CH411 Commander and Subcommander

***

Baron Leland Helton wore a grim expression as he surveyed the chaos below from the command tower of the fortress castle.

Unconsciously, his aura seeped out, weighing heavily on everyone within the chamber.

3-Star Gold Rank.

Technically, this placed him at the late stage of the Elite Realm by Verdantis standards—though by Pangean combat quality, that made him closer to a mid-stage Elite.

The three Gold-ranked fortress Sub-commanders standing behind him fared no better; their faces were tight with concern and disbelief.

"Damn these invaders!" one of the Sub-commanders—Franklin—snarled as he slammed a fist against the window frame. "Who invades a fortress and then resorts to guerilla warfare inside it?!"

"A smart commander," another Gold rank, Arvegil, replied flatly. "Why clash head-on with superior numbers when your smaller force can stay mobile and grind them down?"

Franklin turned, eyes blazing. "Whose side are you on, Arvegil?"

Arvegil responded only with a cold sidelong glance before returning his attention to the battlefield. The look made Franklin grit his teeth.

"Settle down, Franklin," the third Sub-commander, Rodan, said calmly. "You know Arvegil. He is merely stating the obvious."

"I could tolerate his tactlessness any other time," Franklin spat, "but does he have to speak like that when our men are dying below, Rodan?"

"There is no point getting angry with him," Rodan replied. "You might as well shout at a wall. Save your rage for the invaders."

"Tsk!" Franklin clicked his tongue, but he said nothing more. Rodan was right, after all.

Arvegil narrowed his eyes. "The human sorcerer is likely their leader. Their movements pivot around him… it's almost as if he is issuing orders across the battlefield."

He watched Alex reposition himself to intercept the unit led by the Silver-ranked captain attempting to ambush Kavakan and Mogal.

"His movements appear chaotic," Arvegil continued, "but in truth, he relocates to cover those who cannot reposition or receive his instructions quickly enough."

"Then he is the main target we need to neutralise?" Baron Leland asked quietly.

"No… not quite," Arvegil muttered. His gaze sharpened as he continued to muse aloud. "While the leader is important, their formation suggests that any one of them could keep the momentum going even if he falls.

"Every individual in that party fights like a powerhouse. Even their uniformed soldiers display enough coordination to continue functioning independently."

He exhaled through his nose.

"No. He doesn't need to be the priority target."

Arvegil's attention suddenly shifted—this time towards a different figure.

A veiled woman riding atop a fire-spitting black wolf.

Even beneath the veil and loose garments, her graceful posture, poise, and bountiful silhouette were unmistakable. Simply by sitting astride the beast, she radiated elegance and quiet authority, like a noble princess traversing the realm of commoners.

And when she cast healing and buffing spells one after another, her presence altered—gaining an almost divine quality. She became something akin to a heaven-blessed maiden walking among mortals.

Arvegil's eyes then slid across the battlefield to another woman draped in a flowing blue gown.

Frost bowed to her as if it recognised a sovereign. Hardened ice walls rose at her command; bolts of permafrost shot from her hands; the air beneath her froze into a glacial path allowing her to glide across, untouched by the filth of the battlefield.

If the first woman resembled a noble princess of celestial favour, then this one exuded the cold majesty of an Empress—one who ruled both mortals and frost alike.

"The sorcerer is not the most important target," Arvegil concluded. "The Ice Sorceress and the False Priestess are. Guerilla tactics or not, this is our fortress. We hold the overwhelming numbers. They should have fallen already. But the Ice Sorceress continues to warp the terrain to their advantage and shield their meagre forces from harm. Meanwhile, the False Priestess sustains them—empowering their bodies and recovering their wounds."

He turned toward Baron Leland.

"You may consider them a tactical siege weapon and a priest respectively, my liege."

"Hence… they must be eliminated first?" Baron Leland asked, finally understanding.

"Exactly," Arvegil confirmed with a sharp nod. "However, I would advise that we target the priestess first. Not only does the Sorceress appear far more troublesome to neutralise—giving the enemy time to recognise our intentions—but removing the priestess now will allow us to wear down her companions. Without her healing and rejuvenation, they will naturally begin to crumble."

"I see…" Baron Leland murmured, nodding slowly.

He turned back toward the chaotic battlefield below. "Still, someone must keep the Sorcerer and the Ice Sorceress in check."

He looked to his sub-commander. "Arvegil, I leave the Sorceress to you."

"By your command, my liege," Arvegil replied with a crisp bow.

"Franklin. Rodan." Baron Leland's voice hardened as he addressed the other two Gold-ranked sub-commanders. "While I restrain the Sorcerer and his brutes, the two of you will eliminate their priestess."

His eyes gleamed with cold fury.

"An eye for an eye. They slew our priest… then we shall slay theirs."

"It shall be done," Rodan and Franklin declared in unison.

Their confidence was unshaken.

They had watched the invaders long enough to form a reliable estimation of their abilities. None of them seemed to exceed Gold Rank strength, and with the priest's earlier [Pious Devotion] still bolstering their bodies, both sub-commanders believed they could defeat any of these heretics—even more so if they targeted someone weaker in combat, like a healer.

And they would not be moving alone.

At last, the entire fortress seemed to awaken. With its commander and sub-commanders finally entering the fray, the fortress troops rapidly reorganised into tighter, more disciplined formations.

Silver and Bronze ranks rallied, forming proper lines behind the Gold ranks.

What had moments ago been scattered chaos now reformed into a cohesive military force prepared to overwhelm the intruders.

--

After eliminating the ambush unit that had attempted to flank Kavakan and Mogal through a secret route in the fortress building, Alex did not feel relief.

If anything, the tension coiled even tighter in his chest.

The fortress troops had abruptly become more coordinated. Their movements were no longer scattered in random hunts. Their forces were consolidating, abandoning their earlier attempt to sweep the fortress in a single pass.

Now, they were converging on one target—

Eleanor.

Alex's eyes sharpened, and he moved to reinforce her—

—but before he could take a single step, a massive presence thundered toward him.

***

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