The Redhorn Wasteland stretched over two hundred kilometers north of Blackstone City, a barren and unforgiving expanse of red rocks and thin soil. Sparse tufts of hardy shrubs clung to life in cracks between the jagged terrain. Here, rain was rare, and the twisted red stones that jutted upward resembled the horns of a beast—hence the wasteland's name.
Nothing intelligent thrived in this desolation except the Black Scale Lizardmen, a brutal tribe that had made this land their domain. Because the Redhorn Wasteland offered so little food or water, the Lizardmen invaded Blackstone City's borderlands every winter, plundering grain and livestock simply to survive. These raids not only fed them through the cold months but also served as a cruel method to reduce their own population.
For generations, both nobles and commoners of Blackstone City had hated this barbaric race. The yearly raids left villages burned, caravans robbed, and families slain. So when Rune ordered a preemptive strike on the Black Scale Lizardmen tribe, his command was met with overwhelming enthusiasm from the knights under his banner.
"I've been itching to crush those scaled bandits for years," growled Jorton, grinning from atop his Black Rock Leopard. Around him, the knights echoed his fervor, their eyes blazing with anticipation. The wasteland wind howled over their armor, yet the fire of battle burned hotter in their hearts.
This was no ordinary campaign. Rune had not only deployed his newly formed cavalry regiment but also mobilized five hundred infantry soldiers. With the influx of gold from recent victories, Blackstone City's army now boasted over a thousand men—excluding the local militias. Compared to the meager forces of the previous year, their strength had multiplied many times over.
The formation advanced in disciplined ranks: cavalry at the front, infantry following close behind. The column of five hundred men wound across the scarlet earth like a dark serpent. Rune and Magus rode side by side in the center, both astride massive Black Rock Leopards that towered over the others. These mounts gleamed with a metallic sheen, their hides polished like black steel, and their muscles rippled beneath the armor-like plates of stone-iron.
Black Rock Leopard (Puppet / High-level Knight Class):
A construct forged from black stone iron. Its body is harder than metal, capable of stealth movement within mineral veins. It can consume black stone iron to replenish its energy and repair itself.
Each of these elite leopards was a masterpiece that Magus had personally synthesized—seven ordinary leopards fused into one. Their power was equal to a High-level Knight, their durability unmatched. Even weapons forged of black stone iron could barely scratch their hides. Rune was deeply impressed by these creations; his pride in his mount was unmistakable.
As the army pressed deeper into the Redhorn Wasteland, the land grew even harsher. The wind tasted of dust and rusted iron. After another half-hour's march, a scout galloped back through the haze, saluting sharply.
"My lord, the Black Scale Lizardmen tribe lies two kilometers ahead!"
Rune's eyes gleamed. "Good. Prepare for battle—accelerate!"
The army surged forward at his command, the steady march turning into a thundering advance. Soon, the crude settlement of the Lizardmen came into view—clusters of low, uneven huts made of straw, timber, and dried hides, encircled by a rickety wooden fence. Smoke curled from crude fire pits, giving the whole place a savage, primitive feel.
By now, the enemy had clearly noticed their approach. Hundreds of Black Scale Lizardmen had already formed a defensive line before the fence, brandishing jagged spears, bone clubs, and rusted blades. Their eyes gleamed with animal fury.
Among the Lizardmen, even women and children fought. Every member of the tribe was a warrior, and even the weakest among them possessed the strength of a human Knight Attendant. Their elite fighters could rival Apprentice Knights, and those who awakened a trace of ancient dragon-lizard bloodline became fearsome opponents—able to battle human Knights as equals.
At the forefront stood more than a dozen Lizardmen whose scales bore crimson patterns. Their presence radiated power—each one of them a Knight-level warrior. The largest of them all towered nearly two and a half meters tall, exuding a violent aura that even Magus found oppressive. His strength rivaled that of Rune himself.
Rune, recently promoted to Peak Knight, recognized immediately that this was the tribe's chieftain—a foe not to be underestimated.
The enemy warriors numbered over two hundred, slightly fewer than Rune's forces, but far from weak. Victory would not come easily. Yet not a single knight hesitated. Their morale was unshakable—for they had a Wizard behind them.
As the cavalry gathered momentum, each rider pulled out a small potion bottle from their saddlebags, uncorked it with their thumb, and downed the contents in one gulp.
Brute Force Potion—a zero-order concoction that dramatically boosted physical strength for a short duration.
For this campaign, Magus had brewed more than sixty bottles, enough for every cavalryman to carry one. With its power coursing through them, even an Apprentice Knight could match a formal Knight's strength for a brief but decisive moment.
"Charge!" Rune roared, his longsword flashing in the red light.
The cavalry surged forward like a storm. Hundreds of Black Rock Leopards pounded the earth, sending tremors through the ground. The impact of their charge struck the Lizardmen line like a falling mountain.
Steel clashed against scale. Screams mingled with the roar of beasts. In the blink of an eye, blood spattered the air, limbs flew, and chaos consumed the field.
This was the Black Rock Leopard cavalry's first real battle, and their performance was terrifying. The Lizardmen had fought human knights before—but never this. Their enemies now fought in perfect tandem with monstrous mounts whose claws and fangs tore through even their thick scales. Swords hacked, claws raked, and the battlefield became a red-stained nightmare.
Caught off guard, the Black Scale Lizardmen suffered heavy losses in the opening clash. The combination of unfamiliar tactics and sheer brute force shattered their initial defense.
From the rear, Magus observed calmly, his sharp gaze following every movement on the battlefield. He nodded in satisfaction.
In this world, no precedent existed for taming exotic beasts as mounts—at least, not within the Starlight Principality. Thus, this entirely new type of cavalry left the enemy utterly unprepared. On a battlefield where decisions had to be made in seconds, a single miscalculation could mean annihilation.
Even though the Black Rock Leopard cavalry was still small in number, Magus could already see its future potential. Once the regiment expanded, this force would become a nightmare for every enemy of Blackstone City.
He exhaled slowly and turned his eyes toward Brede, the loyal knight standing guard at his side. A faint sigh escaped him. No matter how valuable his creations were, he himself was still too vulnerable.
I must advance to a Second-Grade Wizard Apprentice soon, he thought. Otherwise, I'll remain a fragile mage in need of protection.
With a quiet shake of his head, Magus dismissed his doubts and raised his hand. Strange syllables rolled from his lips—an incantation heavy with arcane resonance. Energy pulsed through the air as a sphere of green-black acid condensed before him, hovering like a living thing. With a sharp gesture, he released it.
The acid shot forward, whistling through the air, and struck a Knight-level Lizardman squarely in the face.
A hiss filled the air.
The creature shrieked in agony as smoke rose from its melting flesh. In seconds, the acid bored a gaping hole through its skull; its facial features dissolved, and even the bone beneath began to corrode. The warrior collapsed, lifeless, its face a horrific ruin.
The surrounding Lizardmen recoiled, terror flashing in their reptilian eyes. They had never seen such a power. They feared blades and arrows, but this—this invisible, searing force that ignored armor and scale—was beyond comprehension.
Whispers and roars rippled through their ranks. Even their chieftain's furious bellows could not immediately restore order. Against the shining armor of knights and the black-iron beasts charging like demons, now came something even more dreadful—a man who killed with a single word.
Rune's cavalry continued to carve through the enemy ranks. The leopards lunged and slashed, crushing bones beneath their claws. Rune himself was a whirlwind of silver and crimson, his blade cleaving through foes with brutal precision. Every swing was backed by the power of a Peak Knight and the momentum of his mount.
The Black Scale Lizardmen fought with desperate courage. Their chief roared and leapt into the fray, swinging a massive bone-forged blade that split a knight and his leopard in one blow. Yet Rune met him head-on, sparks flying as sword met blade. The two titans clashed amidst the chaos, their duel shaking the battlefield.
Behind them, Magus unleashed another spell. Acidic spheres exploded amidst enemy clusters, melting armor and flesh alike. His expression remained calm, analytical. Every spell was cast with surgical precision—never wasted, never wild. His presence on the rear line turned the tide as surely as Rune's blade did at the front.
Within minutes, the balance of battle began to tilt. The Lizardmen, once fierce and united, started to waver. Their dead piled up, their morale crumbling under the relentless onslaught. The unknown terror of wizardry broke what courage brute strength could not.
When Rune finally severed the chieftain's head and raised it high, the remaining Lizardmen howled in despair. Their formation collapsed. Some fled toward the desert; others fought to the death. But it was over—the tribe was broken.
The battlefield quieted gradually, the air thick with the stench of blood and iron. The once-primitive camp now lay in ruins, trampled beneath hooves and claws. Rune dismounted, his armor streaked with crimson, his breath steady.
Magus approached, the faint glow of residual magic fading from his hands. For a moment, the two men exchanged glances—warrior and wizard, strength and intellect united.
"It's done," Rune said, his voice low but firm. "The wasteland will trouble us no more."
Magus nodded slightly. "For now. But this is only the beginning. When word spreads that Blackstone City commands beasts and magic, others will come."
Rune smiled grimly. "Let them come. We'll be ready."
The wind swept across the Redhorn Wasteland again, carrying away the smoke and screams, leaving behind only silence—and the birth of a new legend.