“Move it! Hurry! The moment the sun rises, those Bariel bastards will attack! We must protect Aguiar!”

“Over here! We’re distributing the black armor from Ruswena! Hurry and get yours!”

“Gather the armor you were wearing and move it inside the main wall! If the Third Gate falls, we’ll mobilize the residents! We’ll need to supply them, so get it sorted!”

“Here, take it! This is the last meal before the decisive battle!”

“Just a little more, eh?”

“Hey, no! Next!”

Inside the walls of Aguiar, the scene was just as chaotic as the Bariel camp.

The soldiers who would lead the siege defense changed into the black armor supplied by Ruswena, gripping their weapons tightly as they took their positions on the ramparts. All of them were men who had been born and raised in Aguiar. Burgos may have been half-ruined, but their resolve to protect their homeland to the very last was ironclad.

“Ian Hielo, the Minister of Magic, will lead their vanguard.”

Click.

Rutherford placed a small stone on the map and spoke.

This was the Burgos tactical meeting. Gathered around Rutherford were the mages from Ruswena, the chieftains of the northern tribes, and—

“Can Toolun handle this?”

—a support contingent from Toolun.

The Ruswena mages and the northern chieftains glanced sideways at the newcomer. All they knew was the name: ‘Bagvan’. They had no idea what his purpose or abilities were.

‘Judging by his build and attire, he doesn’t appear to be a warrior.’

While everyone was making their own quiet assessments, Bagvan let out a cackling laugh and gave a small shake of his head. He had long, narrow eyes and exceptionally prominent front teeth. His mouth twitched bizarrely every time he laughed.

“Isn’t it only right for a mage to fight a mage? I will take the rampart. The Emperor Jin and the entire Bariel army will be throwing themselves at the wall; it will be much easier for me to make my move there. What do you say, mages of Ruswena?”

“Well, it matters not to us. As you said, it is easier for mages to fight amongst themselves. Getting swept up in the regular fray is just troublesome.”

“However… I heard Bariel has a separate resource for mana amplification. Does Ruswena have the same? You do have the experience of being thoroughly thrashed… ah, defeated, in the Clifford-Burgos war, do you not? I imagine your king must be quite worried. Keh, keh.”

The remark was a perfect blend of concern and contempt.

The representative for the Ruswena mages replied, his face hardening. “Then and now are different. Our entire magical corps has been replaced, and we also possess an asset who can handle amplification.”

“Rather than ‘replaced,’ wasn’t it more of a ‘complete gutting’?”

“I don’t understand what you’re trying to do here.”

“Bagvan.”

Everyone was already on edge before the battle, and Bagvan’s insolence was grating. Rutherford interceded, his tone a clear warning to stand down. Bagvan just bowed his head, a smirk still playing on his lips.

“Then the Bariel Ministry of Magic will be handled by the combined forces of Ruswena and the northern tribes. Bagvan will take the wall. However—if the ‘location’ of Emperor Jin Verocion is identified, Bagvan will be the one to dispose of him.”

“Excellent. Let’s proceed with that.”

“Understood. I will aim for the Emperor, but I will, of course, respond appropriately to the situation. But, one thing…”

Bagvan, having seemingly agreed, casually asked, “Whose property is the Emperor’s corpse?”

“That will be decided based on the situation. Do not get ahead of yourself.”

“Yes, yes. I was just wondering if someone else was having… improper thoughts.”

“Hey! If anyone is having such ‘improper thoughts,’ it would be your side!”

“There are necromancers mixed in with the northern tribes, so one never knows, does one?”

Clack.

Rutherford placed another small stone on the table, a silent warning to end the idle chatter.

“Our goal is not merely to defend Aguiar. We must take the heads of our enemies and, from there, advance into Bariel. That, and that alone, is the purpose for which we have gathered. Do not forget it. The enemy is not in this room. They are out there.”

If they couldn’t defeat Bariel, they would die. No, perhaps death would be a mercy. The true, crushing price would be paid by the survivors. Ruswena, suffering a second consecutive defeat after the Clifford-Burgos war, would undoubtedly be set on a path to ruin. The Burgos anti-royalist faction would be annihilated, and the entire nation absorbed into Bariel.

And that wasn’t all. The northern tribes, all save Astana, would pay a bitter price for daring to stand against Bariel.

“What is our countermeasure for the golems?”

“They are beings without a core. A direct, overwhelming barrage is inefficient. Killing the Astana mages controlling them is the cleanest and easiest way.”

“Bagvan.”

“Yes, yes. Understood. As I said, if their location is identified.”

That ‘location’ again. What in the world does he plan to do that he keeps harping on about it? The mages were puzzled, but the man’s attitude was so obnoxious that no one bothered to ask.

Bagvan just grinned. “Fight without worry. My subordinates are many. My most trusted one is currently in Bariel, it’s true, but the ones here are more than enough to protect you. This is the will of my king, so I will, of course, do my utmost to assist.”

“In Bariel?” one of the mages asked reflexively.

Just then—

Bwoooooo— Bwooo—

The sound of the water buffalo horn, announcing the break of dawn, echoed from all around. The time had come. The Bariel camp was likely reacting in the same way.

“Well then. Good hunting.”

“Good hunting.”

With a final nod from Rutherford, everyone filed out of the conference room. Simultaneously, one of his subordinates approached with hurried steps and whispered something to him.

“…Who did you say?”

“Will you see them? The sun is rising…”

“It’s not as if a meeting takes a day or two. Bring them in. What an unexpected and welcome connection. I will greet them with pleasure.”

“Yes, Lord Rutherford.”

Slash!

As he spoke, Rutherford violently tore back the curtain. The dark conference room was flooded with light, revealing the sight of the soldiers moving with disciplined haste outside.

And far in the distance— A lone, blond-haired boy, standing silhouetted against the rising sun.

Grip.

Unconsciously, Rutherford’s hand tightened on the curtain. Why? Why, in such a critical moment, does the god remain silent? The path I must walk, by trampling over that, is so long and arduous.

Rutherford turned his head at the sound of someone entering.

“Lord Rutherford.”

“Ah, yes.”

He greeted his guest with a radiant smile, as if truly delighted. “How very good to see you.”

Though, as the guest was prostrated fully on the floor, he couldn’t actually see their face.

***

“The sun is fully risen.”

At someone’s murmur, Ian looked toward the rampart. The Burgos flag still hung, unmoving. He gestured to the mages, and, taking the lead, launched himself into the sky.

Ziiiing! Zing! Fwip!

The mages followed, having all shed their heavy outer robes. The timing was perfect; as the sunlight brightened, the entire vista of Aguiar became clearly visible.

Among them were two scribes, tied securely to the backs of their dragons. They had no time to feel dizzy; they just clutched their flapping papers and scribbled furiously.

“A little… h-higher, please!”

“Does it even understand you?”

Kkyuuuuu!

“H-Hiiieek!”

The dragon shot upward abruptly, throwing the scribes about. The mages zipped past them, initiating the first barrage to signal the start of the battle.

“Let’s go, everyone!”

“Protect Lord Ian!”

Fwhoooosh!

Ian cut through the air toward the rampart, fast as a ripple through water. His nerves were stretched taut, uncertain what kind of unknown attack might fly at him.

As the distance closed, enough for them to be seen clearly by the naked eye, the Burgos archers loosed their first volley.

“All units—!”

Clack!

An amber-colored glint shone from the tip of every arrow. They were coated in Idgal. It was the same primary tactic they had used in the Clifford-Burgos war to counter mages who dominated the battlefield.

“Fire!”

Shwaaaaaa!

Hundreds of arrows, loosed by the Burgos soldiers, flew in a high, graceful arc. It was a spectacular sight, like a living wave of amber light surging to engulf them.

“Idgal arrows!”

“Prepare for impact!”

A brief murmur of unrest rippled through the mages, but it was silenced instantly. Ian simply raised one hand. A massive Idgal wall materialized in front of them.

T-t-t-tak! Tak! Paat!

The arrows struck the wall and shattered, their power nullified. In turn, Ian’s wall, countered by the Idgal-tipped arrows, also began to crack and fall away in large chunks.

At this, Akorella, drool literally dripping from her mouth, shot forward, enraged. Hale and the other mages followed, their expressions weary.

“You crazy bastards! Do you have any idea how precious this stuff is!”

“Commander, we know! Just slow down a little! Don’t get ahead of Lord Ian, please!”

“Lord Ian! Just drop it all! Drop it all on those bastards so they get crushed to death!”

Ian gripped his right wrist with his left hand and twisted his body. A massive conflagration began to roar to life in his palm.

‘Forget the wall. I’ll melt the whole thing.’

His gaze fixed on the flapping Burgos flag. At that very moment—

Clang! Ziiiiing! Zing!

From all over the rampart, the Ruswena mages who had been lying in wait launched into the sky simultaneously. They cast a protective shield against Ian’s attack. His flames, as if hitting an invisible sphere, failed to reach the wall and simply dissipated, washing harmlessly over the barrier.

The mages shouted as the heat rolled off in waves.

“It’s the Ruswena mages!”

“Lord Ian, be careful!”

Zing.

Ian pressed his fingertips against the shield. It was deep, sturdy, and the weave of the magic was precise. It was high-level work, but—

P-jijik! Tze-eok!

The moment it came into contact with the Idgal Ian was generating, the shield began to crack and splinter. It was only a matter of time. No matter how much mana they poured into it, how could a simple mage’s shield withstand the inherent power of Idgal itself?

Bwoooooo—! Bwooo—!

“Advance!”

“Tear down the wall!”

Tweller, who had been watching the exchange, gave the order to charge. Following his outstretched sword, the Bariel soldiers roared and surged toward the wall. Rocks and a rain of arrows hailed down from above, but it wasn’t enough to stop the endless, charging tide.

“Ladders, forward!”

“Waaaaaaaaaah!”

“Run! Keep running!”

“Golems!”

Kuung! Kuung!

The Astana mages focused their minds, moving the golems. As beings of pure, massive stone, they needed no other weapon than their own fists.

“Breach the gate!”

Hroooar!

The golem raised its massive fist to smash the gate. In that instant—

It froze, stopping just an inch short of the wood. The Astana mage frowned, wondering what was wrong, and then noticed his comrade beside him, clutching his chest.

“H-Hey…?”

“K-heok… S-Something…”

Bright red blood pulsed between the man’s fingers.

It was incomprehensible. There had been no warning, no sign of an attack. The shock lasted only a second before Hasha’s command snapped them back to reality.

“Continue the attack!”

“B-But, Your Majesty!”

“I will find the source!”

Was this it? The unknown attack that wounded Sir Ian? At Hasha’s order, the Astana mages refocused, moving the golems once more.

Kwoooong!

The golem’s left hand smashed into the wall beside the gate, and Bariel soldiers immediately began to use it as a ramp to swarm the rampart. Jeirutt and the Imperial Guard, their eyes fixed on the Astana mages, tightened their defenses.

“There is an unknown attack. All units, stay sharp and identify its source, but prioritize His Majesty’s protection above all!”

“Yes, Commander!”

Clash!

Meanwhile, high in the sky, Ian was still locked in a struggle with the Ruswena mages’ shield and was unaware of the events below. Just a little more… He was about to pour more power into his attack when Hale shouted.

“Lord Ian!”

Clang!

A massive bird-like creature was diving at Ian from the distance. Hale unleashed his own magic to block it, and in that instant, he saw its true form.

“Ugh. What the hell is that?”

“Captain Akorella, please, some dignity.”

“Is it one of the northern tribes?”

It was a half-man, half-beast, a northern tribesman with massive wings sprouting from his shoulder blades. They wielded two swords at once, diving at Ian repeatedly.

The mages threw up a shield to protect Ian, but—

“Damn.”

“Watch out! The Idgal fragments are scattering!”

“Aah! Y-Yes! Understood!”

Before the half-beast’s swords could even connect, they were shattered by the aura of Ian’s Idgal. It wasn’t just a threat to the Ruswena mages; it was dangerous to his allies as well. The mages yelled as they batted away the sharp, broken pieces, and Ian rolled up his sleeves.

‘Idgal should be reserved for neutralizing the Ruswena mages at close range.’

It’s fine. No problem.

He had plenty of other methods.

“Stop being such a nuisance—”

Ziiiing!

His eyes flashed. He shot forward, straight at the cracked Ruswena shield.

“—and give me Rutherford!”

Flash! Kwhaaaaaang!

A massive explosion lit up the sky. The Bariel soldiers on the ground faltered for a second, then, undeterred, continued their charge.

Jin gripped his sword tightly, his worried gaze fixed on the sky.