Chapter 497: Full-Line Victory

Only when a person has truly felt the weight of power and the depths of despair will they remember that sensation, and strive never to fall into such hopelessness again.

Placido was the viscount of Watchtower Keep. Given Ronin's overwhelming strength and the vast disparity between their forces, his decision to surrender was understandable.

Yet from Ronin’s perspective, if he were to send Placido into battle one day, would the man simply surrender again when faced with a stronger foe?

Ronin valued Placido not only for his status as a Meteor Knight, but also for his identity as a Meris Mage.

But as a lord, he could not abide a vassal who might betray him.

He despised fence-sitters.

Thus, he needed Placido to witness his true might—to feel, in body and soul, an unbridgeable gap in power—so that whenever thoughts of betrayal stirred within him in the future, he would pause and reconsider.

On the city walls, after seeing his sixth-tier magic cannon effortlessly dispelled by Rudar in a single sword stroke, Placido’s expression grew grimmer still.

Clearly, the knight across from him was immensely powerful—at least on par with himself!

Now he faced a choice: leap down from the wall immediately and surrender, or hold on a little longer, then yield once resistance became futile.

He glanced across the battlefield. Knights, mages, soldiers—none had yet crouched in surrender. If he, their lord, were the first to kneel, it would seem… undignified.

Pride of nobility kept him from bowing just yet. He raised his greatsword high and shouted, “Fire the cannons again!”

But this time, dragonfire breath and barrages from enemy mana-cannons struck simultaneously. Placido could do nothing to defend against both.

Amidst roaring flames and thunderous blasts so close they shook the sky, he felt his eardrums about to burst. A colossal shockwave hurled him backward—

only the combined protection of his battle aura and black jade armor saved him from being scorched by the inferno.

He was battered, but alive.

The knights manning the mana-cannons were not so fortunate.

Several were flung from the walls, their fates unknown; the rest lay sprawled and broken, unable even to stand, let alone operate their weapons.

“There’s no fighting this,” Placido whispered, overwhelmed by despair and helplessness.

He knew well that if Meris hadn’t contacted Ronin to express their willingness to yield, the assault would have been far more merciless—no breathing room, no chance to hesitate.

Long-range attacks ceased. Rudar raised his blade high. “Charge!”

With a single leap, he soared through the air, arriving before Watchtower Keep in the blink of an eye.

Rudar thrust forward—a punch known as “Heavy Impact Burst,” the same strike that had slain solar-grade undead skeletons. The force pierced through steel and stone alike, shattering the keep’s thick iron gates into fragments.

Placido felt the shock ripple through his bones. His pupils contracted sharply.

“Did that knight just… fly through the air?”

Unbelievable. Beyond the Westwind Hills, another Silver Moon Knight besides Ronin?

And on his side? Not a single Silver Moon—only one Meteor Knight. Himself.

Whoosh—

The air trembled. Rudar stood before him.

Panic flickered in Placido’s eyes. He didn’t recognize Rudar, but facing him, he instinctively felt powerless.

“Knight,” Rudar boomed, “take up your blade.”

And with that, he lunged.

Gritting his teeth, Placido met the charge with all his strength.

A renowned Meteor Knight he might be, but upon impact, he felt as though striking a mountain—immovable, absolute.

A surge of force tore through his body. His internal organs ruptured, blood flooding his throat.

Like a severed kite, he was flung from the wall, crashing violently onto the ground below, carving a deep scar into the earth.

Too strong. We’re not even in the same league.

At that moment, a storm of arrows rained down from beyond the castle walls, heralding a new wave of assault.

After the arrow storm, knights poured into the city, followed closely by cavalry and infantry.

Though Placido had stationed a knightly guard behind the gate, Rudar’s earlier blow had already crushed many beneath the collapsing portal.

This shattered remnant stood no chance against Ordo and his men.

The battle lasted only moments. Ordo’s forces swiftly overwhelmed them, breaking the defenders’ morale—then their lines—until the entire garrison collapsed like a crumbling mountain.

Finally, someone remembered the letter from yesterday, dropped their weapon, and ran toward the southwest corner.

Once one led, others followed. Soon, a sea of people flooded into the corner, crouching in submission.

Carloso descended slowly, his massive claws landing upon the wall. His sheer weight caused a large section to crumble and collapse.

Those too slow to flee were frozen in terror, prostrated where they stood.

Ronin leapt down beside Placido, who lay on the ground, writhing from Rudar’s blow.

“I respect your courage,” Ronin said, “but before absolute power, such resistance brings only meaningless death. I offer you two choices: lay down your arms and become my prisoner—or die by my blade.”

Having shown strength, Ronin now granted mercy as agreed—preserving dignity, ensuring the safety of Placido’s family in Dragonspire.

Gratitude flickered in Placido’s eyes. He’d feared Ronin would demand public humiliation, but thankfully, the man honored their unspoken pact.

He cast his weapon aside and bowed his head. “I am defeated.”

Ronin gave Ordo a glance. The knight nodded, understanding instantly, and produced two heavy iron chains, binding Placido tightly—no pretense, no leniency.

Was this, perhaps, a balance of grace and fear?

“Rudar, I leave this place to you,” Ronin said.

“I’ll go see how things stand at Gray Valley.”

“Go with peace, my lord,” Rudar replied.

Ronin nodded, mounted the dragon, and departed from Watchtower Keep.

Maelonika, following Ronin’s instructions, deliberately slowed her advance.

The Flame Fortress seemed to sense it—its lord actually led a knightly charge out of the stronghold, launching a bold counterattack.

Mana-cannons exchanged fire. Then came the clash of charging knights and infantry locked in brutal melee.

The carnage here was far fiercer than at Watchtower Keep.

Yet Maelonika, wielding secret techniques and superior strength, suffered no setbacks.

When Ronin arrived astride the great dragon, even without flame breath, his mere presence—as did the dragon’s—cast an invisible pressure over the battlefield, lifting the spirits of Ushan’s forces.

Ronin struck twice, casually felling several Gold Knights, and the battle quickly reached its end.

Meanwhile, victories erupted along other fronts—unexpected, sweeping triumphs.

Count Ural had established a forward outpost on the plains between Redpine Fort and Mist City, normally garrisoned by two knightly orders, now reinforced to three.

Yet even so, the force was shattered by the army led by Garret and Gu Shan.

“Hahahaha!” Garret laughed heartily, the gloom of recent days finally lifted.

“They didn’t reinforce the outpost at all. Looks like the Tresian Kingdom really has fallen into chaos.”

Gu Shan frowned beside him. “It’s strange. If it were me, I’d pull all outer forces back into Mist City to make a final stand. Leaving them outside, unsupported—only to be picked off one by one—that makes no sense.”

"There's nothing strange about it."

Garrett spoke with unwavering confidence. "Our operation will be completed within two days—we've seized the initiative, leaving them no time to react or make any meaningful adjustments."

"Ural, as a high noble of the Trisia Kingdom, must have been affected by the recent change in kingship. He might not even be in Misthaven right now, which would explain such a reckless arrangement."

Kusan shook his head. With the border so tense, could the March Lord Ural really have left?

He found it hard to believe.

"There's been no message from Misthaven—our people there must have been silenced."

"That doesn't prove anything," Garrett replied.

Once the fighting began, word would quickly reach Golden Feather Palace. Then Bruno would learn that Garrett had altered orders and acted on his own.

Knowing his father might send someone to drag him back by force, Garrett had no choice but to stake everything—to seize Misthaven as swiftly as possible.

Once he erased the shame of defeat thirty years prior, the disgrace brought upon the Odoin family by that loss, then his father would have nothing more to say.

"Kusan, send the griffin riders to scout the other battlefields."

Garrett smiled. "If my guess is right, we’ve won decisively everywhere. Tell the knights: tomorrow morning we arrive beneath Misthaven’s walls—and by afternoon, we storm the city!"

Kusan was stunned. "Your Highness, we should regroup for a day or two first, then summon the nobles to plan our assault. And Ronin, as military advisor for this campaign, deserves to be consulted. We should respect his judgment."

At the mention of Ronin, something dark flickered in Garrett’s heart—but he said nothing.

"Kusan, if we delay even a day or two as you suggest, what if reinforcements from Trisia arrive?"

His voice turned cold. "Remember—I am the supreme commander here. My father assigned you and Ronin as deputy and advisor only to offer counsel. The final decision rests with me. I hope you understand that clearly."

"I'm not questioning your authority, Your Highness. I only feel this is too hasty."

"Hesitation will only leave us more vulnerable!" Garrett cut him off. "We stand victorious on every front, with two Solar Knights and a dragon at our command. Now is the moment to strike straight at their heart! I am both commander and crown prince—if consequences arise, I alone shall bear them!"

"This..."

Kusan wanted to speak again, but meeting Garrett’s unyielding gaze, he hesitated—then relented.

The prince was right. If disaster struck, the blame would fall on Garrett, not them.

And one day, the entire Odoin Kingdom would belong to Garrett.

Unlike Ronin, Kusan had no immunity. Pushing too hard might earn him lasting enmity.

"Very well," he said at last. "You're right. In terms of strength, we do hold the advantage."

Garrett’s expression softened. He didn’t wish to alienate too many.

"I’m glad you see it," he said. "When Misthaven falls, your glory will surpass even mine. That vast frontier—part of it will be yours to rule."

"I look forward to that day," Kusan replied, twisting his lips into something like a smile before turning away to carry out the orders.

(End of Chapter)