Chapter 63: The Ferocious Mighty and the Lack of Martial Morality

Chapter 63: The Ferocious Mighty and the Lack of Martial Morality

Airael stood on a high point near the coast, protected by the Royal Palace Guards.

She gazed out at the vast human army deployed on the ocean, her expression distant.

Before her was a formidable human force.

It loomed endlessly, much like the ocean itself.

The first defensive line set by Krul had already been breached by them, leading to Krul’s unfortunate demise.

Once upon a time, she too was human.

But now, she was no longer of that kind.

Her identity was that of the Elven Queen, and she must now confront humanity in this capacity.

As Airael lingered in her thoughts, the human army began to slowly approach the shore.

Each one seemed to proceed with caution.

They were afraid.

Afraid that the Elves would unleash that powerful War Magic upon them once more.

Even more so, they dreaded the prospect of being the targets of such spells.

But at this moment, their worries were unfounded.

The Elves also desired to unleash a wave of War Magic to weaken the human forces and their morale, but casting that type of magic wasn’t simple.

Drawing a massive Magic Circle was indeed simple for the Elven Race, but it required rare magical materials, resources that weren’t so easily obtained.

Most crucially, these landing points were merely minor checkpoints according to the Elves’ strategy.

Silnas Island was unlike the previous unnamed isles; as a larger island, it had enough depth for the Elven Race to set up multiple defenses to thwart the human advance.

The most critical checkpoint, without a doubt, was Silnas Fortress!

Thus, it wasn’t necessary to expend excessive effort here.

Relieved by the absence of the threat of War Magic, the human soldiers felt fortunate.

The human officers quickly ordered their troops to march onward.

They didn’t want to linger in the sea longer than necessary.

Even without the threat of Elven War Magic, they didn’t fancy trading long-range fire with the Elves stationed on the shore.

Firstly, they wouldn’t stand a chance; secondly, they needed to seize those landing points quickly.

Time was of the essence.

Commander Victor had given them only one day.

In that single day, the main force must land and then launch a full-on offensive against Silnas Island.

While several legion commanders grumbled, they had no choice but to follow orders.

Despite having defeated the main Elven forces earlier, what remained were still remnants and mixed units—yet even those mixed units exceeded the overall strength of human soldiers.

Moreover, with the advantageous terrain favoring the defender, the difficulty of their mission only compounded.

But Victor was also painfully aware of his plight.

Though the severity of his father’s condition had been temporarily concealed, they had merely been told he needed rest and that he would manage everything afterward, the longer it went on, the more doubt would seep into their minds about whether his father could endure.

Victor knew that those soldiers respected his father, not him.

If that understanding faltered, he would lose control over them entirely.

Thus, he could only wield his father’s name as a shield, striving to maintain authority while his father’s health remained undiscovered.

As long as they remained uncertain about his father’s actual state, they wouldn’t dare to oppose him.

This was the best tactic he could conjure.

His future hinged entirely on his father.

If he could see Alexander recover, everything would be a mere footnote.

Those soldiers would be utterly powerless against him.

However, if Alexander didn’t recover, then they would come crashing down on him.

The grievances of today would most assuredly be remembered and returned to him in spades.

On the flagship, Victor fixed his gaze ahead at the impending chaos of battle, his heart racing.

This was the first time he was commanding such a large-scale confrontation.

Moreover, this battle would determine his and his father’s future.

Everything hinged on this very conflict.

As the human fleet slipped into the range of the Elven war machines, the Elven forces wasted no time unleashing their firepower upon the human ships.

The human warships pressed forward against the Elven barrage and began to retaliate.

In this chaotic scene, soldiers from the Sea Tribe surged forward, riding massive waves to land and charge at the distracted Elven soldiers.

For the Elven fighters, however, their initial moment of confusion quickly transformed into steadiness.

Thanks to their previous experience fighting at the unnamed isle, they had already anticipated these treacherous sea marauders from the start.

These guys helped humans fight their own kin and had no qualms about launching sneak attacks!

They might fall for it once, but never again!

Airael observed it all.

Although the Elven guards managed to fend off the Sea Tribe’s assault momentarily, she understood that the Elven forces could not hold out forever.

As previously mentioned, this wasn’t the primary defensive stronghold of the Elven Race; they only needed to hold back the humans just a little and give them a taste of defeat—the bigger blow was still waiting behind.

Airael’s gaze shifted inward toward the island.

Silnas Fortress stood at the heart of the isle.

Protected by the surrounding woods, it was a well-defended stronghold.

For the humans to set foot on Silnas Fortress, they must first traverse that vast forest.

As she thought of their preparations within the woods, a smirk crept across Airael’s lips.

She was certain the human army below could never fathom the scene that awaited them.

Aside from these thoughts, Airael also truly witnessed the brutality of war.

This was something that couldn’t be grasped from a large screen.

Lives were lost by the minute on the battlefield.

Gradually, as casualties piled up, Airael’s expression morphed into one of weighty sorrow without her realizing it.

The anguished cries of soldiers echoed incessantly in her ears.

She could almost smell the pungent stench of blood wafting from the battlefield, making her stomach churn.

“Your Majesty!”

Hela, watching Airael, called out with concern.

Airael gently shook her head and replied, “I’m fine, don’t worry about me.”

Simultaneously, she started to encourage herself.

This was nothing; just a minor skirmish. As the Elven Queen, you would certainly face much graver scenes ahead, so you must hold on!

Absolutely cannot let it out!

Airael clenched her teeth, determined to suppress any urge to vomit.

Gradually, it seemed she had become accustomed to the scent of slaughter.

Airael felt much better now, no longer feeling the urge to retch.

Yet having witnessed such a cruel spectacle of war, the once-peaceful Airael found herself utterly disenchanted with the very notion of conflict.

War was something that should be avoided if at all possible.

If it could be prevented, then so be it.

But if it was inevitable, then there was little that could be done.