"Ivan, the Redmane Guards are yours. Everyone dies, you stop them. No exceptions."
"Understood."
The Cleanrot Knight knew their reserves couldn't win. Didn't matter. He raised his hand, gestured forward. "Brothers, with me!"
Hooves thundered. Golems stomped. The earth trembled beneath their advance.
The Haligtree Army split—half charging the Redmane Guards, half surging toward the camp. Radahn's forces reacted instantly. Every weapon trained on the assault team.
Ballistae screamed. Catapults hurled death. Infantry formations shattered. From the camp, Golems leaped over wooden walls, halberds gleaming.
The clash shook the ground—Golems against Golems, halberds crashing like mountains colliding.
"Is this what a pitched battle feels like?"
Chaos. Total chaos.
No radios. No coordination. Just centuries fighting blind.
But Throne, watching from the sidelines, saw the strategy. The Haligtree Army focused their forces on the south, cavalry leading the charge. Breakthrough at a single point, then push the entire line.
The Redmane weren't fools. They used their camp as a fortress, launching counter-charges, baiting the Haligtree Army to commit more troops.
Now, both sides concentrated everything on the south side of the camp. Front lines clashed. Rear lines struggled to advance.
At the forefront, Finlay's knights fought in the swamp, blood staining the water. Behind them, three regiments faltered under crossfire, unable to reinforce.
Malenia's decision made Throne nod. "Committing the reserves? Full assault on the camp? Smart. Take that node, and they've got a foothold."
He paused. "But Radahn won't make it easy."
As if on cue, the camp gates swung open. Dozens of Flame Chariots roared out, bypassing the Golems, slamming into the Haligtree regiments.
Fire erupted. Burning flesh choked the air. Screams filled the battlefield. Chariots crumpled under the blows of elite warriors, but the damage was done.
The Redmane were stalling, devouring the Haligtree's finest.
Those knights? They could take ten men each. But ten against a thousand? No chance.
The war turned white-hot.
Throne watched as a squad of Haligtree cavalry charged the Redmane Guards. Arrows rained. Horsemen fell like stones into water.
But some broke through, plunging into the enemy ranks, forcing the Redmane to abandon bows for swords.
The three decimated regiments rallied, arrows flying left and right. Guided by crimson banners, they threw themselves at the swamp-bound army.
Throne inhaled sharply. The stench of blood was thick, even from miles away.
This war? Brutal.
Both sides traded lives like pieces on a board, hurling soldiers into the grinder. They vanished in moments, swallowed by the chaos.
But retreat? Impossible. Neither side could pull back, not even to regroup.
Both sides were like trading pieces in a game, constantly sending soldiers into the meat grinder. Lives disappeared instantly, like stones sinking into water. But for Throne, the grim truth was clear: neither side could retreat. Not now. Not ever.
The Haligtree Army had finally managed to bite onto the Redmane's tail; how could they let the latter retreat calmly into the swamp? And the Redmane, who wanted to start a chaotic battle, wouldn't let the Haligtree Army regroup and crush them. "Ro—Roland, little brother, can we win?" An uneasy voice came from the side. Throne put down his binoculars and looked behind him.
The one-armed veteran was gritting his teeth, veins bulging, and those men who had been shouting for battle just last night were all pale as sheets. For those who had never seen war, they held unrealistic, romantic fantasies. But once they had seen this slaughterhouse, their reason would instinctively make them want to stay away. Those who love war are either fools or villains.
Everyone dreams of becoming a hero who takes the enemy general's head from amidst ten thousand armies, but once truly immersed in it, a single arrow flying from who knows where can take one's life. "It's hard to say right now. Both sides are deadlocked. The Redmane are indeed retreating, but they have an advantage once they enter the swamp.
However, we have to divide our forces for cleanup, so the military strength committed to the battlefield will be a bit less." Throne had learned a lesson today; the battles he had participated in before were all siege defenses, not open-field fighting like this. "Then can we win?" "Not necessarily.
The Haligtree Army still has two regiments that haven't moved yet, and besides, their assault capabilities are indeed stronger." No sooner had he finished speaking than he heard a 'boom'. It turned out to be a Golem whose legs had been severed, causing it to fall toward the camp. Its dozens-of-tons body instantly crushed a large hole in the wooden wall.
The ratio of war machines was eighteen to ten, so the Haligtree Army certainly had the upper hand. The slightly shorter Trolls all hunched over, preparing to charge. They lined up, with metal battering rams mounted on their shoulders. Throne's breathing stopped for a moment, and then he felt the earth tremble slightly. Thump! Thump! Thump! The heavy footsteps came from afar.
He clearly saw more than twenty Trolls launch a charge together. Their massive bodies were shredded by arrows; some fell halfway there, kicking up huge clouds of dust, but more of them charged through the barrage.
What it felt like to have a dozen armored giants charge right in front of you, Throne didn't know and couldn't imagine, but for the Redmane soldiers on the wall, it must have been despair! Boom, boom, boom!! An entire wall was smashed by these humanoid siege engines.
They didn't stop, continuing forward with their momentum, trampling the infantry blocking behind the wall into pulp, then drawing their greatswords and swinging them wildly inside the camp, tearing the catapults and ballistae into scrap metal. "The fortress is broken!?" the veteran exclaimed. But Throne, looking at the slaughterhouse, had a ferocious expression. "Not necessarily!" Bang!!
A meteor fell from the sky, like an iron hammer, pressing the ten-meter-tall Troll directly into the ground. General Radahn stood atop its head, crossed his arms, and slowly drew his two greatswords. Radahn had made a move!? This was the first appearance of the 'kings' of both sides.
Throne clearly saw those Trolls that were causing massive destruction being dragged into the sky by an infinite force. They were struggling, lashing out at the air, and then were thrown away like cannonballs. Bang! Bang! Bang! The Golems were knocked down, the Trolls had been turned into pulp. This impact caused the Haligtree Army's offensive to pause.
Eyes locked on the battlefield's heart, the crowd stood frozen, transfixed as if witnessing the impossible. Only a demigod could shift the tides of war with sheer will. Throne's tongue tasted the dryness of his lips. He adjusted his binoculars toward the Haligtree Army's rear, scanning for their trump card. Nothing. Just an empty white stallion.
Wait—there. A streak of pure white tore across the field, faster than any Bloodhound's Step. In the space of a blink, it had crossed a thousand meters. Soldiers' helmets became stepping stones, weightless beneath her feet. Graceful. Lethal. The Flame Chariots blocking her path exploded into twisted wreckage. Malenia had entered the fray.
The clash of kings was inevitable. Their meeting would ignite the war's final act. Marais roared, his Executioner's Sword slicing the air. "All forces, charge! Leave none alive!" He led the last reserves into the chaos. Ogha's voice cut through the din. "Cover each other! Drag them to the kill zone!" His men retreated in formation, arrows flying.
What had been a meat grinder now raged like a storm. Throne glanced skyward. Past noon. A withered leaf spiraled onto his shoulder. Time to move. His hand rested on his sword as he descended the mountain, a calm smile playing on his lips. "Stick to the plan. Wait for the signal. A knight will light the fire. Let's hope it doesn't come to that."
The veteran swallowed hard. "Understood. But where are you going?" His eyes narrowed. Surely Throne wasn't insane enough to walk into that slaughter.
"To change everything." Throne turned, his smile unshaken, even as he caught the smirks of the hunters watching from the opposite hill. Behind him, their patience had worn thin. Ahead, the battlefield churned like a storm of steel and blood. One step forward, and he'd vanish like bubbles in the wind. Yet his stride grew firmer.
Even if a thousand thousand stand in my way, I'll go.
Go. Throne descended without hesitation, but his pace remained measured. Too soon, and both armies would spot him. Too late, and the window would close. Though he knew a handful among the ranks, most wouldn't hesitate to cut him down. And then—
He glanced over his shoulder. The hunters were gone. Of course they were. Hunting him was their mission. An obstacle. A variable. They didn't care about his grand ambitions; they were here to finish the job. Throne would have to carve a path through them to reach the battlefield—fast.
If the Scarlet Flower bloomed before he arrived, he'd be walking into his own grave. Slim chances grew slimmer. He chuckled bitterly. What else could he do?
Blood would pave the way. Throne reached for the doll strapped to his ribs.
Apparently, Ranni had been observing closely, and she reacted almost the moment he took it out. "Has the final decisive battle begun?"
"Yes. The Haligtree Army's all in. Malenia's facing Radahn." No explanation was needed. Even through the forest, the energy storm tearing through the heavens lit the sky like daylight.
Gravity Magic clashed with sword energy in a storm of raw power. The two demigods had pushed themselves to their limits. Thunder rumbled in his ears, distant and muffled, while bursts of light flickered erratically across the battlefield. Malenia's speed gave her the edge—neither of them could afford to stand still.
They danced across the field, trading blows, instinctively keeping their distance from the armies below. A demigod's strength dwarfed the chaos of the battlefield. In the real world, there was no such thing as friendly fire—especially with Radahn, whose meteor spells could wipe out his own men in an instant. "They're at their peak. This won't end quickly."
"Head northeast. Don't let the light distract you." Ranni's voice cut through the chaos. Though she wasn't physically present, her insight remained sharp. "Good." Throne nodded, relieved. Her guidance was like a built-in radar; without it, he'd never keep up with the demigods' blistering pace.
"You still haven't explained how you plan to resolve this. You can't just waltz between them and ask them to stop." Ranni's tone was clipped, her words hurried. "Do I look like I've eaten the 'Face-Face Fruit'? I'd be crushed before I got a word out." "You lack the strength to end this fight and the eloquence to persuade them. What exactly are you planning?"
Her curiosity burned through her frustration. Ranni couldn't decide if Throne was insane or just reckless, willingly stepping into the eye of a storm others fled from. He smiled faintly, his voice a whisper. "Your Highness, a puzzle is only satisfying when revealed at the last moment." "You—!"
Ranni seethed, her anger simmering just shy of boiling over. Part of her wanted to abandon this madman, but something held her back. Throne didn't have time to soothe her temper. He glanced to the left, catching the flicker of movement on the ridge. Leaves rustled—someone was closing in fast.
"Besides, now's not the time for explanations. Before we reach the end, there's one last hurdle." The Death Hunter had arrived. On the battlefield, they were insignificant, but against Throne, they were a serious threat. "Use my power to obliterate them!" Ranni's voice was firm, urgency bleeding through.
The doll housed only one power—the sealed Dark Moon. As a sorcerer, Ranni's instantaneous burst was unmatched, capable of annihilating centuries in a heartbeat. "No. Your power must be saved for the decisive moment." "Then what is your plan?" Ranni's frustration bubbled over, but before she could press further, Throne stopped abruptly.
For a moment, she thought he'd come to his senses, that he'd abandon this suicidal mission. Then she saw his hand grip the hilt of his sword. "I'll handle them."
The leaves whispered as five shadows dropped from the trees—three in front, two behind. They'd surrounded him without a sound. "Why aren't you running?"
A stepped out from the shadows, his expression tinged with confusion. He couldn't make sense of it. If Throne wanted to escape, he should be heading away from the battlefield, not diving deeper into it. Was this some twisted ploy? "I'm tired of running."
"Let's settle this now—spare me the trouble of cleaning up your corpses later."
The hunters' laughter erupted like gunfire. This wasn't some back-alley brawl. They'd brought the best, calculated every variable. The man before them? Dangerous, but not that dangerous. The real prize was the sorcerer lurking in the shadows.
"Last chance."
A hefted his short spear onto his shoulder, grinning. "Play nice, and we might make it quick. We've got questions. Answers buy you mercy." Death's devourer still walked free. Intel outweighed the kill.
Clang—
Throne's twin blades cleared their sheaths.
Steel caught the dying sun, crossed and gleaming. "No time for chatter." The words came out cold, edged with something darker.
The hunters exchanged glances. What was this fool playing at? Then Throne's lips twisted into a smile, slow and deliberate, as he addressed Ranni without turning:
"Watch close, Your Highness. This is what it means to fight with your back to the abyss." His chest heaved. "What it means to burn."
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The sound rolled through the trees like distant thunder. Hunters spun, scanning the shadows for some monstrous approach. Only A stood frozen, eyes locked on Throne. The man's skin flushed crimson, veins bulging against flesh ready to split. His pupils slit into dragon-gold.
Energy ravaged him, a wildfire in his blood. Every cell screamed.
"You're insane!" Ranni's voice cracked. This wasn't combat—it was suicide. The body had limits. Cross them, and nothing remained but a corpse.
A human body simply couldn't withstand this power; even an instantaneous burst would shatter bone and rupture organs. Three uses was the absolute edge. Throne wasn't stopping at the edge. He was leaping past it.
No reply came. Couldn't. His jaw clenched hard enough to splinter teeth, mouth flooding with copper. Only that grotesque smile showed through, all bared teeth and blood.