Thoroughly Betrayed
The chaotic barrage of artillery shells confirmed that the right-wing forces were in dire straits, unraveling under relentless pressure.
With the rear guarded by General Richel, he moved out immediately to lend aid to the beleaguered allies.
Originally, his sole responsibility had been to defend the supply depots in this sector, yet since the Crown had also entrusted him with aiding a unit in crisis, the decision came as a natural necessity.
And so.
The moment the Empire troops who had been guarding the rear supply lines withdrew, the forces who had arrived early the previous night and hidden themselves tightly in the underbrush…
General Franklin and her subordinates began to slowly rise from within the thickets.
“Have you all made the preparations?”
“Of course, my lord.”
“Do not worry, we will finish the task without the slightest flaw.”
“Good. Then begin. Attack!”
With those words, Franklin launched the assault without a moment’s delay.
“Th-that’s the enemy!”
“What? How in the world did they get here?”
The Imperial soldiers stood stunned, their faces draining of color.
In the face of this shock, Franklin showed not the slightest hesitation as she cast her magic.
“Ice Burst!”
A torrent of icy waves surged forward with a wave of bone-chilling cold.
The Imperial soldiers guarding the position froze in their tracks, their entire bodies turning to ice within an instant and perishing without a chance to resist.
“Advance! Leave none alive, burn every last one of them!”
The main force vanished, along with the rear guard left behind to protect this area. The Imperial position was now essentially hollow.
Franklin and her subordinates swept through the camp like it was their own home, reducing all stored grain and supplies to ash.
*What remained was only the fortress? I pray Cromwell remains safe…*
The moment the reinforcements arrived, the rebel forces abandoned the farm and withdrew at once.
Even with bullets embedded in his body, General Frizer strode forward to meet Richel.
“How grateful I am, my lord. Had it not been for you, I might have met a truly grave end…”
“Are you all right? Judging by your injuries, they appear severe…”
“Haha… this is nothing. Come, we must press on. Now we need only seize the hill ahead.”
Despite the pain, Frizer forced a smile.
Richel felt a flicker of concern yet followed his words and began the retreat.
With time already lost, they immediately launched an assault on the hilltop rebels, aiming to deliver supporting fire as quickly as possible.
Although the geography placed them at a disadvantage—attacking uphill from below—
this position offered no hiding places for the rebels, unlike the open farmland.
Combined with Richel’s overwhelming troop advantage thanks to the reinforcements,
the Imperial soldiers charged the hill in a relentless tide of musket fire and magic.
“We’re almost there! Sweep them away!”
“For the Britain Empire!”
The two men shouted their victory cries, high on the hill, joy clear in their voices.
Then…
“!! M-my lord! Look there! Look at that!”
“Hmm?”
“What in the world is going on?!!”
The adjutant’s voice cracked with sudden terror.
Both Imperial commanders turned their gazes…
and witnessed the scene before them: the horror of a hammer striking an anvil, shattering everything.
Black smoke rose thickly, and beneath it flickered raging flames.
The location was directly…
“That… that’s… the supply depot, isn’t it?”
“It… it can’t be! We moved here without noticing a single rebel movement, yet in such a short time…?”
Richel, who had been constantly monitoring the rebels’ movements even as he rushed to aid Frizer, and who had left no scout report unchecked, stood there.
He had judged that the rebels were still stationary, so he had brought reinforcements to help his commander.
Yet…
as if mocking his efforts and expectations, the very supplies he had been guarding were now crumbling to ash in real time.
In an absurdly short time…
as though he had known from the start that he would abandon his position and flee.
“My lord, what should we do?”
“If we stay like this, the supplies will burn to nothing.”
“We must return at once! We cannot simply leave them!”
“Ugh…”
Richel’s subordinates’ frantic words left him lost in heavy thought.
His primary duty had been to protect the fortress and supplies from the rear, constantly observing enemy movements and reporting.
Helping was a secondary matter.
Yet out of loyalty to his comrades and a sliver of ambition, he had failed in his most critical mission.
And the result…
at this very moment, Richel realized he faced a choice that could not be postponed.
*If we withdraw here, we might salvage some of the supplies. But then the hill assault will be a complete failure… So what must we do?*
After coldly weighing the options, he turned to Frizer, who stood nearby with visible anxiety.
“Let us continue the advance.”
“N-no? B-but…”
“Right now, this is our only path. Besides, even if we return we won’t recover much. Better to complete the mission and seize the fortress.”
“…Understood. I will do as you say.”
Following Richel’s resolute declaration of resolve, Frizer lifted his voice once more to renew the assault.
But then…
*Boom! Boom! Boom!*
“?!”
“W-what? Retreat?!”
The retreat horn sounded clearly and loudly, rendering the previous determination meaningless.
Both men felt confusion and irritation, yet they had no choice but to fall back.
“All troops, retreat!”
“Damn it! There’s no choice. Since it’s come to this, we must protect the supplies no matter what…”
Even as they voiced their dissatisfaction with the forced decision, both men obeyed orders.
But carrying out this retreat was no simple task.
“They’re fleeing! Pursue them to the end! Turn this place into their grave!”
“Argh… no, those are…”
“Damn it! Block them! We need time to fall back!”
The rebels renewed their attack the instant the Imperial forces began withdrawing.
The Empire troops, caught completely off guard, suffered severe bleeding as they were relentlessly hammered from behind while trying to escape.
“You’re Richel!”
“Yes… so you’re Benellita, huh. Well met! Since things turned out like this, I’ll take your head!”
“I’ll take yours! Come at me!”
Two high-grade warriors of equal power—both 6th-rank elites—swung their mana-condensed blades in a ferocious clash.
Yet their situations were worlds apart.
Richel had to retreat at all costs, while Benellita’s goal was simply to pin them down.
“Gah!”
In the end, Richel lost all composure and collapsed to the ground, wounded.
Watching him, Benellita gripped her golden-mana blade and raised it toward his neck.
“Goodbye then!”
Suddenly—
*Bang!*
“!…”
A sharp pain exploded through her. Benellita twisted violently, but Richel’s subordinates did not miss the opening and withdrew their lord at once.
“Captain! Are you all right?”
Benellita’s mana barrier had shattered, leaving her covered in bullet wounds.
Her subordinates helped her rise and sit, and she offered them a bitter smile.
“A leg wound. It would have been better if it had hit my heart…”
With those self-deprecating words, she popped the lid of a potion bottle with her teeth, poured it over the wound, and gave cold orders.
“Clean up the soldiers. That’s enough. Our mission is complete.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“As you command.”
*
“…So in the end we seized the hill… no, we were beaten horribly from front and back by the rebels… Is that it?”
“I have no face left, my lord…”
“Cut off the colonels’ heads!”
“…Ha… haha… ahahahaha!!”
The subordinates who had thrown themselves to the ground in shame.
Watching them, Grand General Burgoyne was gripped by a hollow, chilling laugh that left his back prickling. He could barely keep his balance.
“Y-you grand general!”
“A-are you all right?”
Burgoyne gently pushed away the hands of his aides trying to support him.
Then, in a voice dripping with cold frost, he asked Richel.
“So… how much grain remains? We asked how long we can hold out here… ahead.”
“Only enough for about two days’ worth at best. Even that is in poor condition, so how much we can use…”
“Two days… and we can’t even prepare for an attack, let alone retreat? Is that the situation?”
“Ugh…”
“My lord…”
“…For now, we must return to the fortress. A short rest first, then we’ll discuss further. Move. Everyone, advance quickly.”
“Yes… my lord.”
Following Burgoyne’s command, the soldiers began marching once more with heavy steps.
Watching their retreat, he muttered in utter despair.
“They got me… thoroughly crushed by those rebels… and by Cromwell… I, John Burgoyne, the Empire’s prideful grand general… was beaten to a pulp…”
*
“…Huff… huff… huff…”
A lone figure tumbled through the underbrush as he fled.
Though dawn had long since passed and night had fully settled, he refused to stop, racing forward desperately.
*My luck held out… I never thought I’d escape like that. Missing Clara was a pity, but…*
The Imperial camp was in chaos from the rebel attack.
Using the confusion, he had barely escaped and now raced toward the place he had been planning all along, pushing his body to the limit.
*Just you wait… Net o will not end like this! Burgoyne… and Olivier! I will definitely…*