Varna Hurrier could calculate, contrary to appearances.
He might look like a dog drooling and rushing toward the battlefield, and being a wolf beastman, his appearance reinforced that image.
But inwardly, he was a serpent, hiding dozens of cunning tricks.
He saw the two Knights who had stepped forward as enemies, and instantly finished his calculations.
‘I’ve won.’
Why?
He had already roughly estimated the number of forces that had entered the Pen-Hanil Mountain Range from Naurillia, and even if every single one of them was a Knight, it didn't matter.
It wasn't difficult to figure out their numbers.
On his side, he commanded the Fairy troops, who roamed the mountains, and had even set up traps using them.
Furthermore, he had sent the Fairy troops ahead to observe the enemy’s response.
If the enemy had fallen for the traps and rushed in, he would have judged that they had few Knights, and that their leader was a coward.
But they had split their forces, as if they had read his intentions.
This was proven by the fact that two Knights were now standing before him.
Still, Varna had to face both. So why was he so confident in his victory?
Wasn’t he outnumbered, even if he had a fifty-strong iron-clad shield at his back?
That was only knowing one part of the equation, not the whole.
Aside from the efforts of Avnair and Varna Hurrier, he had scattered bait along every diplomatic channel, including the Ex-family, a key player in state affairs, and he had run around like a dog to ensure the plan worked.
All of this was done to keep a certain Knight from the Red Cape Knights of Naurillia away from this battlefield.
Was every Knight the same?
Those who only see one side of things often view all Knights as equal.
Nonsense. Not even all soldiers are the same.
To those with less knowledge, they might all seem alike, but at the level of Knights, the differences become apparent. This is why the fake Knights created by Count Molsen could never compare to the real thing.
Their momentary judgment, their expanded field of view, the way they used their strength, everything set them apart.
For this reason, Varna only cared that Cyprus was not here.
If so, there would be no one to stop him.
In fact, even if there were one more Knight among the enemies before him, it wouldn’t matter.
Even if one more similar Knight showed up, Varna would still predict his own victory.
Not all Knights are the same.
At any rate, there were two here. If there were two Knights here, the rest of the battlefield was also falling into place.
"So, this is how it’s playing out, huh?"
There were three paths, and three battlefields. These were the battlefields Avnair had designed, with Varna actively forming them.
Why divide the battlefields into three?
This was another issue. Splitting the enemy forces was secondary, the real reason was to make sure their own forces fought better.
Knights don’t fight well in groups.
Varna knew this from experience.
Knights are not warriors who perform better when they are grouped together. In fact, they tend to get in each other’s way.
If the enemy were pushing with overwhelming numbers, it would be different, but this side had the superior, smaller force.
So even if they joined forces, their strength wouldn’t be multiplied.
Sure, if they had been working together for a long time, that would be a different story.
Like twin Knights, for example.
Other than that, they’d all be pretty much the same.
Those overflowing with talent, who had even surpassed the level of Knights, would hardly bother practicing such combined techniques.
For instance, the crazy Junior-Knight under him was aiming to catch up to Varna within ten years.
So, was that wrong?
No.
Varna believed his judgment and choices were correct.
He had deliberately pitted potential Knights against each other in a competitive environment.
This would endlessly stimulate their desire for improvement.
Of course, Varna himself stood firmly above them, blocking their path. That was his way of nurturing his disciples and juniors.
In this situation, it was clearly advantageous for them to fight separately.
Besides, they had brought along forces to weaken the enemy, as per Avnair's suggestion.
They had boldly abandoned the idea of a full frontal battle and focused their strength here.
Another battlefield that wasn’t his own? It would be fine.
That guy wouldn't lose.
There was a subordinate whose specialty was dueling. Other than Varna himself, he was the most reliable sword.
Varna's mind was continuously calculating.
What if the enemy abandoned one of the three battlefields or retreated, breaking formation?
"Well, I’d love it if they did that."
From the start, even if they captured the enemy's rear on just one battlefield, the fight would be over.
Even if the enemy regrouped and formed a larger force, it wouldn’t matter.
Even if it wasn’t this battlefield.
At any rate, the enemy wouldn’t abandon any of the three paths. Even Varna wouldn’t.
Abandoning one would leave their rear exposed. Even though they had dismissed the idea of a full frontal battle, leaving their back open would change the story.
‘A strategist wouldn’t take the enemy's words at face value, would he?’
So, there was one area he was responsible for.
One subordinate filled with arrogance, and one newly trained recruit.
The last one was bound by an oath, a Knight with such skill that even Varna found it hard to predict the outcome of his duels. And alongside him was General Frog.
In terms of difficulty, the third battlefield was the trickiest.
That Frog was a rare talent who knew how to fight in tandem with Knights.
"This is getting interesting."
Just before the fight began, Varna muttered to himself.
* * *
"There will be many Knights. That’s my guess. Maybe even five. Is it right to be greedy in such a fight? Even if luck is on your side and our numbers match, how will you handle the variables that numbers alone can't solve?"
Krais raised his voice.
This was just before Encrid expressed his desire to be greedy. His words were worth listening to.
It was a warning that things could go badly.
When he talked about numbers, his voice grew stronger.
For example:
Can a Knight’s strength be measured in numbers?
If a Knight’s power is generally considered to be around ten, does that mean all Knights can exert exactly ten units of power?
Of course, whether they were giants or humans, they all had two hands and two feet, so there were limits to what they could do. But not all Knights had the same level of strength.
Oara was a magnificent, outstanding, and beautiful Knight, but the strongest in Naurillia was Cyprus, showing that not all Knights are the same.
Both Krais and Encrid knew this.
Krais understood it with his wise mind, while Encrid understood it from firsthand experience.
Through Rem and Ragna, watching Sinar fight the King of the East and the monsters of the Gray Forest, and as he pushed beyond his limits once more through Aker.
Thus, no fight could be guaranteed.
Normally, this would be the case.
"I see."
And yet, this was Encrid’s only response. Despite his firsthand experiences, that was all he said.
This made Krais very uneasy.
Avnair thought that the current battlefield had been planned through mutual agreement.
But that wasn’t the case.
Krais had orchestrated everything. He had funneled the enemy onto a narrow path and let them enjoy it.
We’ll use the path well and meet as enemies on a narrow bridge.
Ah, you know, right? You have to come with an elite force, just a few of you. How many Knights do you have?
Three? Then just bring three. We might be struggling to hold you off with our numbers.
If Krais had said this:
Fine, let’s do it.
Then it was as if Avnair had responded calmly:
See you then.
Why did Krais do this? Why else? To let the enemy do whatever they wanted.
It is said that wise men can foresee events happening on the other side of the continent from where they sit.
Krais didn’t consider himself a wise man, so he didn’t try to predict events on the other side of the continent.
"Honestly, what good would it do to predict that?"
That’s probably what he’d say.
He might not know what was going on on the other side of the continent, but Krais could predict how the battlefield, the one he had laid out, would play out.
"Our forces must be spent as well."
Would the enemy strategist be honorable and follow the agreement?
Was this even an agreement in the first place?
It wasn’t an issue of not having a notary, it was an agreement based on mutual understanding.
There was no obligation to honor it.
That’s why Krais believed sacrifices would have to be made.
"Dismissed."
But his opinion was dismissed. When he said those words and looked into the Captain’s eyes, it was clear that nothing he said would be heard.
The enemy won't come quietly.
They’ll do something, won’t they?
But they had to follow the greedy Captain’s orders. His stubbornness couldn’t be broken. The discussion was already over.
However, Krais was still the one who had set the stage, so his heart throbbed with anxiety in ten-second intervals.
What if everything goes wrong and everyone dies?
‘If this keeps up, I won’t die of old age.’
Krais had set the stage, but Encrid was the piece and the player.
Although Encrid made the final decisions and judgments, that didn’t change the earlier premise.
Avnair knew this as well.
The two strategists, from different positions and with different mindsets, were both watching the outcome of the battle.
One was consumed by anxiety.
The other was filled with certainty of victory.
No one knew if the pieces they had sent were Knights, queens, bishops, or pawns.
Only victory would determine which of the paths they had chosen was correct.
* * *
While Varna calculated and Krais shook his legs in anxiety, naturally, others on the battlefield were also meeting their destined opponents.
"Why do people hate each other?"
Rem listened to the whelp blocking his path, while glancing left and right to survey the surroundings.
There’s a lot going on.
Amid the thick underbrush, a murderous intent pricked at his skin.
Well, it wasn’t too murderous. It didn’t seem like it would even leave a scratch.
Not as bad as Ayul when she’s angry, right?
The one blocking his path was a Knight of Aspen. No matter what the gray-haired beast standing before him did, his eyes stayed lowered as he continued to speak.
Should he call them eyes filled with melancholy and a calm, deep voice? At least, that seemed to be what he intended to convey.
His gaze was directed diagonally toward the sky, his chin lifted at just the right angle.
Rem was wondering what the hell this moron was staring at.
Aren’t your eyes straining?
"Perhaps this is the trial the world has given us. We must overcome this trial."
Rem placed his hand on the axe handle and leaned on one leg. He wanted to yawn, but he wasn’t tired.
After hearing Encrid’s words, he had rushed here, only to find himself facing these idiots. Anyone watching would think neither side had any intention of fighting.
"Who are those hiding around us?"
Rem asked, still in his slouched posture.
"Montaire’s Swamp."
The answer came from behind. There were two in front of Rem, and the one behind had eyes as red as rubies.
His eyes didn’t look like those of a normal human. His pupils were vertically slit like a beast's, and the savage aura he radiated was unmistakably that of a predator.
There was also the scent of sorcery.
Rem was now sure that someone in Aspen had been playing around with sorcery.
Judging by the source, it didn’t seem to be from the western side. It looked like a different branch of sorcery.
From the moment they used the Fog of Annihilation on the battlefield, something had felt off, and now this strange guy had appeared.
Who the hell was the sorcerer behind this?
Scratch, scratch.
Rem scratched his head with his right thumb as he pondered.
‘The Madman of Immortality is dead.’
That bastard was good at fighting, but his specialty wasn’t researching sorcery.
Even so, to claim that he would master the sorcery of eternal youth, what a ridiculous notion.
So the lingering feeling he got from this red-eyed bastard couldn’t be from that dead fool’s legacy.
Then what is this?
In the few breaths it took for the idiot in front to spout nonsense, Rem had sized up the enemy’s tricks.
‘Possession?’
It was a form of sorcery that used the body as a medium. It was similar to Rem’s own abilities, but what happens when someone without innate talent tries this?
They’d burn through their lifespan in no time, suffering side effects every time they used it.
And that’s if they were lucky.
No, maybe they had set up some kind of safety mechanism?
The aura was more orderly than expected. So, it wasn’t an undeveloped technique.
They had mastered both the side effects and the backlash.
Watching it piqued his curiosity. He wondered about the source and origin of this technique.
Rem was quite interested in sorcery, after all.
At least this was more sophisticated than Molsen’s nonsense.
Creating Knights through chimera research seemed less impressive compared to this.
That was the process Rem used to gauge the enemy’s strength.
The idiot in front, pretending to recite poetry, barking like a mad dog.
The red-eyed sorcerer behind him, a man who had reached the level of a Knight through sorcery.
‘And about a hundred bugs.’
The ones surrounding them were members of Montaire’s Swamp, an assassin group.
While Geor’s Dagger was a renowned assassination guild known throughout the continent, Montaire’s Swamp was limited to Aspen and the surrounding region.
They were a bastard child born from the support of Aspen’s king and nobles.
They were neither a naturally formed assassination guild nor a proper military unit loyal to the kingdom.
But like a bastard child who sometimes finds a place in the family, they had now been absorbed into the kingdom, reorganized, and brought to the present.
Every one of them was glaring at Rem, wielding poisoned daggers, darts, poisoned sand, nets, and harpoons tied with ropes. Their eyes were practically shooting daggers at him.
Even without seeing them all, Rem could sense them.
Not all assassins are emotionless fighters, so the tension they exuded heated the air.
Of course, Rem couldn’t care less about the heated air.
"I am so, so sorrowful. The fact that I must kill yet another soul blessed by the Gods with talent."
And the idiot in front of him was just as indifferent.
Clearly underestimating Rem, full of confidence in his victory, he kept spouting nonsense as if he were on some kind of drug.
He was lost in his own world, rambling like he was gratifying himself, which was seriously irritating.
When something irritates you, it’s only natural to respond.
"Did you share a dinner table with a ghoul? What did you eat to mess up your brain?"
Trained under Encrid, Rem threw out his own sharp retort.
Thanks for the Chapter Bro!!! :DD
Thanks for the Chapter.
Is it updated regularly? Also what is release schedule
Creo que he leído el manhwa, talvez lo esté confundiendo.. 🤔