Chapter 138 - A Fish in Water, or a Foal off its Reins (1)

Burk Berten, the old lord governing the southwestern region of Dotrin, was originally a figure guaranteed a comfortable retirement.

His territory was stable, his vassals were loyal, and his successor was respectable.

It was a life anyone would envy, but he himself suffered from terrible lethargy.

In his own mind, he was a warrior. An unfortunate warrior who had met the wrong era, at that.

He had devoted his entire life to the sword, yet he had become an old soldier without ever being able to draw it.

It was an empty life.

Perhaps that was why. When he heard the news that the Empire had declared war on Dotrin, the reason he settled all his affairs and headed to the battlefield without a hint of hesitation must have been due to the emptiness that had dominated half his life.

And just as he expected, he found his reason to live on the battlefield.

His wrinkled shell remained the same, but vitality surged within his body.

It was as if he had regained his lost youth.

The tide of war worsened as time passed, and the fortress could not even promise tomorrow.

Nevertheless, he had never once regretted his decision.

Even when he heard the King's words that there would be no reinforcements, he simply resolved to bury his bones in the fortress.

The fortress would soon fall, but before that, he would be able to build a mountain with the corpses of the Imperial Army. He had no doubt that it would be an end without regrets.

It did not take long for him to realize that this was merely the greed of a wretched old man.

CRASH!

Dozens of streams of fire struck the fortress.

"Ugh..."

He saw the face of a young soldier cowering in fear, covering his ears.

"A-It hurts..."

He saw a soldier, whose entire body was burnt after being exposed to magical flames, shed dry tears before dying on the spot.

"Mom..."

"I don't want to die. I don't want to die."

His eyes were filled with the sight of soldiers sobbing as they hid behind the walls.

Burk Berten walked toward the walls with a stiff face.

Soldiers trapped under the collapsed debris screamed, crying out for him to save them when they saw the old commander.

He personally cleared away the piles of debris.

"Your Excellency! It is dangerous! Please step back!"

The loyal old knights who had followed him from his territory cried out in alarm.

But he ignored them and continued to clear the debris.

"Hold on just a little longer."

"T-Thank you. Your Excellency..."

A soldier slumped over with a crushed lower half expressed his gratitude in a weak voice.

CRASH.

Right then, the Imperial Army's magic rained down upon the walls once more.

RUMBLE.

A boulder came crashing down onto the body of the nameless soldier the old commander was trying to save by lifting the debris.

"Your Excellency!"

A step too late, the knights rushed over and dragged him away.

The old commander looked at the limp soldier's hand. That was all that remained of the soldier's mangled remains, left without even a recognizable form.

He looked around.

"You sons of bitches, stop it!"

A soldier who had been clearing the debris to save his comrades wailed, spitting out curses. The sight of the soldiers staring blankly at the rubble with hollow faces entered his eyes.

Atop the walls, soldiers trembling in fear were left defenseless against the enemy's magic, dying helplessly.

"Where are our mages?"

"They are barely managing to defend the gates."

The old commander squeezed his eyes shut.

Just where did it all go wrong?

Was his desire to die fighting the enemy for the kingdom as a knight truly such a vain greed?

When the Imperial Army surrounded the fortress, should he have retreated even if it meant suffering casualties?

Countless thoughts flashed through his mind.

But his contemplation did not last long.

Screams and shouts rained down from all directions. The sound of marching drums could be heard beyond the walls.

Once this horrific magical bombardment ended, the Imperial Army would soon arrive. Like jackals driven mad by repeated defeats, they would scale the walls to tear into the exhausted soldiers of Dotrin.

The old commander's eyes snapped open.

He drew his sword and headed up the walls.

Once he climbed the walls, the situation of the battle revealed itself even more clearly.

The citadel half-destroyed by repeated magical bombardments, the unceasing rain of arrows, the allied archers unable to even lift their heads, let alone return fire. The fatigue and despair filling the soldiers' faces, the imminent end—it all became viscerally real to him.

The old commander thought to himself.

Even if they were lucky enough to hold out for another day, it would not change the fate of the citadel.

For the first time, the word 'end' came to his mind.

He shook his head vigorously. Then, he glared forward.

DOOM! DOOM! DOOM!

Amidst the sound of drums echoing from all sides, dark shadows surged endlessly toward the burning citadel.

He snatched a bow from an archer cowering below the wall.

He then drew the bowstring and let it loose.

THWIP.

A soldier of the Imperial Army collapsed.

He fired the bow once more.

Another Imperial soldier collapsed.

Even in that moment, the raining arrows battered his armor.

He did not step back.

To reduce the number of approaching Imperial troops by even one, he endlessly drew and released the bowstring.

Encouraged by their commander's struggle, archers rose up from all over.

"Gah!"

Numerous men fell to the barrage of enemy arrows that flew in right on cue.

However, even more archers succeeded in letting loose their bowstrings.

SWOOSH.

It was the first proper counterattack since the magical bombardment began.

But despite all the archers on the wall returning fire with one mind and heart, they could not slow the enemy's advance.

At a certain point, the rain of arrows stopped.

The citadel's archers, who had been waiting for this moment, leaned out in unison and poured down their arrows.

But the time given to them was not long.

Ladders were placed against the walls, and grappling hooks were thrown.

And upon them, the Imperial Army began to crawl up toward the ramparts.

Infantrymen grabbed their axes and chopped down the hooks. Knights circulated their mana and pushed the ladders away.

But even doing so, they could not stop the Imperial Army from scaling the walls.

The archers dropped their bows and picked up spears and swords. They swung their weapons desperately at the enemies appearing on the walls.

CLANG.

However, the enemies who climbed the walls deflected their spears and swords all too easily.

In an instant, the soldiers' heads were severed.

"It's the enemy knights!"

Someone shouted a step too late.

Sword light ran wild.

The citadel's knights hastily charged in to drive out the Imperial Knights.

But Dotrin's knights, their stamina and mana already nearly depleted, could not push the enemy back. Just holding them down was their best effort.

The number of enemy knights scaling the walls was steadily increasing.

The citadel's knights struggled desperately, surrounded by two or more enemies.

They could not even dream of helping the soldiers push the enemy forces back.

They were frantic just trying to survive.

The old commander was no different.

He was already surrounded by enemy knights. The old knights who had been with him since their time in the territory fought fiercely to protect him, but they were heavily outnumbered.

An old knight, a loyal knight and friend of forty years, was slashed across the back and fell over. A knight who had joined late and complained at every opportunity about how killingly hard it was to act as the youngest for decades, was stabbed in the chest and rolled off the wall.

"Your Excellency. Please step back."

A bloodied knight urged him to retreat.

"Where is there left to retreat?"

Instead of retreating, the old commander tightened his grip on his sword and ignited his fighting spirit.

Although it was different from what he had hoped for, he intended to fight on the walls and meet his end right there, just as he had resolved from the start.

The old commander took off his helmet and threw away his scabbard.

He then grabbed his sword with both hands and swept across the walls, fighting in all directions.

The swordsmanship he had honed since he was old enough to know better—although his talent fell short and he could not become a Quad Chain knight, the old commander was by no means weak. His perfected sword severed the necks of the Imperial Knights one after another.

"Drive the enemy out!"

Inspired by the old commander's struggle, the knights fought with all their might and pushed the enemy knights back. The soldiers risked their lives, clinging on to assist them.

In the face of that stubborn resistance, the enemy knights began to pull back one by one.

"Hoo, hoo."

The old commander gasped for breath as he assessed the situation on the walls.

There were not many enemies left on the walls. He thought the citadel would fall at any moment, but it seemed they had somehow succeeded in fending off the offensive.

However, that was a premature judgment.

CRASH!

The walls shook with a deafening roar.

Then, a scream was heard.

"The gates have been breached!"

The old commander looked for the mages.

The reply came back that the mage, who had been holding on and on, ultimately fainted from Mana Backflow.

"Half of you stay on the walls, and the other half come with me to block the gates!"

The old commander rallied the knights and hurriedly ran toward the gates.

In that short time, the citadel's soldiers defending the gates were already half-decimated.

They were elite heavy infantry whose armor, training, and morale were incomparable to ordinary soldiers. Yet they were being swept away like mere conscripts.

It was only natural.

No matter how skilled heavy infantry were, they could not match a knight.

And if it was a knight among knights wielding an Aura Blade, it was no wonder the formation fell apart so quickly.

In splendid armor that clearly set him apart from the other knights, a Paladin of the Empire was slaughtering the heavy infantry.

"You baaaastard!"

The Imperial Paladin, who had just sliced through two heavy infantrymen with a single strike, turned his head upon hearing the old commander's roar.

A glint of light flashed from within his helmet.

The Paladin cut down the heavy infantrymen as he began walking straight toward the old commander.

"Your Excellency! Please get away!"

The knights shouted as they blocked the commander's front.

"Where is there left to run if I do!"

The old commander adjusted his grip on his sword with grim resolve and glared at the Imperial Paladin.

With his mouth, he ordered them to gather the remaining troops and break through the siege to escape no matter what. The knights refused.

But the old commander was resolute.

In the end, the knights forced their heavy feet to move and scattered in all directions.

The only knights who remained were the old knights who had followed him from his territory.

"Why aren't you leaving?"

"We've lived long enough. Where would we even go?"

"It'll be enough if we just buy some time for the young ones to escape before we go."

The old knights replied calmly to the old commander's words.

Their voices were detached, free from worldly attachments.

The old commander realized his old friends were already prepared for death and gave up trying to persuade them.

"I don't know about the others, but we must stop the Imperial Paladin."

"I don't know if that's possible with our old bodies, but we'll give it a try."

"You never know. The Paladin might be an old geezer like us too."

Exchanging jokes unsuited for the situation, the commander and the old knights steeled their fighting spirit.

The Paladin walked over with large strides. The allied archers atop the walls fired arrows in unison, but they couldn't leave even a scratch on the Paladin's body. The Paladin walked unabated and reached the front of the old commander.

"We will go on ahead and wait for you."

The dozen or so old knights who had been surrounding him charged forward simultaneously.

Perfected sword light poured toward the Paladin.

However, their opponent was a knight who had surpassed perfection and reached completion.

The old knights fell helplessly.

Ten, eight, seven, five, four.

In an instant, six knights became cold corpses and laid on the ground.

The remaining three knights exchanged glances and cautiously surrounded the Paladin.

But the Paladin seemed to pay no mind to such old knights, keeping his gaze solely on the old commander.

A low voice rang out from beyond the helmet.

"You bastard. If you're in Dotrin, you should speak Dotrin's language."

The old knights scolded the Paladin.

Whether they did or not, the Paladin continued to babble something.

Through the limited knowledge he had picked up in his youth, the old commander was able to faintly understand his words.

The Paladin was urging him to surrender.

"There's no reason to suffer humiliation by living at this age."

The old commander replied in clumsy Imperial speech. He couldn't tell if he had spoken it properly.

However, seeing the Paladin draw up his Aura Blade that had died down, he could at least tell that his resolution to face death had been conveyed.

The Paladin raised his sword.

The old knights lowered their stances and gathered Sword Aura along their blades.

THUD.

The Paladin moved.

Seeing the Paladin ignore his subordinates and lunge straight toward him, the old commander fiercely swung his sword down.

The Paladin swung his sword.

With a single indifferent strike, thrown without even a falter in his steps, the sword imbued with decades of accumulated energy was sliced in two.

The Paladin pressed in. Instead of his sword, a hand clad in a combat gauntlet closed in on his face.

"Not a chance!"

Assuming he hadn't given up on capturing him alive, the old commander roared fiercely, drawing and swinging the dagger at his waist.

And at that moment,

THUD.

Absurdly, the Paladin's hand was severed.

Even the old commander who swung the dagger was left dumbfounded.

"Gahhh!"

His arm suddenly severed, the Paladin grabbed the bleeding stump of his wrist and stumbled backward.

The old commander blankly looked back and forth between the dagger in his hand and the Paladin.

Not a single drop of blood was on the dagger.

Even though blood was overflowing from the Paladin's arm.

He soon learned the reason.

It was not his dagger that had severed the Paladin's wrist.

A sword was embedded in the blood-splattered ground. The blood gathered on the blade trickled down.

"Are you the one in charge of the citadel?"

Just then, a voice was heard.

The old commander turned his head.

A man, who had appeared out of nowhere, was walking toward them through the gates.

Even with the vicious glints of swords flashing right beside him, he looked as carefree as if he were on a stroll.

A helmet that only slightly revealed the lower half of his face, common leather armor that could be seen anywhere, and a crude sword gripped in his hand.

Meeting the gleaming eyes within the helmet, the old commander found himself nodding without realizing it.

"I came to the right place."

White teeth were revealed beneath the helmet.

The man walked over with heavy steps and picked up the sword embedded in the ground. Flicking the blood off once, he asked while holding a sword in each hand.

"From what I hear, you were preparing to retreat. Will you be able to break through the siege?"

"I cannot guarantee it, but there is nothing else we can do."

"Then cancel the retreat."

The old commander frowned.

Whether he did or not, the unidentified man spat out what he had to say.

"Because the citadel won't fall today."

A bizarrely confident voice. And yet, upon hearing those words, it felt as though it truly would be so.

It was an unfamiliar experience.

Forgetting the situation, the old commander felt curious about the man's identity.

"Just who are you to..."

When asked, the man suddenly cleared his throat, *ahem*.

And out of nowhere, drawing out streams of Aura Blade, he shouted,