Chapter 388

Amidst the fierce battle between the mages high in the sky, Beric stood dazed, staring up at the magnificent explosion above. Though the forces of Burgos and Clifford clashed fiercely below, spilling blood across the battlefield, none of it matched the breathtaking spectacle overhead.

Just as Ian and the other mages began to draw out their mana amplifiers, Beric heard a piercing scream.

“Aaahhh!”

It cut clearly through the chaos—a voice he recognized.

Instinctively, Beric twisted his body and glanced toward the synthetic monsters. There, he saw officers from Burgos swinging their swords at Hasha.

Hasha hurriedly twisted Tiefe’s tongue around himself, trying to shield himself, but the officers pressed harder, determined not to lose their chance to strike the necromancer.

“What are you doing!?”

“You know exactly why! Traitor! You leaked information when you were with Clifford, didn’t you? Otherwise, how else would a mage know the necromancer’s position and plans?”

“That’s slander and a misunderstanding! Damn it! We should be aiming our swords at the enemy, not at each other!”

“Because the closest enemy is you!”

“I’ll report this to the king and gift Astana’s destruction to you!”

“Tell us what deal you made with those mages!”

Clang! Clang!

They’ve been found out.

Hasha kept deflecting the officers’ blades with Tiefe’s tongue, but it was like throwing himself into a bomb blast.

It made sense—so much effort had gone into positioning soldiers to protect the necromancer. The soldiers surrounding him shifted their attack focus on the officers’ orders, and all the swords that had been heading toward Clifford’s forces now converged on Hasha.

The Clifford soldiers were puzzled but had no time to pause and assess. If the enemy’s formation was faltering, that was an opportunity.

“Push forward! Their left flank is collapsing!”

“Before the synthetic monsters join from the right, we’ll finish this side first! We’re winning! Advance with all your might! Fear no death! Remember, the future of your families depends on our steps!”

“Forward! Forward!”

At the front line of Burgos’s army—the left wing soldiers armed with shields—began to retreat slowly, avoiding the surging Clifford troops. They needed an attack to counterbalance their defense, but Hasha’s presence had scattered their focus.

And through the chaos, Beric moved steadily, cutting down enemies as he approached Hasha.

‘I think Ian told me not to acknowledge him.’

Beric frowned, recalling Ian’s words.

If this were the final battle of the war, it wouldn’t matter. Burgos would fall, and Astana would be spared harm. In fact, Clifford’s advance northward might even bring light to Astana’s cause.

But the problem was, this was only the beginning of the war. Unless they killed the generals and leaders, once the battle quieted, Hasha’s betrayal would reach Damon’s ears. Then Astana would be in immediate danger.

And Hasha’s succession would be at risk too.

‘Ah, damn it. What should I do?’

Should he save him or not?

Ideally, Hasha would face this alone and escape safely, but judging by the situation, that seemed unlikely.

“Iaaan!”

Beric shouted toward the sky, but the continuous explosions drowned him out.

Give me some orders! What am I supposed to do?

“Yaaa! Iaaan!”

“Stop crying like an orphan!”

“Shut up! I don’t have a mom!”

Swish!

Beric slashed irritably at the soldiers.

His mana was limited, and his attacks weren’t very effective against them. The only option was to keep swinging his sword simply, steadily, and—admittedly—a bit boringly.

As Beric advanced toward Hasha, a path opened, allowing Clifford soldiers to break through.

“There! Ten o’clock is open!”

“Push through the gap!”

“Waaah!”

Clang! Clang!

The stench of the synthetic monsters grew stronger as they approached. Seeing Hasha fighting fiercely against the Burgos soldiers, Beric shouted to draw their attention.

“Hey! Burgos king’s lackeys!”

“What?”

“I’m right here. What are you all doing?”

Swish!

Hasha noticed Beric approaching too. But for the same reason, he couldn’t easily ask for help.

He dodged the incoming blades, focusing his mind, and warned the officers.

“I am the successor from Astana, sent to aid King Damon! If you continue to slander and threaten me like this, I will formally protest to King Damon, and it will have serious repercussions among the other necromancers!”

“Shut up, traitor!”

“You call me a traitor but can’t even provide proof!”

Beric kept swinging his sword, listening carefully to how things were unfolding. Hasha’s eyes darted anxiously left and right, signaling him not to move until given the cue.

He’s surprisingly good at nonverbal signals.

Beric winked, and the soldier facing him, confused, followed his gaze with his head—only to lose it moments later.

“If you keep attacking, I’ll take refuge with Clifford!”

“Hahaha! Look at this! What a trickster!”

“I’ll take refuge and formally protest to King Damon. The northern countries may be small, but they’re not vassals—they’re actually providing significant support to Burgos. Yet this is how you treat me? My protest will sway the other necromancers, and they will all turn their backs on Burgos!”

Hasha made his case while maneuvering the synthetic monsters. But half a dozen Burgos soldiers attacked in succession.

Tiefe’s tongue calmly deflected their strikes. Their weapons, forged in Idgalo, had been worn down and shortened from the fighting.

Hasha called out toward Beric.

“Hey! You, warrior from Clifford!”

“Me? I’m from Bariel.”

“Whatever! I surrender! Can you help me?”

“Ah, okay, okay. Got it.”

A direct plea for help. This was it!

Beric wasn’t the type to agonize over decisions. He preferred to act on orders already made, avoiding complications—and most importantly, he didn’t want Ian to have to face any headaches because of him.

“That’s all I was waiting for! Ha—”

“Hasha! My name is Hasha!”

“Oh, right. We’re strangers, huh? Yeah. Hasha! I’ll clear the way, so run straight through. I’ve got your back!”

“Thanks, Be—”

“Beric! My name’s Beric!”

“I know! I heard the mages calling you!”

“Oh, you did? I didn’t know that!”

They awkwardly pretended not to know each other, even exchanging names.

Beric took a breath and unleashed his mana. A gleam shimmered along his black blade, and his red hair whipped in the wind. The soldiers quickly planted their shields in the ground, bracing themselves, but Beric was ready this time.

“I’m not aiming there!”

Ziiing! Boom!

Instead of breaking their shields, he sent a force above them, causing everyone to hesitate.

Hasha used the synthetic monsters as a shield and moved toward Beric, who moved to escort him.

“Look at them! Now they’re openly traitors!”

“Not traitors, you idiot! Didn’t you see us just introduce ourselves? Are you blind? Deaf?”

“You scoundrels! Kill them! They’re key forces of Clifford! Whoever brings me their heads will be richly rewarded!”

“I’m from Bariel! You really are an idiot! If you take my head, I’ll give you a reward too! Try me!”

Swish! Clang! Clang!

“The necromancer’s running! Catch him!”

“How do we catch that?”

“Not the monsters! The necromancer, you fool!”

Hasha’s sudden change of direction threw the area into chaos.

Prince Noah watched through his telescope from horseback. He wasn’t sure what was happening, but it seemed Hasha was officially surrendering to their side. Noah ordered his men.

“Help Beric! Don’t attack the synthetic monsters if they get close—focus on the Burgos soldiers!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Clear the way! The synthetic monsters and necromancer have switched sides! Look! The banner of victory is moving!”

“Waaah! Let’s go!”

The sudden turn of events around Hasha left the other necromancers puzzled. They began moving to attack Hasha on the general’s orders.

Burgos’s left wing was completely broken by the advancing Clifford forces. Without support from the right wing, this battle was a total loss.

But whether by fortune or misfortune, the blue-haired woman who had been sweeping through Burgos’s right wing disappeared. She seemed to be a magic swordsman, and with her pressure gone, support became possible.

“The left wing must not collapse! Shield bearers, maintain formation! Don’t fear the Clifford advance! It’s like diving into water—cut them down one by one, slowly and surely!”

“General! Hasha keeps moving. It looks like Clifford is trying to open a path.”

“Look at that. A traitor after all. Tch. Change the plan! All rear units on the right wing, move to the left! We’ll strike again! The battle will be decided on the left! Leave only minimal forces on the right and break into Clifford’s firing line!”

Burgos’s left wing was locked in a fierce clash with Clifford’s forces up front, and seizing the opportunity, the right wing struck at Clifford’s flank. This maneuver threatened to encircle the enemy completely. The tide of battle could still shift in their favor.

And even if Hasha had betrayed them, they still had their battle sorcerers.

“No problem,” the general muttered, wiping the blood splattering from all directions.

“Hasha! How about ditching the monster? Then I can carry you and run!”

“Abandon this?”

“You’re the only one who can move it anyway. Leave it behind and come back for it later!”

Hasha hesitated for a moment but decided Beric’s plan made sense. Keeping the creature as a wall would be like carrying a stationary barrier in Burgos’s territory, and more importantly, it would speed up their retreat.

Hasha reached out his hand, and Beric grabbed him, hoisting him up in one swift motion.

“Alright! Let’s go!”

“Beric! You’re holding me upside down!”

“So what? You don’t have any blood left anyway!”

“Still, hey!”

“Quiet! I’m in the middle of stabbing things!”

Clang! Clang!

Half-hanging upside down, Hasha clung to Beric, who lightly sprang forward, stepping on his shield as he charged ahead.

Then, suddenly—

BOOOOM! BOOM!

CRASH!

An enormous explosion thundered from the sky, so powerful that even those who had been killing and dying reflexively dropped to the ground.

Beric faltered, looking up. Ian’s Flame God was thrashing wildly, trying to grasp something black, but it didn’t look easy.

“Ian…?”

Ian was bleeding. His face twisted in pain, blood flowing just like before.

Beric stopped dead in his tracks, stunned. Hasha quickly straightened up and lifted his head.

“Sir Ian? What’s wrong with him?”

“Ian! Ian!”

Why was his left sleeve torn like that? Why was he coughing up blood? And what were the other mages doing just standing there? Ian was facing that black thing alone—why was he like this? A thousand questions swirled on Beric’s tongue, but none came out.

Hasha narrowly deflected the incoming blades and shook Beric.

“Beric! Let’s head to Clifford’s lines first! It’s too dangerous here!”

“No, damn it, seriously.”

“Beric! Move!”

“Magic corps bastards, what the hell are you doing?!”

“Beric!”

“Shit, we’re really screwed.”

Akorella placed her hand on Ian’s back. At the same time, the other mages seemed to lend their strength as well.

Beric saw Ian smile faintly. He was smiling—but why did it make Beric feel so uneasy?

Beric decided it was best to leave Hasha with Clifford’s troops and join the others over there. It was a battle in the skies; he wasn’t sure if he could even reach them.

“Ian! Wait! I’ll be there soon!”

“Beric! Run!”

Hasha shook Beric’s shoulder, and with a heavy sigh, Beric took off. Clifford’s soldiers recognized him and cleared a path. Just then, Prince Noah gestured for him to come over.

The moment Beric stepped forward—

BOOOOM! KRAAANG!

An explosion far louder than before ripped through the air. The ground trembled, the sky shook, and the roar was so fierce it felt like the heart of all living things might stop.

Beric stared blankly at the sky, seeing nothing but blinding light. Nothing at all.