Episode 31
The perspective of an uninvolved third party observing a battlefield from afar is vastly different from that of someone directly engaged in the conflict.
As the field of vision narrows and the mind clouds, the weight of responsibility and the anxiety that gnaws at one’s nerves can blur judgment. Few can maintain the cold detachment of an outsider when standing on the brink of life and death.
Even the renowned Sir Milvas, the Pure Sword, was no exception to this truth.
“For Saint Magdalena!”
“Charge!”
In a desperate bid to end the battle swiftly, they launched a deep assault.
As they pursued the retreating enemy commander and cavalry, the distance between them and their own rear guard gradually widened.
Dale of Saxon, in retreat, glanced back at Sir Milvas and his knights who were hot on his heels. Riding at full gallop, he released the reins and assumed the stance of a seasoned mounted archer.
His fingers pointed in their direction.
“Magic…!”
It wasn’t hard to predict his next move. A Parthian shot.
“Ice Bullet.”
Thwang!
A surge of blue magic erupted from Dale’s fingertips, and a shard of ice shot forth.
“Such a petty trick!”
Even against the formidable Dale, his opponent was a knight skilled in wielding an aura blade. Against a body that transcended human limits, even an ice bullet held little significance.
“Neigh!”
However, no matter how invincible a knight might be, their horse was not invincible.
One of the warhorses, ridden by an aura knight of the count’s house, collapsed without even a cry.
Thud!
A knight tumbled from his horse, rolling across the ground. While a mere fall was unlikely to harm an aura knight, losing a horse in a pursuit meant they could no longer continue the fight.
“To hit with such precision from a galloping horse…!”
Sir Milvas was taken aback by the accuracy of the strike.
The eldest son of the Saxon family possessed unparalleled talent in both swordsmanship and magic. Yet, he was still only a third-circle mage!
Even if he was a full-fledged mage, he was not yet at a level to hold his own on the battlefield. Unlike knights who train specifically for combat, mages often lag behind in such scenarios.
Even high-ranking mages frequently find themselves outmatched by ordinary knights.
And yet, this mage maintained perfect balance on a galloping horse, shooting with pinpoint accuracy using projectile magic?
While the magic itself was impressive, hitting the target was not solely a matter of magic.
It required a seamless blend of horsemanship and archery skills.
Taking on the role of bait in such a high-stakes situation was not a reckless gamble or bluff.
“Rise, wall of ice.”
Thud!
An ice wall suddenly rose in the path of Sir Milvas and his charging cavalry.
He thought he hadn’t underestimated the young Saxon heir. But he had. He had grossly underestimated his opponent’s capabilities.
The enemy’s top commander had personally chosen to act as bait, genuinely buying time for his troops.
While the aura knights of the count’s house were entangled and disoriented by a single young mage, the enemy cavalry, having regrouped during their retreat, turned their horses around.
To protect their young commander. To repay Dale for risking his life on the front lines to buy them time.
“Don’t let their blades touch the young lord!”
“Lay down your lives to shield him!”
“Charge!”
Witnessing their resolve, Sir Milvas could only laugh. The enemy was no longer the ragtag band of the Greenbelt Baron’s disguised knights.
‘A trap within a trap…’
The “Black Cavalry,” whom he had encountered countless times on the battlefield, always lived up to their fearsome reputation.
And their goal was never to defeat Sir Milvas and the count’s aura knights.
Count Brandenburg’s official commander, Philip, had made a disastrous move, concentrating his central forces on the right flank and causing the front line to collapse. It was Sir Milvas who felt the pressure of time, while the Black Cavalry’s objective was to protect their commander until then.
This realization only fueled Sir Milvas’s anxiety.
‘Before the situation worsens, I must break through the Black Cavalry and capture the Saxon heir.’
The strongest forces among the Night Raven Knights were not present here.
Before they could collapse the left flank of the Parker Baron and execute a complete flanking maneuver, he needed to capture Dale, who was performing acrobatics as bait.
“Charge!”
Despite the exhaustion of their warhorses from repeated gallops, and the widening gap between them and their supporting units, the white aura knights began their charge once more, slowly but surely becoming isolated.
The 1st Cavalry Battalion, led by Sir Milvas, ultimately succeeded in reaching Dale.
Though not in the manner they had hoped.
Having pursued too far, they found themselves isolated in the heart of enemy territory, surrounded by the Saxon family’s Night Raven Knights.
‘Their overconfidence in the aura knights’ strength remains unchanged.’
Dale observed the surrounded Saint Magdalena Knights’ aura knights with a detached air.
As knights accumulate experience and wisdom through battle, it is distilled into “combat doctrine,” defining the identity of their order.
The Holy Knights were once his jailers in a past life, and thus Dale had seen much of the Saint Magdalena Knights, whether he liked it or not.
Their strengths and weaknesses, and countless secrets unseen from the outside. What they prioritized in battle, their thought processes, and how they made tactical decisions.
He understood them as clearly as if reading the palm of his hand.
Overestimating the power of aura knights was a long-standing flaw of the Saint Magdalena Knights.
The image of a sword master single-handedly slaughtering enemies on the battlefield is as much a myth in this world as it is in fanciful “knight literature.” Moreover, above the aura knights are the “aura masters,” and not all aura masters possess the prowess of a sword master.
“The detachment disguised as the Greenbelt Baron’s knights has broken through the enemy’s left flank!”
“The central cavalry has joined and successfully flanked the enemy’s wing!”
“We’ve captured the left flank commander, Baron Parker!”
Hearing the reports from the central and right flanks, Dale looked up calmly, leaving the endless stream of victories behind.
“It seems Prince Philip was quite untrustworthy.”
Dale smirked as he spoke.
Sir Milvas and his knights, isolated deep in enemy lines after a failed deep assault, had dwindled from a battalion of fifty aura knights to just a handful. Those who remained were far from being in fighting condition.
“From the start… was this a trap to lure us in?”
Sir Milvas asked in a weak voice.
“The battlefield is always chaotic, and no one can control or predict all the chaos.”
Dale shook his head.
“In the midst of repeated chaos, self-destruction is ultimately the result of one’s own folly.”
He gazed beyond, at the enemy’s main force, completely surrounded and crushed.
The front line had completely collapsed, screams echoed from all directions. The sound of steel clashing with flesh, steel with blood, steel with bone filled the air.
“Will you beg for your life?”
Amidst the cries, Dale asked.
“Will you kneel in disgrace and offer a ransom for your life?”
His face still hidden behind a black helmet, his voice dripped with mockery.
“For those who kneel and beg for their lives with gold… I intend to show mercy, in accordance with the great empire’s tradition.”
It was common practice for captured knights to pay a ransom for their release. Yet, Dale’s taunting made the act seem unbearably humiliating, leaving no one able to respond easily.
“Don’t be ridiculous!”
One of the surrounded aura knights spat defiantly.
“Oh, is that so.”
Dale snapped his fingers.
Thud!
The Night Raven Knights surrounding them thrust their spears without hesitation. The sound was like air escaping a balloon, not even a scream. Blood sprayed like a fountain.
“Then you must die.”
Dale said, his voice devoid of any emotion.
“What about you, Sir Milvas?”
”…”
“In any case, the one who will bear the full brunt of this defeat is not you, but the innocent Prince Philip.”
Sir Milvas remained silent.
After a long pause, he knelt slowly, enduring a humiliation worse than death. The clatter of armor plates echoed as he moved.
”…!”
It wasn’t that he feared death. Nor did he hold his honor lightly. He simply had to live to tell the tale.
The danger posed by the eldest son of the Jaxen family far exceeded anyone’s imagination.
Moreover, an Aura Knight was a precious asset that could not be squandered recklessly. As long as there was work to be done in this life, throwing it away for the sake of petty pride was far from an honorable death.
“Kneel, all of you, at once!”
Sir Milvas, the Knight of the Pure Sword, commanded with a booming voice.
“We will surrender according to the Empire’s tradition and demand fair treatment as prisoners!”
“Are you suggesting we beg for our lives on our knees?” Dale asked, his expression and emotions hidden behind a black helmet. Sir Milvas nodded, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood.
To fall for the enemy’s taunts and rush to a meaningless death was exactly what the enemy desired.
Realizing that his provocation had lost its purpose, Dale’s mocking smile vanished as if it had never been there, like an actor stepping off the stage after the final act.
A foreboding silence stretched from behind the black helmet, devoid of any emotion.
“Those who survive here,” Dale finally spoke after the silence, “will be none.”
”…!”
The unexpected words caused gasps to ripple through the crowd.
“Kill them all.”
Even the Night Raven Knights standing by Dale’s side were not exempt from this command.
According to imperial custom, captured knights were usually ransomed back. Yet Dale’s voice was resolute, and for the Night Raven Knights of Jaxen, his orders were absolute.
There was a moment of hesitation, but no reluctance. A knight’s virtue lay not in doubt but in execution.
Their unwavering trust in their lord was made possible by Dale’s charisma.
The Night Raven Knights, clad in black armor, thrust their spears and swords in unison.
Thud! Thud!
By the time the knights of the Count’s house, disarmed and kneeling, moved, it was already too late.
All except one—Sir Milvas, the Knight of the Pure Sword.
He managed to snatch up his sword, a white aura swirling around the blade like snow.
“Do you think I’ll fall so easily?”
With a swift motion, he swung the hilt, and the pure white aura exploded from the blade. It was a desperate, almost frantic attack, yet befitting the reputation of a high-ranking knight.
In his current state, Dale couldn’t hope to match such prowess. However, Sir Milvas’s sword never reached Dale.
“Protect the young master!”
“Don’t let his sword touch the young master!”
Clang!
The black-armored knights rushed to shield Dale, offering their lives as a barrier.
Dale watched the desperate struggle with an impassive expression, not moving a muscle, the supreme commander of the battlefield, surrounded by his Night Raven Knights.
Thud!
In the end, a sword found its mark, piercing Sir Milvas’s thigh. His stance crumbled.
Thud! Thud!
Countless spearheads followed, pinning him in place, unable to move a finger.
And as Sir Milvas stood there, immobilized by the spears, Dale approached.
He leaned in close, whispering softly.
“Do you remember my death?”
”…?”
Sir Milvas was momentarily puzzled by the incomprehensible words.
“I remember your face from that night,” Dale continued, undeterred.
“Your lord drove a blade into my back, and you were there.”
His voice was calm, despite the cold hatred behind it.
“Let me ask again, young knight.”
At first, Sir Milvas couldn’t understand what he was talking about.
“Do you remember my death?”
But soon, as his consciousness began to fade, a chilling shock coursed through his body.
“Ah, ahhh…!”
Sir Milvas tried to raise his voice, but it was too late.
Thud!
A shadowy cloak, disguised as Dale’s black surcoat, rose swiftly.
“Ugh, urgh….”
The sound was like air escaping a balloon, a hollow echo devoid of meaning until the very end.