After the naming ceremony, the Ember Legion set out for the front under Lloyd's command.
And just as their name implied, with bodies forged through grafting technology, they became living flames—leaping from the cliffs and hurling themselves into the charge against the magic-powered legions ahead.
The cannons roared endlessly. From the ports of the Wandering Spirit Temples, blue magic cannons fired skyward before crashing down like torrential rain. The resulting surge of magical energy swept across the battlefield like a tidal wave, swallowing everything in its path.
But the next moment, as blue ripples spread outward, the torrent of magic began to twist—space itself seemed to warp.
A massive greataxe rose from within the surge, howling through the storm as it came crashing down.
Boom!
With a deafening thunderclap, sheer brute force exploded outward—like lightning shattering the sky. It tore a vacuum open through the flood of magic, parting it like the sea.
In the wake of the greataxe, more blue ripples shimmered through the air—signs of force-field magic being activated.
Blades of every kind cleaved through the torrent, less spectacular than the greataxe but no less effective. Each strike split the waves of magic, carving a path forward as the warriors charged on, enduring the pounding of the artillery.
When the opposing sorcerers realized their bombardment was useless against these strange foes, confusion broke out among them.
The Ember Warriors seized the opportunity, advancing on the first Wandering Spirit Temple equipped with a magic cannon.
Though spirit soldiers guarded its base and several battlefield sorcerers provided support, even those sorcerers—veterans trained specifically for combat—found themselves outmatched against warriors enhanced by Grafted 2.0.
Their movements were too agile for the heavy hammers to land a clean blow, and their distortion shields bent magic attacks away with ease.
As a result, even the battle sorcerers—those famed for close combat among their peers—could gain no advantage against the Ember Warriors.
And that was in single combat. When faced with two, or even three Ember Soldiers fighting in unison, not even a battle sorcerer could last long before being surrounded and cut down.
If even they fell so easily, then the puppets and spirit soldiers stood no chance. One strike was all it took to fell them; if they dared to group together, a single charged swing could wipe them out in an instant.
Under the Ember Legion's onslaught, the forces beneath the first Spirit Temple were swiftly annihilated.
Meanwhile, several Ember Soldiers—those fitted with climbing grafts such as dragon claws, chain blades, or mantis arms—scaled the temple's colossal legs, storming their way upward.
After cutting down the mages stationed at the top, they shattered the glowing crystals that powered the cannons, forcing the enormous structure—one without even a visible health bar—to grind to a halt.
The first Cannon-Walking Temple fell. Then the second. Then the third. Then the fourth...
Yet while the sorcerers had been caught off guard by this new technology at first, by the time the fourth temple fell, they had begun observing and analyzing, crafting countermeasures of their own.
"Use piercing and forced guidance!"
"Their displacement limit isn't infinite! Their defenses are generalized against explosions—area spells won't touch them! But forced-guided piercing spells will!"
The battle sorcerer who shouted the discovery barely finished his words before an Ember Warrior's blade took his head clean off.
Still, what had been said could not be unsaid. Killing him changed nothing.
What followed only proved why the sorcerers belonged in research halls, not on battlefields.
After the battle sorcerer's death, the remaining mages immediately regrouped, pooling their knowledge to develop a way to use forced-guided piercing sorceries to break through the Ember Warriors' defenses.
In mere moments, they succeeded—creating a new Glintstone spell designed specifically to counter the Ember Warriors' distortion shields. They named it Glintstone Shard Lance.
But the spell alone wasn't enough.
Even with forced guidance, the moment a projectile neared the distortion shield, its path began to bend. It could wound—but rarely kill. And any non-fatal injury the Ember Warriors sustained was quickly healed with the Dynasty of Blood's crimson vials they carried at their sides.
Even without infinite storage or endless Blood Vials, the Ember Legion's numbers were limited—and so were those of the Wandering Spirit Temples. The enemy could afford a battle of attrition; they could not.
So, what could they do if they couldn't win by endurance?
"Reverse engineering!"
"Analyze their magic-disturbance frequency, then project an inverse signal! It doesn't need to be perfect—just close enough. Forced guidance will redirect their magic cannons right back at them!"
They acted immediately.
After the fifth Wandering Spirit Temple fell, the sorcerers completed their countermeasure against the Ember Warriors.
The moment they deployed it, several vanguard Ember Warriors were struck down instantly. Then came the barrage—relentless artillery rained down, pinning the warriors beneath waves of firepower. They couldn't even lift their heads. In a heartbeat, the battle's momentum had flipped.
Their most powerful tactic had been dismantled. They could still force their way through and take some enemies with them, but the cost was too high. The Ember Warriors were elite among elites—not exactly few in number, but far from expendable.
And aside from them, the ordinary soldiers and knights, even armed with anti-magic equipment, couldn't possibly advance through that storm of cannon fire.
So even if they couldn't wipe out the entire enemy force, they at least had to destroy all the Wandering Spirit Temples and the Greatbow Colossi behind them. Otherwise, the rest of the army would have no hope of advancing.
But right now, they were barely surviving themselves—much less taking out the temples or the giants...
...
Just as the sorcerers tightened their encirclement, ready to crush the last of the Ember Legion, a faint dark red glow began to surge amid the blue haze of magical energy.
"Mother sends her regards."
Among the gathered sorcerers, one of them—who had slipped in unnoticed during the chaos—removed his Glintstone crown, revealing a white mask beneath.
He smiled pleasantly, his tone light, his movements refined. Even after removing his crown, he offered a polite bow to the bewildered mages before him.
Whoosh—
A Glintstone projectile pierced his chest. But the smile on his face didn't falter. It only grew redder.
Then—
BOOM!
Before anyone could react, the White Mask's body swelled grotesquely, ballooning outward before bursting apart in a violent explosion. A spray of dark crimson blood splattered across the area, staining every sorcerer it touched.
Their eyes turned bloodshot. Madness followed.
And it didn't happen in just one place.
Across the battlefield, wherever groups of sorcerers huddled or reorganized, dark blood seeped in—then detonated.
Bang. Bang. Bang—
The successive eruptions of blood mist didn't cause heavy casualties—the number of Cursed Blood Bombs was limited—but they plunged the sorcerer ranks into chaos.
And that chaos was all the Ember Warriors needed.
"The Cursed Blood Bombs are finite. We must end this quickly. Once the sorcerers regroup, we won't get another chance."
That was true—but how could they end it quickly?
"Use this."
One Ember soldier pulled out a glowing blue object.
It was the Magic Core from a previously destroyed Spirit Temple—damaged, but still brimming with residual power.
In other words—
It could serve as a bomb.
...
"What beautiful fireworks."
From his vantage point in Liurnia, Lloyd watched the distant explosions with quiet admiration. He stood, brushed the dust from his cloak, and mounted his beloved little cow-horse, urging her toward the blaze on the horizon.
Hm? You're wondering where the little cow-horse came from? Well...
"According to The Law, since I've become a Racehorse Maiden, I can't participate in combat until the training cycle ends."
"But The Law never said I can't help you get around during that time."
That was, more or less, the situation.
Incidentally, Lloyd had originally planned to have Asimi serve as his mount. After all, her true form was a mass of Silver Tear—transforming into a horse wouldn't have violated The Law.
The problem was, the moment his little cow-horse saw he was thinking of riding someone else, her ears drooped immediately, her mood turning sour.
Not wanting to upset her, Lloyd reluctantly chose to ride her instead—or rather, to be carried on the back of his Horse Girl-turned cow-horse.
And so, after personally experiencing the same kind of awkwardness that had once plagued the Redmane Knights, Lloyd rode off toward the erupting "fireworks."
They began by clearing the battlefield, finishing off the remaining sorcerers and puppets. Then, leading the follow-up forces from the Limgrave Legion, Lloyd moved to eliminate the last remnants of Liurnia's resistance—forces now deprived of their Spirit Temples and Golems.
However, the quality of the Limgrave legions left much to be desired. Not long ago, Lloyd had decimated a portion of them himself, and most of their elites had been transformed into Ember Soldiers—vanishing amid the "grand fireworks" of the earlier battle.
As a result, these later reinforcements, though they arrived, could do little of consequence. At best, they could help Lloyd mop up the equally unimpressive Cuckoo Soldiers.
But that was enough.
After all, Liurnia's affairs were best settled by Liurnians themselves.
The issues involving the sorcerers extended beyond their temples and golems. There was another group—one that could never be accepted by the Golden Order, and thus had been erased from its so-called "Golden Age."
Yes—the most unfortunate race in the Lands Between, the Albinaurics. A people Lloyd found strangely endearing, though most others held very different opinions.
"In a way," Lloyd remarked, "this could be seen as rebellion against their own creators."
He turned toward Latenna, who had just been summoned beside him.
"So," he asked, "how do you feel about that?"
Latenna lowered her gaze, thinking for a moment, then shook her head.
"Nothing."
In theory, the Albinaurics should have despised—perhaps even hated—the Academy that had created them, only to cast them aside. Long ago, they had even fought a war against their makers, hunted by those who once claimed dominion over them.
But after enduring so much misfortune, their hatred had long since burned out. All they wanted now was to live.
And after meeting Lloyd, they finally found what they had always longed for—a place to belong. Their racial suffering, once thought insoluble, was being addressed by Lloyd in ways they'd never imagined possible.
Under such circumstances, they didn't need to be asked for help. Even if Lloyd hadn't called on them, they would have come forward on their own, eager to offer whatever service they could.
As for striking back against their creators...
To another race, such a moment might have been charged with emotion—an act of sacrilege, or a dramatic "rebellion against our divine father."
But for the Albinaurics, concepts like creation, honor, or blasphemy no longer mattered.
Now, they cared only about Lloyd. Their sole desire was to help him.
Nothing else.
"Please, give the command."
Standing before Lloyd, Latenna clenched her fist over her heart. Behind her, the other Albinaurics followed suit, their voices steady and resolute.
"The Albinaurics will serve you until the very end."
Lloyd said nothing for a long moment.
He didn't joke as he often did. He didn't offer words of gratitude or ceremony.
After a brief silence, he simply nodded.
"Very well."
That was the best answer he could give them.
...
The war began anew.
Without their heavy artillery, Lloyd's forces could finally face the Academy faction head-on.
The battered Limgrave soldiers held the front line, while the Albinaurics provided fire support from behind. Lloyd himself occasionally stepped in, deploying various elite units as reinforcements.
With this new strategy, the battle for Liurnia quickly turned in his favor.
Midway through, the Fingercreepers—originally part of the Academy's ranks—turned on their masters, ambushing the sorcerers. That betrayal shattered the enemy's cohesion and allowed Lloyd to advance with unstoppable momentum, cutting a direct path to the gates of the Academy.
Due to the restrictions of the Law, the Academy itself functioned as a proper dungeon—Lloyd could not bring his army inside.
And even if he could, the prolonged fighting had left them exhausted. They would have been of little use.
"Head back for now," Lloyd said.
He reached out and gently ruffled Latenna's hair. Watching her and the others withdraw, he stepped alone through the great gates of the Academy.
He hadn't even reached the first Site of Grace when a familiar figure appeared before him.
"What's wrong? Surprised?"
The blue witch lifted her gaze, a faint smile playing at her lips as she looked at him.
Before Lloyd could react, she closed her book and walked toward him.
As she drew near, he noticed something strange.
The name above Ranni's head wasn't red—and there was no boss health bar.
Which meant...
"Wait—aren't you supposed to be the princess of the Golden Order Dynasty? They didn't bring you along for the Golden Age?"
At that, Ranni paused for a heartbeat, then continued walking as if nothing had happened.
"To be precise," she said, "I chose not to join them."
Standing before Lloyd, she looked down at him—having already activated her Gigantification spell in anticipation of his arrival.
"After all," she said, "a rebellious witch doesn't exactly fit in with those obedient types."
A short silence followed.
Then Lloyd spoke again.
"Because of the whole thing with Godwyn, huh? Add in the Stars, and your temperament... I guess only your brothers would still want to bring you along."
"...It's not that they wouldn't bring me," she replied coolly. "It's that I wouldn't bring them."
"Ah, right. Of course. You're the one refusing them, not the other way around."
"Keep talking," Ranni warned, "and we'll start the boss fight."
After a brief exchange of banter, Lloyd's expression softened. He looked up at the witch before him, extending his hand.
"Regardless," he said quietly, "welcome, Miss Ranni."
"This time—it's your turn to protect me."