TUK 18

Chapter 18

Rian observed the five, noting the strange atmosphere they gave off, carefully watching their eyes.

Hmm… what’s with all these eyes?

From Dominic, with his dull blond hair, Rian could sense a certain determination.

Berker, the towering silver-haired man, bore a kind smile, yet the wrinkles around his eyes betrayed a ferocity as if he was ready to fight at any moment.

Tarin, with her freckled, short hair, grinned mischievously, but her eyes, like Berker’s, were brimming with competitive spirit.

Even Lea, who rarely revealed her emotions, showed a strange unfamiliarity in the fighting spirit gleaming from her amber eyes.

Among them, Phine, with her green hair hanging loosely as she chewed on dried meat, seemed the most indifferent. Yet, her sharp gaze, hidden behind a nonchalant expression, made Rian feel as if every inch of him was being examined.

“Does anyone have something to say?”

Even without asking, their eyes clearly challenged him to a fight, but asking outright, “Do you want to fight?” was out of the question.

Rian softened his words, phrasing the question gently as he addressed the five. Dominic was the first to rise, stepping forward to respond.

“We’ll be together for a while. Don’t you think it’s only right to finish the match we couldn’t complete before?”

Had Rian not asked, would it have felt disappointing? Dominic’s eyes spoke plainly, as if revealing his intentions without deceit.

“In that case, there’s no reason to refuse.”

There was no reason to deny what was desired, and it was something he actually needed. He wanted to gauge the extent of his revived body’s capabilities after the battle with Gerard.

Dominic’s suggestion to settle the match first felt almost courteous, and Rian felt he ought to thank him.

“Before that, how about we clean up and rest? We’ll depart for the border search at sunset, so we still have time.”

Lea rubbed her nose against him as she joined the conversation, her expression less than pleasant. The reason was obvious—it was Rian.

Rian was, quite literally, a wreck.

In the darkness of the rain-drenched dawn, he had fought a grueling battle. He had collected the bodies of his squad members, covered in the blood of enemies and mud.

The stench from the corpses clung to him, mingling with his own sweat and his comrades’ blood, intensifying the odor.

“You don’t exactly look tired, but you should definitely clean up.”

Even Phine, frowning as she spat out the jerky she’d been chewing, said this. Rian blocked his nose, surprised at how sharp her gaze was, piercing him as if inspecting every detail.

Sharp…

Everyone could tell he needed to clean up, but noticing he didn’t look fatigued—that was a keen observation.

Indeed, he wasn’t tired. After being brought back to life following decapitation, his body felt healthier, almost renewed.

Coming back from death feels like gaining a new body.

Still, he couldn’t say he was completely without fatigue.

“Let’s do that.”

Rian nodded and gave Dominic a look, asking if it was alright.

“Well… I just asked if anyone had something to say, that’s all. I wasn’t intending to start a spar immediately.”

Dominic waved his hands, gesturing for him to hurry and clean up. Rian saluted briefly and headed toward the stream.

The two mountain ranges rose defiantly toward the sky, facing each other across three hundred steps. It was a natural wall, yet the canyon between them held a somewhat tender beauty.

The two landscapes mirrored each other so closely. It was called the Twin Canyon, as if, should the two mountain ranges merge, brothers or sisters might embrace.

Unfortunately, the current scene bore little tenderness—it was filled with the intensity of battle.

Bang! Boom!

Armored troops shrouded in blue auras dominated the battlefield.

The clash of red- and blue-caped warriors created violent gusts and deafening sounds that consumed the canyon.

The ground beneath them crumbled, and sparks flew from their weapons, turning flames into blood-red bursts. If such a thing occurred, it would be almost magical—the battle was tense, fierce, and evenly matched.

Knight versus knight.

Just a few representatives from each nation fought, yet it seemed no different than thousands clashing.

No one could enter their sphere of combat; all had to watch from a distance.

The same went for the soldiers as well as the commanders overseeing the battle.

“Which side benefits more from time?”

The Lord of Northheim and commander of the battle, Marquis Graham Philoso, mounted on a white warhorse in pale-gold full plate, murmured as he observed the knights.

His face was expressionless, framed by years of wrinkles, minor scars, and a well-kept white beard. Yet inside, his mind raged with strategies to lead the war advantageously, inadvertently voicing one thought aloud.

Why is the Empire, which proposed this knightly battle, remaining silent while wasting time?

Perhaps they were confident of victory? That could be.

Two knights held off the Empire’s advance. The Empire rotated six knights into the duels.

Sion, Knight of Freedom. Fasid, leader of the White Lion Knights. Two of the so-called Five-Star Knights. The Empire’s skill level was high, and the sheer number had increased.

Yet, by now, he knew: none had surpassed these two.

The longer this drags, the more advantageous it is for us.

Knights are human. Like mages, their limits exist even while channeling auras to exert superhuman abilities.

The Five-Star Knights remained strong, but the Empire’s six knights were visibly tiring.

The frequency of their rotation has increased.

If this continued, they would die. Losing six high-level knights would be a devastating blow to the nation.

Yet why insist on knightly duels and conserve forces?

Time… time… time…

Could it be that they had other schemes? If holding the battlefield was just a ploy to buy time, and it was the Empire holding, not us—

The purpose of insisting on these duels is clear.

Graham realized uncovering the Empire’s hidden intent would determine the war’s outcome. Yet there was no immediate way to confirm it.

The front was blocked by the Empire and their gates—obliterating them was the only way forward. Behind lay friendly territory, leaving only rangers sent over the cliffs on either side as reliable eyes.

If even one survives…

Though called the Twin Canyon, the ranges were also known as the Frozen Mountains and the Bladed Mountains, teeming with monsters and beasts hiding from humans. Sending rangers was tantamount to throwing them into prey.

Still, it must be done. If it leads to victory, sacrifices for the many… must be endured.

Saving everyone in war was a dream. Hesitation over minor sacrifices would lead to far greater losses. Beyond army annihilation, the lives of Northheim’s citizens, and even the kingdom’s collapse, had to be considered.

The weight of responsibility and the cost of sacrifice had to be borne. That was the duty of a commander holding thousands of lives.

For victory.

Graham’s gaze turned to the Frozen Mountains on his left. He had sent nimble soldiers as rangers over the peaks, knowing some might not return, promising to honor the fallen heroes’ families.

Though he swore to keep the promise, he hoped no such tragedy would occur—all must return alive.

Then—

Flash—.

Something gleamed among the dense vegetation atop a steep cliff, drawing Graham’s attention.

“Huh?!”

It was no accident of nature. The light bent rhythmically, clearly artificial, appearing to measure distance for targeting. Arrows or bolts could certainly reach them.

“Guard! Defensive stance!”

Graham shouted, pointing at the light. A dozen guards surrounded him, raising round small shields attached to their left arms.

The White Lion knights’ gaze followed Graham.

Fiiiing!

A bolt flew through the air.

“Huh?!”

“Sniper?!”

“An ambush by the Empire?!”

The knights immediately released auras. Though weak compared to the knightly duels, they could stop a single distant bolt.

Thwang!

A junior knight caught the bolt heading for Graham. Seeing this, Graham felt a moment of relief.

“If you succeed in climbing the mountains and notice suspicious enemy movements, signal me with bolts.”

“Understood, Your Excellency. We’ll signal after ensuring your safety.”

“Good. The guards and knights will notice the signal and respond.”

Graham recalled the conversations before sending the rangers.

Good. They’re alive.

He dismounted to approach the knight holding the bolt.

“Sir, this was found.”

“A message from the rangers.”

Graham opened the letter immediately.

[Your Excellency, we have detected Imperial forces moving southwest through their gates. They seem to be secretly withdrawing troops.]

Seeing this, the word time exploded in Graham’s mind.

“Treverbridge!”

A previous letter received by Lord Sion from Monclay held the clue. It reported that the Imperial Duke of Bueno Argen had hidden elite shadow troops within larger forces.

Now they were moving southwest? Likely to capture Treverbridge as a key route.

I thought it was merely a distraction.

They intended to pin our forces here while taking Northheim via a bypass. The decisive point of this war was there!

“I leave the battlefield here to Sir Heidrick Fasid, Commander of the White Lion Knights. Some forces will follow me. We’re moving to Treverbridge!”

Graham quickly mounted his white warhorse and shouted.