Chapter 200: Eve of the Decisive Battle, the Army Presses Down

(Winter break is over; I return to school tomorrow. I will strive to write for everyone as much as possible and push the plot forward with all haste!)

The brief respite granted by the destructive meteor was a mercy only to the people of Alastrelle; for the Sewentans, it was nothing but pure annihilation.

Countless common soldiers were slaughtered, and the formal and grand knights brought forth by the so-called "Elite Conscription Plan" perished alike under the meteor’s crushing impact.

Wizards and mages—those scarce combat assets of Sewentan—stationed at the front-line camps were all reduced to dust.

This single strike left the Sewentan cause in ruins; a third of their living fighting force had vanished into ash within the onslaught.

After passing through many hands, a letter of surrender from Alastrelle finally reached the Sewentan capital, a decaying land permeated with the scent of despondency and despair.

The soldier tasked with the delivery kept his hood pulled low; he truly could not bear to catch a glimpse of the capital, now so desolate that its former glory was all but unrecognizable.

"I don't understand why we had to go to war with Alastrelle..."

Touching the letter from the Alastrelle envoy in his pocket, the courier harbored a hope he knew he shouldn't possess.

"Perhaps surrender is a decent choice. The Church of Light and the other kingdoms would never allow one human kingdom to truly extinguish another."

"It is forbidden, and though the days ahead would be arduous, I truly do not wish to see Sewentan fall like this. Is there any point in resisting further..."

The thoughts in his mind left the soldier conflicted; the traditional education of Sewentan forbade these brave warriors from making such a foolish and cowardly choice as surrender.

Yet, his reason and his profound love for Sewentan whispered that perhaps surrender was, indeed, the only way out.

Following the checkpoints, the courier made his way deep into the palace and handed the missive to the Minister of Scrolls.

"You have worked hard, soldier," the Minister said, taking the letter with a solemn expression.

"Thank you for your concern, my lord. It is all for Sewentan."

The soldier felt flattered; a high-ranking minister of the palace had actually shown him concern.

"Your heart is troubled; you should get some rest..." The Minister’s voice carried an echo, sounding low and grotesque.

"Uh, yes..." The weak response escaped the courier’s lips as his body went limp and collapsed. A longsword had pierced his chest, transfixing his heart; blood seeped out, staining his clothes a deep, vibrant red.

Glancing briefly at the so-called "letter of surrender," the Minister of Scrolls had no intention of reading it or passing it to the overly young King. He tore the parchment to shreds and let it be consumed by the pitch-black flames that ignited in his palm.

He lingered for a few seconds on the courier being dragged away by black-armored soldiers emerging from the shadows, a low murmur echoing in his throat.

"Either be fanatical for Sewentan, or be fearful of an unknown end. A coward who harbors hope is not what we need right now."

The Minister of Scrolls re-entered the main hall. As it was when Alyosha last visited, the atmosphere was suffocatingly oppressive—gloomy, dark, and deathly silent. It lacked the majesty of a royal palace, replaced by a tension that made it hard to breathe.

From the Emperor’s throne, the voice of the overly young King reached out.

"What is the situation?"

"Not optimistic, but as long as we proceed according to the plan, there will be no issues."

The Minister bowed his head, his heavy words summarizing the current state of affairs.

"That is good. Sewentan can no longer adapt to this era. The limitations of resources, the secret constraints and suppression from Alastrelle—we are merely dying a slow death. Do you think my desperate gamble is correct?"

The King’s inquiry drifted through the darkness; though phrased as a question, there was no tone of confusion or doubt within it.

"Yes," came the Minister’s brief, resolute reply.

"I cannot answer those who question why we must wage war against Alastrelle, for there are things they cannot see. We, the 'old rivals' of Alastrelle, have long since failed to keep pace with them."

"Alastrelle’s secret targeting is poisoning us slowly. My father saw this clearly, which is why he chose to use his own death to propel this war."

"And I shall never betray his will. Though my people suffer now, that very emotion shall become our strength."

"In a new realm, they will receive what they are owed, rather than waiting in this bitter, frozen land for Sewentan’s decline and its eventual absorption into Alastrelle."

His calm narration held only resolve and conviction.

"This is the final battle. We do not have the option of surrender. Say that the courier died in an accident on the road; at this moment, whether I choose to surrender or not will only cause instability in the morale of the army."

"Prepare the Gate of the Abyss. Also, it is time for those two legendary knights to make their move."

With the final order delivered, the Minister of Scrolls withdrew from the palace. He had work to finish. No matter how one looked at it, there was little hope of winning this war, yet no one within the palace would ever choose to surrender.

...

"Clip-clop, clip-clop..." The overlapping sound of hooves echoed as a dozen warhorses carried soldiers across the plains that served as the battlefield between the two nations.

This plain could hardly be called a plain anymore; the earth was cracked, mountains had collapsed, and the ground was scattered with shimmering, impure magic crystals. Massive trees lay toppled everywhere—all masterpieces of the destructive meteor.

The warhorses struggled across the treacherous terrain. This was only the outer perimeter; closer to the center, the small basin created by the meteor’s impact was truly impassable.

Residual fire elements kept the lava flowing even now, and the magma was teeming with dangerous elemental lifeforms born from the concentration of earth and fire. The ground struck by the meteor would remain a forbidden zone for life for years to come.

The purpose of this large contingent of Alastrelle cavalry was simple: to find a suitable location for the decisive battle.

Alastrelle was about to change its tactics; they would no longer grant the battered Sewentans a moment to breathe. By committing all their combat power, this would be the final fight.

Kevin, one of the vanguard scouts, raised his alchemical telescope. Perched atop a small hill created by the meteor’s might, his field of vision was exceptionally broad.

In the far distance, the magnificent Santa Ana Snowfields had already entered Kevin’s view. He knew that the kingdom nestled beneath that natural wonder was their mortal enemy, the Kingdom of Sewentan.

Moving north from this plain would lead into the Northern Territories, the home turf of the Sewentans. For Alastrelle, whose soldiers were inherently less robust than the Sewentans, this was hardly an ideal place for a decisive battle.

"What is the maximum range of our legion-level spells?" Kevin asked his companion.

"Stevenson Academy has sent another batch of reinforcements. With these hundreds of mages, all at least high-level apprentices or above, the range for effective legion-level spell strikes should be over fifty kilometers."

The companion checked the latest intelligence in his hand and responded.

"That should be enough. As long as we can force their formation into that range, even if they want to temporarily retreat and rest, they won't be able to. We will force Sewentan to fight us."

"A lot of people will die in this battle... sigh." His companion, also a member of the Night's Edge, sighed. No matter how you looked at it, forcibly compelling the physically superior Sewentans to fight would result in losses that were hard to bear.

"There is no choice. The issue is no longer just Sewentan. If we don't resolve this quickly, the other kingdoms on the border will start to stir. You've seen the news about the four Grand Dukes, haven't you?"

Kevin continued to scan the distant terrain, looking for a place to camp and advance, while conversing with his companion.

"I have. It's a real headache. Peace has lasted too long; everyone has recovered from the past catastrophe, rebuilt their strength, and started plotting to expand their own spheres of influence..."

The companion said helplessly, doing the same as Kevin, using his telescope to observe the distant landscape.

Adjusting the gears of his alchemical telescope slightly, the spacing between the lenses changed, and the magic imbued within them shifted, extending his vision even further.

"No problem. It’s basically consistent with the maps. The path from Sewentan to the outside world is strictly limited by the terrain. Further north, it’s mostly this kind of terrain with a main road sandwiched between two mountain peaks. This open area here is the best place to station ourselves."

Kevin lowered the telescope, already forming a plan for how the Alastrelle army would attack.

This narrow terrain would maximize the power of the Alastrelle mage legion’s combined spells.

The Sewentan army, unable to dodge, would suffer continuous strikes. The tangible loss of troops and the decline in morale would negate Alastrelle’s disadvantage in individual soldier strength.

"Kevin, look there, what is..."

His companion’s words suddenly rang in Kevin’s ear, prompting him to raise his telescope again to look in the direction his companion was pointing.

"Damn it, sigh..."

As the sight came into view, Kevin paused, cursed viciously, and then let out a deep sigh.

In the distance, a few kilometers away, several children in tattered clothing were moving through a forest where many trees had collapsed due to the meteor’s aftermath, carrying crude hunting tools.

With heads darting about and cautious steps, it was clear these were hunters living on the border between Sewentan and Alastrelle.

These children looked far too young; they shouldn't have been out hunting. The magical beasts of this world were nothing like the fierce animals of Earth.

"Conscription order?"

"It can only be this way..."

Kevin and his companion felt a heavy weight in their hearts; the ordinary scene before them spoke volumes of a deeper, darker truth.

Sewentan had indeed suffered grievous losses, and a nation once famed for its formidable military was now forced to conscript commoners into the fray.

Under normal circumstances, this would be cause for celebration, as the decay and decline of Sewentan’s power were laid bare, making Alestler’s victory seem all but inevitable.

Yet Kevin could find no joy in it; once Alestler’s grand army pressed forward, no one would spare a thought for the lives of those Sewentan civilians.

The cruelty of war would grind these innocent souls, who had only sought a quiet life, into the dust; even those who miraculously survived would find their pasts vanished, with only a bleak and shadowed future awaiting them.

This stood in direct opposition to everything the Night’s Edge strove to achieve.

"I truly cannot fathom why Sewentan has any reason to wage war against us; it brings no benefit to either Alestler or Sewentan," his companion said, scratching his head in frustrated helplessness.

"There is no choice. Mercy has no meaning at this moment; we must secure Alestler first, then speak of other things."

"Even if we win this war, Sewentan will not be annihilated; at most, it will become a part of Alestler. When that day comes, we can address the fate of these civilians."

He cast these chaotic thoughts from his mind, for there was no room for sentimentality or mercy now; until victory was truly secured, nothing was settled.

"You are right." His companion said no more, instead pulling out a roll of blank parchment to map the terrain they had scouted, marking spots suitable for encampment and offensive maneuvers.

This intelligence was transmitted via Kevin’s magi-tech device back to the Alestler camp, where the gathered army awaited, landing directly upon the desks of the commanding officers.

The officers studied the maps, debated the tactics, finalized contingency plans for unforeseen circumstances, and relayed their orders down the chain of command.

Alestler’s army began to mobilize with methodical precision, their movements unfolding as the orders cascaded through the ranks.

The cavalry departed first with the supply wagons, followed by the infantry, while the mage corps split into two detachments to accompany them, using spells to clear paths and hasten their march.

Through such orderly arrangement and the aid of supernatural power, Alestler’s grand army would reach the gates of the Sewentan Kingdom within a day and a half.

Trailing behind the vast, sweeping tide of the army across the plains was a carriage of modest, simple design, keeping pace with the infantry at a steady crawl.

Father Fang leaned his head out the window, casting a satisfied gaze upon the sheer scale of Alestler’s forces.

"Regardless of the state of the capital, at least Alestler’s army remains a force to be reckoned with."

Garcia, seated across the small table inside the carriage, also watched the massed might of Alestler’s gathered strength, a flicker of worry in her heart.

"This army is still missing something, Father. When the time comes, I must rely on you."

"Leave it to me. May the God of Light watch over us."

Father Fang pulled his bare, muscular torso back into the carriage, picked up the heavy Tome of the God of Light—which resembled a flail more than a book—and performed the standard salute of the Church of Light.