【Da Yin】4

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-24

Chapter Four ◆ The main
road was lined with processions. Soldiers, clad in thick cotton armor, marched in ranks; riders rode horses, unarmored, their saddles bearing only longswords. Behind each procession followed several large wagons, carrying weapons and armor, as well as provisions, tents, banners, and arrows. Among
all the processions, one stood out.
This procession had no wagons, but instead a dozen or so sleds, with soldiers riding on them. These soldiers all kept their heads down, enduring many cold stares and taunts along the way, while those on horseback seemed completely unconcerned.
Aside from the two new pastors, everyone else had witnessed the creation of these sleds and the repeated modifications made to them by Nice and East. From the outside, these sleds looked no different from ordinary sleds, consisting of two planks topped with a large wooden board.
In reality, there was a row of rollers under the planks, these rollers being only the size of walnuts. Each plank also had a palm-sized wheel at the front and back. Normally, only these two large wheels were in contact with the ground; the smaller wheels were suspended in the air. However, these smaller wheels came in handy when encountering uneven ground.
The large wooden board was also quite sophisticated. Unlike ordinary sleds where the handles were directly fixed, these were mounted on four arched planks. These four arched planks acted like springs, so on the main road, the sleds were virtually imperceptible, much more stable than large carts.
The two newly arrived priests, of course, were unaware of the intricacies involved, but they were well aware of Luke and his group's background. Their experiences in the Holy Land and their methods of making money were common knowledge within the Nangdao Academy. They had also heard that upon returning from the Holy Land, Nice bought a large number of stools, pieced them together to form over a hundred crossbows, and used these to single-handedly defeat a group of pirates, even befriending a prince. If stools could be used as anticonvulsants, then bringing sleds to the battlefield was not incomprehensible.
The procession slowed its pace, and a castle could be seen ahead—Nosburg, the designated rendezvous point. Outside the castle were rows of tents; it was impossible for such a large army to be stationed inside.
Outside the camp was a ring of railings, with only one entrance and exit.
All the teams stopped at the entrance and registered there before being led by members of the Has family to their posts.
Luke and his men dismounted early, and the soldiers also got off their sleds and lined up to wait.
"Look, a bunch of country bumpkins, they don't even have a carriage? They came in sleds."
"What a disgrace, we who fought alongside them are also disgraceful."
"Their equipment is pretty good, it shouldn't be this shabby, right?"
"What's so good about it? Didn't you see that their armor is all bulging? Maybe there are wooden planks underneath."
There were sarcastic voices all around. Knowing Palm's temper, he probably would have exploded long ago, but this time he actually held back.
More than an hour later, they finally arrived.
Luke was left behind to register, while the others followed a servant from the Hass family to the southeast corner. Their assigned camp was somewhat remote, but Nice and the others didn't seem to care much.
After setting up camp and having Wood feed the horses, the group finally breathed a sigh of relief. They had arrived late, and the road was filled with troops rushing to assemble, making their progress slow. Fortunately, they arrived before the deadline.
After a while, Luke arrived, followed by several farmers pushing carts loaded with pieces of salted meat and bags of black beans—their rations.
"Put on your armor and longswords, we're going to see the Duke,"
Luke said, then turned to Elena and gave her an order: "You're in charge while we're away."
The castle gates were wide open, with people constantly going in and out.
Upon entering, a row of houses stood close to the city walls; these were the servants' quarters. Further in was a large courtyard, currently in disarray, with over a dozen large carts parked haphazardly, and servants busy loading and unloading goods—all in preparation for the impending war.
Beyond the courtyard lay the actual castle, its walls, constructed of massive stones, giving it an unusually heavy feel.
Several knights stood on the steps leading to it.
Luke and his companions felt a sudden slump in their shoulders. The knights hadn't released any overwhelming pressure, but the terrifying aura was still almost unbearable.
The priests from Nice and the Nangdao Academy weren't faring much better. Priests were particularly sensitive, and although these auras didn't directly suppress them, the overwhelming feeling of powerlessness was simply too heavy.
This feeling intensified upon entering the castle.
The Has family truly lived up to its reputation as a top-tier aristocratic family; the entire hall was filled with a powerful aura, and the immense pressure made it hard to breathe.
The hall was at least fifty or sixty meters long and about twenty meters wide. At the front was a low platform over a meter high, upon which sat a throne, which was currently empty.
The hall had two levels. The upper level was just a circular corridor. On the left side of the corridor, six people were playing music, but no one cared what they were playing. The lower level was very noisy, with a large group of people gathered in the center, talking and chatting. These people were clearly divided into several groups.
In a corner near the platform, stood several people dressed in wide red and purple robes, all adorned with mysterious patterns. They were magicians, and high-ranking ones at that.
Nice's eyelids twitched slightly; it was the first time he had seen these legendary figures at such close range.
In terms of rank, Archmages are comparable to Bishops and Grand Knights, but the former are far fewer in number and far more destructive; they are practically synonymous with destruction.
Even from a distance, Nice could sense the unapproachable fluctuations emanating from them—magical vibrations, also known as elemental resonance. While the aura of Grand Knights could only be used to suppress others, this could kill directly.
In another corner, a large group of priests stood. At least a third of them were Judges, their holy power, emanating like thorns of souls, more solid than that of Morganangus. The other two-thirds, many dressed as Khunangus, resembled the old man Simon.
However, the majority of the group consisted of knights, both old and young, all exuding an astonishing aura.
Several young knights appeared to be only twenty-five or twenty-six years old, yet their presence was no less imposing than that of the squire beside Cardinal Emar.
Nice was not surprised.
A knight's strength increases rapidly at first, then slows down; while priests have many shortcuts, their rate of strength improvement cannot compare to that of knights. It's rare to hear of a bishop in their twenties, but there are quite a few great knights in their twenties.
However, there are advantages and disadvantages. Knights lack staying power; after becoming a great knight, further advancement becomes increasingly difficult, with each step presenting a significant hurdle. Furthermore, a knight's strength is related to their physical prowess. After the age of forty, their physical skills begin to weaken, and their strength declines accordingly. Therefore, in the later stages, it becomes the domain of priests and mages.
Of course, this is just the general situation.
Any profession can produce abnormally powerful individuals. It is not uncommon for a great knight to kill a bishop or archmage of the Soul level as easily as cutting vegetables.
Nice dared not move closer to the group of people in the middle of the hall. He had already noticed that people of similar age to them were all standing around the perimeter of the hall.
The people surrounding him ranged in age from around twenty to about the same, and judging from their attire, they were all apprentices.
"It's strange, why are there so few regular knights?"
Nice whispered to Luke beside him.
The hall was filled with either high-ranking figures or rookies at the apprentice level; not a single knight, the main force on the battlefield, could be seen.
"Those people you mentioned each have their own duties,"
Luke said in a low voice, "It's a tradition, to allow us rookies to observe the prowess of top-tier experts. This boosts morale and lets the young people know the gap in strength, motivating them to work harder in the future."
Ister chimed in, "This arrangement also aims to foster closer relationships."
He didn't dare elaborate, but Nice could guess.
The apprentices hadn't yet made their choices, hadn't decided which lord to pledge allegiance to. This tradition was to allow apprentices to come into contact with the great nobles, increasing their intimacy. The knights, however, didn't need to do this; they had already made their choices.
"Are any members of your family or Luke's family here?"
Nice asked, looking around.
"No, Luke's family is stationed on the frontier and doesn't need to participate in this kind of war. I only have two sons. My older brother values his life very much and would rather spend money than fight,"
Easter said helplessly.
Nice knew a little about these two people. Luke's parents were still young, and his father still made the decisions at home. His father doted on his younger son. Easter's situation was much worse. His older brother was in charge now, and he was wary of his younger brother like a thief.
Like the other soul-age individuals, they waited for a long time around the hall before they saw someone run out, clapping their hands vigorously.
Everyone in the hall turned their heads.
"The Duke has come out,"
Luke whispered.
A knight, around twenty years old and quite dashing, emerged from a corner of the school gate.
Nice already knew the Duke wasn't very old, and while he was handsome, he lacked real ability. Although filled with disdain, Nice outwardly bowed respectfully in that direction, just like everyone else.
Several apprentice knights knelt on one knee beside him; some were there to flatter him, while others had close ties to the Hass family—their fathers and brothers served the Duke, and some had even been his squires themselves.
The Duke nodded to the crowd and then sat down on the throne in the center.
People in the hall approached him one by one to speak with him.
Those with exceptional strength naturally went up first. The young duke was polite to these people, not at all as arrogant and domineering as rumored.
After all the powerful figures had been greeted, it was finally the turn of the surrounding younger generation.
The duke leaned lazily against his throne as groups of people approached him.
"I have brought fifty soldiers, just to offer my humble assistance." "I have brought twenty-five soldiers and four attendants, who are waiting outside." "My friends and I have brought seventy-six soldiers; may Your Majesty have a successful campaign."
Each group stepped forward without any preamble, immediately stating the number of soldiers they had brought, as this was crucial.
Duke Frederick didn't really care about these things. The outcome of a war wasn't determined by the strength of that rank; ten thousand soldiers couldn't compare to one high-ranking officer. What he really cared about was what others thought of him. Finally,
Luke and the others went up.
Duke Frederick's face immediately darkened. Before Luke could speak, he turned to the oldest priest in the group and said, "Even if you're just going through the motions, at least do it better! Does your Nangdao Academy have no one left? Send a child."
He glanced at Nice out of the corner of his eye.
"Age doesn't define everything,"
Nice replied calmly. He already knew the Duke's temper; this Duke had a strange temper and didn't like anyone contradicting him, but he also disliked subservient types.
Nice wasn't worried that his words would anger the Duke, because he displayed confidence, not a questioning of the Duke's previous statement.
Sure enough, the Duke's lips curled into a slight smile, and he said with a hint of coldness, "If you were two years older, you would be more persuasive." "That's the common opinion," Nice retorted, "but I think His Highness Prince Philip
behind you might have a different opinion. I believe that if he had to choose, he would definitely choose me, not a priest a few years older than me." He dared to do this because he believed that his words wouldn't provoke the Duke's anger, but only pique his curiosity. Sure enough, the Duke turned and asked, "Really? Philip, do you know this young man?" Philip was Prince Philip's nickname. Prince Philip was the nephew of the Duchess of Styria, and the Styria family was a branch of the Hass family, so Prince Philip and the Duke were not far apart. They were about the same age and had always had a good relationship. "I will indeed do that, and not just me. Cardinal Aymar will do the same." The prince was also a clever man, and he quickly pulled the cardinal in to share the pressure: "That cardinal even brought out the Spear of Longinus and the Crown of Thorns." "Really?" This time, the Duke was slightly moved. He certainly wouldn't care about a replica of the Spear of Longinus. Given his status, he could easily summon the best weapon makers and alchemists to forge the finest weapons. The Hasburg treasury even contained several divine artifacts. However, he was also aware of the significance of these two things. Just then, someone beside the Duke whispered a few words in his ear. Nice was certain it wasn't anything good, because the Duke Frederick, who had just appeared somewhat calmer, darkened his expression again. "Then tell me, what is your Nangado Academy trying to convey by sending only a few people?" The Duke's tone was much harsher than before. Fortunately, Nice had anticipated the Duke's question, so he remained calm and immediately replied, "The Nang Doctrine doesn't want this war to happen. They can't openly stop it, so they have to resort to this method." This was pure fabrication; the Nang Doctrine had no faith in the Duke, but he dared not say so directly, so he could only offer a plausible explanation. After all, the statement wasn't wrong; the Church had always been averse to internal wars and believed that force should only be used against the Larsen. "Is this the Church's intention?" the Duke asked coldly. "No, the Nang Doctrine hasn't received orders from above. Presumably, the Papacy would prefer you to suffer. They don't have a good impression of Duke Louis… As for the reason, you certainly know better than anyone else." Nice subtly changed the subject, replacing "Church" with "Papacy. " This was actually Old Man Simon's conjecture. The Papacy had always maintained neutrality among the nations, but now that it had become a puppet of the Franks, all the nations that made up the Holy Empire were dissatisfied, and Duke Ruyi was probably no exception.

Duke Frederick understood the implication in Nice's words; he was well aware of his cousin's aversion to the Papacy. However, he wasn't about to let Nice off the hook, so he pressed on, "I'm asking about the Church."
"When a horse pulls a carriage in one direction, it's called a carriage; once they go in opposite directions, it's no longer a carriage,"
Nice cleverly evaded the question.
But he wasn't wrong; the Church was, as he described, in chaos.
The Papacy had moved to Avignon, but the Papal States still existed and exercised power. The orders from both sides often clashed completely, leaving the various denominations and religious institutions bewildered or simply acting independently.
After all that, Nice still wouldn't bring up the Church.
The Duke said helplessly, "You really are something else."
He didn't express any appreciation, because he never valued those who only knew how to talk; for him, strength was everything. Besides, the actions of the Admont Academy had indeed displeased him.
"You may leave now,"
he waved lazily.
Luke led the way.
After they left, Luke, Metro, and Palm breathed a sigh of relief. They had been very nervous. As for Nice, they were native to the area and had heard too much about the Duke's terrible temper.
"Thanks for your help,"
Luke patted Nice on the shoulder.
Just then, a group of people nearby said sarcastically, "No wonder they're from the church, they're certainly eloquent."
Luke's eyes widened, and he snapped, "What do you mean?"
He wasn't usually one to get angry easily, but he was doing this because they had planned to stir up trouble.
Now the opportunity had presented itself.
"Isn't our meaning clear enough? You're all all talk."
The man who had spoken earlier went along with Luke's point.
Luke's glare had signaled to East, Metro, and Palm that they were ready to escalate the situation.
The atmosphere in the corner instantly became tense.
Those around him paid no attention to such matters. Just as Margaret had said, Duke Frederick was stubborn and self-willed, so his men followed suit, enjoying stirring up trouble and letting their fists sway.
"Are you planning to start a fight?"
Luke demanded.
His question revealed his cunning; he wanted to make the other side bear the blame for instigating conflict.
Under Duke Frederick, starting a fight wasn't a fault, as long as it resulted in victory, it was all right; but failure was an unforgivable mistake.
"So what if we're starting a fight? We have the utmost respect for people like you who only know how to talk."
This time, the speaker was not the same person as before, and the other side was also very united.
Luke feigned anger, then after a moment, pretended to force it, gritting his teeth as he said, "You're lucky. If war weren't imminent, I would have taught you a lesson you can't just say whatever you want." "
What do you want? To show off your strength? How much are you capable of?"
The opposing team clearly wasn't going to let Luke off the hook.
A glove was tossed in front of Luke.
"How about we have a little spar before the main battle to boost morale? Got the guts?"
"As long as the Duke doesn't object, I'll do as you please."
Luke retorted fiercely, though secretly he was much happier.
Everything was proceeding according to their plan.
Outside the castle, a dueling arena had already been prepared. It was a large open space, five or six hundred meters long and over a hundred meters wide, with a high platform erected on one side. The high-ranking figures sat on the platform, serving as both referees and spectators.
At either end of the arena, two teams were preparing.
"Is it necessary to lower ourselves to their level?"
Prince Philip asked, having come over with good intentions. "In that situation, we can't possibly back down, can we?"
Luke felt helpless; of course, he wouldn't reveal that this was originally Nice's plan.
The prince wasn't entirely sincere either. He knew that if Luke and his group chose to withdraw, the Duke would definitely look down on them even more.
"Be careful, those people are quite strong."
He came over, his real purpose being to reveal information: "They're deliberately provoking you to establish their authority. The leader of this group has already reached the peak of the low-level, just one step away from entering the middle level."
This was clearly not good news.
Luke and the others all looked at each other, now finally understanding that they weren't the only ones scheming against others; others were scheming against them as well.
"How old is that person?"
Palm asked. He always considered himself a genius, so he was always somewhat wary of geniuses like Soul.
"Twenty-two years old."
The prince had already inquired beforehand and knew that being close to the middle level in one's early twenties was already quite talented. He would definitely become a high-level knight before the age of thirty, and might even challenge the Grand Knight realm before the age of forty.
Palm immediately breathed a sigh of relief. He was eighteen years old, and his strength was above average among the low-level players. He was confident that he would be able to advance to the intermediate level when he was around twenty years old.
"It's a pity that my followers can't go up."
Ness sighed from the side.
Elena is a goddess warrior, and the barbarians have no idea about the division of strength. Elena's usual combat power is only equivalent to that of a mid-level knight, but when she breaks out, even high-level knights will be killed. It's a pity that the retainers are not allowed to participate in the competition, otherwise there would be nothing to compare with.
There are definitely many people like Nice who have powerful followers. The prince in front of him is the best example. He has eight powerful followers beside him.
A long, drawn-out bugle call interrupted their conversation. His Highness the Prince hurriedly returned to the platform, and Luke and the other five mounted their horses.
Ister, Metro, and Palm glanced coldly back at the two priests. It was truly disappointing that the two priests sent by the Nangdao Academy refused to help.
"Never mind," Luke explained on behalf of the two priests, "the Church has always been very averse to combat, declaring it illegal several times. They are, after all, members of the Church."
Ister, Metro, and Palm looked at Nice, who shrugged. He often didn't consider himself a member of the Church.
Taking their weapons from the racks in front of their saddles, each of them brandished them a few times.
These weapons were all made of wood: wooden spears, wooden swords, wooden axes. The only weapon not made of wood was the bow, though the arrowheads had been removed.
"These things are really powerful,"
Palm muttered.
"It's a pity we can't intentionally harm their warhorses,"
Nice muttered as well. If he could, he could take them all out by himself.
There was a type of concealed weapon not intended to kill, but to capture prisoners. These included lassos, iron balls, and batons; none of them were made of metal.
"There's definitely one more person on the other side." Metro, with his sharpest eyes, pointed his wooden spear at the other side.
That was their trump card, the reason they dared to challenge them to this duel.
The two sides drew closer, stopping when they were about a hundred meters apart. Luke and his men pulled down the hoods of their helmets and raised their shields. Nice had already flipped up his hat and pulled up his veil, immediately casting a spell on Luke and his men.
This was definitely not the first thing a priest should do on the battlefield. Low-ranking priests on the battlefield always use 'Battle Prayer' as their first opportunity.
The spell Nice cast was called "Secret Conversation at Twenty Meters," a continuous spell usually used when discussing confidential matters, preventing eavesdropping.
Using this magic on the battlefield was a secret taught by the old man Simon. After casting it, it allowed Soul's squad to maintain contact without being overheard by the enemy.
As soon as the spell was completed, Nice tore open a divine scroll.
Countless ripples of light appeared on the ground, and almost instantly, all five of them, including Soul, felt their leg muscles surge with explosive power. Not only were they affected, but their horses were too.
Luke and the other three spurred their horses and charged towards the opposite side.
Nice didn't charge; he quickly completed another spell.
A phantom of blue light carrying countless feathers slowly descended from the sky, enveloping the five of them, and Luke and his companions immediately increased their speed significantly.
That was "Lightness Spell."
A divine spell combined with a magic spell made Luke and his three companions as fast as a breeze, covering a hundred meters in the blink of an eye.
They had already discussed their roles before going into battle.
Luke was in charge of command, Niss was in charge of devising tactics, and Palm was in charge of holding off the opponent's strongest character.
As they moved towards the center, Niss had already finalized their tactics. The opponent not only had one near-mid-level character, but also two quite powerful priests. If everyone slowly cast their divine spells, Luke and his companions would definitely be the ones who suffered in the end, so they couldn't give the opponent too much time to prepare.
This dazzling series of spellcastings was all seen by the spectators in the stands.
"Very clever. Divine spells are too slow to activate, but magic is much faster. This way we can quickly close the distance between the two sides." A magician next to the Duke in the stands twirled his beard and nodded repeatedly.
"Is this still a priest?" Another magician shook his head. Cast three spells in a row, two of them are magic and only one is divine.
As soon as he finished speaking, he saw two javelins flying out of Nice's hand. The javelins were fired at the two priests.
The two priests were casting a spell and were about to finish it. The javelin fired in front of them immediately made them panic.
The leader on the other side was indeed formidable. He deflected one of the javelins with a flick of his spear, but unfortunately, he only had one spear and could only watch helplessly as another priest was struck by a javelin.
Almost instantly, the priest was enveloped in a dim red light, rendering him unable to move or continue casting spells.
This was the rule of the duel; the arena was shrouded in an invisible barrier, and the mage maintaining the barrier would determine whether the person struck was dead.
Two javelins were fired, and Nice instantly switched to his bow. Holding the bow in his right hand and a handful of arrows in his left, he fired five arrows in quick succession, the arrows forming a straight line in the air.
"Is this still a priest?" the mage exclaimed in astonishment.
Seated on the platform were not only magicians, but also priests—even more priests, all of whom looked utterly humiliated.
"Is he left-handed? Right hand holding the bow, left hand releasing the arrow," a more observant person suddenly asked.
Just as he asked this, he saw Nice's horse turn, and he switched the bow from his right hand to his left.
"Ambidextrous archery, a specialty of nomadic peoples. He's probably like those nomads, using his thumb to draw the bowstring," explained a skilled knight from the side.
On the arena, the situation had shifted.
Nice had preemptively taken down a priest, and then caught off guard by Nice's rapid-fire arrows; their opponents had lost the initiative from the outset.
The strongest among them could only remain where they were, fearing that the remaining priest would also be ambushed. The others, however, gritted their teeth and charged forward. Their initial slight advantage was immediately shattered by this separation, putting them at a disadvantage.
The moment the two sides made contact, two beams of red light appeared out of thin air, striking Metro and one of their opponents. Metro grinned, while his opponent was furious.
This "soul-destroying" tactic was devised by Nice.
Of Luke's four, Metro was the weakest, so he immediately targeted the second-ranked opponent, using a "soul-destroying" attack to eliminate him.
Luke has four knights and one priest on his side, while the opposing side has five knights and two priests. Now, Nis has single
-handedly killed the strongest enemy and a priest, and Metro has taken down another, making it three against three. Palm is facing the weakest opponent. As their horses pass each other, Palm uses his spear to block the opponent's lance, then charges forward with his shield.
The opponent stumbles, swaying on his horse, and before he can regain his balance, five or six arrows are aimed straight at his face.
The knight, clad in heavy armor, seemed unfazed by arrows, except for his face. The man quickly raised his shield, but just then, a spear thrust from an unseen opponent, striking his right ribs and throwing him from his horse.
Another red flash followed.
The most powerful man on the other side finally couldn't hold back any longer. Continuing like this would surely lead to disaster. He abandoned the priest and charged towards Luke.
Luke was the leader; his death would be a devastating blow to the entire force's morale.
Unfortunately for him, the moment he moved, Palm spurred his horse to block his path. Palm, imbued with a divine spell and a magic spell, was far faster.
The spear blocked the other spear, and with a crisp "crack," splinters of broken wood flew everywhere.
Palm, prepared, tossed aside the broken spear, drew his wooden longsword from the saddle, and swung it at his opponent. The man reacted quickly, using his broken spear to deflect the sword, and with a swift movement, drew his own longsword. But before he could retaliate, five arrows rained down upon him.
Wielding his longsword, Palm parried all the arrows, leaving the man with no chance to strike. Palm's sword struck again.
The two exchanged blows, fighting for over a dozen rounds in the blink of an eye.
In terms of pure skill, Palm was clearly inferior, but this gap was compensated for by Nys's barrage of arrows. Every time Palm was on the verge of collapse, Nys's rapid-fire arrows forced him to defend.
However, the man's strength was indeed formidable; with just a slight pause, he immediately overwhelmed Palm, rendering him powerless to retaliate.
As the fight progressed, the man felt his body growing heavier and his movements slower, as if his body were bound by many damp, cold ropes.
He knew he had been struck by negative magic.
Looking around, he realized that another priest had also been killed, and all his comrades were now enveloped in red light. Knowing that the situation was hopeless and there was no point in continuing the fight, he abruptly deflected Palm's longsword and turned his horse toward the border.
Having crossed the boundary line, he angrily slammed his longsword into the ground, the wooden blade embedding itself entirely in the soil.
Back in the stands, the Duke lazily clapped his hands.
"Not much skill, but very clever."
That was his assessment.
Nice's performance slightly raised his opinion of them, but he still believed in skill. In low-level combat, a little trickery could easily gain an advantage, but as skill increased, the effectiveness of strategy diminished.
And someone who relied heavily on strategy often struggled to reach high levels. Even if a priest could rise to the rank of bishop through infusion of holy power, that power was illusory, and further advancement would be difficult.
All the high-ranking people around nodded in approval. At their level, any clever scheme could be easily thwarted; only opponents at the Soul level could rival them.
Only Prince Philip smiled, remaining silent. He didn't want to contradict the Duke, but he had other thoughts in mind.
While being a jack-of-all-trades and master of none is indeed a major taboo—a person's energy is limited and cannot be evenly distributed—Nice didn't seem like someone with too much knowledge, but rather someone with his own choices.
There are those who disdain following others' paths, forging their own. Most of these people fail; creating a path is not easy, but once successful, the future is infinitely bright.
As the crowd gradually left, an angry voice suddenly rang out from below: "This kind of contest is meaningless. On the battlefield, these tricks are completely useless."
The speaker was a trainee knight who had just recovered from his stiff state; he clearly couldn't accept their defeat.
"What a disgrace! They're clearly defeated, yet they still say such things."
The Duke frowned. He disliked losers, and even more so, he disliked those who refused to admit their defeat.
The surrounding people naturally echoed in agreement, but to everyone's surprise, the Duke changed the subject, saying, "However, those words are true; those tricks are useless on the battlefield."
"How about this,"
Prince Philip said with a light laugh, "give them another chance, let them compete on the battlefield, and see who can gain more merit?"
He said this at Luke's request, and he already knew it was Nice's idea.
With the prince's intelligence and his understanding of Duke Frederick, he quickly understood Nice's intention, and he became even more interested in the young man, so he was willing to help.
"Good idea,"
the Duke immediately agreed, since it would definitely not do him any harm.
Beautiful maids, exquisite food, unlimited wine, with music playing and clowns performing acrobatics nearby.
At rows of long tables, knights sat or stood, eating, drinking, and talking loudly. Their topics were all about fighting and killing, with some veteran knights recounting their past wars.
Luke's table was much quieter, with Luke doing most of the talking. He mostly talked about interesting stories and rumors from their circle, which East had clearly heard before, occasionally chiming in.
Church knights were always pretty much the same—not overly reserved or polite, nor too unrestrained—this was the difference between knights from the church and those raised in other noble families.
Those knights sent to other noble families from a young age were unrestrained and rude in private, but became impeccably polite in front of important figures, always wearing two faces.
Luke, however, was used to this. He glanced around with disdain and then commented softly, "They grew up in other people's homes, initially living with servants, eating at the same table as the servants, flirting with the maids, and unknowingly picking up the habits of servants." "
That's also why we chose the Church,"
Easter said, more knowledgeable than Luke.
His cousin was sent to live with an earl, where he slept and ate with the servants. He had to be extremely respectful and polite in front of the earl's family, and any mistake would result in severe punishment—he was no different from a slave.
People raised in this way are inherently rude and servile; how could they be worthy of being called noble knights? Furthermore, having grown up with servants, these men had no opportunity to study, so nine out of ten were illiterate.
In the academy, besides learning martial arts and essential etiquette, there were also cultural classes, including history, and of course, theology. This was a major reason why knights from the church looked down on those who grew up in other noble families.
Luke and his companions weren't the only ones seated there; Prince Philip leaned back at one corner of the table.
He didn't want to comment on the earlier exchange; these two types of knights looked down on each other and harbored mutual hatred. One reason that group had specifically provoked them was precisely because of this tradition.
"Are you so sure we'll fail?"
the prince asked, getting to the point. He wasn't worried about being overheard; the surroundings were already magically sealed off.
"You're not asking a question you already know the answer to, are you?"
Nice was quite familiar with the prince and no longer held back as before.
The prince smiled wryly. He knew perfectly well, especially after hearing that the King of Bohemia had rejected the Duke's request for aid.
Not only him, but those powerful figures who accepted the invitation to help also had their own sources of information. They also did not think highly of Duke Frederick, so once they were on the battlefield, don't expect them to go all out. The reason why those people came was that they had reasons that they couldn't refuse, and he himself was one of them.
"I have bad news,"
the prince said. "Remember? When you met the Duke, there was a man standing behind him. This man whispered something in the Duke's ear, and afterwards, his attitude towards you completely changed."
Luke's face immediately paled upon hearing this. He quickly asked, "Who is he? We don't think we've offended him."
"His name is Piast, the Earl of Dortmund. You haven't offended him, but you have an enemy in Port Asax. Earl Piast is the backer of Viscount Bellandos."
The prince had gone to great lengths to find out this.
Luke and the other three exchanged glances. Although they knew Viscount Bellandos was a big problem, they hadn't expected it to be this big.
"You probably don't know, do you? My aunt's interest in your business was instigated by certain people who took money from Viscount Bellandos to speak on his behalf. That viscount is truly a despicable man."
The prince smiled wryly. To be honest, it wasn't common to see someone so utterly lacking in aristocratic bearing.
"What exactly are your plans?"
the prince asked, wanting to see what Luke and his men had in mind.
"We're not expecting anything this time; we're just doing our duty, letting the Duke vent his anger without reason."
Luke looked distressed, realizing that even this minimum requirement seemed difficult to achieve.
"Just for that disaster-stricken land?"
The prince laughed. His homeland was a harsh, desolate place, but compared to Kaoni, it was paradise.
"If you really have no other options, then come and help me!"
The prince formally extended his offer of recruitment. He hadn't mentioned it before because he wasn't confident, but now that Luke and his companions were in a precarious situation, he opportunely offered an olive branch.
"One day, when you have your own territory, we will certainly come,"
Luke said, essentially agreeing, only delaying the timing.
The prince didn't mind; he wasn't in a hurry. He recruited these men because he valued their abilities and needed them to devise strategies and find a path to prosperity for his country. He didn't even intend for Luke and his three companions to defend his territory or fight for him like other knights.
His country didn't lack strong knights; what it lacked were people with brains.
"We do have something we'd like to discuss with you,"
Nice said, moving closer to the prince. Despite knowing the surroundings were magically sealed off, his voice remained low. "We've developed a new technology."
This was a reward for the prince's earlier reminder.
Metro, who had been sitting beside him, immediately removed his own armor and placed it before the prince.
The prince had already noticed the bulging armor; he didn't assume it was wooden planks, but guessed that Luke and his men had stuffed something inside. To enhance defense and to avoid adding too much weight, some people had indeed tried stuffing things in, most commonly tortoise shells.
He flipped open the armor, looking at the bulging steel plates. He didn't know what was going on, but he had real confidence in the new technology these people had developed.
"This was originally a fine steel plate armor. After the modification, its defensive capabilities are comparable to basic magical armor,"
Nice explained from the side.
The prince was indeed moved; he was interested, very interested.
"What do you need?"
The prince didn't ask what he could get in return. He knew this group well and knew they had never let their collaborators suffer losses.
"We need blacksmiths, the more the better. Although we have the technology, we simply don't have enough people,"
Luke said.
They had been pondering this for a long time on their way here, finally deciding to partner with this prince. Besides the prince's truly excellent character, another reason was that his country was very backward, and the more backward a place is, the more it craves technology and the stricter its control.
"When do you want it?"
the prince asked impatiently. This was tantamount to giving him the technology for free. Blacksmithing wasn't like boiling sugar; it was impossible to keep the technology a secret.
He didn't know that the most crucial step in Nice's technology was the final process, which Nice had named "tempering," and this process could be done entirely in secret.
"The sooner the better, of course," Luke thought of the soldiers.
The soldiers' armor consisted of only six iron plates, front and back, crafted using a new technique. With some time remaining before the battle, and if there were enough craftsmen, they could certainly forge all the plates.
"This is just the beginning,"
Nice said, using the same tactic he'd employed against Abdul in the Holy Land. He wanted to use an even more enticing lure to prevent the prince from becoming obsessed with immediate gains: "Iron armor is too heavy. With this new technology, it's not only sturdy but also allows for the creation of lighter and better armor."
"That's wonderful! Eight centuries have passed since armor was invented, and armor hasn't changed at all!"
The prince became even more excited. Every improvement in weapons and armor led to a significant increase in combat power, and every significant increase in combat power inevitably resulted in a large-scale military revolution, followed by the rise of a new empire.
As a prince, he too had dreams, dreams far higher than those of ordinary people.
He dreamed of leading his country to prosperity and flourishing, like the great emperors of history, eventually transforming it into a vast empire spanning the continent.
This was no mere pipe dream; all once-powerful empires began as small tribes. Although his country was poor and backward, it was still a kingdom, far stronger than a tribe.
"I intend to ask the Duke for permission to include you in my battle formation,"
the prince said, knowing how to reciprocate.
"Where might your position be?"
Luke didn't immediately agree to such a good thing, because they had already discussed everything and didn't want any major changes.
"I'll probably be on the flanks or rear," the prince said, a hint of embarrassment in his voice.
It was definitely not a good position. When things were going well, it wouldn't be easy to claim credit because the position was too remote and far back. However, if the enemy launched a surprise attack, that was the most vulnerable spot.
Luke and his companions exchanged knowing glances. Their impression of Prince Frederick had worsened; he even schemed against his allies who came to his aid—clearly not someone to be trusted. What was even more frustrating was that Prince Frederick was still young; his reign would likely last at least another twenty or thirty years.
Luke glanced at Nice, who nodded. Their plan was to find a position with room to maneuver, ideally on the flanks or rear.
"Then I'll trouble you. We'll join your ranks."
Luke accepted this kind offer.
It was a happy ending for everyone.

Chapter Five ◆ First Battle
The long column marched along the main road, countless flags fluttering in the wind. After five days of rest, the assembled army finally headed to the battlefield.
Luke's group walked like ghosts in the middle of the column. The sleds were gone; twenty-four soldiers marched on foot.
This wasn't Luke's order. The soldiers couldn't stand the sarcasm and ridicule of others. They also cared about their reputation. Being a soldier was much more dangerous than being a farmer, but the status was also much higher. So what they couldn't stand most now was the cold looks and mockery of others.
Their armor was much more bulging than before, not only on the chest, but also on the back, sides, and outer thighs, making them look somewhat bulky.
It wasn't just Luke's group; Prince Philip's army, marching alongside them, was also equipped with this new type of armor. His Highness had brought over five hundred men, a considerable force.
Compared to other groups, their banners were rather disorganized. His Highness's banner featured an eagle, and his retinues also had their own banners, interspersed with Luke's.
Luke's group was called the "Rosicrucian Order," and their banner featured roses entwined around a cross.
The entire journey had been along mountainous roads.
Both Hasburg and Upper Balia are mountainous terrains, but the mountains in Hasburg are all quite steep, while the mountains in Upper Balia are relatively gentle, suitable for cultivating farmland and pastures, and also contain large valleys.
Previously, these valleys were mostly submerged by rivers, becoming uninhabitable swamps, but now, thanks to the reclamation efforts of Duke Louis and his father and brother, the swamps have been transformed into fertile farmland.
Upper Balia is undoubtedly a coveted land.
This vast army had been marching for two days, and as noon approached, the group suddenly stopped.
Luke and his men also stopped, all awaiting orders.
"Go ahead and see how things are going?"
The prince extended an invitation.
"Yes, sir,"
Luke replied succinctly this time, as they were currently in the army.
He left Palm behind to temporarily command the troops, while Luke and the others followed behind the prince, who had only two attendants with him.
The marching column was quite long, with the prince positioned slightly towards the back of the middle, some distance from the front. Fortunately, they didn't need to run to the front; there was a hill about a kilometer away from which they could see what was ahead.
Many people were already standing on the hill. As soon as the prince arrived, the central position was immediately made available, but Luke and his men didn't receive such treatment; they could only stay on the perimeter.
Looking into the distance, a large army could be seen winding along the mountain path, like a long serpent with its head extending into a wide valley, while another long serpent crawled in from the opposite direction.
"Judging by appearances alone, Duke Louis's army is not bad."
"That army hasn't fought a war in half a century, unlike us, where war has never stopped."
"You can't say that. They participated in the war in Bohemia back then."
"That was just participation; only about a thousand men came."
Looking at the formation opposite, the people around were saying all sorts of things.
Suddenly, a group of men pulled carts loaded with timber, heading this way. The lead knight shouted, "Scatter! Scatter! We're building a fortress here!"
Judging from his attire, the knight was just an ordinary officer; most of the men on the hill were of higher rank, but upon hearing the shout, they scattered.
This was the army—the commander's orders were paramount.
A similar scene unfolded elsewhere; on the hills surrounding the valley, teams responsible for civil engineering appeared.
A little further away, in a forest, soldiers were felling trees with axes. They didn't even peel the bark off the felled trees; they simply trimmed the branches and leaves and dragged them over.
Wooden stakes were driven into the ground, forming a wooden wall. Behind the wall was a row of frames from which soldiers could stand and attack invading enemies. In the center of this temporary fortress was a towering wooden bunker, capable of housing twenty or thirty soldiers. This bunker also served as a lookout post.
Not only here, but there too, temporary fortresses were being built on distant hills.
"Won't this turn into a protracted war?"
Nice asked the men beside him.
"Probably not,"
Luke replied, unsure.
These territorial wars, because the two sides are so close, sometimes turn into fragmented battles that could last for decades. However, more often than not, they end quickly, as neither side wants to drag it out.
The second possibility is also easy to understand.
With the two sides so close, there isn't enough buffer zone, making it easy for the other side to seize an opportunity for a fatal blow. Therefore, if one side senses danger, they immediately surrender, and the other side won't relentlessly pursue, fearing the other might become desperate.
Prince Philip suddenly interjected, "It won't be long. If it drags on, the Church will definitely intervene to mediate. The situation in the East isn't good right now."
Hearing this, the others thought for a moment and quickly agreed.
Although the Church was divided, they were of one mind on the matter of fighting the Saracens.
Geographically speaking, the original first line of defense—the Holy Land—had fallen into Saracen hands, and the main force that originally guarded the first line of defense—the Knights Templar—had been destroyed by their own side after their defeat. Now, the first line of defense had shifted to the eastern countries, with Bohemia also becoming the front line.
As a result, Hasburg and Upper Balia became the second line of defense, and they also had the obligation to reinforce the first line. At this point, the two sides were fighting each other in their own territory, which was something that the Church and the countries under its control absolutely did not want to see.
After a short rest, the troops continued to advance, and the entire force entered the plain. Duke Louis's army also entered from the opposite side.
Suddenly, a knight emerged from the opposite camp, riding a horse and brandishing a long spear with a white flag dangling from its muzzle, galloping towards them.
"What's this for? Are they here to surrender?" Nice asked. He had learned a lot in the past year, but time was short, and there were still many things he didn't know. Fortunately, he had one advantage: he would immediately ask questions whenever he didn't understand something, because that was the fastest way to acquire knowledge.
"They're here to discuss the rules of war. Both sides will agree on when the war will begin, how it will begin, and which weapons are prohibited. We brought not only crossbows but also bows, precisely because of this concern, right?" Luke explained from the side.
"Isn't this just like a video game?" Nice found it unbelievable.
"For some, war is just a game," Luke admitted helplessly. What frustrated him even more was that those who viewed war as a game were often those in power, and their games always dragged many people into them.
However, he felt he had no right to criticize, because everything the knight wanted could only be obtained through this kind of game.
The knight stopped a dozen meters away.
Another knight approached, holding a lance high like a ghost, with a white flag atop it.
"Honey, it's been years. You look to be in good health," the knight greeted him warmly.
"So-so. He can still ride a horse and wield a spear, but his strength isn't what it used to be," the knight sighed.
The two men faced each other on the battlefield, talking as if they were old friends who hadn't seen each other for years, rather than enemies.
Their voices weren't loud, but they carried far; everyone around could hear them clearly.
"I really don't want to go to war with you. The two sides are so close, sigh—" The knight on the other side looked distressed, but then he got to the point: "When do you plan to fight? Do you want to rest for a day? You've come from afar, and your march has been much longer than ours." The old knight on this side had already received instructions from Duke Frederick before he came, and he immediately waved his hand and said: "No need, we're not as delicate as you. Anyway, it's still early. Let's start the war after lunch. What do you think?" The main reason for choosing to start the war in the afternoon was to have time to complete the construction of all the temporary fortresses. Another reason was to be able to control the time well.
It's early February, the days are short and the nights are long. It starts to get dark around 5 PM, so the battle must end before nightfall to prevent the losing side from suffering a crushing defeat.
Even if this kind of war is short-lived, it can't be over in a single day, so the first day's fighting is merely a test.
"We'll approve the timing. We hope to find opponents at the Soul level as much as possible to avoid us being overpowered. What do you think?" the opposing knight stated their request.
This was to keep the scale of the war within a manageable range. Without this constraint, it would be a massacre, and no one could predict the final outcome.
"Acceptable," the representative on this side nodded.
Although Duke Frederick was stubborn and self-willed, he was neither a madman nor an idiot, and he was unwilling to let others benefit after a mutually destructive conflict. Although there were no powerful neighbors eyeing the Hass family covetously, there were still some with ill intentions.
"You and we are not sworn enemies, and the two dukes are even related. There's no need for a life-or-death struggle, is there? Those forbidden methods shouldn't be used, and brutal weapons like crossbows shouldn't be present either—" The knight opposite him made seven or eight demands in a row.
This time, the old knight didn't answer, because there were too many issues involved, some of which Duke Frederick hadn't mentioned. He could only wait.
After a moment, one of Duke Frederick's squires rode up to the old knight and whispered a few words in his ear.
"We accept," the old knight finally understood.
A loaf of bread, cut open in the middle, stuffed with some minced meat and cheese—that was his lunch.
Two swift horses galloped off from the Duke's position towards the flanks, their riders shouting, "Put away the crossbows! All the crossbows!"
"Put away the crossbows!"
the prince commanded, turning to his men, but Luke and his men obeyed.
The crossbows were all thrown at their feet, collected by designated men. After the battle, these crossbows would be returned to the enemy; failure to do so would earn them the contempt of all the knights.
"Luckily, we were well-prepared,"
Luke thought to himself with relief.
Their soldiers were also equipped with shortbows, and they carried arrows and crossbow bolts, a cumbersome burden, but at least they wouldn't be without weapons.
Bundles of arrows were brought over; they had originally been placed on the sleds. These arrows were unusual—the shafts were very thin, and the arrowheads were long, thin, and sharp. Compared to ordinary arrows, these arrows could practically be called needles.
The arrows were made so thin primarily to save space, as they needed to carry not only arrows but also crossbow bolts, and people also had to sit on the sleds, leaving very little room.
In addition, Nice and Ister were also considering how to make these arrows able to pierce through the links of chainmail. They weren't worried that the arrowheads were too small and lacked lethality; the shafts of these things were so thin that they were easily broken.
These two cunning men had tested their arrows on pigs and sheep. Once the arrows pierced the flesh, there was a 70% chance the shaft would break. These shafts were also hollow, making the bleeding exceptionally brutal—a truly ruthless weapon.
The disadvantage of thin arrows was their slightly shorter range, but their flight speed was much faster, making them ideal for Niss's rapid-fire technique.
"Have you coated your arrows with poison?"
the prince asked. His eyes swept over the arrows; in his view, such thin arrows, unless coated with poison, had little power, and coating them with poison was absolutely forbidden.
"There's no need for that,"
Niss and Ister exchanged a smile. "Poison costs money,"
Metro added sarcastically from the side. He was also a cunning man, and in his soul, a greedy fellow.
"Applying poison isn't necessary, but in a moment, we'll need your magicians to imbue our arrows with 'Sharpness,'"
Nice casually requested. Sharpness was a spell that left a deep impression on him. He had used reeds imbued with Sharpness to shoot down many waterfowl and hares, ensuring he could eat meat all the way from his hometown to Admont—all thanks to his talent and this magic. The prince readily agreed. It wasn't a problem; he genuinely wanted to see the power of these arrows. From the expressions of Nice, Ister, and Metro, he could tell that these arrows were definitely not as simple as they appeared.
Lunch ended quickly, and after a half-hour rest, both sides began to line up.
Luke and his men were all very nervous, as was Nex. He simply gave everyone a "battle prayer," and they finally calmed down.
"Don't waste your holy power; the official battle is still a long way off!"
shouted one of the priests under the prince's command.
Nex then realized that the two priests sent by the Nangdao Academy hadn't made a move either.
"Thank you, I understand."
One of his strengths was his ability to admit his mistakes and correct them.
The two sides quickly deployed, flags fluttering in the wind.
"Salavens, Katol, Magnum..."
a knight beside the prince muttered incessantly, his eyes fixed on the opposing flags.
Each flag represented a faction.
Nice had long heard of people who could remember all the flags and the forces they represented, but he had never encountered such a person before.
He also noticed that with each name the man uttered, the expressions of those around him, including Luke and his companions, grew increasingly somber.
"These are all principalities,"
Ister explained, knowing Nice didn't understand.
Principality were the states that made up the Holy Empire; Styria and Bohemia were also principalities.
This showed that Duke Frederick was unpopular; even the two states directly under his control hadn't sent troops, only his direct subordinates, while a large number of principalities were fighting on the other side.
These vassal states sent very few troops, which wouldn't have much impact on the war, but their willingness to send troops was enough to show their stance.
Thinking deeper, Nice immediately thought of the throne of the Holy Empire's emperor. That throne was still vacant; the title of emperor was merely an honorific, without real meaning, but being elected emperor signified the vassal states' recognition.
Clearly, the Grand Duke opposite was a leading candidate.
Nice somewhat understood why Duke Frederick was so eager to wage war. His desire to confront Balia was likely a cover; he wanted to prove he was stronger than his cousin and more deserving of the emperor's title.
This was essentially a war fought for face.
At that moment, he finally understood why the Nangdao Academy was unwilling to participate in this war, and why the Duke of Styria and the King of Bohemia wouldn't help their relatives. Everyone had clearly seen through the nature of this war.
No one wanted such a stubborn and self-righteous fellow standing on their head, and the closer the relationship, the stronger this feeling would be.
"Don't risk your life too much later. It's okay if you give it to those people. Safety first,"
Nis whispered to the people around him.
He didn't deliberately avoid the people around the prince when he said this, and they just smiled slightly, not caring much, and seemed to agree with Nis's words.
"You don't care if Kaoni is taken back?"
Palm snorted coldly, a hint of resentment in his voice. Even if the territory is taken back, it will have little impact on Nice. As long as the Church doesn't send a new priest, Kaonni will still belong to his diocese.
The possibility of the Church sending a new priest is very small; it's the rule that whoever develops it benefits. If you want to take away a diocese developed by someone else, you must exchange it for a better position. Even the most arrogant popes in the past didn't dare to break this rule because it is the foundation of the Church's existence and development.
"Don't talk nonsense."
Luke glared at Palm. "Nice is doing this for our own good. We don't need that disaster land of Kaonni."
He realized that Duke Frederick was not a lord worth following. Rather than being tied to this chariot, it was better to let go and find other opportunities.
The ranks were already set up; only minor adjustments remained.
"Where do you plan to stand? In the middle of the formation? Or on the outer edge?"
the prince asked, turning to look at them with concern.
In the middle, Luke and his men would be better protected and relatively safer, but the downside was that they would have to move in and out with the prince's army.
On the outer edge, the opposite was true; while the safety was indeed high, they would be the first to be caught in the crossfire if enemy cavalry surrounded them. If that happened, they would have to immediately rush forward to buy time for the others.
"We'll be on the outside,"
Luke and the others had already decided.
The prince respected Luke's choice and readjusted the formation.
Both sides of the formation were doing the same, all adjusting their ranks.
Luke and his companions were positioned on the outer right flank. As soon as they took their new positions, Nys immediately pulled out a stack of divine spell scrolls, chanting the incantation to activate them.
This was the advantage of divine spell scrolls; they could be activated in advance, and when needed, simply tearing open the scroll would immediately activate the spell.
Just then, he saw several apprentice knights who had been with them in the hall brought before the Duke. They dismounted, knelt on one knee, and the Duke drew a sword, placing it against one of their shoulders.
Nys was familiar with this; it was a ceremony for bestowing knighthood.
Apprentice knights raised in noble families had far more opportunities than church knights—this was the point; a large number of knights were always appointed before a war.
Apprentice knights are merely second-in-commands; the commander has no right to throw them into the most dangerous positions or drive them into battle. This is a form of protection, protection for the newcomers.
Knights, on the other hand, are not so easily controlled; the commander can place them anywhere.
Rights and obligations are equal.
"Don't you think this is a great opportunity?"
Nice paused his chanting and turned to ask.
Luke and the others exchanged smiles. To be honest, they used to envy such opportunities and would try to find ways to ask others for help.
Not only were knights being conferred here, but the opposite side was doing the same. The more people charging into battle, the better. Moreover, both sides had already agreed that powerful figures wouldn't act rashly, making this battle a contest between low- and mid-level fighters.
Suddenly, Luke and his companions all showed anger.
The man they had previously defeated was brought before Duke Frederick.
"Don't overthink it. This guy is quite strong; it's normal for him to be knighted,"
Nice explained from the side.
This explanation wasn't wrong. That man possessed peak initial-level strength, and now that they needed manpower, conferring knighthood was perfectly normal. However, according to custom, Luke and his group, having defeated this person before, should be more deserving of being knighted.
This action was clearly aimed at Luke and his companions.
Their faces were all ashen, and finally, they simply turned away, no longer looking in that direction. This had some benefit; their anger made them forget their tension.
After an unknown amount of time, the bugles sounded again from both sides.
"Prepare..."
A long, drawn-out shout echoed from afar, and the priests immediately began preparing their divine spells. The mages also stood in their positions, and magical circles appeared all around them.
Suddenly, a silver light showered down on Luke and his men's battle formation. Their steel blades, spearheads, and arrow tips all shimmered with a metallic glow. His Highness, fulfilling his promise, had the mages around him imbue their weapons with the "Sharpness" spell. This symbolized the start of the battle.
Almost instantly, the priests finished their prayers, showering holy light upon the soldiers.
A massive magic circle composed of dozens of divine runes completely enveloped both sides of the formation. This was the advantage of advanced divine magic: a wide range and long duration.
Nys felt an immense surge of power welling up within him, far more pronounced than when he had ventured into the mountains with the abbot. Looking at the divine spells cast upon him, he quickly shoved most of the scrolls back, as they were no longer necessary; the effects of soul-type spells didn't stack.
While a multitude of divine spells were cast here, the opposite side was similarly affected, with various soul-like lights flickering around the soldiers.
Suddenly, an aura rising from the direction of Duke Frederick, an aura so powerful it inspired kneeling in worship, followed by a massive dome appearing above everyone's heads. This dome was composed of countless circular shields of varying sizes.
Nys looked up and felt his holy power constantly draining away, the ever-decreasing holy power maintaining one of the circular shields—clearly a combination of divine spells.
According to the previous negotiations, those powerful figures could not attack the enemy. However, they could strengthen their own forces.
As soon as the shield appeared, the banner representing Duke Frederick began to wave, a signal to attack. The column began to advance.
Elena spurred her warhorse to the flank and rear of Nice, using her shield to block most of Nice's body. Ister moved from the other side, blocking the other half of Nice's body; priests were always the primary targets of protection on horseback.
There were two other priests in the column who did not receive such treatment. Although they were also protected, they were protected by four ordinary soldiers. Since these two did not consider them part of the column, Luke and his men would not treat them as their own.
The column advanced slowly, the soldiers at the front rank pressed tightly together, their shields like scales, one overlapping the other.
The knights, however, spread out, holding their lances horizontally, their bodies slightly bent. The leading knights were all of mid- to low-ranking rank, including those who had been granted knighthood earlier.
The heavy thud of hooves was like the thunder of drums, the earth trembling slightly. This was accompanied by the sound of armor being pulled, metal rings clanging against each other, occasionally punctuated by the neighing of a warhorse.
The riders from both sides clashed first, a seemingly effortless collision. Some fell from their horses, while others continued charging forward.
However, Nice knew that the collision was far from simple; it required strength, skill, and a bit of luck.
No one paid attention to the riders who had been thrown from their horses; these losers had to rise on their own. The riders still on their horses continued their charge, about to encounter the second wave of riders from both sides.
The two armies were like two opposing tides, wave after wave crashing against each other. Before the first wave had subsided, another crashed in, until finally the two largest waves collided. In the instant before the collision, bursts of flame and lightning struck the heads of both sides—magic cast
by their respective mages. The moment before impact is the optimal time to unleash magic; if it works, damaging the enemy's formation, they won't have time to adjust, and even their reserves won't have time to patch the gaps. Upon impact, the breach will be instantly torn open.
This is to conserve magic power and maximize benefits.
Amidst the chaotic flashes of fire and blinding lightning overhead, Niss felt as if he'd been struck by a hammer, nearly vomiting blood. His internal organs churned, and holy power surged forth like a river bursting its banks.
The circular shield he was supporting was instantly shattered by the explosion and streaking lightning, turning into countless stardust that rained down from the sky.
This wasn't the only shield destroyed; the massive protective barrier was immediately riddled with holes. However, this damage was only momentary. The next instant, the shattered circular shield reappeared, all the breaches repaired.
The real battle had begun.

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