Valleland.
In the rear of the Valleland front, currently the fiercest battleground on the continent, the confusion and screams were almost as intense as at the frontline. Most of the screams came from the mouths of the wounded, and the chaos spilled from the mouths of priests and doctors trying to manage these wounded.
Recruits rushed around like their feet were on fire, ensuring arrows, swords, and shields reached the frontline. Officers moved quickly, attempting to calm panicked soldiers and send them to positions that could influence the battle.
Nuns and priests transported the wounded to safety and treated them without a moment to catch their breath, while the wounded could only scream in agony.
“Quickly bring a priest or a nun! The squad commander is about to pass out!”
“There’s not enough arrows at the front! Logistics officer, please send reinforcements immediately to supply arrows! It’s urgent!”
“Tell the 2nd platoon to retreat to the rear. The marauders are focusing their attention on the front line right now…”
BOOM!
A brief silence spread through the chaotic rear. The tremendous burst of light had momentarily paralyzed their senses. Some of the wounded believed their end had finally come.
The flash and roar repeated several times. The soldiers in the rear, only just regaining their senses, realized what had deafened and blinded them—thunder and lightning. They turned their gaze toward the front line.
The view of the front line from a distance was nothing short of hellish.
Thick black clouds covered the sky and were being sucked into the center of the frontline at an unprecedented speed. Gigantic lightning strikes continuously rained down on the battlefield. Even from tens of kilometers away, the thunder was deafening, and the soldiers could feel the air heating up beneath their skin.
When the anger of the heavens subsided after what felt like a minute, the sky returned to its normal, deceptively clear blue.
Most soldiers were left dumbstruck and unable to comprehend the situation, but a dark-haired mage with a pipe in his mouth merely smiled contentedly as he gazed toward the front with evident satisfaction.
“…This exceeds expectations.”
Beside this pipe-smoking mage, Bel Artura, stood the Holy Maiden Gridia. Both had red, bloodshot eyes filled with laughter.
“He’s Alter Heinzel’s star pupil, after all. And he’s also been recorded as the youngest Fifth Tier mage in history. It’s not surprising that he’s making a name for himself.”
Gridia’s words prompted a small nod from Bel. Though they were of different schools, Bel clearly felt reassured by the arrival of a capable successor.
“How many Grand Marshals do you see?”
“Hmm… let’s wait a moment.”
Gridia lightly responded and leaned forward. Thanks to a buff that heightened her senses, her vision was sharper even than that of elves.
“…Right now, I can see two Grand Marshals with the naked eye. One is recovering from the aftereffects of being fried by lightning, and the other is keeping an eye on the situation. The fog and dark clouds have dissipated as expected, and it seems the soldiers’ demeanor has also changed somewhat?”
“What about the others?”
“Can’t identify them just by sight. They’re probably hiding somewhere.”
“Exactly. These two will likely keep lurking in dark corners, watching us until we reveal ourselves. Even if they’re momentarily stunned, they’re still Grand Marshals— it’s hard to imagine these two monsters considering death for the soldiers at the front line now.”
“Is everything alright? You’ve consumed a fair amount of mana, haven’t you?”
“It’s a ruse to pretend I’ve depleted my mana for the operation. Actually, I still have plenty left.”
“…”
Gridia decided to ignore Bel’s bravado.
Bel had indeed left some mana in reserve, but considering the scale of the impending battle, the remaining mana in his body was far from sufficient.
She wanted to suggest he retreat to the rear, but she knew all too well that Bel wouldn’t hear it even if she did.
“Let’s go.”
Bel began to slowly descend the hill. Gridia followed behind him with a worried expression while officers and soldiers who caught sight of the duo couldn’t help but question Bel anxiously, worried about where he was heading in his exhausted state.
“To win.”
This answer caused the officers and soldiers to stand in his way, worried that he had used up all his mana.
“I am the highest commander of this battlefield. And you’re telling me to lie down and suck my thumb while the greatest historical reversal is about to take place?”
Hearing the cold voice of Bel, the soldiers knew they couldn’t stop him. All they could do was voice new questions.
“…A reversal, you say?”
“A reversal that will stand the test of time in the continent’s history. Watch and see.”
“Watch and see.”
This wasn’t just addressed to the soldiers standing in front of him now. It was also a message to the buried subordinates somewhere on this battlefield, who may have turned to dust.
Bel’s left arm started to ache again. The ringing in his ears echoed. He couldn’t tell whether it was caused by the thunder ceremony that had just swept through the battlefield or by some other wound.
An unusually pleasant southern breeze began to blow.
It was an overly gentle wind for warriors standing on the battlefield.
*
It’s heating up.
The steel of swords and shields is heating up, the voices of the mages are reaching their crescendo, and the fingertips of the archers gripping their bows are becoming warmer.
The air is overheated and the soldiers are excessively agitated.
Stepping onto the hardened ground, the infantry moved forward, as the Grand Marshal with massive wings, Raguel, spoke softly: “Hold them back.”
Upon these words, the ground that had been rigid began to shake. Mutated creatures hidden in the muddy no-man’s land began to surface.
Their bodies, damaged by the aftermath of Lir’s storm and burned black, somehow moved.
“Tch, less than half survived.”
Raguel gave an irritated glare and raised a finger. Following his command, the charred chunks of flesh grabbed heavy axes and greatswords and began running.
Soldiers easily handled the injured mutants. Even though exhausted, these were elite among elites. Mutants who have already been singed by lightning were no match to stop the soldiers’ advance.
“High-ranking marauders approaching from the one o’clock position in the sky! They’re leading a group!”
A report akin to a scream echoed from the soldiers’ rear. It was the voice of an elf holding a massive bow.
Where the soldiers turned their gaze, winged marauders were flying toward them against the backdrop of the clear blue sky.
“Prepare intercept!”
Thanks to the dissipation of fog and dark clouds, enemies could be noticed more quickly. Elf archers and mages simultaneously aimed their staves and arrows at the oncoming foes, and moments later, sharp arrowheads were cutting cleanly through the wind.
Arrows, shot from distances of tens of kilometers, hit the chests of high-level marauders with such speed that they seemed impossible to have been fired by ordinary humans.
“Smooth winds.”
This happened because aid from mages of the Ether School was added to the arrows launched by the archers. A large hole appeared in the chest of a marauder like it had been hit by a cannonball, and a powerful shockwave spread to the surrounding marauders.
“Useless resistance…!”
The high-level marauder with a huge hole in his chest screamed as his shattered body regenerated instantly.
“Nucleus position?”
“Do we have time to identify each one?! We’ll hit one eventually, so just keep firing!”
Arrows from the archers erupted skyward like a fountain. The air clinging to the arrows’ tails exploded as instructed by the mages, acting like gunpowder.
The high-level marauders, facing the oncoming barrage of arrows, raised their palms. A faint barrier enveloped their bodies, causing the arrows streaking toward them in straight lines to suddenly change their trajectory and scatter in all directions.
Rather than blocking the attack with a solid shield, this magic felt more akin to a martial arts master deflecting an opponent’s punch.
“Damn! Physical attacks won’t work?!”
Looking at the high-level marauder group deflecting countless arrows, one of the archers cried out. It was a sight that had never been seen before.
And in this moment, there was no time to examine and break down this previously unseen defense magic. High-level marauders were rapidly flying toward the infantry heads, pouring their mana into the sky as they went.
If they didn’t intercept them immediately, there was no doubt they would cause significant damage to the allied forces.
“Changing tactics! Archers, support the ground troops! Mages will directly intercept…”
“Inferno.”
The cold, chilling voice cut through the officer’s loud command.
BOOM!
In the next moment, a massive dark spot formed among the high-level marauders flying towards them before rapidly expanding and emitting a fierce light.
A massive orb of light engulfing everything around it had unexpectedly descended.
The soldiers’ already burning armor, shields, and swords took on even more heat from the intense blaze.
Caught up in the intense heat, the soldiers felt like they were trapped marine life in a steamer. Yet instead of complaints or cries of agony, they were busy shouting jubilantly.
There was only one mage in this world capable of creating such a massive flame with merely a single, hushed word.
“Whole army, don’t stop!”
It was a cold, chilly voice full of cutting edge. There was anger in that voice, and a sense of unknown resentment and sorrow mixed together.
As ash began to settle on his jet-black hair, nothing remained in the place where the massive explosion had occurred.
A female priest dressed in a blood-and-mud-stained robe stood behind the man who had turned dozens of high-level lords into a pile of ash with but a single word. She was quietly chanting a low prayer for the blood-soaked battlefield and the soldiers swinging their blades upon it.
“Behind you is us.”
The black-haired mage, brushing off the ash that had settled on his head, quietly cursed under his breath.
Raguel looked somewhat perplexed by Bel’s appearance.
“…Your mana is almost depleted, right? Didn’t you forget that marauders can see mana? Any more use of magic, and you’ll become utterly exhausted.”
“Yadda yadda, enough with the nagging… it’s annoying.”
It appeared Bel didn’t care a bit for Raguel’s words.
“Ah! That’s the reason. Because of this brat, right? It’s clear you don’t have confidence that this kid— who still has a long way to grow—would defeat the Grand Marshals. And yet, you can’t afford to just let this promising potential die… So you’ve come here to die instead. Definitely a reasonable judgment.”
After briefly observing the situation, Raguel loudly started theorizing as if he had correctly read Bel’s mind. Bin thought to himself, ‘This fool must think that Bel appeared on the battlefield with his exhausted body solely to save me.’
“Alright, do you have an escape plan? How will you extract this brat from the Grand Marshals? Eighty percent of Valleland’s land has fallen into marauder hands. How do you plan to save this brat now…”
“Soldiers!”
Cutting Raguel off, Bel shouted loudly. His voice was so commanding that soldiers swinging swords and shields couldn’t help but be momentarily dazed.
“…That, that wretched little thing.”
Bin, having been utterly ignored, twisted his expression to openly show his displeasure.
“Everyone, did you eat a hearty breakfast this morning?”
Of course, whether Bin showed displeasure or not, Bel continued his speech without pause.
“I don’t know where your hometowns are, but if you didn’t eat a hearty breakfast this morning, you’re going to suffer quite a lot from hunger today. There’s no dinner planned for tonight!”
The cry from the man with jet-black hair carried a deep resonance. Beneath this general who had witnessed countless blood and death over the past two months lay a profound sorrow that no one could have guessed.
“There will be no celebration banquets to commemorate today’s victory! Most of the soldiers would probably prefer to spend the evening with their families rather than sharing a meal with the lousy faces they’ve been seeing for two months anyway.”
The confident tone left the soldiers momentarily stunned as they looked at each other, then slowly began to smile faintly.
Bel’s words carried a far greater weight than those of other commanding officers.
Unlike other regular commanders who deliver morale-boosting lies, Bel never spoke such falsities. He had never lied, not even saying that supplies would arrive soon or that the battle situation would turn in their favor.
“Soldiers, you’ve toiled enough just to survive until today! But I have one more favor to ask!”
He always coldly analyzed the present situation and delivered it to the soldiers as it was. Though his nature was unknown, Bel had been explaining the realities to the soldiers, who lived with the uncertainty of their possibly dying the next day.
“Suffer just one more day! Rage just one more day! Behead your enemies just one more day! For just one more day, die for me!”
Tasks he referred to as “with a high risk of death” were invariably akin to suicide missions where surviving was near impossible, while “easy tasks,” according to him, were simple enough to do with their eyes closed.
“On the contrary, I’ll secure the victory for you! I’ll slaughter all your Grand Marshals to the last.”
Hence… his confident declaration was a good omen for the soldiers.
Bel Artura was not one to lie to soldiers with sweet words even if his tongue should be cut out.
The soldiers were certain.
Bel had been hiding some ultimate plan up until now, and he would reveal it right now at this critical moment.
The word “showmanship” didn’t suit Bel Artura at all.
He was an endlessly cynical realist, a ruthless pragmatist, and an impeccable strategist without the slightest blemish.
“Your vengeance will be handled by me, General of the Continental Alliance, Bel Artura!”
Bel Artura shouted, as if spewing out the deep resentment stored within his chest.
“Survival is not freely granted! Thrash about, soldiers! Win it yourselves, soldiers! Sacrifice your lives, soldiers! If you don’t want to feel this hell tomorrow, scream and be ready for your hearts to be pierced by enemy blades!”
“YYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAA!!!”
In sync with Bel’s cries, the soldiers all screamed. Their hands holding their swords trembled with excitement, and sweat built up on their arms and legs due to the battle fervor.
The soldiers ripped through the flesh mountains before them, advancing even faster. Their poison-laden blood melted their armor and shields, but they did not care.
“Let’s die together, then.”
The heat of the battlefield had reached its peak.
