Following behind the Crown Prince, Malcoy recalled what had happened not long ago.

["It hurts my pride, but I would absolutely lose if we fought. Even if there were two of me, I wouldn't have the confidence to win."]

["Is he really that strong?"]

["It is only a guess, but one would have to be on the level of the monsters the Emperor commands to match him."]

Having coughed up a bowlful of blood after being overwhelmed in a clash of spirit, Percival had evaluated the Crown Prince as a monster with a pale face, saying that they would need to bring at least the Emperor's royal guards to stand a proper chance.

If Percival's words were the truth without a single ounce of exaggeration, then the Crown Prince was an unprecedented genius in this world. And not just a genius, but a true genius who had already made his talent bloom.

He must have undoubtedly swung his sword day and night in training. And he must have also gained combat experience matching that effort.

That was why he could so arrogantly declare that he would show him a real war.

However, while Malcoy acknowledged the Crown Prince's astonishing level and genius, he did not hold the experience of a Crown Prince who had barely passed the age of twenty in high regard.

At most, he had knocked about in the North for a few years, and at most, he had knocked about in the war against the Empire for a few months.

To speak of a 'real war' with only that much experience was far too arrogant.

Furthermore, Malcoy had witnessed the fall of his homeland while enduring countless battles, and he had even participated in the subjugation war against the Dotrin Kingdom alongside the fallen Second Imperial Prince.

To claim he would show a real war to someone like him was utterly ridiculous.

If it weren't for his situation as a guest commander in name only—but in reality still no different from a prisoner—he would have immediately scoffed at those childish words.

But the current Malcoy could not do so.

The treatment of his imprisoned subordinates depended on the Crown Prince's mood. There was no need to needlessly offend him and make his subordinates suffer.

So he hid his inner thoughts and followed the Crown Prince.

With an expressionless face from beginning to end.

"Change into these unless you want to be mistaken for the enemy and die a futile death."

Even when the Crown Prince handed him the uniform of the Leonberk Kingdom's army, and even when he climbed the tense wall, his expression remained apathetic.

He merely made a show of reluctantly looking around his surroundings.

Soldiers gripping swords and spears were glaring beyond the wall. Archers lined up along the wall were waiting for orders with their bows lowered. Behind them, men who appeared to be commanders were screaming their heads off and kicking the soldiers' rear ends.

"...!"

"...!"

It was the Leonberk Kingdom's language, which was unfamiliar to him, but it wasn't difficult to guess what the commanders were screaming about.

Line up properly, you idiots.

When the order is given, you absolutely must hit your first shot. Whoever misses is on their own.

They must be spouting that kind of nonsense.

A sigh slipped out on its own.

He hadn't expected much, but as expected, the sight unfolding before his eyes was incredibly disappointing.

He had claimed he would show him a real war, yet it seemed he was merely showing off the high morale of his soldiers.

Malcoy let out a sigh and looked at the Crown Prince.

Regardless of what he was thinking inside, the Crown Prince was entirely focused on doing his job.

The Crown Prince gathered a one-eyed knight and several men dressed as mountain infantry who looked somewhat frivolous, and rattled off instructions.

The knights and the mountain infantry who received the instructions glanced back at him. The looks that briefly brushed past him were clearly filled with disdain.

One particularly frivolous-looking mountain infantryman even clicked his tongue while looking at him.

It wasn't a very pleasant experience, but Malcoy didn't let it show.

He wasn't hot-blooded enough to get upset over such a trivial matter, and even if his mood was soured, he wasn't so lacking in judgment that he would forget his position and show his displeasure.

That was what he thought. And it was also the truth.

The sight of the kingdom's forces looking down on him had no effect on him whatsoever. However, even he found it hard to endure the gaze of that frivolous-looking mountain infantryman with a uniquely detestable face.

It was an annoyed expression, as if he had been burdened with a piece of luggage.

That expression made it seem exactly as if he had been forced into the role of a nanny for a toddler who couldn't even control their own bowels.

Continuing to watch would only upset his stomach more, so Malcoy turned his head away.

After waiting like that for a moment, the one-eyed knight led the other knights away. The mountain infantry quickly began chattering and giggling among themselves.

Confirming that their attention had left him, Malcoy let out a sigh.

Just then, the Crown Prince approached him and spoke.

"From there, to here. This is the area you must defend until the battle is completely over."

Malcoy frowned.

"You said a few words of advice as a guest commander would be enough. Are you planning to break your promise now?"

He had only tagged along because he was told he'd be shown a real war, not to climb the wall to fight on behalf of the kingdom's forces, Malcoy protested.

The Crown Prince chuckled.

"You really are being picky. Fine. I'll play along this once. Do you need some motivation? If you defend this spot until the battle ends, I will release five prisoners. If luck is on your side and you achieve some merit, I'll reward you accordingly."

In the end, Malcoy decided to accept the Crown Prince's offer, pretending he couldn't win the argument. Not only was he in no position to keep refusing, but the favor of releasing five more of his subordinates was an offer he couldn't turn down.

"I will take the release of my subordinates as the reward."

The Crown Prince told him to suit himself with his usual arrogant face.

"Oh, right, don't even think about getting help from your adjutant in this battle. I sent him to the opposite wall. You'll probably only be able to meet him when the battle is over."

"Why is Percival..."

"I told him I'd release two prisoners for every Imperial Knight he kills, and he ran off excitedly."

Malcoy let out a sigh.

His adjutant was already someone whose inner thoughts were hard to read, but he felt it had gotten much worse recently, leaving him feeling quite uncomfortable.

But that was only for a moment; he soon began estimating the number of the Imperial Army slowly closing the distance from beyond the wall.

The number captured in his sight was roughly 1,500. Assuming identical forces were deployed on the east, west, south, and north walls, the total number of enemies was around 6,000—three legions.

The opposing kingdom's forces were roughly one legion. It was a number he had taken the time to count after being released from prison, so there was likely no margin for error.

The difference in troops between the two sides was about three times, putting them at a disadvantage, but it wasn't an insurmountable difference if they utilized the advantage of defense.

Furthermore, if it was the strangely highly motivated kingdom's army, they would be able to defend the castle without much difficulty.

"Just what is the Emperor thinking?"

He simply couldn't fathom what the Imperial Army's goal was in repeatedly launching such meaningless attacks.

But his thoughts did not last long.

BOOM, BOOM, BOOM.

The sound of the Imperial Army's drums grew closer.

BOOM-BOOM-BOOM.

The intervals between the sounds gradually shortened, and the Imperial Army's pace quickened.

BWUHHHH!

In response, the sound of a horn echoed through the citadel as well.

And the battle began.

* * *

Up until the moment the battle first started, Malcoy had plenty of leeway.

Although he was participating as a mere knight rather than a Legion Commander, he thought such a thing wouldn't be a problem at all.

But it was not.

The battlefield seen as a Legion Commander and the battlefield seen as a mere knight were not the same.

His eyes grew dizzy from the blades flashing in all directions and the arrows suddenly shooting up from below the wall.

His ears rang from the sounds of weapons clashing and soldiers screaming.

His nose had long since been paralyzed by the stench of blood and the feces spilled by the dead.

It was to the point where even breathing felt suffocating due to the heated breath and heat exhaled by both enemies and allies.

Within that, Malcoy fought without rest.

He continuously circulated his ring to protect himself from all the things muddying his senses.

As he fought like that, the sun set and the enemies retreated.

He ended up completely exhausted.

To be honest, he didn't even realize the enemies were retreating. He had just been fighting, and before he knew it, the battle was over.

The next day, and the day after that, the battles continued.

Malcoy was able to regain quite a bit more composure compared to the beginning. But that composure did not last long.

His ring, overworked by the continuous battles, became a problem. He lacked mana.

There was no time to replenish his depleted mana. The enemies were swarming in endlessly, and they didn't care about his circumstances.

He had to grip his sword and fight with his mana depleted.

And when the battle ended, both his arms and legs were twitching non-stop.

The next day was even more terrible.

His physical condition was at its worst because he had forced himself to endure in a state where his mana was virtually depleted the day before. His muscles, which he had squeezed out in place of his depleted mana, completely refused to listen.

As he fought desperately, another day passed.

Having cast aside even his pride by now, Malcoy collapsed on the wall and gasped for breath.

The coming of tomorrow felt incredibly overwhelming. He even felt wronged and resentful at his situation of suffering to death in a citadel that had nothing to do with him.

If he had it his way, he wanted to cancel the Crown Prince's offer right then and there and climb down the wall.

But he firmly suppressed that desire and endured.

If he held on just a little longer, at least some of his subordinates would be able to escape the cold prison.

He steeled his resolve while thinking of his subordinates who would be suffering in the freezing prison.

Then, he suddenly looked around.

The sight of the kingdom's army entered his eyes.

Though their faces were filled with fatigue, they were quietly checking their equipment and inspecting the state of the wall as they prepared for tomorrow's battle.

Among them, the detestable-looking mountain infantrymen were even bickering and chattering as if they still had energy left.

Malcoy gritted his teeth.

He couldn't show a pathetic display that was worse than mere soldiers who weren't even knights.

That was what he vowed.

However, Malcoy did not know.

That the people he thought were mere soldiers were actually elite Rangers who had grown thoroughly accustomed to fighting the fierce Orcs that swarmed them every year, and that they were tough veterans who could easily hold out for a full month, let alone five days, when it came to defending a wall.

He also couldn't even begin to imagine it.

That those elite Rangers had been subtly funneling the enemies toward him throughout the entire battle.

Naturally, the one who had given such an order was Crown Prince Adrian.

* * *

"Run him into the ground as much as you can. As long as he stays alive, it's fine."

Yorden and the Rangers carried out my instructions remarkably well, and by the time ten days had passed since the siege defense began, Malcoy was already reduced to rags.

"If we push him any further here, he might end up tumbling off the wall while flailing his sword around alone. What should we do? Should we keep going?"

I nodded without hesitation.

It still wasn't enough.

To make a half-baked strategist—who acted as if he alone had experienced the horrors of war and believed he alone knew its ugliness—realize reality, I still had to push him further.

"You really must not have liked him."

Yorden clicked his tongue.

It seemed he misunderstood that I was trying to fix an arrogant prisoner's attitude.

"I'm not trying to mess with him on purpose."

I was just angry.

Malcoy resembled the past me far too much.

I had acted arrogantly, as if I had transcended even death. It wasn't until I lost my maternal uncle that I realized none of those deaths were ones I had actually experienced myself.

Malcoy was the exact same.

He said he had witnessed the devastation of war while watching his homeland fall. He said he had participated in the war while serving the Imperial Prince. He was overconfident that such a person like himself knew war better than anyone else.

When in reality, none of those had been his own war.

I had been able to hear many stories from his adjutant.

How Malcoy had lived, and what kind of thoughts he lived with.

And if everything I heard was true, the wars he had experienced were not his own at all.

The fall of a homeland experienced by the prince of a ruined nation was nothing more than watching others fight from the safety of the rear.

Even if his family was slaughtered in the process and he himself became a prisoner of the Empire, he was nothing more than a spectator in that war.

He didn't grieve over the deaths of the soldiers who died fighting against the Empire, and he didn't give a single thought to the feelings with which they had fought.

He merely took it for granted, and resented those who abandoned that natural duty and betrayed them.

Even though he himself had never even gripped a sword and fought. He had simply watched from behind as his father drove them to their deaths.

The war he had set out on for the Imperial Prince was exactly the same.

As a Legion Commander, he had merely voiced his opinions from the safe rear. Even those were ignored, so in the end, he had merely watched the Imperial Prince die.

A defeated general who hadn't even achieved any merits despite simply following the Empire's justification.

He shifted all the blame, claiming it happened because the Imperial Prince hadn't listened to his words.

For someone like Malcoy to act as if he knew everything about war was truly absurd.

It was no different from a foolish sword acting arrogantly as if it knew the whole world.

That was why I couldn't just stand by and watch.

It would be a waste for a rare talent in this world to be eaten away by arrogance and ignorance.

I fully intended to keep him by my side.

Because Malcoy's ability as a commander was something the kingdom desperately needed.

But it was impossible as he was right now.

Fixing that twisted temper of his—caused by being betrayed by the people of his own country—had to come first. Shattering his world, which had hardened from his half-baked insight, was the top priority.

And to do that, there was no choice but to run him into the ground.

Enough to make him want to vomit, enough to make him think he'd rather die. Enough to make all his useless thoughts and worries vanish far away.

If he was worked that harshly, the false beliefs and values stemming from his half-baked insight would completely disappear as well.

I waited for that moment and gave the order.

"Run him into the ground. Until I tell you to stop."

Yorden grumbled about how he was sick and tired of acting like a nanny, but he faithfully carried out my order.

Even as I cut down the Imperial Army without rest, I did not let Malcoy out of my sight.

Watching him suffer near death, it was actually quite gratifying—just a tiny bit.

I had told Yorden otherwise, but honestly, it was true that I didn't like him.

I was an observer who had watched over countless wars and turbulent times,

And the ender who had brought those endless wars and turbulent times to a close.

The greenhorn who dared to act haughty as if he had mastered war in front of me needed to suffer a little more.