Chapter 851: Act 29 – Magic and War
Two thousand undead soldiers quickly took formation on the shallow riverbank. Dark-clad Spider Swordsmen stood in tight rows, wearing breastplates adorned with spider motifs. They all stepped forward in unison, gripping wide black greatswords held with the blade poised flat against the ground, one hand level with their chests clasping a weighted hammer, while the other hand, palm up, propped the sword’s hilt from behind, leaning their bodies forward at an angle—two thousand one hundred skeletons maintained this pose simultaneously, their rows of greatswords lowered one after another in the cold rain, their blade tips gleaming like the teeth of death.
A small cluster of black knights huddled around Sir Viska, the dark noble lord known as the Silent One. He wore black knight armor like his companions, though without a helmet, revealing a pale skull on top, with sparse hair that seemed like weeds in the wind. His face was marked with dried corpse stains, and white flames burned in his eye sockets, exuding a chilling aura of death. Holding the hilt of a sword embedded with black roses in one hand, he silently gazed toward the west.
Before him lay rolling hills along the riverbank, shrouded in mist from the rain. Behind the fog, dark forests stood like walls, but suddenly, white flags emerged among the trees. Below these banners marched rows of human infantry, their silver-gray armor shimmering like ripples of light. A flicker of doubt crossed Sir Viska’s mind; he had never heard of this army, but its impressive equipment was clearly not that of ragtag troops.
A mile away, both sides could only observe each other in silence.
“No shields, light infantry, approximately five battalions,” Sir Viska assessed the opposing army’s size with a single glance. For someone of his caliber, this was no great feat; the Sea of the Undead hosted hundreds of autonomous regions and small states, where soldiers were abundant, especially seasoned warriors. They were the finest mercenaries in the dark world, battle-hardened, with instincts honed for war. “One and a half regiments.” He relaxed, his pride as a Black Rose flickering to the fore, unable to suppress a hint of disdain.
Spider Swordsmen were the bane of light infantry and cavalry; without heavy cavalry, they were the most terrifying force on the battlefield, especially since the enemy was significantly outnumbered. Sir Viska coldly smirked, thinking these arrogant human nobles must still adhere to the belief that infantry was merely a defensive force; they surely didn’t know that infantry could bare its fangs and become a spear that tore through the frontlines.
“Let the spiders tell you, your era is over.” The black knight commander exchanged one last glance at Erluin’s army, whose White Lion Guard was advancing slowly, further confirming his beliefs.
At that moment, flickering lights began to appear on the opposite riverbank.
“They are casting spells.”
“A mage regiment.”
The murmurs among the black knights caught Sir Viska’s attention, raising his thin eyebrows. This army was indeed unusual; with a mage regiment, it was at least of the caliber of the Vamil Legion. It was highly likely part of the central legion rather than some noble army; he frowned, pondering whether the Southern Legion had already approached Ampere Seale. From which legion had this army originated?
The magical flashes grew denser. Sir Viska’s expression shifted—could it be that this was part of Erluin’s royal knight regiment, or perhaps the Black Blade Legion or White Lion Legion? “Impossible, none of those elite Erluin troops could come to the Southland unless they had completely given up on areas north of Ampere Seale.” He shook his head, troubled by the peculiarity of this army. Although there were Necromancers in the Madara army, they did not really classify as mages, and such a ratio of mages was something he had never seen before, nor had it ever been seen in the entire military history of Vaunte after the Saintly War.
A thousand five hundred infantry equipped with over a hundred mages—
“This is insane!” Sir Viska thought; if the enemy wasn’t mad, then he must be hallucinating.
The battlefield echoed with the sounds of horns.
“The Vieiro have ordered us to turn back,” Brandel withdrew his gaze from the misty riverbank and spoke to Kewen, Carglis, and Freya, “It seems they have some conscience after all.”
“Heh, at least it proves that the people we’re trying to save aren’t all worthless.” Carglis replied with a chuckle.
Kewen remained silent, a young man from Schafflund participating in war for the first time. The scene before him was different from his imaginations; the White Lion Guard moved steadily through the drizzling rain, commands echoing in his ears, “Draw swords!” “Form ranks!” The young men from Toniger had left the forest in a somewhat disorganized manner, but after advancing a hundred meters, they had already formed a distinctive array, mounted officers and messengers racing back and forth in the ranks, flags fluttering. This army was starkly different from the noble troops he had seen; he had an inkling that this force seemed to have stepped out from some historical era.
That era, called the establishment of Erluin.
He instinctively looked back; Brandel stood tall on horseback, sword in hand, gazing at his army with an indifferent expression.
“This army means little to him,” Kewen thought, “What kind of army does this Lord Earl desire?”
Brandel smiled gently. The White Lion Guard was beginning to take shape; Erluin had taken its first step, but what he needed to see now was to personally push open that great door. Behind the shining golden gate lay another era, beginning in this history during the Year of Silver, while in this narrative, it would begin today, and afterward, the future. He lifted his gaze, looking at the slender figure in the mist ahead, and at that moment, Freya, riding a snow-white warhorse, turned to look in the direction Brandel was in, filled with confusion, “What does Brandel want to do? Mages aren’t supposed to be used like this…” The tactical manual of Erluin distinctly stated: precious mages must receive the tightest protection; those over one hundred strong must have an entire legion for protection, or they should be dispersed to prevent devastating strikes.
Mages were invaluable auxiliary forces in combat; sometimes they could even change the tide of battle. Wizards possessed strong personal combat abilities, making them formidable individuals on the battlefield. Generally, such powerful individuals should be distributed among the troops to ensure effective protection while posing threats to enemy formations and command personnel at various points.
But now, the mages of Toniger were arranged in a square like the infantry, with only a small number of White Lion Guards maintaining a perimeter; their incantations resonated along the riverbank like a sacred hymn, the air shimmering with light as layers of magical protection enveloped the forward White Lion Guards. Carglis looked up, watching the softly colorful halo and rain pour down from the sky, settling on every soldier, even himself.
Curiously, he reached out to touch the energy shield just a few inches from his body; it felt like a current flowing around his fingertips, creating whirlpools—this was a Wind Shield. “Truly spectacular,” he murmured to himself. Allocating such a large number of mages to an army of merely one thousand five hundred had met with widespread opposition, especially from Antinna and Medisa. The former advised Brandel to treasure this rare power based on the difficulties of cultivating mages from their territory, while the latter, with experience from the Saintly War, was not optimistic about Brandel’s concentrated use of mages. Many others, including Freya, also held opposing views; Toniger might have many mages, but most were from various mercenary groups, witches, and druids from the Loop of Trade Winds, not reserve forces cultivated from within the territory. This meant that once lost, replacements would be very difficult.
In everyone’s eyes, this precious mage regiment should be treated as a top-secret force of Toniger, used with caution, but Brandel resisted opposing opinions and assembled them into this mage division. Since its formation, this unprecedented mage regiment had been the subject of criticism; Carglis even heard that Charles didn’t have faith in the future of this mage regiment, while the Crusian followers of Veronika openly claimed it was a move typical of a nouveau riche.
But could the Lord Earl really be a nouveau riche?
Carglis glanced at the indifferent Brandel, rubbed his chin, “Hmm, well… a little bit.” Regardless, the benefits provided by a mage regiment comprising over two hundred mages could easily cover an entire army. As those benefits layered over each member of the White Lion Guard, the spectacle truly was impressive.
“It seems there’s some insight in the Lord Earl’s actions,” Juliette said, casting one final glance at the opposite riverbank before lowering her metal visor, replying in a gravelly voice amidst the rain.
Nearby, Vurn shook his head at her words. He drew his sword and walked steadily forward with his subordinates, a hint of worry brewing within him. Concentrating mages was not unheard of, but the effects were indeed limited; enemies would disperse their formation to minimize spell effectiveness. Even if one or two units were crushed, the losses to a concentrated mage regiment would far exceed those inflicted on the opponent, leading to great losses over time, and thus, few endeavored to do so again.
But what was the Lord Earl truly thinking?
Brandel saw the curious and suspicious expression on Carglis’s face and understood his thoughts. “What do you think mages are, Carglis?” he asked. The latter hurriedly pulled down his metal visor; though it was somewhat impolite, he guessed Brandel had seen him smile earlier. He stammered, “My lord, the tactical manual states—”
“Don’t fool around, Carglis. You’re not classically trained; don’t cite the tactical manual to me. Share your own thoughts,” Brandel replied, slightly annoyed.
“My lord, I genuinely don’t know,” Carglis shook his head, not being a mage, how could he possibly know what mages would do? Rural hearsay claimed that these mages possessed extraordinary powers, capable of everything, but that was clearly not to be trusted. “But Princess Medisa…”
Brandel scoffed at Erluin’s outdated tactical manual, but he didn’t necessarily agree with Medisa’s views. Yes, the Saintly War could be regarded as the largest war on this land since the destruction of Babel Fortress, featuring Frost Knights, Dragon King cavalry, Minren’s Twilight Guard, and the Silver Elves’ Princess Guard. That war was magnificently epic, but notably, there were no mages involved.
The history of mages began with Tumen—
Tumen imparted magic to the People of Silver, marking the inception of the first generation of mages in Vaunte. However, it wasn’t until the height of the Buja Dynasty that the mage’s history began to glitter. These rule-stealers were still a nascent force during the time of the Saintly War, weak like hatching chicks; in battles of such power levels, they were merely spectators. The mage involvement in warfare traces back further to the disintegration of the Holy Alliance, leading directly to the Buja’s detachment from worldly matters, the Silver Elves retreating into deep valleys, and the age of mortals dawning. Only many years later did the rules of war truly change.
What are mages?
Many believe mages are the forces that alter the dynamics of the battlefield; their bizarre spells can introduce unimaginable variables to the entire war. They can turn hard ground to mud, summon rain to dry battlefields, set forests ablaze, build fortifications and castles in an instant, and provide countless aids and protections to allied forces. However, they overlook one critical aspect—the other side of mages.
Destructive power.
“Mages represent firepower,” Brandel said to Carglis, standing proudly in the rain, “This is a force that can dominate the battlefield.”
This assertion didn’t seem to differ much from the previous one. Carglis, though unsure of what ‘firepower’ meant, could grasp Brandel’s intent. He was somewhat skeptical but still answered, “Mages’ magical energy is limited, my lord, and their enemies are living beings. Didn’t Lady Veronika also say that using mages’ precious spells to target dispersed enemies is a waste?”
That was indeed a concern; this was still not the age of the Great Magic Tide. But that was a matter for later. Today, the mage regiment under his command was more than enough to deal with these skeletal frames. Brandel recalled the Schanland campaign and the miracles accomplished by mages during that war. He chuckled coldly; soon, these miracles would descend upon Madara’s skeletal frames.
The mages of Toniger had trained extensively for today’s battle, thousands of times, though even they didn’t understand what would come of it; it would only shine brightly, deeply shocking everyone when it unfolded.
Both sides closed in to a final distance of one hundred fifty yards.
The Erluin began to sound their shorter horns, and the White Lion Guard began to accelerate, still in order. Mounted officers dismounted, joining their ranks, raising their swords to command their subordinates as they prepared to charge. At this moment, Brandel’s eyes sparkled; he swept over Madara’s long lines, noticing that the skeletal frames had indeed dispersed. They were truly the Empire Chosen from the Sea of the Undead, as their reputation suggested.
As both sides approached within one hundred yards, the Necromancers under Sir Viska began to cast spells to empower the Spider Swordsmen. They maintained their composure, or rather, their commander maintained his; for the undead, the concept of being unnerved did not exist.
“Faster than expected,” Sir Viska remarked to his subordinates, “This army is peculiar.”
The strange lion-shouldered armor of the White Lion Guard had long entered their line of sight; under the magic’s enhancement, the average speed of these Toniger infantry, barely reaching the peak of black iron, had approached that of light cavalry. Viska suddenly ground his teeth, realizing that this army might not be any mere defensive infantry, but, like his Spider Swordsmen, was a thoroughly offensive force.
“What do they resemble?” he asked, turning back.
“Somewhat like the legendary White Lion Legion,” a black knight replied.
“No, no.” Sir Viska shook his head, “Not right.”
It was a pity he had no skeleton archers; otherwise, he could have probed. But it mattered little—this army from the Sea of the Undead consisted of troops personally selected by the supreme Emperor, equipped with the finest undead soldiers and commanders from all of Madara. Whoever stood before them would face the only outcome of being crushed. He signaled the black knights to raise the banners, transmitting instructions to the Necromancers amidst the army, spreading the formation further; the open terrain of the riverbank favored them, as their force was greater.
Just then, a flash of brightness suddenly broke through the rain ahead.
It’s here.
Sir Viska thought to himself.
Earl Jack, upon seeing over a hundred golden streaks piercing through the rain, marveled at the fiery flames that resembled molten steel flowing, intertwining, then disappearing, only to reappear in bursts like the dazzling fireworks of the Winter Celebration. Everyone was so stunned they could hardly speak. “Mages!” someone exclaimed, “The Tonigers have so many mages!” The Earl turned to look at the others; the noblemen of Vieiro exchanged bewildered glances.
How could they utilize mages like this? Was that Toniger Earl a nouveau riche!?
Everyone thought the same.
Fireballs rained down on the riverbank like raindrops, creating effects beyond anyone’s expectations. The soft mud of the riverbank seemed to come alive, upheaving in waves, forming a scene that felt apocalyptic. Even the White Lion Guard’s own officers were taken aback by this scene, the terrifying explosions plowing through Sir Viska’s front line. The skeletal swordsmen, already standing dispersed, became even more scattered; after a single wave of firepower, a sieve-like battlefield lay before the White Lion Guard.
In that moment, Freya felt a flash of realization strike her heart.
Sir Viska also recognized the underlying issue.
This round of magical assault had not destroyed his army; in fact, the damage was minimal—though there were casualties, they were negligible compared to the magical energy expenditure of the opposing mages. The real problem was that after the spell, there was still a White Lion Legion ahead. He had initially thought they were merely infantry, incapable of entering the field so quickly, but the opposing speed exceeded imagination. They were not infantry at all.
They were damned cavalry without horses!
That was truly the historical White Lion Infantry!
“Hurry!” Sir Viska suddenly screamed, “Let the rear ranks push forward, don’t let them cut into the front line too quickly! We can’t let them get running!”
But just then, the second round of magical strikes arrived as expected.
Brandel’s gaze fell on Charles; after a moment of contemplation, Charles issued the attack order. Before everyone’s astonished eyes, the mages’ spells surged forward, landing on the ground between the first and second lines of the Spider Swordsmen. And that place was almost just empty space. The Vieiro behind Earl Jack were nearly aghast, “Why are the Tonigers attacking empty ground? Have they gone mad? Is there no cost to their mages’ magic?”
Earl Linz suddenly fell silent, for he saw countless fear spirits suddenly launch from the blood rods’ formation, charging straight toward the western riverbank; those monsters surged like a tidal wave.
“The Blood Rod has realized the situation,” Earl Jack watched this unfold, dryly replying, “The two regiments to the south are doomed.”
“What?”
At this moment, loud whistles sounded from the riverbank.
The effects of magic were far from over, but Freya had already raised her long sword, simply issuing her first command in this war: “Charge!”
