Episode 43
A river is a natural fortress, beyond question.
When an enemy attempts a forced crossing, their troops become bottlenecked at the narrow fords. With the current rushing beneath their feet, breaking through the defenses of a well-prepared opponent becomes even more challenging. Thus, the main forces of the Black Duke have strategically decided to hold several key fords along the Saxon River.
The enemy, having already exhausted themselves against the mountain fortress defenses, faces severe supply shortages. They have no choice but to attempt a desperate crossing.
With a thunderous roar that seemed to tear the heavens apart, the orcs began their charge.
The Orc Riders, the fiercest elite under the Orc Warboss, surged through the river.
“Don’t let those monsters set foot on land!”
“Archers, ready your aim!”
The knights of House Saxon, entrenched beyond the ford, shouted commands. Dismounted, they formed defensive lines to absorb the impact of the Orc Riders.
Axes and shields clashed as the orcs on their wolf mounts collided with the heavily armored infantry loyal to House Saxon.
Steel met steel, and the sound of metal tearing through flesh echoed across the battlefield.
At most fords, the orc advance was successfully repelled. However, at a few points where the troops were less experienced, some Orc Riders managed to cross.
Once the strongest orc elites landed and opened a path, the subsequent waves accelerated their crossing.
The tide of battle shifted in an instant. Morale plummeted, and the swelling orc horde began to overwhelm the defenders.
It was then that the ‘Black Prince’ of House Saxon led his mobile strike force into the fray.
Not from behind his beleaguered allies, but from behind the enemy, who were focused on crossing the river. He struck precisely at the rear of the enemy forces, who had shifted their weight forward in their desperate attempt to cross.
“Charge!”
“At your command, my prince!”
At Dale’s command, Sir Vale of Baskerville raised his voice.
“Charge!”
“For House Saxon!”
“For Prince Dale!”
The six cavalry battalions, the pride of House Saxon known as the ‘Black Cavalry,’ spurred their warhorses into action. The riders of House Saxon, completing their flanking maneuver, descended upon the exposed rear of the orc forces.
The slaughter began.
“It’s Prince Dale!”
“The Black Prince has arrived!”
“The Black Cavalry of House Saxon is striking the enemy’s rear!”
With the son of the Black Duke, the Black Prince, leading them, they became a source of endless terror for the enemy, yet a beacon of hope and assurance for their allies.
Such is the beneficial aspect of fear.
“Prince Dale is fighting for us!”
“The Black Prince’s cavalry is cutting down the enemy!”
“The enemy here is isolated! Hold the line! Reinforce the encirclement with the prince’s cavalry!”
His mere presence lifted the soldiers’ spirits, turning the tide of battle.
Six cavalry battalions.
Only three hundred strong, yet the enemy’s forces were heavily committed to the river crossing.
Turning such a large force required significant effort, and Dale’s cavalry exploited this weakness with precision.
Dale himself was no exception. As Sir Vale’s cavalry withdrew after the first charge, Dale joined the second wave of attackers.
On horseback, his shadowy cloak billowed like a black surcoat.
“Shadow Bullet.”
As he charged, countless shadowy bullets rained down upon the orc horde.
The barrage of living malice was akin to a machine gun’s firepower, rendering the orcs’ leather-like hides meaningless.
A commander leading from the front carries significant risk.
But the reward is undeniable.
“Prince Dale is with us!”
“Show no mercy to them!”
Unquestionable trust. It ignited the loyalty of House Saxon’s knights.
The Night Raven Knights of House Saxon, standing with Dale, fought with a fervor bordering on madness, thrusting their lances with unyielding resolve.
Alongside the ‘Black Prince,’ Charlotte wielded the greatsword of House Saxon from horseback.
Black sword energy scattered in all directions, slicing through the orcs.
Swoosh!
Arms, legs, necks, and shoulders fell like Lego pieces.
“Leave it to me!”
Charlotte, her face hidden by a black helmet, shouted.
“Dale, if we delay any longer, the orc forces will regroup.”
As Sepia calmly added, Dale nodded quietly.
“We’ll withdraw before they can reorganize.”
Beyond the river, their allies, emboldened by their efforts, were driving the enemy back. They chanted Dale’s name, praised the Black Cavalry of House Saxon, and clung to the hope of victory.
Most of the fords, where defenses were solid, successfully repelled the enemy’s crossing. Dale had few areas to worry about—just a few fords with weaker troops and lords.
“The Orc Riders are turning around!”
At that moment, a subordinate warned, and Dale nodded.
“Retreat.”
Hit and run.
There’s no need for an overwhelming victory. No need to annihilate the enemy. Thus, Dale’s mobile strike force achieved their objective and turned back without hesitation.
Leaving behind the endless sea of orc corpses.
The Orc Riders’ pursuit was expected.
Scattering the enemy’s cavalry was advantageous, and they were confident in repelling any pursuit.
Dale maintained distance, observing the pursuing Orc Riders.
Drawing them away from reinforcements, they planned to turn and eliminate them.
But an unexpected twist awaited.
“Horses…?”
Not giant wolves. As he glanced at the pursuers, Dale momentarily doubted his eyes.
Orcs rarely ride horses. Yet among the ‘Orc Riders’ chasing them, a few demons were mounted on horses, cloaked in suspicious robes.
Demons are a term for intelligent monsters, not limited to orcs. Even if most of their forces were orcs, it wasn’t unusual for a few other demons to be mixed in.
But from atop their galloping horses, the cloaked figures extended their arms.
The ‘blood-red magic’ emanating from their arms was unmistakably human.
“Dale! Be careful!”
”…!”
Sepia, usually calm, raised her voice, breaking her composure. Dale understood the significance.
From the fingertips of Sepia, a 6th-circle elf mage, blue magic surged. Magic is closely tied to the surrounding climate, and the frozen lands of House Saxon greatly enhanced Sepia’s magic.
Boom!
Even considering that, the ice wall Sepia erected was beyond imagination.
A barrier of ice rose, separating Dale’s cavalry from the enemy.
But then, the ‘blood-red magic’ struck Sepia’s ice wall with even more shocking results.
Flames roared. Not ordinary flames. A combined incantation from multiple mages.
Hellfire.
It melted the ice wall of a 6th-circle water mage like ice cream, and the residual heat still reached them.
“Ahhh!”
Caught in the residual flames, several of House Saxon’s Night Raven Knights were incinerated. The cold of Saxon’s frozen lands seemed irrelevant. There was no time to react, leaving not even bones, just a few handfuls of ash scattered to the wind.
Annihilation.
“Could it be…?”
Dale’s expression turned icy.
“Turn around, scatter! Keep moving, don’t bunch up!”
Without hesitation, he issued precise orders.
“We’re facing enemy pyromancers!”
Just as the mages of the Black Tower are called necromancers, and the White Tower’s mages are clerics.
The name for the mages of the Red Tower.
There was no time to ponder why a Red Tower mage was here or why they were with the demons.
Even so, if his prediction was correct, the one executing such precise fire magic from horseback was no ordinary sorcerer among the enemy mages.
Mages are not trained with the battlefield in mind.
Even high-ranking mages often find themselves bested by ordinary knights when it comes to close combat.
Yet, the horsemanship and the precise mounted archery they displayed, reminiscent of what Dale had once shown, were not the skills of someone who merely honed their magic in isolation.
These were individuals who had refined their magic with the battlefield as their ultimate stage.
“Be careful. They’re the ‘Purifiers’ from the Red Tower,” Sepia said, as if reading Dale’s thoughts. As a 6th-circle elf mage and elder of the Blue Tower, her reputation was well-earned.
Purifiers.
Battle mages trained solely to incinerate the enemies of the Empire and the Red Tower, executing their era’s spirit.
These Purifiers were mingling among the demons, targeting Dale’s cavalry.
Dale’s cavalry? The main force led by Duke Saxon?
—No. As he thought this through, Dale realized the truth.
“They’re after you, Lord Dale!”
Sir Bale of Baskerville shouted urgently.
“I won’t let that happen.”
Charlotte steadied her grip on the hilt of her black sword, its aura blade shimmering.
“Don’t worry, Dale,” Sepia, the water-affinity 6th-circle elf mage and elder of the Blue Tower, reassured him. “Let me fulfill my duty as your mentor.”
She began to rotate the six circles around her heart, unleashing her ‘blue magic.’
Dale was not alone in this fight. The shadow cloak, disguised as a black surcoat, flared wildly, crafting countless shadow bullets along the shadows at their feet.
Nothing had changed. There was an enemy, and they would be defeated. Even if that enemy was the Red Tower, it made no difference. In fact, what more could he ask for?
Now, Dale was truly facing his “own enemy.”
The Empire—a foe he could never forget.