Raven stood in front of the long line of soldiers, the frost-covered ground crunching quietly under their boots.

The right-side unit stretched far behind him, fifteen captains, each with more than a thousand men under their command.

Twenty thousand soldiers in total, all waiting for his words.

Their breaths rose in thin white clouds.

Armor clinked faintly as they shifted, tightening straps, gripping weapons, trying to hold back the tension that always settled before a battle.

Raven scanned their faces. Most were serious, focused.

A few looked pale. Then he spotted Manoj near the front, grinning like this was some festival and not the start of a war.

Raven let out a small sigh.

Somehow, that ridiculous grin eased his own nerves more than any deep breath ever could.

He straightened his back and filled his lungs.

"Soldiers!" Raven shouted.

His voice cut through the cold air like a blade.

Every head lifted a little higher. "The right side of the wall is ours. That part of the battlefield belongs to us. No matter what happens, no matter how many arrows fly at us, we will take it."

The captains stood firm, fists against their chests.

The soldiers answered at once, twenty thousand voices rising together, shaking the air.

"YES, SIR!"

The sound rolled across the snow, loud and heavy, like thunder that refused to be ignored.

Raven nodded slowly, letting the roar of his men fade before he looked past them, far ahead, about five hundred meters away.

Another battalion stood in a tight, disciplined block, easily 1.5 times the size of his own battalion.

At the front of that group stood Vice General Eliza.

Even from this distance, she looked calm and sharp, already giving out last-minute instructions.

Her soldiers stood proud, their morale high, their steps solid.

Past her battalion stood Vice General Vincen's forces.

His unit was roughly the same size as Raven's, but their spirit was no less fierce.

They held their shields steady and talked to one another with quiet confidence, as if they were already imagining themselves scaling the walls.

Farther to the side, the generals sat on raised wooden chairs beneath a long tent canopy.

They watched the entire field with sharp eyes.

Their task would be simple but terrifying: stop any powerhouse who stepped onto the field.

Whether it was the Clown or any other monster, they would be the ones to face it head-on.

If they found an opening, they would even break through the enemy lines alone, without needing an army behind them.

Raven exhaled deeply at the thought. He turned around, facing forward again.

One kilometer ahead, the walls of the Tramplin estate rose tall and silent. Cold stone. Iron gates.

Even from this distance, the pressure of that fortress hit him like a cold wave.

He stared at it for a long moment.

The sun caught the edges of the wall, making it look even taller, even harsher.

Then Raven clenched his jaw and raised his voice.

"Soldiers, in formation!"

His words broke the quiet, snapping every man back to attention.

Raven didn't waste a second.

"First layer, heavy armor to the front!" he shouted.

The command ripped through the cold air, sharp and clear.

At once, a thousand heavy-armored soldiers marched forward.

Their steps were slow but powerful, metal plates clinking with each move.

Their shields were huge, taller than some men, wide enough to cover their whole bodies.

From head to toe they were wrapped in iron. Only their eyes showed, two thin lines of focus behind the visors.

They pushed through the formation smoothly, taking their position at the very front.

In a matter of seconds, they spread out and locked themselves together like a wall made of steel.

Within moments they covered a stretch of nearly a hundred meters, forming the first layer.

Raven raised his hand again.

"Archers!"

Two thousand archers stepped forward from the back.

They moved quickly, standing right behind the heavy armor.

Bows in hand. Quivers filled. Their breath fogged the air, but their hands were steady.

Raven didn't stop.

"Heavy armor!"

Another thousand armored soldiers broke from the lines and marched ahead, forming a second wall behind the archers.

The formation now looked like a giant metal sandwich, heavy armor in front, archers behind them, and heavy armor at the back.

And it didn't stop.

Layer after layer formed.

First layer: 1,000 heavy armor and 2,000 archers.

Second layer: 1,000 heavy armor and 2,000 archers.

Third layer: 1,000 heavy armor and 2,000 archers.

Fourth layer: 1,000 heavy armor and 2,000 archers.

Fifth layer: 1,000 heavy armor and 2,000 archers.

Each layer was made of 1,000 heavy-armored soldiers in the front and 2,000 archers behind them, making a total of five layers.

Each group moved with almost no hesitation.

Shields slammed down. Boots thudded against the hard ground.

Even the air seemed to grow heavier as the formation took shape.

By the time all five layers were complete, the right-side army looked like a massive iron beast waiting to chew through the battlefield.

Raven breathed in the cold air, letting it steady him for a heartbeat.

Then he shouted, voice ringing across the field:

"Knights, step forward!"

The moment the words left his mouth, five thousand knights moved as one.

Their armor was lighter than the heavy troops, built for speed, not defense.

They marched forward and took their place right behind the five layers, forming the final line of the formation.

Now the full force stood ready, twenty thousand soldiers in perfect order, the formation solid and sharp like the edge of a blade.

Raven nodded in satisfaction.

"Soldiers, guard up!"

"YES, SIR!" their voices thundered back, rolling through the cold air like a wave.

He allowed himself one more small nod.

Then he turned his head and saw the other two vice generals.

They had also finished arranging their battalions and were walking toward the generals' stand.

Raven glanced at his soldiers one last time, then stepped forward and began walking toward the generals as well, boots pressing into the frost-covered ground, the weight of the upcoming battle already settling on his shoulders.

He walked toward the generals with a calm expression, the kind of calm that looked almost carved onto his face.

But inside, a spark of excitement flickered in his chest, sharp, restless, impossible to hide from himself.

This was the moment every commander trained for.

After a few steps, he picked up his pace.

Mana surged down his legs and into his feet, warming them and pushing him forward like a silent wind.

The world blurred for a moment, and in just a few breaths he closed most of the distance.

When he reached about twenty meters from the generals, he slowed down.

His steps became steady again.

Ahead of him, he saw Vice General Eliza already bowing deeply to General Vined and Duke Sant.

Her posture was respectful, almost flawless.

She said something he couldn't fully hear, and after a short exchange, she stepped back.

Vincen followed right after her. He bowed, gave his report, and then walked back toward his battalion.

Once they both left, Raven took a final breath and moved forward.

The cold wind brushed against his armor, but he didn't let it shake his focus.

He stopped right in front of the two generals.

"Vice General Raven is here to report," he said, lowering his head in a deep bow that showed both respect and loyalty.

Vined looked at him and let a small smile form on his face. "Is your battalion prepared?"

Raven straightened a little more. "Yes, General."

Vined gave a soft hum and turned his head toward the older man beside him.

"Fa… General Sant, how about you say something encouraging to him?"

Duke Sant stroked his chin slowly, as if he were searching for the right words.

Then he pushed himself up from his chair.

Even though he was old, the strength in his posture made the air feel heavier.

Raven was tall, but he still had to lift his chin a bit to meet the man's eyes.

Duke Sant smiled and reached out, patting Raven's shoulder with a firm hand. "This is your first time leading such a large army, I assume?"

"Yes, General," Raven replied.

His voice was enthusiastic, but a thin line of nervousness slipped through.

Duke Sant's smile grew a little. "I'm expecting good performance from you, young man."

Raven bowed again. "I won't let you down, General."

Once the old man stepped back, Vined rose to his feet.

"We will march in about an hour from now," he said, his voice carrying across the cold air.

His eyes swept over the field, steady and sharp. "Be prepared."

Then he looked directly at Raven. "Go. Make ready for the battle."

The weight of the moment settled on Raven's shoulders, heavy, but not unwelcome.

He bowed deeply once more before turning to return to his men, the cold wind brushing past him as the army's heartbeat slowly stirred toward war.

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