Chapter 331: Shaking the Empire (1)

“100,000 Imperial troops and 50,000 Free Army troops are clashing in the Vestal Marquisate! The golem unit of the former Lurein Principality is supporting the Free Army, and the frontline is currently deadlocked!”

“The fate of the empress remains unknown. The fighting has left half of the marquisate in ruins.”

Urgent voices echoed from the communication orbs.

“The defensive fortress located upstream of the Fonein River has been taken by the Free Army. They are now facing off against Commander Kaishin’s Black Knights!”

“Report from Maron Gorge! The Jannabi tribe, led by Hwarin, is marching southward with 70,000 allied tribal forces. The newly formed Ryeo Knights have merged with remnants of the Green Knights and are fortifying positions under the command of Sir Cam Grey.”

The sorcerers in charge of communication, visibly shaken, looked up as reports flooded in.

“A naval battle has erupted off the Kivell Coast! The Second, Third, and Seventh Imperial Fleets are engaging with the Free Army’s fleet. The Mana Battleship, which sank the Fifth Fleet, has withdrawn and is heading south!”

Updates on battles across the continent were being relayed in real-time, and the massive magic mirror displayed detailed views of the ongoing conflicts.

BOOM!

CRASH!

The sounds of explosions rang out continuously, as tens of thousands of troops clashed in chaotic warfare.

Watching the scenes unfold, Olivurn murmured, “Losing the fortress was a painful mistake. We used the Vestal Marquisate as bait, but it seems they didn’t fall for it.”

“It appears so,” responded Tiren.

“What do you think? Was my deception lacking?”

Tiren smiled faintly at Olivurn’s question.

“Your Majesty, you performed brilliantly. The enemy simply had a keen eye. We’re up against someone who’s already conquered the Lurein Principality and the Three Kingdoms. He’s not an opponent to be taken lightly.”

“This is becoming troublesome. They say to deceive your enemy, you must first deceive your allies, which is why we sent 100,000 troops to the marquisate and made it seem like a significant operation.”

Despite the setback, Olivurn’s expression didn’t show disappointment but rather enjoyment.

“The ministers were thoroughly fooled, but the marquisate has become a mere pawn in the larger game, with little real strategic value.”

In contrast to Olivurn, Tiren wore a dissatisfied expression.

“Respectfully, the current balance of power between us and the Free Army is almost equal. They’ve committed a similar-sized force to the marquisate. The losses on both sides are comparable, so there’s no need for deep concern.”

Tiren moved pieces on the map in the center of the hall as he spoke.

“However, I do believe we need to adjust our strategy. Sending Sir Kaishin of the Black Knights to defend the fortress may have been a misstep if we’re thinking of retaking it. Sir Kaishin is a capable knight but not suited for offense. It may be best to have them withdraw.”

“Are you suggesting we abandon the fortress? That place is directly connected to the capital. If we do that, we might end up being flanked by our own maneuver.”

“Rest assured. They won’t move out from the fortress. Or rather, they won’t be able to.”

“Hmm?”

Olivurn looked at Tiren, seeking an explanation.

“These scattered battles are like numerous pieces on a game board. While there’s damage, the overall impact is minor, and it won’t drastically alter the course of the war."

“Even small losses can slowly erode your defenses if they add up,” Olivurn cautioned. “Don’t dismiss any loss.”

“Though our attempt to divert attention with the marquisate failed, the losses are comparable. The same applies to the other fronts. The only exception might be the Kivell Coast... but reinforcements should solve that problem.”

“So what do you suggest?”

"Make sure they can’t advance from the fortress. We need to draw their attention elsewhere.”

“A full-scale battle,” Olivurn muttered quietly.

“Indeed, Your Majesty. A small spark can only be consumed by a larger fire.”

“You’re suggesting we ignite a larger conflict.”

“To achieve victory, we must topple each other’s main force.”

“Understood. Sir Jarvant.”

Olivurn looked forward. Kneeling before the throne was an elderly knight, clad in crimson armor, who gazed up at him.

“You will be the one to ignite that fire.”

“Sir Jarvant, I will follow your command.”

“It will be a tough battle. In most games, capturing the king ends it, but in this war, the king is the strongest opponent.”

“I am grateful for the chance to use this old, worthless body in service of Your Majesty.”

Olivurn nodded slowly, acknowledging the bold response of his loyal knight who had followed him since his days as a prince.

“Sir Jarvant, your vanguard will establish the foundation for our main forces to gather. The battlefield where one million soldiers clash could be one of three places: the plains before the capital, the Twin Armor fortress near the Fonein River, or the southern Great Plains.”

Tiren placed three markers on the map.

“Your mission is to shake these three locations. While I will relay strategy through the communication orbs, the situation on the ground always changes. We will have to trust your vast experience.”

“Worry not. I am more than confident, even if things get chaotic. I’ve been rolling in battlefields for longer than most can remember. I may be old, but I will divert the enemy’s attention with my last breath.”

The fierce aura of Sir Jarvant Redak, leader of the Crimson Knights, belied his age. His muscular arm twitched as he gripped his helmet.

“When our main force of 500,000 troops marches, the empire’s banners will fly over all three locations.”

Olivurn smiled faintly at Jarvant’s resolute response.

“You don’t need to sacrifice your life. I hope you’ll return alive to greet me. Guards.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Bring it here.”

At Olivurn’s command, soldiers brought in a large chest, securely sealed in gold.

“What is this?”

“Something I recently acquired. I thought it would suit you better than any other knight in the empire.”

Click—

When the lid of the chest was opened, Jarvant looked at Olivurn with a face full of gratitude.

“This... This is...”

Fwoooosh!!!

A surge of intense heat poured out from inside the chest.

“Take it up.”

The old man Jarvant grasped the item inside with a look of nervous anticipation, as if he were a young knight about to take his vows.

Ssssss...!

Despite wearing gauntlets enchanted with protective magic, wisps of smoke rose as the heat overwhelmed them.

“Ooh...”

“Is that the legendary weapon I’ve heard so much about?”

“Incredible indeed.”

The nobles gasped in awe at the powerful magic that filled the hall. The weapon was a chakram, imbued with the power of fire, known as the Burning Punishment.

“It was found in the lair of Python, the Red Dragon. Python is the last descendant of Riseria and the only living Flame Dragon. His blood is contained within that chakram, making it even more powerful than it was before.”

“...You’re giving this to me, Your Majesty?”

“In exchange, I trust you will bring me victory.”

“I am deeply honored. I will fulfill my duty!”

With Jarvant’s declaration, the flames of the Burning Punishment blazed even more intensely.

“Hmph...!”

The crimson paint on his gauntlets, representing his knight order, began to melt, but Jarvant only gripped the chakram tighter. Eventually, the molten paint solidified, making it appear as though the gauntlet and weapon were fused together.

“Prepare for deployment!” Olivurn shouted as he lightly placed his sword on Jarvant’s shoulder.

“Waaaaaaaah—!!”

The roar of the 300,000 soldiers gathered in the imperial courtyard echoed through the entire capital, shaking its very foundations. Their battle cries fueled the flames of war, and Olivurn slowly nodded in satisfaction.

***

“Good thing we managed to retrieve one of the Blader relics in time. That means we now have three out of the five relics on our side, correct?”

“Indeed. I think it would be best to give the Infinite Breath to Sir Kadin, the court sorcerer. He’s the only one in the empire who can wield it properly.”

“I will see to it.”

After the grand military send-off, Olivurn returned to his chambers, sipping hot tea with a weary expression.

“It seems you’ve been staying up for several nights. It would do you well to rest. After all, you’re human.”

“I’m aware, but we’re at war, the first one since I ascended the throne...”

Olivurn swallowed the scalding tea as if purposely embracing the pain, his voice low and grave.

“And it shall be the last one, Sir Neil Blanc.”

“You’re stubborn as ever...”

“The empire is still gathering 500,000 soldiers. They’re counting on me to lead them into battle. Compared to that, losing sleep for a few nights is nothing. This pain, even now, is minor.”

Olivurn raised his teacup.

“In fact, drinking this is more painful.”

“Don’t try to sway me with your power of words,” Neil Blanc responded in a flat tone.

“Power of words? It’s an ability I was born with... something I can’t control.”

“I may sympathize with your views, but agreeing with them is another matter entirely.”

Olivurn chuckled bitterly at Neil Blanc’s reply.

Behind Neil Blanc stood three others: a man with short, spiked red hair and a scar running across his hand, a woman with long green hair tied back, and a middle-aged man with golden eyes who greeted Olivurn with a warm smile.

“We were able to secure Flame Punish thanks to your help.”

“I was merely keeping it. I had no personal interest in it. We’ll see if its power can bridge the gap,” said the red-haired man.

“It won’t be easy, but Sir Jarvant is skilled enough to be considered nearly a Sword Master. I’m sure he will handle the Blader’s relic well.”

“Let’s hope so.”

“Although Sir Neil Blanc requested our assistance, participating in this war is against our principles,” the middle-aged man said gently, setting down a box he had been holding.

“This is probably the extent of our involvement.”

He unlocked the box and opened the lid.

“The fifth Blader relic—the twin swords Thunderclap and Thunderstrike.”

“So, these are the ones... The swords we couldn’t find any trace of, not even rumors.”

“That’s because these swords are special. Unlike the others, these were newly crafted. The Blader relics from the Magical Era were used as vessels to seal something.”

“Sealed...?”

“They contain the power of Kungen, the Thunder Spirit King.”

Olivurn gazed at the twin swords, his eyes trembling slightly.

“Unlike other elements, the power of lightning is... unique, I suppose. That’s why I kept them in my possession.”

“To give them to me... You must have made quite the decision.”

“I did it at Sir Neil Blanc’s request.”

“If the three of you fought alongside us, the empire would easily turn the tide of war in our favor.” Olivurn carefully closed the box, a hint of regret in his voice.

“If it weren’t against our principles... We’ll consider it. But with Sir Neil Blanc on your side, do we really need to? This war’s outcome is already certain.”

The middle-aged man smiled softly.

Just then, a loud voice echoed from outside the room.

“Urgent report from the Mercenary Corps!!”

“What is it?”

The sudden report disrupted the calm, like a mocking twist to the peaceful moment.

“The airship from the Mercenary Corps patrolling the northern skies has been shot down!!”

“...What!?”

“...Huh?!”

And all because of one person.