Chapter 75 - Half, and Half (3)

ROOOOAAAR!

Maximilian covered his ears and circulated his rings.

However, despite preparing in advance, even he couldn't avoid his consciousness fading for a moment.

"Hoo."

He gasped for breath and calmed his shaken insides.

As the mana that had been severed into strands began to circulate again, his blurred vision finally returned to normal.

"Ah..."

A groan slipped out on its own.

An agonizing hellscape unfolded before his eyes.

The soldiers of the infantry had thrown away their spears and swords, groveling on the ground with their heads covered, shivering violently.

The archers of the archery unit were convulsing while letting out unintelligible sobs.

It was a sight that looked as if the end of the world had come.

And the battle hadn't even begun yet.

A beat later, the sound of war drums echoed out.

The Orcs began their march from across the river. Yet, among the utterly terrified allied forces, not a single person gripped their sword and spear to prepare for battle.

The few who were still standing intact chose to turn and flee rather than fight.

"Everyone, get u—"

The Silver Lion, raising his sword imbued with a brilliant halo of light high, shouted at the soldiers. But before his magnificent roar could even finish, a crimson thunderbolt struck down from the sky.

"Hah!"

The Silver Lion adjusted his grip on his sword and hastily scattered his radiance. The crimson thunderbolt and azure flash clashed in the air.

With an explosive crash, the renowned knight tumbled across the ground.

"What in..."

The old knight's complexion was pale as he belatedly picked himself up.

A massive spear was lodged in the spot where he had just been standing.

GRIP.

A beat later, the owner of the spear appeared and grabbed the shaft.

A dark-green giant, the Warlord.

The Warlord looked down at the Silver Lion with an arrogant face.

Maximilian, who was watching from a distance, let out a groan.

Why the bastard hadn't immediately given chase when the forces of Winter Castle retreated,

why he had arrived on the battlefield so late.

And why he had only joined the battle today—the moment Maximilian saw him, he realized the answer.

Below the bastard's left shoulder, what should have been there was missing—his left arm had been cleanly severed.

Since he was in that condition, he must have uncharacteristically bided his time to test the waters.

However, just because the bastard had lost an arm didn't mean the situation was any better.

A wounded beast does not easily reveal itself, yet despite that, he had shown up.

That meant he was just that confident.

It seemed he had judged the Silver Lion to be nothing more than cold soup he could slurp down in one bite. And not just cold soup, but one that was easy enough to scoop up with one hand.

Unfortunately, it seemed the bastard's judgment wasn't wrong.

Count Richter Liechtein was certainly a powerful figure. The Aura Blade forming on the edge of his sword proved that the Silver Lion's reputation was indeed no lie.

But that alone was woefully insufficient.

The old knight constantly stumbled backward under the bastard's spear thrusts. Every time they clashed against the crimson Fighting Spirit, chunks of the Aura Blade's radiance chipped away.

He thought he would at least be able to buy some time, but even that was a delusion.

Maximilian was completely stunned.

'Did my brother fight a monster like that and survive?'

As he watched the Silver Lion fighting against the Warlord while covered in blood, someone grabbed his shoulder and pulled him.

He turned his head and saw his brother's female knight.

"The defensive line has already collapsed. We must retreat and plan for the future."

Maximilian pushed back fiercely.

"If we can't hold them off when blocking the bridge with ten thousand soldiers, what makes you think it would be any different elsewhere! Retreat is absolutely out of the question!"

"It seems the nobles think differently from Your Highness."

At that moment, a thick voice interjected.

Bernardo Eli had approached them closely, leading three horses he had acquired from who knows where.

"Look. The nobles are already pulling out."

At those words, Maximilian looked at the hill in the distance.

"Ah..."

The banners were fluttering, but half of their owners had disappeared to nowhere. And even those who remained were shifting around as if ready to flee at any moment.

"Have you ever seen such pig-like bastards with no honor or pride!"

Maximilian ground his teeth. It was a rare display of agitation, unlike his usual gentle demeanor.

"Now is not the time to be angry."

Arwen calmly persuaded him.

"We must rally the soldiers now."

"Please keep retreat in mind as well."

Bernardo Eli added from the side.

Maximilian erupted in anger.

"It's twice the size of Winter Castle! The number of soldiers gathered here! Yet we must run away again?!"

He yelled as he pointed his finger fiercely all around.

"The former lord of Winter Castle and my brother led half of their knights and carved right through the middle of fourteen thousand Orcs! So why are those cowards just standing by and watching?!"

As soon as he finished speaking, the Silver Lion was struck by the Warlord's spear and rolled across the ground. The knights hastily retreated. No one seemed to have any intention of fighting alongside the Silver Lion.

The old knight stood up, leaning on his sword, and gathered his sword light once more.

But it was merely a futile struggle. Unable to block the spear surging with crimson Fighting Spirit even a handful of times, his Aura Blade shattered like glass.

"Keugh!"

The Silver Lion coughed up a mouthful of blood, staggering as he raised his sword once more.

The Warlord took large strides forward. The Silver Lion hesitated and backed away. He hadn't dropped his sword, but he already looked to have lost his will to fight.

After retreating for a long while, the old knight suddenly looked behind him. The infantry, yet to recover their senses, were still running around in confusion.

The old knight stopped stepping backward and gripped his sword with both hands. But what surfaced on his face was not fighting spirit or bloodlust, but his sense of responsibility as a noble.

"Why is everyone so powerless."

Watching that sight, Maximilian lamented powerlessly.

"And why am I so incompetent."

Maximilian stood up. And instead of mounting his horse, he drew his sword.

"If this place falls, it is the same as the kingdom falling. I will absolutely never retreat—"

Before he could even finish declaring his grim resolve, a sharp noise rang out.

SCREEEEE!

Turning his head toward the sound, his eyes caught sight of something streaking across the river.

THUD.

Something landed on the other side of the river. Only after focusing his eyes could Maximilian tell that it was a specially crafted arrow.

Maximilian turned his head.

It was toward the hill by the river where the archery unit was stationed.

A few archers wearing tunics emblazoned with black hawks were drawing their bowstrings with violently trembling hands.

SCREEEEEEEEE!

SCREEEEE!

The moment they released their strings, that sharp noise rang out again.

It sounded like the drawn-out cry of a hawk.

It was the unique sound of the whistling arrows that had earned the archers of House Branbrut the name Iron Hawks.

The sound of whistling arrows, which had started as merely two or three, quickly multiplied into dozens.

"I-Iron Hawks! Draw your strings! Fire!"

The commander of the Iron Hawk Archers shouted in a heavily cracked voice. Dozens of whistling arrows were released from their strings all at once.

SCREEEEEEEEEEE!

The sound of hawks crying resonated across the entire battlefield.

The soldiers, who had been half out of their minds from the Warlord's roar, snapped back to their senses in alarm.

As soon as they regained their wits, half of the infantrymen turned and fled. With the infantry formation now left with gaping holes, the remaining soldiers hurriedly picked up their spears and shields.

"Those who will fight, step forward and form up!"

Maximilian infused his voice with mana and shouted. At his magnificent roar, the wandering soldiers who had lost their way hastily ran out and lined up.

Just then, the earth-shaking sound of galloping hooves echoed from somewhere.

One hundred cavalrymen of a great lord, whom everyone thought had fled, were bypassing the tangled, messy ranks of soldiers and charging along the riverbank.

"Red Iron Chain Knights, advance!"

Right on time, knights clad in red armor charged forward and stepped onto the bridge. It seemed they were resolved to die on that bridge if they had to.

"Half will aid the Red Iron Chain Knights! Half will aid His Excellency Count Liechtein!"

The knights charged at the Warlord.

"Your Highness! We have arrived!"

Arriving a beat later, the Commander and the remnants of the Central Army surrounded Maximilian. Beside them were the lords of the Central region, including Count Branbrut.

"I thought you ran away."

At Maximilian's words, the lords replied with stiff faces.

"My domain is two days away from here. If I run, where would I even go?"

Come to think of it, the remaining lords were all those whose domains were adjacent to the defensive line.

Half the soldiers had fled. Even if you counted the remaining ones, it amounted to just a little over a single legion.

The number of remaining lords was exactly half as well.

Their forces had been halved, yet their fighting spirit surged twice as high.

However, the situation was far too dire to be overcome by fighting spirit alone.

The Red Iron Chain Knights who blocked the bridge were continuously being pushed back, rendering their do-or-die resolve meaningless. The knights were trampled by the Orcs, who charged at them like angry bulls.

The archers of the Iron Hawk Archers constantly let loose arrows at the Orcs on the bridge, but the effect was minimal.

Eventually, the bridge was breached in an instant.

The cavalry charged in and trampled the Orcs that poured out from the bridge. However, as the price for recklessly maneuvering in such a narrow space, the cavalry quickly lost their charging momentum and ground to a halt. The Orcs beat down the horses and hacked the riders to pieces.

The infantry had not yet fully formed their ranks, and it was impossible for the soldiers of the Central Army to face the Orcs alone.

The number of Orcs crossing the bridge continued to grow.

To make matters worse, the Warlord began to massacre the knights.

The knights struck by the spear wreathed in crimson Fighting Spirit were reduced to bloody pulps and rolled across the ground. In the span of a brief moment, over a dozen knights were killed.

The Silver Lion and the knights were struggling fiercely against the Warlord in their own way, and the soldiers, whose formations were instantly shattered, were also engaged in a desperate fight as they mixed in with the Orcs.

It was a chaotic melee with an obvious end in sight.

Maximilian threw himself into the chaotic fray. Arwen followed behind him without hesitation.

"Older brother or younger brother, you both go looking for only the most dangerous places."

Bernardo erupted in frustration as he stormed into the battlefield.

Just how long had they fought the Orcs like that?

The remaining allied forces were now barely over a thousand, while the Orcs still numbered well over several thousand. The Warlord was also still going strong.

"Your Highness! It's too dangerous to stay any longer! You must pull back!"

The Commander shouted urgently.

"If you won't listen, I will escort you away by force!"

Two knights approached and grabbed both of Maximilian's arms. Maximilian struggled, but he couldn't escape the knights' strong grip.

Just as Maximilian was about to be dragged away,

BWOOOOO.

The sound of a horn echoed from somewhere.

BWOO, BWOOOOOO.

It was a somewhat familiar tone, and the first to react to it was Bernardo.

"Damn it! If they were going to come, they should've come sooner!"

The next to react was Maximilian.

"Reinforcements have arrived!"

As soon as his words ended, the sound of the horn rang out once more.

BWOOOOOO.

The sound was gradually getting closer. And at a certain point, the screams of Orcs began to ring out instead of the horn.

The screams that had initially come from far across the river had suddenly reached the middle of the bridge.

Orcs were pushed off the edge of the bridge and fell.

A flash of green cloaks fluttered among them. It was the Elf swordsmen.

The Elf swordsmen danced with their blades. A storm of blood sprayed as the Orcs were easily swept away.

The Elves who threw the Orcs into the river,

STEP, STEP.

From between them, a boy with his sword hanging loosely by his side revealed himself.

"Brother! Brother!"

Seeing the boy, the Second Prince broke into a bright smile.

The lords reflexively turned their heads, following the Second Prince's gaze.

If the second son of the Royal House of Leonberk was calling this person his older brother, then he was someone they were well aware of too.

The troublemaker of the royal family, the incorrigible scoundrel.

There were even some who had seen his face in person.

However, despite that, they did not recognize him in that moment.

Because the boy was completely, entirely different from the failure they knew.

"Brother!"

If the Second Prince hadn't continually called out to him so desperately, they wouldn't have recognized the First Prince until the very end.

"Brother!"

The First Prince didn't even turn his head at his younger brother's desperate voice.

He merely continued walking toward a certain place without pause.

To the lords' eyes, it was a deeply bizarre picture, an entirely surreal sight.

Elves gathering halos of silver light and dancing,

the boy walking upon blood as if trampling on red flowers.

The screams of death throes were unending,

yet only the area around the boy was tranquil.

The king of the dark green clan retracted his spear,

and turned to look at the boy.

Finally reaching the king, the boy spoke.

"Thank goodness. My uncle left half of it."

He meant the remaining half was his to take.

"We finally meet."

The boy smiled.

Looking at the Warlord, that mighty monster.