CH407 Regrouping

***

'Come on. Give me a break.'

For what felt like the hundredth time since arriving on Verdantis, Alex wanted to cuss loud enough to shake the plane itself. The only things stopping him were noble etiquette… and the very real possibility that doing so would rattle his already-tense party.

He took a slow breath and looked grimly ahead.

Even without Spirit Sight, he could picture the fortress troops clearly—battered morale suddenly rekindled, their spirits raised anew by the lingering radiance of [Pious Devotion].

The damned "miracle" had swept away the fear and dread that should have smothered the fortress after he collapsed half of the temple.

'Damned priest. You couldn't just die quietly, could you? You had to drag me down with you…'

Alex glanced once more at the mangled corpse. Rage simmered… but beneath it, a reluctant speck of respect.

Beliefs aside, if he were cornered and dying, he would have done the same—cripple his killer's chances, turn the tide of the battlefield one last time, forcing the enemy to suffer for his death.

But now was no time for respect, admiration, or even righteous anger.

The fortress troops were regrouping.

The element of surprise was gone.

And they were about to be pulled into a full-on, open confrontation.

Schwa!!

A warm beam of light fell upon Alex's body, washing away pain and knitting his minor wounds.

A healing spell.

'Eleanor.' Alex thought with a frown.

At the same time, the hurried footsteps of allies approached from behind.

Udara, Kavakan, Mogal, and Eleanor—still mounted on Fen's back—rounded the collapsed corner of the temple to reach him.

"You should have saved that healing spell for the others," Alex said, voice low but unmistakably firm.

He understood why she cast it.

But that didn't erase the fact she had gone against his order.

"It was Sister Zora's order," Eleanor answered immediately.

She wasn't defensive—merely explaining.

She was painfully aware she had technically overridden a command. Even as his wife—or rather, especially as his wife—she knew that disobedience during a military operation set a dangerous precedent.

Chain of command mattered.

But since Alex had handed command of the main front to Zora—tasked with holding back the fortress troops—Eleanor's adherence to Zora's instruction was, at the very least, procedurally correct.

She was part of the main group Alex had placed under Zora's temporary command. In that moment—while Alex had been buried under rubble and his physical state uncertain—Zora's orders were effectively equal to his own, if not more so.

Eleanor had followed the chain of command correctly.

Alex nodded in understanding.

Either way, this wasn't the time to argue about hierarchy or technicalities. The battlefield wouldn't pause for them.

Zora had been managing things well—controlling the field with wide-range magic while coordinating the scattered teams, making sure they were neither overwhelmed nor encircled by the superior numbers.

Now that the priest was finally dealt with, command naturally reverted back to Alex.

He opened his Spirit Sight and shared Senu's vision.

His nightmare eagle had also joined the battle after sensing Alex's earlier pursuit of the clergy. Feeling Alex tap into her senses again, Senu banked away from her skirmish and soared above the battlefield, returning to provide the aerial reconnaissance he needed.

'The teams are still split, but Zora's kept them from being boxed in,' Alex assessed. 'And the crossbow unit… not bad. They're actually easing pressure from the flanks.'

His gaze shifted to the fortress forces. They too had divided into strike groups, trying to overwhelm and dismantle each of Alex's teams one by one.

"Alex, can you still fight?" Zora asked through comms—calm, but with a subtle undertone of worry.

"I'm almost out of mana, so casting is off the table for a while," Alex admitted. He extended his right hand, and the Draconic baton flew out of the debris, slapping into his palm. "But I can still fight."

A wave of relief washed across the faces of Udara, Eleanor, Kavakan, and even the stern-faced Mogal.

Kavakan's lips even curled into a grin when the baton extended into a full metre-long rod which Alex casually rested across his shoulder, inadvertently striking a heroic pose.

Closing his eyes, Alex steadied his breath.

What little mana he had recovered was immediately converted into Solar mana, flowing through his meridians to knit damaged tissue and bolster his physical strength.

He prioritised healing over spellcasting—for now.

His eyes snapped open, bright and electric, brimming with renewed determination.

Alex swept his gaze around him.

Kavakan, Mogal, Udara, Eleanor, and Fen were ready at his side.

Above, Senu circled, feeding him real-time positional updates.

Behind them, Silver crouched low on a rooftop, bow drawn, watching the battlefield like a silver-eyed hawk.

To Alex's far left—near the fortress's inner western wall—he spotted Havel's blurred silhouette, patiently waiting for a clean opening to strike the clustered fortress soldiers. Two teams of Fury soldiers were already making their way toward his general position, bolstered by Zora's and Mordor's support spells.

Sugud was nowhere to be seen from above.

Either he had ducked into a building, or he was hiding away somewhere unseen –he wasn't a combat personnel after all.

Finally, scattered across advantageous perches and rooftops were the crossbowmen. Each held a vantage point with clear firing lanes, ready to release bolts the moment Alex gave the word.

Alex exhaled once—long and controlled.

"Zora, help our troops hold the fortress forces in place. Keep them clustered, but don't let them close ranks into a proper formation." Alex commanded through comms.

"Understood." Zora answered.

Immediately, the air pulsed with cold. A thick wall of ice erupted across the courtyard, right between the gathering fortress troops and Havel's position. It disrupted movement, blocked lines of sight, and forced the enemy into an awkward spread—exactly as Alex needed.

He turned his gaze over his shoulder toward Silver.

"Hunters… go hunting. If you see an opening to drop their officers, take it."

"Yes, sir," Silver and the crossbowmen replied in crisp unison.

Havel also grunted a lazy reply.

Alex's eyes shifted to Kavakan.

"How's your axe?"

"My axe is hungry… very hungry." Kavakan replied with a feral grin.

"Then let them feed," Alex said, matching his grin with a sharp one of his own. "Ignore their leaders. Cut down the weak ones until your axes have had their fill."

"Ho-oh! Yes, sir!" The weretiger's excitement rumbled through the air as he clashed his twin axes together. His beastial eyes gleamed—predatory, wild, and eager.

Alex then faced Mogal.

"Mogal, same priority. Cull their numbers. But if an officer comes for you…" Alex pointed forward. "…meet them head-on."

"Understood, leader." Mogal bowed with a barbarian's solemnity, his hulking form tense with anticipation.

Next, Alex turned to Udara.

"I will follow behind you," she said immediately—without hesitation, without waiting for instruction.

Alex paused. The order he initially intended to give caught in his throat. He swallowed it—and nodded.

Then he looked to Eleanor.

"I will keep everyone alive and fighting," she promised, her voice firm.

"I'll be counting on you." Alex nodded back.

He rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck, and faced forward. His red eyes darkened several shades—warmer, deeper and more dangerous.

"Let's finish this," he muttered.

And then—

A cold voice echoed simultaneously through the comms and the hearts of the twenty-two expedition members,

"Kill them all."

***

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