Chapter 200

Translator: Pai_

While Turan was actively carrying out guerrilla warfare in the western forest zone.

A fierce battle was also unfolding somewhere in the southeastern Gray Zone and the border region of the Enril Desert.

The scale of it was incomparable to the minor skirmish Turan had experienced just recently while escorting the defector.

Hundreds of wizards from House Parsha and House Varaha, and hundreds of wizards from House Zahar, were growling at each other, while the few remaining high-ranking nobles of House Varaha, including Solif, clashed with the Zahar nobles following the new family head, Rahman.

“Argh.......”

“If you're injured, fall back quickly!”

Solif grabbed a Varaha noble groaning with a leg pierced by a spear as thick as a forearm and roughly hurled him backward.

“Ughhh-!”

Thanks to the immense strength derived from the Guardian bloodline, the noble's body flew more than a hundred meters in an instant, as if launched by a slingshot.

The scream, loud at first, rapidly diminished as he flew far away, creating a strange sound effect.

After saving one person and looking around, Solif clicked his tongue softly.

‘Annoying bastards, really.’

Originally, House Varaha and House Zahar had such an extremely antagonistic compatibility that they could almost be considered natural enemies.

Tracking abilities were meaningless in battle, and their specialty, concealment, could be effortlessly exposed and eliminated as easily as breathing.

To exaggerate a bit, one Varaha noble could fight two Zahar nobles of the same class.

However, the ones they were fighting now used all sorts of bizarre methods in addition to the standard magic unique to House Zahar to launch attacks.

Using all sorts of strange powers employed by the possessed gods, what Turan called skills, the Varaha nobles, unaccustomed to such things, kept getting caught off guard as they had before.

There were, fortunately, a few things in their favor. First, the firearms supplied by House Parsha had a significant impact.

Thanks to the power of these weapons that could instantly subdue even knights and threaten nobles, House Parsha overwhelmingly dominated the battles among the lower-ranked wizards.

And when it came to fights among high-ranking wizards, where the effect of such weapons was relatively reduced, it helped immensely that Solif, like those possessed, could use skills.

Thanks to the practice of Soul Magic he had trained in from earlier and the symbol fusion techniques he had received from Turan.

"Hup!"

Fwoosh, a gesture with his hand caused white flames to surge up, illuminating a portion of the battlefield and simultaneously threatening dozens of Zahar nobles.

Naturally, many attacks flew at him, the most eye-catching target, but almost none were significant.

The clumsy attacks, lacking much magic power, melted away without penetrating the flames, and those that did were blocked by the silver armor inherited from the family head of House Varaha.

Thanks to the combination of the Guardian bloodline’s durable body and the power of the sacred relic, his defensive ability was nearly invincible.

At that moment, struck by a chilling premonition, Solif quickly turned his head.

“Ugh.”

A small arrow lightly grazed his cheek as it passed.

From within the bright light, Rahman, having endured the excessive magic power consumption to briefly conceal himself for a few seconds, clicked his tongue lightly as he reappeared.

Judging by the stinging sensation from the wound, he had likely used some kind of despicable poison again, but fortunately Solif’s robust body was able to endure it.

Of course, the deterioration in condition was inevitable.

Rahman blocked the beam Solif fired with his finger using a dark, shield-like barrier.

It didn't completely block it, as his palm turned red from a burn.

After such prolonged fighting, with nearly all arrows and hidden weapons used up by House Zahar, and bullets exhausted on the Varaha-Parsha side, both sides retreated as if by mutual agreement.

Both had nearly depleted their magic power and feared rapid casualties if they were pushed back at that point.

“Phew, this is killing me.......”

A few hours after the battle ended, Solif grumbled as he dipped his head into a water container and pulled it out.

Around him sat the exhausted nobles of House Varaha and House Parsha, worn out from the battle.

His short silver hair, now soaked, looked quite pitiful, but none of the Varaha nobles nearby pointed out that he should maintain his dignity.

That was because Solif had displayed overwhelmingly dominant abilities throughout the battle, and also because they themselves were too exhausted to even muster the strength to criticize.

In a place like the battlefield, where only the primal and the raw remain, the first things to be stripped away are such pretenses and formalities.

“Have all the casualties been accounted for?”

“We’re still tallying, but currently the death toll is estimated to be around forty. There are also some missing, so that number may decrease if they return.”

“That’s a hell of a lot of dead.”

In a battle involving over a thousand wizards from both forces combined, forty deaths might seem like a small sacrifice, but considering that such battles were happening every few days, it was by no means a small figure.

Moreover, this didn't even include civilian casualties.

The Zahar bastards, while pretending to conduct a kind of war of maneuver, continuously raided villages and towns in the Gray Zone, and that damage couldn’t just be ignored.

“Yeah, this is what war really looks like. It’s just that things had been too easy until now.......”

A Varaha noble sitting opposite Solif answered his words with a bitter smile.

The previous wars had ended in short engagements only because both sides had been confident of victory or had struck directly at each other’s strongholds.

Originally, wars between great noble houses were always this drawn-out and brutal.

“Did the other side suffer similar casualties?”

“I’m sorry. We haven’t confirmed that yet.......”

“Let’s assume they did. For now, get some rest, and tell those who rested earlier to handle the supply and perimeter watch properly. If we get breached, they won’t die by my hand, but by the enemy’s.”

If even one Zahar noble slipped into the sleeping quarters by mistake, everyone in that room would never open their eyes again.

It was a lesson Aravion had learned firsthand during their past war with Zahar.

When Solif, pressing them again, suddenly stood up, the reclining Varaha nobles looked up at him.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to stand guard too. If Rahman attacks, it’s not like you guys will stop him.”

“Then we’ll also-”

“Just stay seated. You’ll collapse from exhaustion.”

Unlike Solif, who was physically superior thanks to his powerful magic power and Guardian bloodline, the nobles following him were on the verge of collapse.

Resting diligently and recovering quickly was a better way to help.

The nobles of Varaha and Parsha looked at Solif striding out with eyes full of admiration.

“He must be exhausted from fighting the Zahar family head.......”

“He’s truly amazing.”

Ignoring the embarrassing remarks he could hear thanks to his keen hearing, Solif climbed up onto the outer wall of the city and looked toward the east.

Since the last battle had begun in the middle of the night and continued until dawn, several hours later, the sun was now high in the sky.

‘I’m dying to know how things are going over there.’

Though he didn’t show it, Solif couldn’t help feeling anxious as he fought against the Zahar army here.

Though he was compensating for their relatively inferior forces and accumulated losses with his own skills, he couldn’t avoid the fatigue that came with it.

Of course, he couldn’t share these thoughts with his subordinates.

They were all looking only at him, how uneasy would they feel if he showed signs of struggle?

All Solif could do was hope that Turan would quickly defeat the allied forces of Aravion and Nagin and resolve the disadvantage on this front.

He couldn’t single-handedly wipe out Rahman and the rest of Zahar’s gods.

At best, he could hang on using the favorable match-up.

‘Come to think of it, didn’t he drop by here yesterday? Since he came all this way, he could’ve helped out a bit more, damn it.......’

Though he grumbled internally, it wasn’t sincere.

If Turan had left for somewhere else instead of fighting here together, it must have been for good reason.

As he thought that, Solif squinted his eyes, staring into the distance.

“Huh?”

A cloud of dust proving a considerable number of people were approaching.

Since it was coming from the east, he first thought the Zahar bastards were attacking again without rest, but on closer look, the direction was slightly off.

It was not northeast or directly east, but closer to the southeast, almost directly south.

If they were coming from that direction....

“Damn, you’re quick to arrive!”

Solif clapped his hands with joy as he saw the army flying the flag of Lavitas in the distance.

The sudden booming sound startled a few knights nearby into a fit of surprise.

*

After the first guerrilla operation, Turan launched two more assaults on the Aravion forces before finally returning to the main camp.

The enemy was gradually becoming accustomed to their tactics, and casualties began to appear even among the guerrilla unit that had initially been dominating the field almost one-sidedly.

Fortunately, no one had died, but there were two who would have if Turan hadn't healed them, so this was the perfect moment to pull back.

Besides, he had also used up a large number of bullets he had brought.

The wizards staying with the main force cheered at the report from the returning guerrilla unit.

Even though it was a unit made up of elite members, for fewer than twenty people to have killed over ten nobles and dozens of knights was an astounding result.

“For now, everyone’s done well, so take a break. We’ll need to recover our worn-out bodies if we’re going to fight the decisive battle here.”

“Yes, sir!”

After allowing the exhausted members to rest, Turan went out alone to continue the guerrilla warfare.

However, with no one assisting him, his approach had to change.

“We’re under attack!”

“Again?”

“Damn it, let me get some sleep......!”

Mainly at night, and sometimes during the day.

Turan repeatedly fired railgun shots from a concealed position at a distance and fled immediately.

The actual damage wasn’t that significant.

At most, he dismantled the camp’s barrier and managed to injure or kill a few knights at the perimeter.

Unlike when he had attacked the forces of House Ruvan, getting too close now would lead to being chased again like last time, so this was the best he could do.

This caused more psychological exhaustion than actual losses.

Every Aravion knight stationed at the camp’s edge felt the fear that an attack could come at any moment, and that they might be the next victim.

On his way back, Turan asked Bije in a low voice.

“Did you happen to spot him, Bije?”

-Didn’t see him! I don’t think he’s here!

“Thought so.......”

From the first raid, Turan had given Bije one task.

To look for the face of an old knight he had met before among the Aravion forces, Keorn.

Had he taken even a strand of Keorn’s hair or beard back then, he could have used Tracking Magic to find him. But unfortunately, that possibility hadn’t occurred to him at the time.

And after becoming more proficient with Tracking Magic, he had never encountered him again.

‘Maybe he’s too old to have been conscripted?’

Of course, it wasn’t like Aravion had the luxury to worry about that, but if Keorn hadn’t shown up after all this time, it was likely he wasn’t with the army.

According to what he had previously learned, Keorn had left the city where he said he would retire. Had he perhaps passed away during that time?

Unlike nobles, eighty was not exactly a young age for a knight. It wouldn’t be surprising.

Even among regular people, sudden death becomes more common after turning fifty.

“If you didn’t find him, it can’t be helped. Let’s just hope we don’t meet.”

-Keorn is over there? He’s fighting with them?

“I hope not.”

Turan remembered the old knight who had taken pride in House Aravion and his family.

It wasn’t the worst-case scenario, where they’d fight under the name of Zahar, as he had once feared, but he still didn’t want to face him on the battlefield.

After the final guerrilla operation, Turan halted his attacks when the enemy approached within a day’s distance.

From that point on, it was time to accumulate as much magic power as possible and prepare for the decisive battle.

Fortunately, all the duties of a commander, such as managing supplies, were being handled by Meisa, who remained in the tent, allowing Turan to focus completely on resting.

It felt strange to be lying beside his pregnant wife while she diligently reviewed documents, but still.

So another day passed, and by the time the sun was past its zenith, the main force of the Aravion-Nagin alliance finally arrived near the Parsha camp.

“They’re finally here.......”

“They seem to know we’ve already formed up here.”

“Of course, they must’ve sent out scouts.”

The morale of the Parsha-Varaha alliance was not too bad.

Compared to the opposing side, their numbers were far fewer, but some among them were equipped with groundbreaking new weapons, and having formed up first, they had completed their preparations and taken sufficient rest.

In contrast, the Aravion-Nagin allied army had started off with low morale and stamina due to a string of hardships: beginning with the attempted assassination by Aravion’s young nobles, suffering considerable losses from guerrilla warfare, and enduring a long march.

Though battles between wizards are typically decided by magic power and magical skill, in full-scale war, such factors inevitably have an impact.

“Turan.”

“Badal.”

Before the battle began, when Badal, standing at the front of his formation, called him, Turan stepped forward to meet him and replied.

The leaders of both sides facing each other was a kind of ritual, akin to establishing dominance.

“Just in case, I’ll ask, there’s no chance you’re thinking of surrendering, right?”

“Of course not. Even if I did, you wouldn’t accept it, would you?”

“Heh.”

At those words, a grotesque smile formed on Badal’s face.

Turan had felt it since the time Badal had tortured Haroon, but within the seemingly gentle face of the old man lurked a terrifying monster.

Perhaps as cruel as Turan himself, or even crueler.

“Before we fight, there’s something I want to ask.”

“Why should I answer?”

“If you don’t want to, then don’t. Meisa’s body, it’s not meant for you, is it?”

At Turan’s words, Badal didn’t respond; he merely furrowed one brow slightly.

After a brief hesitation, he opened his mouth.

“...Why do you think that?”

“Because the personality you wanted Meisa to have seems completely different from yours.”

The gods of Aravion had deliberately brought in Zahar nobles to isolate Meisa and torment her relentlessly.

Turan and his companions believed that this was the gods’ method of taming possessed vessels like themselves, but thinking about it again, it was unclear whether such a method would produce a personality like Badal’s.

Considering that the personality they had tried to create in Solif resembled the formal and hypocritical disposition of Reshion, it seemed strange.

So Turan pondered.

What kind of personality results from continuous isolation and torment?

Isolationism born from believing no one but oneself, paranoia that doubts everything...

When he thought about it that way, only one figure came to mind.

“Monarch is the one who wants Meisa’s body. Right?”

“Whatever I say, it seems like you’ve already decided on the answer.”

“I was nearly certain, but your expression just confirmed it. Thanks.”

Turan didn’t know why, unlike Badal, Monarch had no talent as the Thunder Lord, he still needed a body like Meisa’s. But that was something he might find out if he tortured Badal.

He would send him off with about half the pain he had originally planned, Turan muttered quietly as he turned his head.

Badal, staring silently at Turan’s figure, soon let out a sigh and turned his head away.

Exactly ten minutes after that.

The massive army of Aravion and Nagin began to press into the Varaha-Parsha formation stationed beside the Dwarves’ Canyon.