Chapter 556

Though they were all running together, the distinct colors and styles of each tribe made it easy to tell them apart.

At the front were the Natan tribe. Every one of them wore beast skulls atop their heads, draped in ash-gray robes, and armed with daggers. They all rode on the backs of massive creatures resembling black bulls.

“We’re going first! Hahaha!”

“Run! Run!”

The very ground trembled beneath their charge. With those enormous beasts thundering in a herd, it was no wonder the earth shook.

Right beside them, the Megetu tribe grimaced and widened the gap. The sandstorm was too fierce.

“Move aside! We’ll show you what real combat is!”

“What can daggers do, you idiots!”

Snap!

The Megetu whipped their horses’ flanks sharply as they shouted. Their faces and bodies were smeared with green pigment, making it hard to tell if they were even human from a distance. Their whips were no ordinary kind—they were twisted plant stems.

“They’ve arrived right on time!”

“The Natan and Megetu tribes are up ahead! Let’s move!”

“Our target is Bariel! We’ll break the Empire’s pride!”

“Ha ha ha! Astana belongs to us!”

From the opposite side came the Engzargal tribe—tall, muscular warriors with braided long hair pulled back. Each wielded an axe nearly as large as their upper bodies.

“What’s all this commotion?”

“Your Majesty! The northern tribes are attacking!”

“This will be the last line of defense before we enter Burgos.”

Hearing the horn, Jin stepped out and looked around, asking. Minister Maxim Tweller reported calmly. Jin instinctively gripped his sword, glancing left and right.

Which side should we hold first? What’s their strength? The northern tribes are said to be sorcerers—what are their abilities? I need a hint from Astana.

“Minister Tweller.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

But Jin sensed something off in the atmosphere. The soldiers were assembling, but there was no urgency. Tweller himself seemed calm.

Jin muttered instinctively.

“Where’s Sir Ian?”

“Over there.”

Following Tweller’s gesture, Jin’s gaze shifted toward the Natan and Megetu tribes’ approach.

There stood Ian alone, facing the sunrise.

His golden hair shimmered warmly in the sunlight.

“Did Astana brief you on the enemy?”

“It seems so, just a quick rundown.”

“That’s a relief…”

“Good morning!”

Just as Jin exhaled in relief, Beric’s voice came from above. Somehow, he had taken a seat on a golem’s shoulder, casually gnawing on meat. His relaxed demeanor made the emergency horn seem pointless.

Jin slowly lowered his sword without realizing it.

Ziiing!

Ziiing!

At the same moment, Ian knelt on one knee, placing his hand on the ground. Without any separate magic circle, the Idgal barrier rose up—a declaration to the enemy that they would not pass.

“What’s that?”

“Oh, the Minister of Magic! Will he face them personally?”

“An honor! Hahaha!”

The barrier’s advantage was that it consumed no magic power, but it required contact with the target area, which was a drawback. The Idgal spikes shot out sharply and swiftly toward the Natan tribe.

Shraaak!

“Let’s go, everyone!”

Woooo!

Boom! Boom! Thud!

At the Natan’s command, the black bulls lowered their heads. Their three thick, curved horns rammed straight into the flying Idgal spikes. The shattered fragments were then slashed away by the Natan’s daggers.

Ian raised an eyebrow in surprise. These weren’t monsters but natural beasts raised by the Natan.

Ziiing! Ziiing!

Taat!

As Ian soared into the sky, the Natan and Megetu tribes’ gazes followed. The two tribes nodded to each other, then split left and right, picking up even more speed.

“First, we take down the Minister of Magic!”

“Megetu! Megetu!”

“Got it, just watch us!”

Exchanging signals, the Megetu whipped their whips high into the air. Dozens of long, living vines shot toward Ian with incredible speed and fluid, natural movements.

Ian focused, weaving through the whips, tracing magic circles with his fingertips.

“Got you!”

But then, something tugged at his ankle, causing him to falter. The Natan had grabbed his shadow. They raised their daggers, sneering cruelly.

“Minister, your ankle’s ours!”

“Cut it!”

The Natan could materialize and manipulate shadows—hence their decision to attack at sunrise rather than a night raid.

They slashed at Ian’s shadow around his ankle, and just as he hesitated, the Megetu’s whips relentlessly struck.

“Ian!”

Beric, startled from his meat, jumped up briefly. Ian calmly activated the magic circle he had drawn.

“Recollection.”

Fwoosh!

Shraaak!

A massive flame burst from his shoulder blades, incinerating dozens of Megetu whips at once and momentarily erasing the shadows with its intense light.

The Natan stabbed at empty air with their daggers, looking confused as they glanced upward.

“Hah!”

A giant fireball blazed from Ian’s fingertips, majestic as if he’d plucked the sun itself.

The Natan covered their faces with their sleeves, frantically checking their shadows.

“Shadow! Shadow!”

“Can’t see them! Do something!”

“Wait! This way! Move this way!”

They tried to hide within their own shadows. Seeing their panic, Ian mercilessly thrust the flames toward the ground.

Kraaaang!

Shraaak!

“Ughhh!”

“Get out of the way! Move!”

The earth cracked under the powerful impact, and the Natan tumbled, tangled with their beasts.

The Megetu fared no better. Their whips transformed into razor-sharp leaf blades when cut, but against such fierce flames, they were useless.

“Don’t raise the whips!”

The Megetu chief shouted urgently. Attacking or losing their whips wouldn’t harm the enemy, so there was no point in wasting weapons.

“What should we do?”

“Fall back! The mage’s power has limits! Such strength will soon run out—wait for an opening!”

“Understood!”

“Retreat! Retreat!”

At the Megetu’s command, the Natan scrambled onto their mounts in haste.

Ian’s golden eyes gleamed coldly as he watched their retreat. Though they reflected light, there was no warmth in them.

“Waaaah!”

“Advance!”

In the distance, other tribes were also approaching. Among them were surely those skilled in necromancy and others who could restore strength and stamina.

Ian decided to burn everything down before things got more complicated. Without gathering the flames dripping from his palms, he smiled.

Swoosh!

Ziiing! Ziiing!

“They’re coming! More are coming!”

“Fire rain! Aaaah!”

“Everyone, hang under the bulls!”

“Are you crazy? When does his magic power run out?”

“Don’t know, damn it! Run!”

Thud thud thud!

The fire fell like rain, and everyone writhed in agony. The barren rocky mountain had no grass, so the flames ignited only through their bodies.

Beric, now fully awake, gave a thumbs-up and resumed gnawing his meat.

“Good! Ian! Kill them all! But watch out for the muscle guys coming behind!”

At Beric’s excited shout, Ian turned his head.

The Engzargal warriors—giant axe-wielders—were closing in on the formation.

Soldiers lined up to confront them, and Minister Maxim Tweller gripped his axe, watching them calmly.

Shraaak!

Ian darted forward like a flash of light, quickly meeting the Engzargal vanguard. The rider, startled by Ian’s sudden appearance, yanked the reins, exposing his right flank.

Ziiing! Ziiing!

Shraaak!

“Gah!”

Ian sliced through the exposed flesh with his Idgal blade. Without hesitation, he plunged into the crowd, flying freely as he targeted necks and chests.

“A mage! An Empire mage!”

“Keep advancing and hold the line!”

The Engzargal swung their massive axes, but their range was limited. Mounted on horses, they couldn’t match Ian’s fluid, water-like movement through the air.

Hiiing!

Shraaak! Ching! Chang!

Ian twisted his body and continued his assault, carving through the ranks. Even if his Idgal blade shattered against axes, a new one formed instantly—no pause in his attack.

“Ahh! More coming from behind!”

“Tighten the formation! Don’t let them get close!”

One by one, those who faced Ian’s sword fell, blood spurting as they tumbled from their mounts. Their horses, now riderless, scattered in all directions, making it easier for Ian to close in.

Clang! Clang!

In the end, they couldn’t keep up the charge and were forced to halt. Surrounded on all sides, they struggled to fend off the dazzling bursts of magical energy and had no choice but to engage in close combat.

“Haahh!”

“Just one hit! Just one good hit and it’s over!”

Boom!

An axe grazed Ian, smashing into the ground with such force that stones cracked and scattered in every direction. At the same time, the Enzargal warriors surged forward, their broad axe blades forming a tight circle around Ian.

“There’s no way out. Try to fly up if you want—your upper and lower body will be split in an instant!” they sneered inwardly.

Ziiing! Ziiing!

Pewooong!

But Ian casually tossed aside his Idgal sword and unleashed his magic.

“Bite and Rend.”

A pack of wolves made of swirling wind slipped past the axes, softly brushing them aside as they lunged for the warriors’ necks.

Beric watched intently, intrigued—it was the same spell Efdiram had used before, but with one crucial difference—

Whoosh!

Graaah!

“Holy hell, what the—?”

They couldn’t cut them down.

Efdiram’s wolves could be stopped by physical attacks, but Ian’s were untouchable. No matter how many axes swung, the wolves closed in without a scratch. It seemed Ian’s magic generated an endless stream of them.

“Ughhh!”

“Gah!”

Despite their massive size and overwhelming strength, their skin was still human. Blood fountains erupted simultaneously from dozens of warriors’ necks. Ian, drenched in blood, exhaled heavily and wiped his face clean.

“Ian! One more!”

Shhhk!

A warrior who had been feigning death suddenly sprang up and charged, but Ian’s reflexes were sharp. Maxim Tweller, the general, was certain Ian moved before Beric even shouted.

“Ugh!”

Before the axe could strike Ian’s head, his Idgal sword pierced the attacker’s jaw. Blood trickled down as the man collapsed heavily to the side.

Boom!

“…”

Breathing heavily, Ian flicked the blood from his blade and turned his gaze toward their formation. His golden eyes burned fiercely. As if signaling the end, he tossed the Idgal sword aside.

“Beric. Shut up.”

“Ha! That’s rich! You think I’m the one who’s loud? If it weren’t for me spotting those guys sneaking up from behind, and you trying to handle it alone, the soldiers would’ve had to step in—and that would’ve been embarrassing! Hahaha!”

Ian chuckled softly and walked forward at a measured pace. The soldiers stared at Beric in disbelief. What nonsense was he spouting against a man like that? Had he lost his mind?

“Beric’s the bravest one here, it seems.”

“Yeah. Talking back to Ian like that.”

“D-Do I owe anyone an apology?”

“For what?”

“I don’t know. I just suddenly feel worried.”

“Ian! Are you alright? Are you hurt anywhere?”

The mages rushed over to greet Ian, while General Maxim Tweller glanced at the formation with a visibly shaken expression. It was clear he was deeply affected. He had thought he understood the weight of his position as Minister of Magic—but he had been mistaken, arrogant even.

“…Unbelievable.”

Jin muttered softly, unable to say more. And yet, he felt certain they would win this war. The one who received the closest favor of the gods was standing right beside them.