Composure was a knight's basic training. Even if you saw an arrow flying toward you, it was hard to simply tilt your head and dodge it while looking straight at it unless you were composed.
More precisely, it was the result of courage and composure intertwining. That was what a knight was.
The two knights of the Ruby Order of Knights had not neglected building that basic knightly training, so they were not flustered by the mock landslide the enemy had prepared.
Matia of the Ruby Order, the moment the yellow-brown dust cloud rose, took out a handkerchief, covered her mouth with it, and tied it behind her neck to use as a makeshift mask.
All of those movements were so fast that if you had been watching right beside her, it would have looked like some acrobat's magic trick.
She moved her hands up and down and then, just like that, a mask appeared on her face. Of course, there was no audience here to cheer for her.
After covering her mouth, she drew her sword and swung it. The greatsword slung diagonally across her back had once split a stone golem twice the size of a giant in a single blow. After that, she named her sword Rock-Cutter. She gave it that name because of the experience she had built up and because she could actually cut real chunks of stone as if she were slicing butter.
At one time, magical life-forms made of stone had broken out rampantly in the southern Demon-lands.
It wasn't a plague, but the swarms that rushed in as colonies tormented people no less than a plague. It was then that Knight Matia had stepped forward.
The colony leader had been as big as a house, large enough for a family of three to cook food, live, and sleep in, and yet it moved with agility.
She had split that kind of golem too. So smashing and breaking rocks that had rolled down from a cliff and gained speed was nothing. At least those chunks of stone didn't throw punches or try to trip you.
She didn't shout a battle cry or need any great momentum. She swung her greatsword straight down. Just that much made part of Marcus's prepared trap go awry.
Whoosh.
With the sound of the falling blade, the dust around her was sliced along the line the sword drew. At the same time, the rock was cut.
Crack—.
"Good."
Her comrade was with her here as well. Naturally, he also belonged to the Ruby Order. His name was Achilleunon, and he was a man born with a very special talent from childhood.
He spoke and swung his long spear. For a knight whose engraved weapon was a long spear, handling a spear longer than his own height as if it were an arm or a leg was only natural.
He swung his spear and struck the rock Matia had split. It was a technique of striking with the spearhead as if it were a flat surface. The spearhead that struck the rock drove inward, and the shaft bent smoothly and then straightened.
Boom!
The thunderous sound erupted there. Some of the chunks of rock he had smashed and hurled pierced the yellow-brown cloud as they flew. Twice more, Matia swung her sword, and twice more, Achilleunon struck the rocks with his spear.
The rocks they had sent flying fell where the enemy had launched their stones. Far away, something like a scream faintly reached their ears.
"It's a trap they've gone all-in on."
"Yeah, we took a hit."
Achilleunon answered Matia's words.
"Commander."
Matia immediately called the one at the top of the chain of command.
"Yes!"
The commander, who had been coughing so much he looked about to spit blood, lifted his head. At this point he had squeezed out every last tear and drop of snot.
"Leave the ones who got crushed. It's too late. Gather the unharmed ones and reorganize them."
"Understood."
Even for an exceptional commander, it was not easy to stay composed in this kind of situation, but it was precisely because he could at least pretend to be all right in such circumstances that he was the unit's commander. He nodded.
"From now on, we'll move separately."
Matia spoke.
"Ah, understood, Ma'am."
The commander, who had taken her words in a one-dimensional way and nodded, then realized there were no more rocks about to crush him or stones flying in, and regained a bit more of his usual composure. He was not at knight level, but his mental strength was admirable.
Matia met the commander's eyes and nodded so that he was looking straight at her. Small gestures like that gave the other person a sense of reassurance.
By the time Matia turned her body, Achilleunon had already set his long spear upright, pointing at the sky, and was stepping forward. The spear was so long that if he tilted it even a little, it became inconvenient to carry.
He had insisted on a single piece of metal rather than adding joints, saying joints would make it structurally unstable.
They hadn't used just steel, either. To give it suppleness, they had mixed in several precious metals.
The two knights knew what they had to do without even exchanging a glance.
If it was blocked, they would break through. Giving the families of the army that had dared block a knight's path a chance to hold funerals—that was their job.
Whoosh.
In the meantime, a wall of flame had risen at the only entrance, and beyond it, a moat of poison mist had been laid.
'They really are doing everything', Matia thought as she looked back. Rocks had also blocked the retreat. Even if the commander reorganized his troops, the way out was gone.
How many would survive if they plunged through the flames and the poison mist?
The giant unit would come through more or less fine, but among the rest of the infantry, seven out of ten would be annihilated.
'A fight they win if they block in front and hold.'
That was the picture the enemy had drawn, and the terrain was on the enemy's side as well. Was it the commander's fault? It was hard to say that. Matia herself had thought the terrain was on their side, so she had taken quite a hit as well.
The flames laid out in front and the rest—those were the troops the enemy had prepared. Their secret weapon. A blade sharpened bright blue.
Matia knew that being a knight did not mean moving around like a brainless battering ram.
'Is there any need to go out the front at all?'
It wasn't something she had pondered deeply before acting. The Ruby Order of Knights was a place where people who had honed their talents from a very young age gathered.
They learned not just how to handle weapons but how to fight.
Among those teachings, what the knight order's instructors emphasized most was how to win.
Based on her experience and the creativity she possessed, Matia judged and chose. She turned her head to the side and spoke.
"Let's punch through."
"If the front is blocked, look around to see if the side is blocked too."
Achilleunon quoted the instructor's words. In the south, Rihinstetten's knight training was different from that of the other continents. Before becoming full knights, they underwent over five hundred mock battles.
Of those, the first hundred battles were scenarios created by hundreds of Rihinstetten's military scholars putting their heads together. Based on those hundred battles, they built four hundred more battles' worth of experience. That was the foundation of Rihinstetten's knight training.
The training was harsh enough that one or two people died every year. Naturally, it wasn't the knights; it was one of the trainees.
In any case, the effect was great. As you could see now.
The ravine was not wide. Even knights couldn't bring down an entire mountain, but the hills that made up this ravine were not enough to call mountains.
The two knights chose their direction.
Bang! Bang! Boom!
Over the dust cloud created by the rolling rocks, dust rose again. As the yellow-brown thickened once more, a hole opened in one side of the ravine.
Bang—!
Matia swung her greatsword and scooped out the earth, and Achilleunon drove his long spear into the wall. The two knights repeated those simple motions, broke through the wall, and opened a hole.
If the ravine blocking them had been any thicker, they would never have dared attempt it. Even a knight couldn't survive being buried under a mountain.
"Let me borrow some spears."
Achilleunon took twenty long spears from the infantry and drove them in at various points to use as supports.
The pillars made of spears couldn't preserve the new tunnel the two knights had opened as some eternal, deathless monument, but they bought enough time for the two of them to get out.
It was right after they emerged from that hastily made tunnel. Matia twisted her body. In that process, she felt discomfort.
'Why?'
It was the sensation of someone grabbing her ankles and wrists, pulling. A force trying to hold her in place so she couldn't dodge, you could say.
Naturally, she shook it off at once. As soon as her will stirred, Will awoke and called forth the superhuman strength she possessed.
Matia of Superhuman Strength—that was her epithet.
Whatever it was, Matia did not let her guard down. No one walked out through a broken ravine as if they were on a stroll through a flower garden.
So this was not a wound she had taken because she was careless.
Tch.
A drop of blood flew from her cheek. It was a wound made by a blade grazing past.
'Even if it's not full plate armor...'
Once she raised her Will, her skin should have toughened considerably in that instant, and yet this was the result. That was proof that the opponent's skill was exceptional.
"Should I call you brave?"
The enemy dropped down out of thin air and landed in front of the two of them.
The one blocking her path was an enemy soldier with orange hair. She wore no cloak, and was lightly equipped with only an iron breastplate, greaves, vambraces, and the like.
Rumble.
From inside the hastily made tunnel came something like a monster's roar. It was on the verge of collapse, so of course it sounded like that.
"Aisia of the Red Cloak Order of Knights."
The owner of the orange hair opened her mouth. She had staked her life. If she let the two knights through here, it wouldn't be a fight; it would be a massacre.
So she blocked them. She knew her skill was lacking and knew she didn't have enough, but if she was the only one who could stand in their way, there was nothing to be done about it.
Even if all she could do was hold out for a few breaths' worth of time, she had realized that she had to step forward when needed. Behind her were lined up the things she loved, including her younger brother.
"Your courage is impressive."
Matia gauged the opponent's skill at a glance and spoke. Achilleunon gave only a fleeting glance to the figure that had appeared and then looked away. He was a pragmatist who did not value knightly bravado highly.
The opponent blocking Matia's way was not worthy of his eyes, so he decided there was no need to have his feet tied.
"Reckless Aisia—after today, that'll be the nickname stuck to me."
If she died today, it would be a nickname that didn't remain.
"Wasn't your nickname 'suicidal hopeful'?"
Matia spoke as she took grip of her greatsword's hilt. Along with the thought that if this half-knight in front of her managed to block her sword more than three times, she'd tell her she had lost. It seemed like it would make for a pretty entertaining game, didn't it?
***
Marcus watched all of this from one side.
'A moment when a decision is needed.'
Retreat or advance.
Death was coming toward them with a sword and spear in hand. A single orange pebble, smaller than a fist, was blocking the front of a steel storm clad in iron. Seeing that, Marcus felt as if a rock had been set on his heart.
"Even if we win, I'll go down as a petty fool and an idiot."
The words came out of his mouth on their own. Bitterness and pity and other things were mixed together and moved his lips as if they belonged to someone else.
If his name went down in the history books as the biggest idiot in the continent's last hundred years, there was nothing he could do about it.
He just wouldn't have the face to look at the people who had followed him here.
"We didn't come out here without knowing, so what's there to fuss about?"
It was something an adjutant beside him tossed out.
It wasn't as if Marcus was the only one here; just as Aisia had come with him, many others had stepped forward. They were people who could be called the loyal retainers of the Baisar marquisate and those who had come all this way ready to give their lives for the peace of the royal family.
Their numbers were paltry. They had fewer than five hundred troops. Several had already died near the catapults.
"We have to fight."
Their purpose was to use their lives to buy time. The king had already gone south, and the capital had made its preparations, so it would not fall to two knights.
So now, was it time to say all that remained was to die?
"I was born into a renowned noble house and lived in ease, comfortable in body and mind. If this is my end, then even though I never once had a dream of my own, I should follow the example of the one who taught me what it means to live by will and conviction, and how to dream."
Marcus spoke as he drew his sword. His nickname was War Freak, and at present he was the master of the Baisar marquisate.
In the capital behind him were his wife and child. Once he had inherited the marquisate, securing an heir was a duty.
His wife was the daughter of an earl's house under the Duke of Octo. You could call it an appropriate match.
He had married out of duty, but he respected the woman who lay at his side, and when he saw her bear his child, his heart had roiled.
"Achieve your aim, Crang."
Marcus, knowing it would never be heard anyway, spoke freely.
"Enki, see you later. Thanks to you, I had a fun life."
He lifted his sword upward. From behind, all the soldiers would be able to see it.
"Those who fear death, run. I won't blame you. Those who treasure their lives, turn your backs. There are no enforcers in our unit."
Night had passed and it was after noon. Clouds briefly covered the sun. A few rays of light slipped through the clouds and turned into spears stabbing the ground.
Those spearpoints would soon become reality, craving his soldiers' blood, ripping flesh, and crushing bone.
Marcus remembered his child, who had barely learned to clasp his fingers and toddle along.
"We die here."
The commander's declaration represented the heart of the entire unit. No, some were terrified, but they were swept along by the mood.
"War's flower is—!"
"Us!"
"Us!"
"Us!"
The shout followed. The calamity with the spear made no motion of digging in his ears and simply walked forward with heavy, measured steps. The calamity did not come rushing in a hurry.
Instead, he came slowly, killing everyone's hearts first as he approached. If he had charged in all at once, they might have at least met him head-on.
As they waited for the calamity to come closer, even Marcus suddenly felt the desire to run.
The clouds passed the sun. The clumsy shafts of light that had been falling scattered here and there now filled everything. It was a bright day.
In Marcus's eyes, Aisia's desperate struggle came into view.
She dodged the knight's attacks three times and thrust her sword four times. To describe the process in words would take quite a while, but to Marcus it was over in an instant. In truth, he didn't even know how many strikes she had dodged or blocked.
In that brief span, Aisia twice caught the hand of the goddess of fortune, but her limits were clear.
Before the calamity with the spear reached the army, Aisia fell first. One knee wobbled, and a spurt of blood shot up into the air. He couldn't even tell where she'd been cut.
It was as if clouds had once more covered the sunlight. A shadow fell over Marcus's head.
'Hm.'
But oddly, the shadow only covered the top of Marcus's head. It seemed he could even hear the sound of wings from somewhere.
"Start there."
He heard a voice as well. It was a voice he knew. So it was definitely a hallucination.
A horse with wings, the man seated on its back, the sight of him leaping from the horse—those had to be illusions.
It was a voice he had never expected to hear here, and the back of a man he could not believe he was seeing. The winged horse itself was something you only ever saw in dreams.
The calamity with the spear stopped. No, more than just stopping, he threw the other spear he held in his off hand.
His decision was like a flash of light, his action like lightning.
Whump!
The sound of air being torn slammed into Marcus's ears a heartbeat later, and the air around the calamity with the spear rippled outward in concentric circles.
It was the effect of him stamping one foot on the ground as he hurled the spear.
The rider knocked the spear aside in midair as he fell.
Boom!
With that boom, the man's falling speed increased. Flarrr, the dark green cloak spread behind his back, making his body look several times larger than usual.
Marcus could only stare, eyes wide, and watch the turning of events, unable to form words.