A burst of fire flashed across the sky. The tower above the city wall erupted in a thick cloud of smoke, debris and stone fragments flying in all directions, crashing heavily down onto the ramparts.
Archduke Cecis watched the battle closely. Upon seeing the final tower on this section of the wall collapse, and confirming that the enemy’s most threatening mage corps had been eliminated, he gave the order for the second and third infantry regiments to prepare for the charge.
In truth, the only formal troops under Archduke Cecis’s command consisted of two mage corps and one infantry regiment.
The remaining four infantry regiments were nothing more than hastily conscripted farmers. Even with the application of Berserk Magic, they could only serve as cannon fodder, primarily to draw enemy spellcasters’ attention and absorb their magical firepower.
Yet even ordinary farmers, under the influence of Berserk Magic, could exhibit strength comparable to that of seasoned veterans. Moreover, those infected by the magic felt no pain and knew no fear. If they managed to engage in close combat, even the kingdom’s regular army would suffer heavy losses.
Forcing the enemy’s mages to waste their spells on these disposable troops before striking at the real forces—this was an effective strategy. General André naturally saw through the ploy, but he had no countermeasure.
Their own mages had already sustained heavy losses as the enemy’s primary targets. Forcing them into continued battle now would risk mutiny. Yet without the mages’ long-range support, the army’s remaining ranged specialists posed little threat to the remnants of the enemy mage corps.
While André fretted over this dilemma, a commotion rose from the base of the city wall behind him. He quickly dispatched a messenger to investigate. Moments later, his adjutant ran back with an urgent report:
“The Adventurers’ Guild has come to support us!”
“The Adventurers’ Guild?” André frowned in confusion. After learning that the rebels had used Berserk Magic, he had immediately sent a report to the king—he had expected the Church to send reinforcements, but what did this have to do with the Adventurers’ Guild?
As a career soldier, he had little fondness for adventurers—undisciplined, unreliable mercenary rabble in his eyes. His first instinct was to reject their involvement. This was a critical moment for the royal capital, and bringing in such a chaotic force could only lead to trouble.
But then came his adjutant’s next words—and André’s attitude shifted at once.
“General, these adventurers were dispatched under the command of the Adventurers’ Continental Headquarters. They came via long-distance teleportation arrays from various nations across the continent. Most of them are either long-range or support-type classes, and their strength is all ranked at Saint-tier and above.”
The adjutant subtly hinted that the Adventurers’ Guild had invested heavily in this operation and should be treated with due respect.
All of them are Saint-tier or higher? André was stunned.
According to the hierarchy of combat strength, ordinary soldiers were considered novice-tier at best. Elite veterans might reach the peak of the novice tier, forming the backbone of any army. Reaching intermediate level would be enough to qualify one as a squad leader, while centurions and commanders generally possessed advanced or Saint-tier strength.
And that was just among regular warriors.
As for the more valuable mage corps, a team would typically be led by a rare Saint-tier mage, with the bulk made up of intermediate and advanced spellcasters.
Now standing before him was a fifty-person team—each one Saint-tier or higher. A force like this had the potential to decisively shift the tide of battle.
With their strength, there was no need for subterfuge. His soldiers would fall before them like wheat to a scythe.
All his earlier skepticism and disdain vanished in an instant. André personally went out to greet this massive lifeline.
*****
In Archduke Cecis’s calculations, the two disposable regiments he had just dispatched were meant to breach the gate with the mage corps’ support, storm the walls, and engage in a desperate melee with the remaining royal defenders. Once that battle concluded, his elite infantry regiment would move in to clean up the battlefield.
But now, he realized that the current battle wasn’t going as expected.
Just as the cannon fodder legions were covering the Magus Corps’ charge to the gates, numerous figures appeared atop the city walls—and they effortlessly crushed the forces below.
The two Magus Corps, severely battered, retreated in disarray and reported that powerful reinforcements had arrived. The enemy’s reinforcements were exceptionally strong, overwhelming their own mages in the ensuing magical exchanges.
“What?!” Looking at the handful of mages left before him, Duke Sesis nearly jumped to his feet in rage. He was only a step away from the throne—how could such a turn of events not infuriate him?
He had spent over a decade preparing for this throne. Initially, he had no intention of overthrowing the king, but after watching the royal family decline steadily over the past hundred years, he became filled with anxiety.
Especially as someone like Romond Wesley—who longed for merit and recognition—he yearned even more to change the kingdom’s stagnation.
After taking over as duke, he strove to reform the system and seek new paths of development. Over ten years, he built his domain into one of the most renowned regions on the continent, earning immense satisfaction from his achievements. From there, he pushed for national development, hoping to begin change with the Kingdom of Tara and make it the vanguard of a new era.
But both the previous and current kings were ignorant and ambitionless, indulging in pleasure and ignoring his proposals. All they ever gave him was an empty title of grand duke, which wounded him deeply.
After repeatedly hitting a wall with the king, an uncontrollable thought took root in Duke Sesis’s heart: I have the power and vision to improve the Kingdom of Tara—so why can’t I be its king?
That thought took firm hold in his mind. And at the same time, he identified what he believed to be the root of Tara’s decline: dragons.
For a thousand years, dragons had protected the kingdom—but in doing so, they also became a weight pressing on everyone’s heart.
Because of the dragons’ protection, the people of Tara lost the will to strive. That was why the nation had become stagnant and lifeless.
If the dragons will step in when the kingdom is in danger, then why should we work so hard? As long as we can enjoy life, isn’t that enough? This was the mentality that pervaded the entire kingdom—from the king to the common folk.
Duke Sesis believed he had found the source of the kingdom’s rot, and he would change it all! After over a decade of preparation, the time was ripe. He decided to launch a rebellion and seize the throne, to lead the kingdom to true strength.
He met many like-minded allies, recruited elite magi with generous offers, and made mountain-sized promises to rally them to his cause.
The confidence behind his rebellion stemmed from the power of these mages. But now, all his efforts had gone up in smoke.
Using farsight magic, he observed the reinforcements that had suddenly appeared. The moment he saw the banner of the Adventurers’ Guild fluttering atop the walls, he knew his cause was lost.
“No!” Duke Sesis was nearly consumed by rage—but he forced himself to remain calm. He was not out of options yet. If I am not destined to lead the kingdom to glory, then I will at least awaken it before the end!
He glanced around at his surroundings, at the personal guards who had always followed him, the comrades who shared his ideals, and the elite infantry battalions. Letting out a sigh, he waved his hand and gave the order to disband on the spot.
“Your Grace? Why are we doing this? We haven’t lost yet! We can start over again!” As puzzled, disappointed, and doubtful eyes turned toward him, Duke Sesis sighed again. His voice was low as he said, “Yes, we haven’t lost yet. But the road ahead… is one I must walk alone.”
“You are all elites, the hope for this kingdom’s revival. I can’t let you be buried with me here!”
Upon hearing this, emotions surged among the crowd. They wanted to share his fate, to live and die with Duke Sesis, but he sternly forbade it. He ordered and forced them to return to their territories with the army. Once they were gone, Duke Sesis, with only a few remaining personal guards by his side, raised the signal of surrender to the royal army.
*****
Even as the royal guard escorted the surrendering Duke Sesis into the capital, Andrei still found it hard to believe.
After the adventurers arrived to support them, it had taken only one assault to wipe out the enemy’s mages—then Romond surrendered?
This didn’t make any sense!
Romond wasn’t incapable of continuing the war—his infantry corps hadn’t even been deployed yet. As long as he retreated to his own territory, the royal army wouldn’t be able to take him down anytime soon. With the king constantly cutting military funding, the current strength of the Tara army had declined sharply. They couldn’t possibly compare to Romond’s elite forces.
There’s definitely a conspiracy behind this!
Thinking about how Romond had control over Berserk Magic and might be connected to the demons, he decided he had to warn the king to be more cautious. After instructing his adjutant on some official matters, he made his way toward the royal palace.
*****
In the palace, the king—who had spent the past few days in a state of constant fear—had finally calmed down. Ever since hearing about Romond’s surrender earlier today, he felt like he was gradually returning to a better state.
A strange emotion lingered in the king’s heart, accompanied by vivid scenes flashing through his mind.
A faint breeze brushed past his ears, carrying a mystical power. In the fields, it stirred the blood of a farmer, whose aging body suddenly felt as vigorous as it had in youth. As stalks of wheat fell one after another beneath his hands, he moved with increasing speed and force. He constantly adjusted his grip on the farming tools, trying to find a more comfortable working posture.
Time passed.
The farmer wiped the sweat from his brow and exhaled heavily as he looked at the fruits of his labor. With a final, forceful swing of his tool, the last stalk of wheat fell in the wind.
Gazing out at the field he had conquered, the farmer stood still for a long time, as if savoring the satisfaction and beauty of honest labor.
Then, the world suddenly shifted.
The farmland that had just been under the farmer’s feet was now somehow overturned above his head. But he paid no attention to this strange inversion. What caught his eye was the sight of a fresh crop of wheat sprouting from the soil.
His heart reignited with passion, and he resumed his work.
Knock, knock, knock!
The sound of someone knocking on the door pulled the king out of his vision. He looked up at the sky outside the window, realizing the appointed time had come—Romond, the prisoner, had arrived.
Outside the room, the head maid had been about to knock again when the door suddenly opened. The king stood there with an impatient expression. She quickly bowed and apologized, then followed behind him toward the council chamber.
Back in the room where the door had just shut, the earlier vision seemed to linger still. The gentle wind continued to blow, and the farmer resumed his toil in the uneven fields.
In the corridor, a strange and inexplicable smile crept across the king’s plump face.
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