"The Moonlight Fairy unit is quite a useful fighting force."

Varnas Hurrier spoke out of the blue. His adjutant turned to look at him, wondering what had prompted the remark.

"Just thinking it's a bit of a waste to use them like that."

The man known as Aspen's ultimate weapon smacked his lips.

"In exchange, we were able to show the enemy scouts only what we wanted them to see."

In other words, they had steered even the enemy's movements to suit their intentions from the outset.

"Ah, right. Waste or not, you have to use them when the time comes. Hoard anything long enough and it turns to shit."

Why bring this up? The adjutant had no idea.

At his adjutant's blank stare, Varnas twisted his wide mouth into a grin and struck a branch of pointed leaves blocking his path with the edge of his hand. The tough, living wood snapped clean through.

It was an impressive feat no matter how often the adjutant saw it, and one he could never imitate. Naturally, considering he had not even reached the level of a proto knight.

His talent did not lie in displays of martial might. Instead, he knew how to command troops against forces beyond all expectations. Namely, how to face knights.

That did not mean he could kill them or do anything of the sort. Their martial might was called a calamity. It would be more accurate to say he knew how to hold out against them rather than fight them.

"I'm saying I hope they come back alive."

Varnas spoke again, almost to himself. By his calculations, the Moonlight Fairy unit was likely to die, either in an encounter with the enemy or, failing that, when they circled around and charged an enemy knight.

He had sent them knowing that. Their commander, of course, did not know. Not everyone here was driven by a sense of duty. Especially since they were closer to allies than subordinates.

That was part of why he had spent them so freely.

The adjutant, who was also the unit's commander, answered while watching his footing.

"I'm not sure what you mean."

Of course they would return alive. The Moonlight Fairy unit was not a force one could dismiss as mere scouts.

If they all died here, Aspen would be in trouble too. How could it not? They were a force borrowed through an alliance with the Moonlight Fairies. If they were wiped out, relations with the Moonlight Fairies would be the first problem.

The commander walked as though pushing the earth with his soles as he pondered this. Untrodden ground was difficult to walk on, and this place was no exception. Naurilia had cleared out the monsters and made it passable, but that was only a temporary measure. They had not managed to lay a proper road.

Hunters did not frequent the Penn-Hanil Mountains, so there were no narrow hunters' trails either. Only the occasional track made by demonic beasts or ordinary animals.

In short, it was rough going all the way, with jagged rocks jutting from the ground. Frequent slopes broke up the level stretches, making the march alone a drain on their stamina.

The adjutant was grateful it was daytime. However well trained the troops were, traveling this terrain at night would have been a serious problem. They could hardly abandon anyone who sprained an ankle.

The rough terrain was gradually improving. The pointed rocks that rose like traps grew fewer, and the slope ended. They were almost at their destination.

"Just saying."

At Varnas's voice, the adjutant looked up from the path.

Sometimes cruel, sometimes coldhearted, yet from another angle, kind. How could anyone have only one side? People looked different depending on the angle.

Varnas Hurrier was such a person. So was Abnaire.

Abnaire cared for refugees and donated silver to orphanages housing children who had lost their parents to war. He stood in as a father to fatherless children, respected monks, and prayed with sincere devotion. Not to mention the nights he spent awake working for the kingdom, burning away his own lifespan.

And the means Abnaire had proposed for this war was victory built on sacrifice.

In other words, Aspen had not deployed only a small elite force.

"Did you say these troops were originally prepared with an eye to taking on even the Empire?"

Varnas had sent the knights, Aspen's main fighting strength, to their assigned positions. Now only his adjutant—or, more precisely, the commander of the troops accompanying him—and a portion of their forces remained at his side.

"That is my understanding."

The adjutant replied as though he had no emotions, just as he had been doing all along. Varnas clicked his tongue in displeasure, but had no desire to rebuke him.

As Abnaire had proposed and Varnas himself had agreed, these men would be sacrifices. They would charge to leave a single scratch on the enemy.

They did not know how many knights Naurilia would send, but Abnaire wanted an assured victory. So he had prepared numbers. He had attached an army to a knight.

These men would die, and over their deaths Varnas would write the word "victory." That was Abnaire's strategy.

["Don't you trust me?"]

When Varnas had asked that, Abnaire had shaken his head and answered,

["I only want you to put my fears to rest."]

Having arranged the battlefield as he had, Abnaire was certain of victory. He believed they could not lose.

He had brought out even the forces originally intended for use after taking Green Pearl. This was a trump card he had been preparing since before their previous defeat.

This time, there were none of the assorted traps that had once driven Encrid into a corner. They would match strength against strength. Only, they would wear the enemy down a little first. That was their approach.

It truly was a battle with their fate at stake, a bold investment. Deceiving men into marching onto the battlefield knowing they would all die? Utter madness.

An ordinary strategist would not dare. No, would not even think of it. Even if they did, they could not carry it out. But Abnaire was no ordinary man.

There was always a hair's breadth between a hero praised by all and a defeated fucking idiot cursed even by passing children.

If he won, no one would condemn his boldness. In truth, it would not matter if they did. By then, he would hold the power to ignore such talk.

"Fine weather."

With that remark, Varnas reached the spot Abnaire had chosen. Fifty heavily armored infantrymen accompanied him, their commander at their head. Every one carried a heavy spear made entirely of steel.

"Anything to eat?"

The enemy had not arrived yet. Varnas began filling his belly with some bread and a few pieces of salted meat. Meanwhile, the troops readied their equipment.

Iron armor clanked as they donned it and put on their helmets. The individual pieces varied, but their overall equipment was similar. Beneath their armor they wore arming doublets reinforced with mail at the joints, adding steel plates or another layer of mail over those.

How many blows imbued with Will could they withstand?

Varnas was confident he could dispose of one with every strike. If he gave it his all, he could probably cut down and kill them however he pleased.

But what if, while the enemy erased them one strike at a time, a wolf Beastman who had become a knight long ago attacked from behind?

'Wow, that's pretty underhanded of me.'

Did that make it dishonorable? No. Varnas was shameless, and that shamelessness firmly upheld his determination deep within his heart. He accepted this as part of their tactics. So he held his head high.

"Aren't you curious how we ended up fighting like this?"

Bored, Varnas drew his adjutant into conversation again. The adjutant was no fool. He understood what was happening.

What he did not know was just how coldhearted Abnaire could be.

Or perhaps he knew even that, deep down, and had come anyway. Varnas did not bother to ask. Knowing or not knowing changed nothing, and it would do the troops behind them, now ready for battle, no good to hear it.

Varnas had asked the reason for their fight, and the commander opened his mouth for this capricious, stubborn knight whom he nevertheless respected.

"Because Border Guard has grown too large."

Border Guard might have asked what kind of lunacy that was, but it was not wrong. Of course, Border Guard was a city and had no mouth, so the one asking what kind of lunacy that was would actually have been Krais.

Fighting never ceased on the continent, but major conflicts rarely broke out. A considerable time had passed that way.

While localized conflicts took the place of large-scale war, Naurilia had made a self-destructive move. Thanks to Count Molsen's efforts, a nation historically known for its considerable strength was about to tear itself apart without outside help.

So everyone had been sitting back comfortably, watching. Once Naurilia tore itself apart and descended into chaos, not just Aspen but every nation would have brought its full strength to bear.

The so-called lull had lasted decades.

Had everyone simply sat around doing nothing? The outstanding figures among them had all "prepared."

For the coming age of strife. For the storm that was bound to arrive. For the moment war set the entire continent ablaze.

No one knew whether it would begin in a Demonic Realm or in some nation, and perhaps nothing would happen at all. But they had prepared.

"Each nation has been stockpiling strength. And by strength, I mean..."

"Right. I wouldn't have been the only one raising knights, would I?"

Varnas played the attentive listener, chiming in. The adjutant nodded. Tucked under his arm was a helmet with an iron visor to cover his face.

"The great southern power, certainly, but Kairos and the Holy Nation would also have advanced into the center if Naurilia had collapsed."

That was the commander's prediction. Neither he nor Varnas was a prophet who could foretell the future. They simply had a clear grasp of the facts.

Yet Naurilia, which had seemed destined to be gutted by Count Molsen—no, which should have been gutted, divided, and destroyed—had turned things around again and again.

It began with Border Guard. It ended with the Demon Killer.

They had displayed their martial might without holding back, and through that, an extraordinary king had risen in Naurilia. There had been covert schemes along the way, and other nations had intervened, but Naurilia had overcome it all and survived.

Disappointed, those who had hoped for Molsen's success made their next move.

One nation was certain to lose Green Pearl to Border Guard and lose its momentum if it stood idle, ultimately weakening its national strength. Who else but Aspen? Its decision to act now was only natural.

Those who had been setting out bowls of water in secret and praying together for Naurilia's downfall, whether through spells or faith, were still of one mind.

So the south would probably time its annual provocation to coincide with this, preventing the Scarlet Cloak Knight Order from withdrawing.

Kairos, northwest of Naurilia, would make similar moves, and the Holy Nation would at least lodge a protest. Some of these would be mild threats, others little more than tiresome demands for attention, but Varnas judged that even those gave him another advantage.

'Especially when they've already revealed all their strength.'

Those who had exerted themselves to bring about the current situation—Naurilia's hidden strength, or so they appeared from outside—had distinguished themselves. Their exploits had made it possible to gauge their abilities.

Yes, they fought well. That much was clear. But they had shown far too much of themselves.

From Aspen's perspective, the enemy did not know them, while they now knew the enemy. That was why their strategy had shifted from dealing damage through repeated little jabs to committing all their strength. Admittedly, Aspen getting beaten down and losing Green Pearl had played a part too.

Now, a question. What would happen after they brought Border Guard down?

Only then would Naurilia scramble to send the Scarlet Cloak Knight Order. By that time, Aspen would have devoured all of Green Pearl and be patting its full belly.

It would be the beginning of conflict, war, and an age of strife.

"Things have been too peaceful all this time."

Varnas casually spouted words that would have justified insults to his parents from anyone who had lost family, friends, or lovers in war.

Well, in terms of the continent's overall situation, he was not wrong. Even the fighting between Aspen and Border Guard had not been a large-scale war when viewed from a broader perspective.

As the idle conversation continued and his belly grew comfortably full, branches and pointed leaves came tumbling down in the undergrowth opposite them, accompanied by swishes of blades cutting the air.

It looked as though a gap had split the forest. Light streamed through that gap. It passed through the watchers' corneas and into their pupils, refracting through their lenses, bringing the figures into focus and allowing them to recognize what they saw.

"Just the two of you?"

Varnas asked as he made out his opponents.

Their destination was a place chosen for battle. Not quite a clearing, but a space made by cutting back some of the surrounding undergrowth. Two figures entered it.

One Fairy and one human. The human was a blond man carrying a black greatsword. Varnas had heard that description somewhere.

"So you're the one? That crazed murderer?"

The human turned his head to the side, looking at the Fairy.

"What have you been killing?"

"He means you, not me. How dense. You deserve every insult the barbarian gives you."

"Me?"

Sinar casually ignored Ragna's question and turned her gaze forward.

She saw an unfamiliar, middle-aged Beastman who resembled a dog. She had heard Beastmen stayed young for a long time, so he might have been old rather than middle-aged.

"An old dog?"

"You've got a bit of a tongue on you."

Varnas stood, dusted off his backside, and took out his weapons, slipping them onto his hands. Claws with three pointed blades settled naturally over the backs of his hands. Each was a single piece incorporating wrist straps and an armored guard that extended to the elbow.

"Damaged my nails pretty badly fighting when I was young."

He had originally fought barehanded, but ten years ago he had lost two fingers to that bastard Cyprus of the Scarlet Cloak Knight Order. Since then, his weapons had been claws.

Varnas was a little embarrassed to use claws rather than his own nails, so he spoke as though making excuses. No one present noticed his bashfulness.

Why would that matter?

"All troops, raise spears!"

Varnas's adjutant shouted.

The human and the Fairy looked ahead simultaneously. Their heads turned, and their eyes, emptied of jokes or playfulness, settled on Varnas.

An enemy unit holding heavy spearheads aloft as though to pierce the sky, and a Beastman who looked to be a knight.

"Are you knights?"

Varnas felt lucky as he asked. If there were two here, the men on the other routes would have an easy fight.

Instead of answering, the crazed murderer raised his sword.

Come to think of it, had that bastard answered a single one of his questions? He had not.

"This little shit."

Varnas muttered with a smile. The man had a quiet knack for getting on his nerves.