Moldur straightened slowly and turned to address his men.
“From this point forward, we move at a reduced pace. The enemy is likely close by.”
His words caused dozens of Kar Tribe warriors to sharpen their gazes.
Already reaching for swords and axes, they hung on every syllable.
“If the imperial bastards are waiting in ambush for us, we will cut off their heads and offer them to the fallen.”
They were already exhausted, and even after rest, they would not fully recover from the accumulated wounds.
His words ignited their fighting spirit.
Revenge for their dead comrades would be exacted without mercy.
“Let’s move.”
Following Moldur’s command, the Kar Tribe warriors advanced, scanning their surroundings as they followed the trail.
And from a distance, watching them was Arteon.
“……”
He observed their path in silence.
As his eyes tracked them, his brows furrowed deeply.
'They’re following the exact route.'
Skipping over the broken branches had been a mistake.
Perhaps if he had tried to erase every trace, he might even have been caught earlier.
His lips pressed into a tight line.
But after a moment, he turned quietly and moved toward the rest area where his platoon was taking a break.
“Where did you go, Captain?”
Grein greeted him first upon arrival, voice cautious.
“……Is there something wrong?”
“The enemy.”
“……!”
Grein’s eyes widened in shock.
Before he could leap upright, Arteon raised a hand to stop him.
“Stay calm.”
“If they’re right behind us, we should prepare for combat here and now.”
The saving grace was that the enemy had not yet spotted them.
If they were simply hiding and preparing to strike, they could still take down the enemy as before.
But Arteon’s eyes remained resolute.
“If we fight, everyone dies.”
There was not a trace of hesitation in his voice.
That alone seemed to silence the entire platoon.
Grein, the others—everyone’s mouths went dry.
This was the first time Arteon had ever spoken with such cold certainty.
“Then… what do we do?”
Grein asked, taking the lead.
Arteon turned to the rest of the unit.
“Even in normal conditions, we cannot guarantee victory. But right now, everyone is exhausted.”
“I’m fine with it.”
“I can fight, Captain.”
Everyone knew better than Arteon that a short rest would not restore their strength.
He shook his head firmly.
“No. They are on a completely different level. One fight and it’s a death sentence.”
His gaze drifted toward the lead of the Kar Tribe group.
Arteon’s mind flashed to the monster-like face he had seen earlier, and his fingers unconsciously tightened around the spear shaft.
But when he spoke, Grein’s eyes flared.
“Still… we cannot abandon the oath. We cannot turn our backs on them.”
“Correct. Tens of Kar Tribe warriors have already fallen. We cannot run now—this would be an unforgivable stain on our honor.”
“We are ready to give our lives for the Captain at any moment.”
Grein’s and the vice-platoon leaders’ words were met with nods from the other soldiers.
All of them had survived this hellish battlefield together.
With comrades by their side, death held no fear.
But at those words, Arteon’s eyes grew cold.
A strange, almost pained look crossed his face.
“Listen to me.”
He looked at each soldier in turn.
Then, drawing on every memory he had endured, he declared with unshakeable conviction:
“If you want to win this war, you must abandon that hollow pride. Right now.”
Every pair of eyes widened.
It was not the response he had expected.
But Arteon paid no heed to their surprise and continued.
“Do not stake your lives on this low-probability fight. Your lives are far too valuable to waste on something this insignificant.”
The air grew heavy.
“If you truly want to win, live. Survival and then cutting the enemy’s string is true revenge and true victory.”
With those words, Arteon rose slowly.
“Grein, take command of the platoon here.”
“……What about you, Captain?”
“I’ll draw them out.”
“……!”
Grein’s eyes bulged.
Instantly, he stood up.
“That is impossible!”
“If we move together, it only hinders you. Splitting up is the only way for all of us to survive.”
Arteon lightly tapped Grein’s shoulder.
The anger he had shown moments ago had vanished, replaced by a gentle gaze.
“Trust me. I will return.”
“……But—”
“There is no time to hesitate. Prepare the unit immediately if you do not wish to lose every single soldier.”
Arteon glanced in the direction the Kar Tribe was approaching.
Then he turned to the rest.
“Everyone, return to the unit without losing a single man. When we get back, training will begin again. Prepare yourselves.”
The same calm, steady voice as always.
The soldiers simply clenched their fists in silence.
Arteon continued.
“When they start chasing me, head in the opposite direction.”
“……Understood.”
After hearing Grein’s reply, Arteon leaped forward without hesitation.
Whoosh!
In the blink of an eye, he vanished into the darkness.
The three soldiers watched his retreating figure.
Grein bit his lip quietly and muttered, “……Please come back safely.”
And then…
Whoosh!
Hidden behind a curtain of fog in the thicket, Arteon seized a spear he had brought with him.
The only way to draw their full attention…
“Hmph……”
He channeled mana into the spear shaft.
Since his mana cultivation method was not yet at its highest level, he could not fill it completely.
But even so…
'This alone will be enough to draw their eyes.'
A spark lit in his gaze.
Simultaneously, he hurled the spear toward the Kar Tribe warriors.
Swoosh—whooosh—whooosh!
With a deafening sonic boom, the spear streaked forward.
“……!”
“What the—?!”
Thud!
It pierced straight through the chests of three Kar Tribe warriors and embedded into the trunk of a tree.
Moldur lifted his head sharply.
“Ambush! Everyone, take cover!”
A roar echoed through the forest.
But no follow-up attack came.
Arteon had thrown it from a great distance and immediately turned to disappear into the darkness.
Moldur’s eyes flickered with disbelief.
'From that distance… all the way here…?'
Unbelievable destructive power.
Yet scanning the surroundings, he saw no signs of other hidden troops.
It was clearly an intentional act.
'They want to lure us?'
Offering themselves as bait?
It made no sense, yet it did not matter.
As long as that single monster was killed, a few ordinary soldiers were of no consequence.
“Chase him! Move quickly!”
Moldur shouted and pushed off the ground. The Kar Tribe warriors followed without delay.
Their speed as they charged the hill was that of wild beasts.
At the same moment, deep in the forest:
“……3rd Platoon, full retreat in the opposite direction.”
Grein gave the quiet order and led the 3rd Platoon away at a rapid pace.
Though he knew it was a tactical withdrawal, not a flight, Grein’s hand trembled.
Each step away from Arteon felt like a heavy burden.
The lips he bit so hard were bleeding, turning crimson.
'I’ll return soon, Captain.'
Just hold on a little longer.
His inner anger at his own weakness surged, yet he knew he had no choice but to retreat.
And within the fog-choked battlefield:
Whoosh!
Arteon lured dozens of pursuing Kar Tribe warriors deeper into the woods.
—
Whoosh!
Soon, moving while hiding itself became meaningless.
Behind him, dozens of Kar Tribe warriors chased through the thicket at full speed.
“Huff! Huff! Huff!”
He controlled his breathing, but further escape held no meaning.
Glancing back, only about half the initial number remained visible.
They had clearly taken another route to encircle him.
Then…
'Here… we settle it.'
He had to reduce their numbers before they could combine their full strength.
Whoosh!
With his decision made, Arteon twisted sharply and plunged into the thicket.
Thick branches scraped his body like blades, but he paid no heed and ran at full speed.
“What?!”
“Pursue him!”
Seeing Arteon suddenly veer into an empty path, Moldur’s eyes widened.
They had sensed their soldiers were being split for a pincer movement?
'But…'
Even so, nothing changed.
Pii!
Moldur placed two fingers in his mouth and blew a signal like a whistle.
This would allow the dispersed warriors on both flanks to tighten their encirclement on their own.
“We’ll chase after him.”
“Yes.”
“Understood.”
Following Moldur’s command, the Kar Tribe warriors rushed toward the thicket where Arteon had entered.
But in that instant—
Swooosh!
“……!”
Moldur twisted aside as the spear shot out right in front of him.
He had barely dodged it.
Crash!
A dull thud from behind made him turn.
Thud.
Two warriors lay dead without even resisting.
And the moment Moldur looked forward again—
“You bastard……!”
A monstrous figure stood there, face young and cruel, eyes sharp as daggers.