Chapter 46: Outbreak of War

Kalserik ground his teeth.

‘We have to crush his momentum as much as possible…!’

Barkan the Irresistible.

If they failed to break his momentum, that brat ahead, Zaltran, would shatter like a glass figurine.

“Pikes! Hold!”

At his shout, the High-grade Experts arrayed on both flanks poured Aura into their pikes and aimed them at Barkan.

They weren’t ordinary pikes.

These were ancient armaments of treasure grade, personally brought by Ransen himself.

They felt perfectly balanced in the hand, and the Aura surging forth from them was unlike any other.

With these…!

Even against Barkan the Irresistible…!

Kwa-duk! Kudududuk!

The ancient pikes wielded by Kalserik and the other High-grade Experts—

all of them bounced off Barkan as if they were nothing but raindrops.

Some bent under the sweep of his glaive, while others snapped against the Aura-charged armor covering his body.

A storm of clashing Aura swept across the battlefield.

Barkan tore through even that storm as he charged.

“Y-you brat…!!!”

Kalserik’s eyes filled with panic.

Because Barkan’s momentum was still terrifying.

Because it looked as if Zaltran, standing at the front with his shield, wouldn’t be able to endure.

But—

‘It’s working…!’

Zaltran, instead, saw hope.

His gaze locked onto Barkan’s glaive.

‘It’s weakened.’

The Aura Blade, clearly diminished and blurred.

That alone was enough.

Wait,

wait longer,

until the very last moment—

‘Now!’

Aura Repulsion!

At the most perfect timing, Zaltran unleashed the secret technique of the Count House of Juan.

JJJJOONG!

The shockwave exploded.

The sudden vacuum made his ears ring.

The whole world seemed to be sucked forward.

KWAANG!

Zaltran was hurled backward at a terrifying speed.

His hand, which looked dead still, twitched faintly.

‘I have to stand… I have to protect…’

Just as his brother Ransen had.

Even from just a single clash, the massive muscles he had trained for a lifetime screamed in agony.

The ancient shield and armor, personally passed down by Ransen, were shredded and torn.

Yet Zaltran forced his trembling hand against the ground and pushed himself up.

Gripping his crushed ancient shield,

He stared ahead.

He saw it.

Barkan, forced back and halted by the Aura Repulsion.

He had stopped the charge of a Swordmaster.

“Crazy! You actually pulled it off! You mad bastard!!”

Kalserik’s voice rang out, full of laughter.

“I told you I would show you.”

Zaltran, his voice cracked and broken, replied as he raised his shield once again.

It was only a single step forward,

but it felt like he had placed his foot upon the very path his brother had walked.

*         *         *

“He got slammed.”

Haarun furrowed his brow.

A cavalry charge that failed… It was horrific.

And to think it was his own cavalry… twice as horrific.

“Did Barkan lose his edge? Huu… Send the mounted archers and shake them. Two or three volleys, and their formation will waver.”

“Yes, sir!”

The murderous speed of the Ailun White Horses.

On top of that, the power of the “Stag Horn Bows” used in the Ailun region.

Combined, these produced penetration far surpassing that of crossbows.

Shields were simply split apart.

Those arrogant infantry— they would all be slammed into the dirt.

Dududududu—

The heavy cavalry and lancers that had just charged wheeled back, and in their place, 2,000 mounted archers rode forward.

But what Haarun had overlooked was the fact that Ransen’s army was armed with the Imperial Black Bows, hailed as the finest bows in the world.

Far above the stag horn bows of the Ailun mounted archers— those were the Black Bows.

Shweeeeee!

Far faster than expected, jet-black shafts rained down from the sky.

Hiiiiiing!

“What? Already in range?”

“Black Bows! They’ve got Imperial Black Bows!”

“Aaagh!”

Thud! Crunch!

Haarun’s mounted archers crashed to the ground, arrows stuck in their throats and chests.

But their reputation as the finest elite of Norberju was no lie.

“Full advance!”

“Hyah!”

Instead of retreating, they drove their spurs and pushed for even greater speed.

With the speed of the Ailun White Horses, they calculated they could fire a volley at the enemy and pull back within mere seconds.

Still, for that moment, their field of vision narrowed.

And Ransen’s forces did not miss that opening.

“Wipe them out! Smash the mounted archers before they even realize what’s happening!”

The 1,500-strong cavalry led by Katrina bypassed the heavy infantry and charged at full speed.

In an instant they reached maximum velocity, striking at the flank of the Ailun mounted archers.

“Damn it…!”

Realizing the situation too late, Haarun’s mounted archers hastily turned direction.

Katrina, chasing them close, exploded in rage.

“Insane…! What kind of turn is that?!”

She managed to trample a few stragglers at the rear, but the vast majority completed their turn safely and escaped.

An outrageous maneuver.

A feat possible only for the Ailun mounted archers, famed throughout all Roberland.

But Haarun’s expression grew even darker.

“How dare you… bring out cavalry in front of me?”

The northwestern region of Roberland, Norberju, was known above all for its cavalry.

The endlessly stretching, broad, low hills made the perfect grounds for horses to run.

But even among them, the Ailun White Horses were exceptional.

Drinking the water imbued with the mana of the world’s largest lake, Naelund, these white horses were not merely fine steeds but mystical beasts capable of holding Aura.

And before the Storm Cavalry, every one of them mounted on such Ailun White Horses… they dared?

“Cavalry! Sweep those bastards away first! Infantry! All-out charge! Annihilate them!”

“Yes, sir!”

At Haarun’s command, the heavy cavalry and lancers that had retreated wheeled about and charged again.

The target was Ransen’s cavalry, chasing down the mounted archers.

Dudududududu!

“We’re wheeling around too! Charge!”

Katrina swiftly turned her horse and charged straight at the Storm Cavalry.

Meanwhile, the Storm King’s 6,000 personal warriors and 8,000 mercenaries also surged toward Ransen’s forces.

All across the field, both sides’ troops collided at full strength.

*         *         *

The first to clash were Ransen’s cavalry under Katrina and Haarun’s cavalry under Barkan.

At that moment of impact—

The Swordmaster called “Irresistible” Barkan experienced, for the second time that day, something he had scarcely ever felt in his life.

JJJJOONG!

“They blocked me?”

His massive glaive vibrated with a metallic buzz.

His warhorse snorted, forced sideways from the shock.

Barkan found himself grinning broadly, involuntarily.

“Thrilling, isn’t it?”

Earlier hadn’t been quite so thrilling.

That infantry brat had only managed to stop him by joining forces with several others.

It was soft, like hitting a cushion.

What Barkan craved wasn’t that.

He wanted the crushing collision of overwhelming weight— muscles braced to bursting, Aura surging like waves across his body, his frame pressed down by a dreadful heaviness.

In that instant, he felt alive.

And now, he felt it again.

From the warrior before him, hair flying like a lion’s mane.

How she had managed to block his Aura Blade with mere Aura Threads—he didn’t care in the slightest.

“Your name?”

“Katrina.”

“Good. I’m Barkan.”

So saying, he wheeled his horse back to gain distance for another charge.

All he hoped was that this toy would hold out a little longer before breaking.

*         *         *

‘More troublesome than I thought, huh?’

Jedark the Gambler, one of the Seven Champions of the Storm, clicked his tongue.

Infantry 14,000 versus 5,000.

When they launched the all-out charge, he had thought the outcome obvious.

The numbers alone were overwhelming.

But once they actually clashed…

‘What, did they slather themselves in ancient armaments?’

Those men with ancient shields in tight formation simply wouldn’t break.

Long spears stabbed relentlessly over the shields, making approach anything but easy.

‘Looks like I’ll have to carve the way myself.’

He stepped forward.

With his Aura Sword he battered aside the ancient shields blocking the front line, about to tear through the exposed shield-bearer—

Whoosh!

Without a sound, a jet-black arrow flew at him.

Soaked in Aura.

Zzziiiik!

It grazed his cheek, leaving a long trail of blood.

‘Ah?’

It was sheer luck.

That he had dodged that arrow just now.

No—

It wasn’t even that he dodged. He had simply turned his head at the right moment, happened to catch sight of the arrow, and hastily wrapped an Aura Shield over his skin to deflect it past his face.

A chill ran down his spine.

The thought—he could have died.

That thought flipped the switch inside Jedark the Gambler.

Slurp.

Licking the blood that trickled down his cheek, Jedark quickly sought out his opponent.

There—an archer hiding among the enemy soldiers.

Their eyes met.

Rivera Pietro.

The finest archer in Kushan City.

Jedark smirked at him.

“Let’s see. Which one of us dies first.”

Jedark the Gambler.

He was a man mad for thrill.

A warrior who had always leapt into danger— and survived.

*         *         *

Ransen’s heavy infantry, facing Haarun’s force nearly three times their number, did not simply endure. They crushed their foes instead.

The secret lay in the diagonal formation.

The troops, split into left, center, and right wings, arrayed themselves in a slanted line against the enemy.

The right wing advanced.

The center held.

The left wing slowly fell back.

The Storm King’s warriors, who had charged without any strategy, fell straight into the trap of the diagonal formation.

They first collided with the advancing right wing, then the center, and finally the retreating left wing.

And Ransen’s army had packed the right wing with the largest number of elite soldiers.

These elite troops of the protruding right wing struck first, killing enemies faster, then pressed into the center and left, smashing into the flanks of the foe.

Meanwhile, the relatively weaker center and left, falling back, delayed engagement long enough for the right wing to swing in to support them.

Ransen’s heavy infantry had already experienced the power of this formation when fighting orcs, so they faced this battle with confidence.

On top of that, the core elite warriors were armed with ancient armaments, and 3,500 archers in the rear provided constant support with volleys of Blackshafts…

Five thousand against fourteen thousand?

It was Ransen’s side that devoured Haarun’s.

*         *         *

Varen Rodona.

At twenty-four, the third sibling of the Ransen Family, he commanded the right wing, which shattered the enemy infantry’s flank.

“Zahir!”

Cutting down foes without hesitation, he finally found the target he had been hunting for.

“Ah, it’s you? That brat I saw in Kushan City.”

Zahir of a Hundred Victories rested his bloodstained longsword on his shoulder and flashed a carefree grin.

Varen disliked that composure.

“You… I’ve been looking for you.”

“For me? But why are you so angry?”

“Why, you ask?”

Varen remembered.

The humiliation of that day.

It wasn’t merely the humiliation of being beaten.

It was something far more terrible, far more miserable.

Like watching a cherished dream shatter into pieces—

a wretchedness unbearable not only as a warrior but as a human being.

‘…I didn’t even get to show Hyung my skills after becoming Peak Expert!’

When Varen had reached Peak Expert, the very first thing he wanted was to show off to Ransen in style.

He longed to hear just one phrase: “You’ve truly grown strong!”

But instead—

instead…!

“Before I even got to show my skills…! To get my eyes smashed black and blue! What do you think Hyung will think of me?!!!”

Whoosh!

Blue flames blazed in Varen’s eyes.

No matter what—

he was determined to kill Zahir here.

*         *         *

I surveyed the battlefield where the fighting had now erupted in earnest.

My younger brothers, my vassals—everyone seemed to be holding their ground in their own positions.

Infantry against infantry.

Cavalry against cavalry.

All clashing fiercely.

But that left one group.

The Storm King’s mounted archers.

If left unchecked, they would ravage the rear of our infantry lines. Who was going to stop them?

‘I will.’

Gripping a 2.5-meter cavalry lance, I charged alone straight into the midst of the mounted archers.

“B-block him!”

“We can’t stop him!”

“Damn it! His Aura Threads move like they’re alive…!”

The mounted archers were already weak in close combat.

There was no way they could withstand my charge, that of a Swordmaster, already at the High-grade level, even by ancient standards.

Thrusting left, sweeping right, smashing skulls, stabbing as I advanced—

I slaughtered my way forward.

And then, at last, the opponent I had been waiting for appeared.

“Are you stupid, Ransen?”

Haarun, the Storm King.

He appeared before me, leading ten of his personal guards.

“You kept singing about wanting a one-on-one duel with me… and this is how you call me out? If you wanted to die, you could’ve just found a rope and hanged yourself instead, don’t you think?”

Haarun looked genuinely baffled.

And indeed.

All around, the field was swarming with his forces.

Not just the mounted archers, but also the ten personal guards he had brought with him.

Meanwhile, I stood alone.

Anyone could see this was nothing like a one-on-one duel.

But so what?

I had met him, hadn’t I?

I swung my cavalry lance wide and leveled it at him.

“What’s wrong? Scared?”

Haarun furrowed his brows in disbelief.

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