Wortenia Senki (LN) - Volume 28 - Chapter 3

Chapter 3: The Glint of a Bardiche

The morning sun began to peek over the horizon, and the surroundings gradually grew brighter. One might call it perfect for battle. The nation blessed with such fine weather was the Kingdom of Xarooda, which stood as one of the three kingdoms dominating the eastern part of the western continent. Though filled by towering, rugged mountains that left little room for agricultural plains, it was a land rich in mineral resources and renowned for producing countless master craftsmen, earning its reputation as an industrial state. It was also known as a nation of martial valor, home to a formidable order of knights considered the strongest among the three eastern kingdoms. But there was a reason for this.

Xarooda was the farthest west of the three eastern kingdoms and a gateway for any army advancing from the continent’s central regions into the east. The mountains surrounding it made it a natural stronghold and an impregnable fortress—a formidable obstacle for the nations coveting the fertile lands of the eastern region. From its founding to the present day, the Kingdom of Xarooda had fulfilled its role as a gateway with remarkable success. This achievement befitted a nation devoted to martial strength.

However, the renowned fame of the Kingdom of Xarooda had begun to wane in recent years. The reason for this was clear: the invasion by the O’ltormea Empire, the dominant power of the western continent.

Even for the Kingdom of Xarooda, with its pride in martial prowess, facing an overwhelming superpower like the O’ltormea Empire inevitably forced it into a corner. The difference was apparent when comparing the sheer size of their territories. After all, the O’ltormea Empire ruled the continent’s central region, while the Kingdom of Xarooda controlled only a third of the eastern region. By a simple calculation, the empire’s territory was three times larger. It was obvious to a child that the Kingdom of Xarooda alone could not hope to stand against the O’ltormea Empire.

Now, a captain was lost in thought within the command tent of Xarooda’s main camp in the Ushas Basin that stretched south of the royal capital of Peripheria. This man was Orson Greed, the commander of the Xaroodian Monarch’s Guard and the one responsible for the defense of the Ushas Basin. Yet this battle-hardened commander found it difficult to maintain composure in the face of the current dire situation. The regret for that day when the nation fell into hardship and the scales of victory and defeat began to tip toward ruin lingered in his mind.

“It all began with that defeat...” His voice carried a note of seething resentment toward the O’ltormea Empire for the decline of the Kingdom of Xarooda. The causes of this situation did not arise overnight; the signs had been evident for years.

Various internal troubles had plagued the kingdom even before the O’ltormea Empire’s first invasion of Xarooda. One of the major reasons was likely the difficulty of establishing centralized control in this mountainous country, divided by rugged peaks. Consequently, suppressing the nobility’s independence proved impossible. The Kingdom of Xarooda had a history of relying on the Kingdom of Rhoadseria to the east for much of its food supply, as Xarooda’s arable land was limited.

Although the situation was not dire enough to cause immediate famine, from the perspective of enhancing national strength, Xarooda’s limited agricultural productivity had undeniably reached a bottleneck. Perhaps the most significant factor had been the loss of Arios Belares, revered as Xarooda’s Guardian Deity, during the first invasion of Xarooda.

Even with the loss of General Belares, the invasion by the O’ltormea Empire was ultimately repelled, thanks to the schemes of Ryoma Mikoshiba, dispatched from the Kingdom of Rhoadseria. The economic benefits from the trade treaty Ryoma proposed had undeniably provided the nation with some relief, establishing the four-kingdom alliance under the Kingdom of Helnesgoula. One could argue that it turned misfortune into a blessing. Regardless, the O’ltormea Empire inflicted significant damage upon the Kingdom of Xarooda during its first invasion.

Quite bluntly, it would be more accurate to say that it left a deep scar on the nation of Xarooda. And that scar continued to grow larger with each passing day.

Some among the nobility appear to be traitors currying favor with O’ltormea. We’ll have no way forward unless we suppress their actions, thought Orson.

Spies had been dispatched to investigate the activities of suspicious noble families, but they could not face punishment without definitive evidence. This action was a testament to the kindness and fairness of King Julianus I. Orson had no intention of opposing the king’s decision on this matter. Even for a king, it was impossible to carry out punishments without evidence. If Julianus I had resorted to heavy-handed measures to execute suspected traitors, it would have inflicted even greater harm upon the Kingdom of Xarooda. In the worst-case scenario, the nation might have collapsed before O’ltormea’s invasion could proceed.

Considering that, His Majesty’s decision was correct. He is truly a ruler worthy of his throne.

However, this decision had undoubtedly backfired. These individuals still lived openly as nobles of the Kingdom of Xarooda while cooperating with the O’ltormea Empire. And at the end of this precarious balancing act, King Julianus I had succumbed to illness and was confined to his sickbed.

His Majesty’s illness had a significant impact on Xarooda’s governance.

It was an entirely predictable outcome. Without the king to oversee state affairs, the machinery of government ground to a halt. Things might have been different if a highly capable chancellor had been present.

With Xarooda still reeling from the wounds inflicted by O’ltormea’s earlier invasion, such a hope was unrealistic.

While celebrated as a martial nation that had produced countless knights, the kingdom had placed little emphasis on the training and development of civil officials.

A few more years would have made all the difference...

But such lamentations held no meaning. They were simply the internal grievances of Xarooda, irrelevant to an invader. Shardina Eisenheit, the first princess of the O’ltormea Empire and captain of the Succubus Knights, refused to overlook such an opportunity.

Seizing upon the king’s illness, the O’ltormea Empire unilaterally broke its armistice with Xarooda and deployed an overwhelming force of more than two hundred thousand soldiers, breaching the kingdom’s borders. This was O’ltormea’s second invasion, laying siege to Xarooda and devouring its land bit by bit. More accurately, Xarooda was teetering on the brink of destruction, a disgrace for the kingdom that prided itself on being a martial nation.

Countless people have gone to the battlefield for the sake of their homeland and lost their lives. Captain Greed noted there was no distinction between commoners and nobles in this. The young and old alike had equally perished on the battlefield. As humiliating as it may be, facts are facts. I have no choice but to acknowledge it, even though it fills me with bitter regret.

Yet this bitter truth did not extinguish the fighting spirit of Orson Greed, the captain of the Xaroodian Monarch’s Guard. Every time he faced this reality, his heart burned with the desire to spill the blood of his hated enemies. That anger and humiliation served as fuel, driving his determination to even greater heights. This was only natural for someone like Orson, the head of the Greed family, which had supported Xarooda’s governance since its founding, and the man entrusted with the heavy responsibility of leading the Monarch’s Guard. Unfortunately, no matter how fiercely his fighting spirit burned, there were limits to what Orson could achieve.

Many young men have taken up arms and gone to the battlefield to protect our homeland. I must find a way to honor their resolve. He naturally wished this as a captain commanding his troops. The problem was that Greed could not see a clear path to fulfilling that duty. More than anyone, he understood that he alone could not achieve that wish. I can fight to delay the inevitable for as long as possible. But that alone will not save this nation.

Xarooda was not on the verge of falling today or tomorrow, but as long as there was no plan to reclaim the lands occupied by O’ltormea, defeat was only a matter of time. That eventuality was becoming increasingly certain.

However, that does not mean we would ever bow to the invaders, the O’ltormea Empire.

The soldiers and officers and the Xaroodian army, who held their ground in the Ushas Basin and fought battle after battle, shared this resolve. Despite being outmatched, Xarooda’s unyielding fighting spirit likely contributed to their survival. Yet, the cost of that determination was immense—unfathomably heavy and unbearably great. The unsurprising murmurs of “peace negotiations”—which were essentially calls for surrender—still lingered within Xarooda’s royal palace.

But even if we surrendered, there’s no chance the empire would accept it in good faith. They would undoubtedly impose impossible demands.

After all, O’ltormea’s pride and prestige as one of the most formidable superpowers of the western continent had been thoroughly shattered when Ryoma Mikoshiba’s intervention repelled their first invasion of Xarooda. Since O’ltormea currently had no way to directly retaliate against Ryoma, their fury would turn toward Xarooda instead. It was an unfair reality, but victors with overwhelming power rarely showed mercy to the defeated. Moreover, O’ltormea’s true objective remained the complete subjugation of the three eastern kingdoms. Xarooda was merely the opening skirmish in that grander conquest.

Even if O’ltormea outwardly accepted a surrender, they would only use Xarooda as a pawn—an expendable tool for their future invasion of Rhoadseria. Orson Greed understood this, so surrender was not an option for him. The real issue lay in the fact that fools who failed to grasp such an obvious truth still existed within the royal palace. Those self-serving cowards...

If he were honest, he would have wanted nothing more than to cut down such traitors, turning them into rust on his blade alongside his comrade and friend, Grahart Henschel. Orson viewed anyone advocating for surrender while countless others spilled their blood for the kingdom as nothing short of traitors. However, there was nothing Orson could do about those vermin. Joshua Belares had entrusted him with the crucial mission of holding the defensive line in the Ushas Basin, an assignment that was more critical than anything else. At that moment, his attendant entered the tent.

“Your Excellency... It’s about time.”

Orson Greed gave a silent nod in response.

Mounting the horse that awaited him outside the tent, he set off with his guards in tow, heading out beyond the camp’s perimeter. There, Greed’s personal force of twenty-five hundred knights of the Xaroodian Monarch’s Guard stood assembled in neat ranks, eagerly awaiting his arrival.

“We are ready, Your Excellency!”

With that, the knights raised their spears high toward the sky, their voices ringing in unison. The morale of the knights appeared to be extraordinarily high. Greed raised his right hand lightly in response to the knights and shifted his gaze forward.

Judging by the absence of cooking smoke from the enemy camp, it seems their preparations are complete as well. It’s almost time...

Ahead of him lay the fifty thousand-strong army of the O’ltormea Empire, firmly entrenched. It wouldn’t be long before the battle began.

“Today will likely be another fierce fight,” he murmured under his breath.

The truth was clear as day. This was a battle between O’ltormea’s forces, eager to break through the front lines and carve a path to Peripheria, and the Kingdom of Xarooda’s army determined to stop them. With the main forces of both armies facing each other, the ferocity of the upcoming clash needed no elaboration. It would truly be a scene of mountains of corpses and rivers of blood. In reality, the two armies had been locked in a fierce back and forth battle that remained evenly matched.

Considering the disparity in troop numbers, it’s nothing short of a miracle that we’ve held out this long.

The O’ltormea Empire army before him fielded around fifty thousand soldiers. In contrast, the Kingdom of Xarooda’s army defending the Ushas Basin had managed to maintain a force of just over forty thousand troops. On the surface, the forces might have appeared evenly matched. Anyone comparing the numbers might not think the Kingdom of Xarooda was severely disadvantaged. But the reality was entirely different because the fifty thousand troops of the O’ltormea Empire were merely their vanguard.

In the rear stood the main invasion force of over two hundred thousand soldiers, commanded by Shardina Eisenheit herself. Despite the situation, the Kingdom of Xarooda’s ability to maintain a stalemate in the Ushas Basin was nothing short of a miracle, aided by the favorable terrain.

The question is: Whose miracle is it?

Most people would credit Greed, the commander of the entire front line at the Ushas Basin. Back in Peripheria, taverns were abuzz with celebrations of Greed’s achievements, with toasts raised to his name every night. There was even talk of bestowing upon him the same title as Arios Belares, the Guardian Deity, elevating him to a status akin to a living legend. This belief was clear evidence that the people had begun to recognize Orson Greed as a new hero, a successor to Arios Belares. At the very least, most of Xarooda’s citizens saw him this way. Joshua Belares, who had taken over the reins of governance in the kingdom after King Julianus I was bedridden, actively promoted Greed’s military renown as part of a broader effort to bolster national morale.

From my perspective, this narrative is somewhat inaccurate, thought Orson as he directed operations from his command tent. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t entirely the truth either. At the very least, claiming that my abilities as a commander are what’s holding back the invaders is far from correct.

Such thoughts occasionally crossed Orson’s mind. To some, this might seem like a moment of undue modesty or a rare display of doubt unbefitting a general. If a commander doubted their own capabilities, it would only sow unease among their troops. Overconfidence could be dangerous, but too little confidence was equally problematic. It was not wrong to say that a subordinate’s accomplishments were ultimately part of their superior’s achievements. After all, the superior had to prepare the groundwork so their subordinates could perform to their full potential and achieve results. With Orson Greed serving as the overall commander, it wasn’t entirely inaccurate to say that the final accolades for their successes belonged to him. Indeed, both perspectives held some truth. The real question lay in whether one could recognize and maintain a balance between the two views.

Unfortunately, Orson’s self-assessment was likely accurate.

It’s not as though our army hasn’t achieved results. My men have fought valiantly under my command.

In truth, the results Orson had brought about likely justified the high praise he received. This battle was for the very survival of the beloved Kingdom of Xarooda. Knights serving Xarooda and even ordinary citizens had united to resist the O’ltormea Empire’s invasion. Greed’s relentless efforts in leading the army from the front lines were undeniable facts. However, not all of their successes could be attributed solely to the valiant efforts of Xarooda’s soldiers or Orson Greed’s leadership. Said success was due to the extraordinary reinforcements from the Kingdom of Rhoadseria, dispatched by the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy.

Ultimately, Archduke Mikoshiba plans the overall strategy for our forces and theirs.

Greed’s role was simply to follow the strategies devised by this man. In a way, he was no more than a puppet, dancing to the tune of another’s flute. As he thought this, an image of one particular man surfaced. The man, at first glance, favored a dashing and fashionable appearance. Moreover, the man was somewhat cynical and undoubtedly confident, yet outwardly charming and highly articulate, exuding a cultured aura. That man was Robert Bertrand.

He was one of the three commanders the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy had sent as reinforcements and a figure synonymous with the family’s martial prowess. In addition, he was a fierce general leading Xarooda’s army and the Mikoshiba forces on the front lines in the Ushas Basin.

I couldn’t take credit for his accomplishments as if they were mine. That action would have been nothing less than a disgrace to Orson Greed. Though knowing him, he wouldn’t care about such things anyway.

Greed’s assumption was likely correct. At most, Robert might insist on being treated to an expensive bottle of wine.

When I first heard the name “Twin Blades” and the tales of his martial prowess, I feared he might be a wild brute. But he turned out to be far more reasonable than I had expected, mused Orson, who had found Robert Bertrand possessed a surprisingly sociable nature. At the very least, he lacked the brutishness often associated with generals famed for their valor. I recall that at the banquet held at the royal court, noble daughters flocked around him.

Robert wasn’t exactly a handsome man by social norms. But his weathered features, eloquent speech, and occasional glimpses of a dangerous side surely captured the hearts of many women. One could say that he had no trouble with women in the social scene. In contrast, Robert’s companion Signus Galveria seemed less skilled in handling such women. Robert was fully aware of this fact and used it to his advantage, although that was merely one side of him.

That man’s true nature is that of a fierce tiger. No, perhaps a starving dragon...

Bertrand was a carnivorous beast, sharpening his claws and fangs as he hunted his prey. He also possessed the wisdom and self-restraint to hide his true nature from those around him. In reality, very few people could see through his polished social veneer and perceive his true nature.

Apart from Orson Greed, only Grahart Henschel, the captain of the royal guard, and Joshua Belares could truly see through him.

No general in the Kingdom of Xarooda can compare to that man. Perhaps only the late General Arios Belares, who was once hailed as the kingdom’s protector, could have done that. Certainly neither Grahart nor I could match him.

This assumption was Orson’s intuition as a warrior. If one were to compare only their physical abilities and skills as a soldier, there might not be a huge difference. Orson Greed was one of the kingdom’s strongest warriors and led one of the most powerful military factions. However, a captain needed to command an army, not just display personal martial prowess.

It’s best to have superior martial skills, but the ability to inspire and unite soldiers is essential, along with a keen strategic sense to evaluate the battlefield.

Unfortunately, Orson lacked both of these abilities compared to Robert Bertrand. He did not want to admit this but could not deny it.

The only person who might surpass that man is Joshua Belares, the son of the late General Belares, but he is still young and inexperienced. While his potential surpasses his father’s, it will take at least another decade for him to fully develop.

This fact cast a shadow over Orson’s heart. Even if they stopped the O’ltormea Empire’s invasion, the threat to their homeland would not disappear.

As long as our country maintains good relations with Archduke Mikoshiba, he will remain a reliable ally. But no ally is eternal. Since Robert is said to be one of the archduke’s closest confidants, I must consider how to maintain an appropriate distance from him.

Indeed, Robert Bertrand’s claws and fangs were so sharp that he had been abandoned and left to rot by his own blood relatives. His overwhelming power and talent were beyond dispute, so underestimating him was not wise.

He was so talented that even his own parents and siblings despised him... It’s almost enviable. Perhaps that harsh upbringing is what shaped him into such a man.

But that question would never be answered. It was akin to the classic question, “Which came first, the chicken or the egg?”

One thing is clear: Robert Bertrand is a man of such caliber that he can change the course of the kingdom’s fate. Based on Greed’s experience as a military leader in the Kingdom of Xarooda, this was his honest opinion and correct analysis. At least it was an evaluation that no one would openly disagree with. But among the people of Xarooda, how many could truly accept this fact? In fact, even I have my doubts.

As a warrior and a commander, it would take immense courage to admit that fact.

Orson Greed’s greatness lay more accurately in his efforts to acknowledge his doubts. A person with an ordinary mindset would have a hard time accepting Robert’s superior strategy. Instead, they would likely try to find faults or even lie to prevent Robert from taking the lead. As a captain of the Kingdom of Xarooda, Greed never expressed any dissatisfaction, even when his command was overshadowed by the general leading the reinforcements. He presented himself as the hero who saved his homeland. Even if that was a false image, the Kingdom of Xarooda needed a hero. At that moment, a triumphant horn rang out from the O’ltormea Empire’s forces. When Orson Greed heard it, he drew his sword from its scabbard and raised it high toward the sky.

“It’s finally here... As we discussed last night, we shall proceed as planned!”

A cheer rose from the soldiers of Xarooda, shaking the earth beneath them.

Hours had passed since the start of combat, and the sun had already greatly tilted to the west. Countless corpses lay scattered across the land, their blood flowing out to form rivers.

Both armies had attempted to encircle the other in a crane wing formation at the onset of the fight. After several hours of battle, neither side had achieved their initial objectives, and the formations had collapsed. The battle had already turned into a chaotic melee, yet neither side made any attempt to retreat or reorganize their forces. The commanders of both armies understood that retreating too early would simply result in the enemy pushing them back. Most likely, each side intended to pull back once the sun set. However, this very line of thought was a trap set by the Kingdom of Xarooda.

The hidden, fatal blow was finally unleashed. A cavalry troop of about three thousand surged through the Ushas Basin, kicking up a cloud of dust. This cavalry had been in reserve at the rear of the Kingdom of Xarooda’s forces since the beginning of the conflict. Their objective was to capture the enemy general. In a way, they were like an arrow that would pierce through the enemy’s formation and strike down their commander. The arrow cut through the frontline chaos and charged toward the defending forces lined up before the enemy’s headquarters. It was as though a wild force was racing through an open field. At the head of this force was a single man.

“Yah!!! Charge! Break through their lines!”

A deep roar echoed across the battlefield. The man, clad in black plate armor that wrapped around his muscular frame, rode a specially trained warhorse. In his hand, he wielded a massive bardiche with an axe blade, a hook, and a spearhead on its top. This weapon allowed for efficient sweeping, striking, and thrusting, each mode capable of reaping human lives. But this was no ordinary bardiche; it was made entirely of steel. Although using steel for the entire weapon made it less likely to break, it was much heavier than a regular axe with a wooden haft. It was so heavy that only someone of exceptional physical strength could hope to wield it. Calling it a hand weapon might be misleading since it was more akin to a piece of superheavy artillery. Yet, this superheavy weapon was little more than a tool easily wielded by the man with extraordinary physical abilities and martial skills.

“Get out of my way, you worthless scum!”

The man roared, and his right hand swung the massive axe without hesitation. The violent clash of metal shattered the first defensive line of the O’ltormea Empire’s soldiers. It was as if a child were swinging a stick with all their might. But the wind caused by the axe was far from playful. A deadly gale stirred, sweeping through the soldiers of the O’ltormea Empire. It was a wind of death that could easily snuff out the lives of men like candles. The man wielding the axe was a grim reaper.

Each time the axe gleamed, screams echoed, and the earth turned red. Behind this grim reaper was a horde of fiends, his loyal followers. This cavalry of only about three thousand was hardly a significant force in the grand scheme of things. On a battlefield with nearly one hundred thousand soldiers, such a force was hardly meaningful. But one would only draw this conclusion if they only considered the force in terms of numbers. The O’ltormea Empire, with its superior numbers, could afford some casualties and still halt the cavalry’s advance with infantry. If they could stop the horses, the cavalry charge would be nothing more than a suicidal act. This was common knowledge for any soldier with battlefield experience. Because the soldiers of the O’ltormea Empire understood this, they raised their shields and formed simple lines to block the cavalry.

But this attempt failed. The cavalry’s charge was not something that could be easily stopped. Why? Because the leader of the cavalry was no ordinary man. His name was Robert Bertrand, a formidable general trusted by Ryoma Mikoshiba. And to the enemy, he was nothing short of a grim reaper.

“This is useless! We can’t defeat such a monster!”

“I don’t want to die!”

The soldiers who had been holding their shields at the front lines muttered these words, showing that Robert had planted the image of death in their minds. That image of death bound the soldiers of the O’ltormea Empire in both mind and body. Even so, they did not abandon their weapons and flee, because they understood that doing so would mean certain death. After all, these were not conscripts. They were professional soldiers employed by the O’ltormea Empire. Naturally, their training was far superior to the average militia made up of conscripted peasants, and their resolve was undoubtedly stronger. Despite their training, they were still mere soldiers, better at combat than conscripts, but not knights who had mastered martial arts.

James Tret, one of the commanders of the O’ltormea Empire’s forces invading Xarooda, had come to understand this all too well. Several months had passed since the beginning of the second Xaroodian invasion, but they had still not broken through the enemy’s defenses in the Ushas Basin. The cause of this was none other than Robert Bertrand’s prowess. Reports of bad news kept coming in one after another, and the tide of battle slowly shifted in favor of the Kingdom of Xarooda. Regardless, James continued to send orders to rally his troops, as they had no choice but to resist in order to survive. Though that resistance was futile, like a praying mantis trying to stop a cart, giving up meant certain death.

“What are you saying! If we retreat now, it will disgrace the name of the O’ltormea Empire! We must take down that monster at all costs!”

But James understood all too well that his encouragement was meaningless. Robert Bertrand’s martial skills were beyond comparison. Any soldier who tried to face him would be crushed by overwhelming force. The very air around Robert exerted physical pressure, shaking the hearts of the soldiers standing before him.

Only those who had faced the forces of Archduke Mikoshiba could understand this fear. James had also realized that there was more to the cavalry’s breakthrough than just Robert’s power.

“You monster... This was your plan, wasn’t it? Playing tricks like that...” James Tret muttered, looking at Robert swinging his bardiche at the front of the cavalry.

Since the beginning of the war, that man has killed many commanders. But I never expected his true goal was to disrupt our chain of command...

From the start of the war, Robert had deliberately targeted O’ltormea’s commanding officers. As a result, Tret’s force of fifty thousand had encountered major problems in their command structure, leading to a temporary breakdown in coordination. Reinforcements from the rear filled the gaps, but the newly assembled units had been struggling to operate effectively. Even the slightest delay in coordination could prove fatal. Robert was now advancing toward the disarrayed units, intentionally targeting them.

Perhaps it would have been better not to draw reinforcements from the rear.

Trying to pick off the disjointed units would be an easy task for a monster of a soldier like Robert. James had known this from the start, and now he realized this was why Robert had targeted the commanders. In the end, it was all just a matter of hindsight. As long as O’ltormea had the manpower, it was natural to call up reserves from the rear when casualties occurred.

Was it even possible to target weak soldiers scattered in the chaos of battle?

James had seen through Robert’s tactics, but he wasn’t foolish enough to think he could replicate them himself. Normally, it would be impossible to discern where the newly reinforced units were fighting. But what was happening here was something beyond the realm of normal. It was like a disaster that no human strength could resist.

And that disaster, in the form of a human, is now feeding on the lives of the Empire’s soldiers, growing stronger in the process.

War brought casualties, and Tret’s side would suffer losses. But that didn’t mean they could afford to lose soldiers like water. The simplest option would be to send a warrior of equal skill to Robert to counter him. Sadly, James had no such warriors in his ranks.

What should I do? There are countermeasures, but should I really just send more soldiers in, knowing the risks? How many warriors across the entire O’ltormea Empire could match such a monster?

There were indeed other candidates. The O’ltormea Empire, the ruler of the continent’s central region, was home to countless talented individuals. But those who could challenge someone like Robert were crucial figures in various armies, and moving them would take time and effort. Recklessly shifting them could lead to collapse of the defensive lines along the borders they guarded. The only choice left was to select from the forces already participating in the second Xaroodian invasion, greatly limiting the number of candidates.

The most likely options were the elite knights of the Succubus Knights, led by Captain Shardina Eisenheit. However, even those warriors would likely be limited to the higher-ranking officers, such as the brigade commanders. Robert would likely outclass anyone lesser.

But sending elite members of the Succubus Knights, whose job was to protect Shardina, to the front lines was not a realistic option.

Or perhaps... Rolfe, the knight captain, could defeat him...?

The image of a man known as the Emperor’s Shield appeared in James’s mind. Rolfe, who had taken command after his predecessor died in battle, was a knight with no equal. James’s original plan had been to place him at the rear, keeping him in reserve to counter any new threats. That reserve force would now have to move forward, no matter the cost.

At this stage, it was nothing more than a fruitless gesture, because Rolfe was no longer with them.

The proud knight captain of O’ltormea’s royal guard was advancing through the mountains, carrying out the secret mission entrusted to him by Shardina to break the stalemate.

I had heard of the famed Twin Blades before. But I never imagined they were this skilled... Why do such monsters even exist?

No matter how much James regretted it, he could not turn back the hands of time. As if to mock James’s inner turmoil, Robert’s cavalry unit charged straight toward his main camp. With every passing moment, the distance between the two forces shrank. It was like a raging storm given human form. Before such a human-shaped storm, people could do nothing but be trampled. James could no longer hesitate as Robert’s cavalry had just broken through the final line of defense stationed before the main camp.

“The enemy is charging! The front line, ready your spears!”

Following Tret’s command, a wall of spears formed in front of the O’ltormea Empire’s main camp. The heavily armored infantry formed a solid wall, prioritizing defense. A normal commander would never think of charging into such a formidable defensive formation. If cavalry were their main force, they would fall back and attempt to break the enemy’s formation. If they had archers, they would opt to fire from a distance.

However, Robert Bertrand was a man who defied all conventional wisdom. Around three thousand cavalrymen kicked up dust as they charged straight toward the O’ltormea Empire’s spear wall. There was no hesitation in their assault. The cavalrymen did not see the resolute, heavily armored soldiers standing before them. They simply urged their horses forward.

All they saw was Robert’s back as he led from the front. This move was a double-edged sword that increased the risk of death for the cavalry’s commander. But Robert paid no heed to such risks. He instinctively understood that he was an overwhelmingly powerful predator, one that devoured the lives of the weak. As he faced the final defensive wall protecting the enemy’s main camp, Robert finally unleashed all the power he had been holding back. Prana surged through his body at high speed, and the sixth chakra, the Ajna chakra located between his brows, began to spin with a deep hum. This energy granted him even greater strength. His entire body brimmed with power, and his consciousness fixated solely on the enemy camp.

“Gaaah!”

With Robert’s thunderous roar, the axe in his right hand whistled through the air. The next instant, with the dull clang of metal striking metal, red blossoms of blood bloomed across the battlefield, and chunks of flesh scattered. Screams and shouts of rage echoed across the war-torn land. But as a dominant force on the battlefield, Robert paid no mind to the wails of the weak. The strong simply trampled the weak and advanced forward.

Robert focused on the flag bearing the lion emblem of the O’ltormea Empire, fluttering beyond some fieldworks, and the enemy general who stood beneath it.

As if spurred on by Robert’s might, the soldiers of the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy’s army behind him began cutting down enemy soldiers one after another.

“Follow Sir Bertrand! Do not stop! Push through in one swift strike!”

“Advance, advance! Crush the enemy beneath our hooves!”

“Slaughter the invaders from O’ltormea!”

“Show them the power of the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy’s army! Charge!”

Battle cries erupted from the cavalry behind Robert. To the soldiers, Robert Bertrand was a war god wielding the might of the divine. Those who followed him were his chosen warriors. It was an overwhelming display of fervor and blind devotion. Yet, such fervor and devotion determined life and death on the battlefield. The defensive wall that Robert’s initial strike had weakened crumbled even further under the cavalry’s relentless charge.

Quickly sensing the dire situation, James Tret issued a flurry of orders.

“The second line must hold at all costs! If we let them break through here, they’ll breach the main camp! Units from the third line and beyond, fill the gaps immediately! Listen well! No matter the cost, we must buy time! Deliver this command to Eldran and tell him to offer his life for the empire and for Lady Shardina’s victory!”

This ruthless order was for the deputy general who had supported James for years. But the decision was unavoidable for a commander whose lines had already been breached right before the main camp. Their options were extremely limited due to their undeniably passive and defensive approach. From a tactical perspective, another possibility was to absorb the charge with the first defensive line while buying time, then maneuver the reserve units to flank the cavalry from both sides and annihilate them. However, Tret deliberately excluded that option.

No matter how brilliant a strategy is, it is meaningless if it cannot be executed.

Rather than risking everything on an all-or-nothing encirclement and annihilation maneuver, he judged that deploying the reserve forces to reinforce the front line would have a higher probability of stopping the cavalry charge. It was a prudent decision, but that did not necessarily mean it would lead to victory. On the battlefield, such cautious strategies often backfired.

Another dire report came from a messenger who rushed into the main camp.

“A message! Vice General Eldran, who was commanding the front line, has been slain!”

When James turned his gaze to the front lines, he could indeed sense the sounds of clashing swords and war cries drawing closer to the main camp.

“Stop them at all costs! No matter the sacrifice, you must halt that man!” James screamed from the depths of his soul. Regardless of how much he shouted until his throat was raw, reality remained merciless.

“It’s terrible! The final defensive line has been breached! The Mikoshiba Grand Duchy’s army is charging straight into our camp!”

At the messenger’s desperate cry, the officers surrounding Tret became visibly shaken.

“What did you say?!”

“This is bad! Prepare to intercept them immediately!”

Of course, the main camp where Tret had stationed himself was not entirely without defenses. However, it could not withstand the sharp blades of the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy’s elite troops. Messengers kept rushing in one after another. From their lips came the ever-approaching footsteps of the grim reaper, drawing closer to James with each passing moment.

This is bad... At this rate...

Just then, the word “defeat” flashed through James’s mind. It was an unacceptable reality for him. No matter how much he refused to acknowledge it, reality would not change. The ominous signs crept ever closer to becoming reality with each passing second. Even so, James desperately struggled to hold on when faced with this dire situation.

The battle line would completely collapse if Tret’s spirit broke at this moment.

If that happens, Lady Shardina’s strategy could fall apart as well.

That collapse would be a significant blow to Shardina Eisenheit. It had already been nearly four months since the O’ltormea Empire had unilaterally broken its armistice with the Kingdom of Xarooda and launched a second invasion. Yet, the invasion force had still not managed to fully secure the Ushas Basin. At the outset of the war, Shardina had planned to occupy the royal capital, Peripheria, within a month. But her calculations were already far off the mark. If James’s forces—tasked with securing the Ushas Basin—were to collapse, it could lead to an irreparable breakdown of the front line. And that would mean the failure of O’ltormea’s second invasion of Xarooda.

But even knowing that, if things continue like this...

Countless options surfaced in Tret’s mind, only to fade away just as quickly. Each choice had its own advantages and drawbacks. At that moment, one of the younger strategists, his face grim with desperation, stepped forward and offered advice.

“Lord Tret, we must abandon the main camp and retreat. It has already been five days since Lord Rolfe departed from here. We have delayed the enemy long enough for him to reach Peripheria.”

When those words left the young man’s mouth, the other strategists erupted in outrage.

“Are you insane?!”

“What nonsense! Have you lost your mind?”

A storm of insults and scorn followed. The young man’s words sounded like a complete dereliction of duty to these strategists who understood the critical nature of this battle. However, James raised a hand to silence them and placed a hand on his chin, deep in thought. In truth, he had already considered the same option.

There is merit to it. That much is certain.

Of course, it was the last resort. Choosing it would be the same as admitting defeat in this battle. If they could not stop Robert Bertrand’s charge, this was the best decision they could make. Rather than wasting troops in a futile effort, pulling back to reorganize was not necessarily a bad option. However, there was one problem.

Had James bought enough time for Rolfe’s army to reach Peripheria?

It has already been five days since Lord Rolfe departed. Even if he had to traverse the treacherous mountain ranges of Xarooda, he should be nearing the outskirts of Peripheria by now.

Even if Rolfe’s force succeeded in launching a surprise attack, capturing the royal capital would still be a challenge. After all, Rolfe’s force consisted of only about ten thousand troops. While not a small number by any means, it was far too few to properly lay siege to Peripheria. But that did not matter. The capture of the capital was not necessarily Rolfe’s objective. For that plan to work, Tret’s forces needed to remain intact as a functional army. From that perspective, retreating at this stage was not the best strategy, but it was at least the next best alternative. Ultimately, the decision rested with James Tret.

But in truth, he had already made up his mind.

To fail even in a diversionary operation... There is no avoiding the mark of incompetence. But as long as we preserve our forces here, we will have another chance to reclaim victory.

At that moment, James nodded deeply and made his declaration.

“Understood... We will follow this course. We retreat from here.”

When the young strategist heard those words, a mixture of relief and joy flashed across his face, showing the exhilaration of having his counsel accepted and the pride of fulfilling his duty. However, even such advice could prove meaningless on a battlefield where life and death hung in the balance.

“Commander! We’re in grave danger! Please, flee at once!”

A messenger’s desperate cry rang out, followed by screams erupting. The sound of hooves thundered across the ground as an armored beast in jet-black plate tore through the main camp. In the next instant, the young strategist’s head was sent flying through the air.

“I am Robert Bertrand! O’ltormea dogs, come and face me if you have the guts!” His roar was part battle cry and part jeering taunt, accompanied by a whirlwind of destruction.

Each time his axe flashed, screams echoed, and crimson blood soaked the earth. It was pure devastation through overwhelming violence, but the madness did not last long.

Before long, the cries of agony and shouts of defiance faded, leaving an eerie silence hanging over the battlefield. The victor of the battle for the Ushas Basin was decided. Torchlight illuminated the surroundings. It had already been three hours since the battle’s outcome had been determined. After cleaning up the scattered remnants of the enemy forces, Robert took a steaming towel from his attendant and wiped his face vigorously.

“Phew... That’s a bit better,” Robert said, grinning.

But the towel in his hands had been stained a dark red with enemy blood. How many had he killed? The crimson hue that covered his body had already begun to dry, darkening from red to almost black. Either way, it was undeniable proof of the number of enemies he had slain. The victory was worthy of the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy’s most feared warrior. Robert then pulled a bottle of liquor from his saddlebag and took a long swig. It was the taste of triumph.

“Aah... Nothing like it.” He exhaled, his voice tinged with satisfaction. “Well, my job here is done. Now it’s up to you to finish things, Signus.”

With that, Robert raised the bottle toward the direction of Peripheria. As the thick stench of blood filled his senses, he took another drink. He was certain that his comrade, Signus Galveria, would soon savor the taste of victory just as he was.