The entire battle dissolved into an all-out clash, the Holy Allied Territories' command chain completely breaking as adrenaline and the storm made voices near impossible to hear.

Everyone was now going to what they thought was correct.

Pikemen moved on their own and tried to stop Lucan's cavalry, while foot soldiers formed small groups and assaulted the narrow gate one by one.

Some even tried to head to the other gates of Snowkeep, only to be met with bombardment.

And the entire time, Justinian couldn't help but think that they were fighting like Russians, using pure numbers to try and overwhelm his capital.

'How goddamn many are there?'

Justinian thought as he weaved through blows, parrying and blocking each second as the three fighters were stuck in a stalemate.

"Getting tired?"

Count Besmund spat out, bleeding from his left arm.

Marquis Raven was also worse for wear, his face bloody and battered, as Justinian usually abandoned swordsmanship altogether for just a plain punch with his gauntleted hands.

[100% Stamina Regeneration]

His system rang out, reminding him of his current buffs. Right now, he was still fresh.

Barely out of breath as he and the two rulers circled each other, waiting for each other's next move.

"Shouldn't I be asking that?"

Justinian mocked them under his helmet, for all they knew, he could have been straight up uninjured from their brawl.

Justinian's voice came out distorted through the mask, deep and mocking, almost inhuman.

Raven grit his teeth, his breath coming out as vapor. "Arrogant bastard—!"

Before he could finish, Justinian was already gone.

A flicker of shadow.

CRACK!

A gauntlet met Besmund's jaw in a single, devastating punch that echoed through the snowstorm. The radiant knight spun midair before crashing down, holy light sputtering from the impact.

"Besmund!" Raven roared, lunging forward, blade wreathed in runes of flame.

Justinian didn't even draw his sword. He caught the strike with his hands once more, fire hissing against blackened steel.

"You still think faith can match flesh?"

He twisted, and Raven's sword snapped in two.

For a heartbeat, the battlefield froze. Even the storm seemed to falter.

Lucan's cavalry swept past the right flank again, cutting through disoriented crusaders like wheat. Cassia's voice still rang in the distance, issuing orders through the blizzard, keeping formation alive amid the chaos.

But here, in the heart of the snowstorm, only three men stood.

One monster. Two dying lights.

Raven staggered back, disbelief clouding his gaze. "You… you're no man."

Justinian tilted his head. "Then what am I?"

He stepped forward. Each stride made the snow tremble. His aura, once a restrained dominion, now spilled out like an expanding storm, swallowing the world around him.

[Duke of War +1]

[The Book of War Responds]

[Quest: Kill The Leaders of the Holy War]

[Rewards: Duke of War +2]

The system tone rang like a distant bell in his mind.

A thin red string connecting his sword to the two injured rulers appeared, just like the moment it appeared when he was sparring with Cassia.

Raven and Besmund both screamed as their vision distorted, their senses twisted. Every breath they took felt heavy. Every blink blurred their surroundings.

To them, Justinian's every step looked like ten.

They swung wildly, desperately. Their weapons clashed with illusions, air, shadows, anything that wasn't him.

Then a single flash of black steel pierced through the veil.

SLASH!

Besmund's armor split from collar to hip. Light poured out of the wound like liquid fire before fading completely. The count fell to his knees, eyes wide, disbelief frozen on his face as snow covered his final expression.

"Besmund!"

Raven lunged again, rage and grief merging into a single roar.

Justinian parried without looking. Sparks scattered like dying stars. He caught Raven by the throat, lifting him effortlessly off the ground.

The Marquis's hands clawed at the steel grip. "You… devil…"

"Close enough."

Justinian's voice dropped to a growl. "But remember this, Marquis, devils keep their promises. Gods don't."

He threw him to the ground. The impact shook the snow loose from the nearby foliage.

Lucan saw it from afar, the moment when both enemy commanders fell.

He raised his sword high.

"The Duke still stands! Push forward!"

A thunderous roar erupted from the Snowkeep soldiers. Their morale reignited, cutting through exhaustion, fear, and frost.

The Holy Allied line, already shattered, began to collapse completely. The surviving crusaders broke ranks, fleeing into the blizzard as artillery fire rained down behind them.

The white battlefield turned to ash and steam.

Justinian stood alone amidst the carnage, the storm howling around him, his armor black and red with blood.

For a long moment, he said nothing. The sounds of battle faded. Only the wind spoke.

But he didn't get to rest for long as the last and most destructive of them had finally arrived, Barom Ilmund, his entire body covered with flames, his horse and sword covered in blood as he rode in like a firestorm.

Deciding to finally join in on the fight after failing to chase down the lightly equipped riders that ambushed them.

"Don't fall back! We've lost far too much to give up now!"

Ilmund declared, every gallop from his horse leaving streaks of black across the snow.

It seemed like he had received enlightenment from the short time he was gone.

[Arethrus surveys the battlefield; he seeks to test you.]

The system rang out.

'So it was that god's doing...?'

Justinian quickly took a defensive stance as the galloping living fireball made its way, easily weaving through bombardments and arrow fire.

"The Baron has arrived!"

"We've got a chance!"

The crusaders yelled out in unison, their once fleeing formation now organizing once more, this time stronger than before.

And oddly enough... each one had started to glow subtly.

Flames unleashing from their blades.

"The gods have finally received our blessing!"

As Ilmund's words were heard across the battlefield, the fight had returned, and with it, Ilmund's fury over losing his two biggest allies.

If he failed now, then only death would greet him back in his lands.

Surrounded by vultures who prey on weakened rulers, and that was exactly him if they retreated.

"Die!"

Ilmund planned to crash his horse straight onto Justinian, but he was quick enough to sidestep the galloping horse and cleave at its legs.

But instead of tumbling down, Ilmund had expected it, jumping at just the right moment and dismounting cleanly.

It was impressive, surprising even.

And Justinian couldn't help but break character.

'He's like the final boss... what the hell?'

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