Chapter 169: The Counteroffensive on the North Bank

Radiant Sun Charge, Nolan’s signature skill as a “Glory Guardian,” could greatly enhance an ally’s defenses, heal their injuries, and redirect incoming attacks onto himself.

The shattered remnants of the gigantic ice blade slammed into Hank head-on.

The moment it struck, a tremendous crack rang out before the blade exploded apart, scattering crystalline shards of ice across the ground. The brilliant golden flames wrapped around Hank shuddered once, absorbing and transforming all of the blade’s cutting force. In the end, only the pure impact remained, powerful enough to make his massive body stagger backward.

Boom.

Hank took a single step back, his armored boot sinking into the mud with a heavy thud before he steadied himself once more.

Lowering his gaze, he looked at the Raven Type officer armor covering his chest. A pale frost mark remained across the sturdy black plate, rimed with droplets of water. He wiped it once with his hand, and even that faint trace vanished completely.

Not a scratch.

The weakened ice blade had still posed a deadly threat to the overextended Hank, but Nolan’s intervention had sent his defensive power soaring high enough to render the attack meaningless. That warm, solid strength even replenished the stamina he had just spent and soothed the brief disruption in his internal circulation of power.

As for Nolan himself, an attack reduced to this extent did not even make him sway. A tiny “-1” slowly floated up before his eyes, dealing a single point of forced damage and preserving the last shred of dignity for the Gold-rank Fenrir.

“Nolan really is making this old soldier stand his final watch after all.”

Hank let out a self-deprecating laugh. He could clearly feel that blazing power flowing from Nolan not far away. Even after spending every day beside him, Nolan’s endless array of abilities still managed to astonish him again and again. This time, Hank had personally experienced just how miraculous they truly were.

“Captain Hank’s fine!”

The Second Division soldiers behind him, who had been frantic with worry moments ago, erupted into cheers as relief transformed into surging battle fervor.

“It’s the lord! The lord made his move!”

“Long live Lord Nolan!”

Nolan brushed the frost from his armor and looked past the chaotic battlefield, locking onto the drenched figure standing in the river with a dark expression.

“Frost Wolf” Fenrir.

Heh. Finally found you.

After punching through the allied lines, Nolan had been searching for Fenrir all along, but the explosions had thrown the river crossing into complete chaos. Only when Fenrir unleashed that devastating strike had Nolan finally located him.

“Hank!” With a single slash, Nolan cut down a blue-robed allied soldier rushing toward him before wheeling his horse around and shouting, “I’m transferring battlefield command to you! Take the Second Division around the right flank and drive them all back into the river! Tell Rehanna and Kayan to continue advancing while linking up with Vivi’s independent unit. If my guess is right, there’s still another threat on the enemy side that hasn’t shown itself yet.” 

Then he pointed his sword toward the river.

“I’ll handle that one myself.”

Hank slammed a fist against his breastplate with a dull clang. “Understood!”

Nolan’s voice brimmed with unwavering confidence, and every Coldsteel City soldier on the battlefield felt it. This was their lord.

After issuing his orders, Nolan turned back. “Ailin, can your power still hold?”

“Long enough to see this war through, Nolan.” Behind her visor, Ailindel smiled softly. Even on the battlefield, this man was still so gentle.

“Good. Then I’ll leave the north bank to you.”

Ailindel nodded.

The luminous white warhorse beneath her let out a clear, ringing neigh as soul energy surged around her body. The horse accelerated forward, then suddenly lifted all four hooves from the ground. Ignoring the mud, corpses, and chaos below, it ran straight through the air itself.

“Black Armored Legion! Advance!”

At once, the four hundred soldiers clad in Raven Type black armor charged forward as well, their target the opposite bank of the Somme River.

The wind enchantments engraved into their armor and cloaks lit up simultaneously with pale blue-white light. Wind elements gathered violently around the trailing edges of their cloaks.

When they reached the riverbank, they did not slow down in the slightest.

Instead, they bent their knees and—

Jumped.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Their movements lacked Ailindel’s graceful elegance, but every leap radiated explosive power and terrifying speed.

The allied soldiers thrashing desperately through the muddy waters of the Somme River, trying to flee back to the north bank, suddenly felt darkness pass overhead.

Confused, they looked up.

What they saw became a sight they would never forget for the rest of their lives.

At that moment, the Raven Type armor fully lived up to its name.

Black cloaks billowed violently in the air as the Black Armored Legion swept overhead like a flock of ravens, tracing oppressive arcs through the sky while leaping directly across the dozens of meters separating the two riverbanks.

Heavy infantry… flying?

Ailindel’s objective was clear.

Her gaze swept past the routed infantry near the shoreline and locked onto the formation farther behind them that was still struggling to reorganize itself.

Knight Claw’s longbow corps.

Though Claw’s earlier order to advance had exposed them somewhat to the Thunderclap explosions, they had still been positioned farther from the riverbank than most troops. As a result, they remained the most intact formation left within the allied army.

As long as those archers survived, they could continue threatening Coldsteel City’s forces on the south bank with sustained ranged fire.

***

On the north bank, Knight Claw was shouting himself hoarse as he tried to rally his troops.

“Don’t panic! Hold formation! Archers, fall back and regroup!”

He was on the verge of madness, his heart bleeding.

It was all over. The heavy infantry regiment he had poured endless money and effort into had either become trapped on the opposite bank like fish in a barrel or been blown into chunks of flesh by that damned explosion. That had been the foundation of everything he possessed.

Still… thank the gods.

He glanced behind him at the eight hundred longbowmen struggling to reform ranks, and his heart settled slightly. As long as those archers remained, as long as he still commanded the strongest ranged corps in Demont Province, he still had a chance to recover. At the very least, the archduke would not strip him bare when he returned. Once he reorganized his formation, he would make those damned rebels across the river—

In the middle of his vicious thoughts, terrified screams suddenly erupted behind him.

“What is that?!”

“The sky! Look at the sky!”

“Get back into formation! What sky? The rebels don’t even have—”

Irritated, Claw wheeled his horse around and barked at the panicking soldiers.

Then he saw the sky himself.

The rest of his words died in his throat.

A knight clad in magnificent white armor was galloping through the air atop an equally snow-white warhorse.

Behind her stretched a dark mass of figures. Hundreds of heavily armored soldiers soared upward one after another from the far side of the river like migratory birds, flying directly toward his position.

A flying knight… and flying heavy infantry?

Where was this? Was this even still the Elfin Kingdom? Had High Elf pegasus knights somehow appeared on the battlefield? Then why didn’t the pegasus even have wings?

And those black-armored soldiers… what in the world were they?!

“Th-this is impossible…”

Too many questions flooded his mind without answers. For a moment, Claw genuinely wondered if the explosion had damaged his brain and left him hallucinating.

Everything before him completely exceeded the limits of his understanding.

Only when the warhorse beneath him began retreating anxiously under the pressure descending from the sky did he finally snap back to reality and remember that he was still a knight in the middle of a battlefield.

“Enemy attack! Enemy attack! Fire! Loose your arrows, now!”

In a panic, he yanked down his visor and fumbled for the knightly longsword at his waist, but the gesture looked pitifully powerless. It was already too late. The white-armored knight had reached the air above his formation.

Claw watched as she casually raised her lance and thrust toward him from dozens of meters away.

Whoosh. A razor-sharp blade of compressed wind crossed the distance instantly and slashed straight into him.

Accompanied by the screech of tearing metal, his finely crafted plate armor split open with ease. The wind blade carved countless wounds across his body, and blood burst from every opening.

“Gahhh!” Claw screamed. Before his mind could even process the pain, a flash of white filled his vision.

The white knight had already arrived directly before him.

In the next instant, her lance pierced cleanly through his heart.

Claw’s eyes widened as shock and agony froze permanently across his face. His body swayed once before falling limply from horseback.

Falling with him was the gray battle standard of House Claw.

The final thing he saw was the white knight descending amidst a storm of black “ravens” as hundreds of armored soldiers crashed from the sky into the longbow formation he had once been so proud of, blasting up a spectacular storm of blood and shattered flesh.

But none of it had anything to do with him anymore.

The knight Claw had fallen.