Margrave’s Bastard Son was The Emperor - Chapter 408

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 408
Fire. The Balance of War
Order within chaos. War within order.
It was a peculiar sight. Three nations, countless clans, and even the shells of monsters were entangled together, yet each maintained their position and achieved a balance in warfare.
Soldiers became shields for one another, and the Mage Knights, upon confirming the arrival of the Atan Clan, leaped up in unison to become blades. The Mages in the sky kept their eyes fixed on the slowly moving corpses of monsters.
“Carry me over there!”
Hasha cried out amid the chaos. The synthetic monster he had been controlling had long since had its core shattered, returning to the earth. This meant he had no corpses connected to him, and it would take time and effort for the Atan Clan’s Sorcerers to animate new ones.
Before they could, I would seize the opportunity and bring one here. Two Mages, understanding Hasha’s intent, lifted him into the air.
Clang! Clang!
“How close must we get?”
“Ideally, close enough to touch, but for now, let’s get as near as possible. First, we need to confirm what kind of monster the Atan Clan has brought. If it’s truly something absurd, that would be quite the problem, wouldn’t it?”
Whoooosh!
Boom!
Hasha flinched and turned his head. He saw an afterimage rushing toward the Burgos Leader.
It was Ian. He charged toward the center without hesitation, supported by other Mages. Dozens, even hundreds of soldiers blocked his path, yet Ian’s attacks never wavered. Enemy blood drenched his hair, cheeks, and nape with vivid clarity.
“Aaaahhh!”
“…Hah, hah.”
The soldier’s two arms were severed, and a fountain of blood erupted.
Ian crouched low, breathing heavily. When stamina seemed insufficient, he drew on mana; when mana needed conserving, he returned to stamina. Despite the dizziness in his mind, the balance of his attacks was nearly perfect.
-Uncle Ian. You mustn’t do that. Lower your body more. Otherwise, you’ll expose your flanks to your opponent. It will also be difficult to utilize recoil when counterattacking.
-It’s somewhat difficult. My body won’t move as I wish.
-You’ll improve with practice. Everyone struggles at first. Still, you show some aptitude. Next time, when your chest feels tight and you want to release something from your heart, grip the sword like this. If you show your mana to the master again, you’ll truly be in trouble. You’ll be cast out to the commoner’s quarters. You don’t want that, do you?
-No. I shall do as you say. But tell me, Chroni, what became of the master who saw my mana?
-You needn’t worry about such things. Now, shall we try again? Take hold of the sword.
Crack. Ian recalled that day in his childhood, when he first grasped a wooden sword in the courtyard behind Chroni’s estate. The gentle way Chroni had observed his form and praised him remained vivid.
Sometimes he wished to erase it completely, yet he could not. Those memories had layered upon each other to create who he was now—they were not something he could discard.
Whoooosh!
Tomi was gradually buried among the soldiers.
The moment you open a crack in your heart, relationships fade with time. Following each person’s destiny, some show their backs, some show their faces, and some vanish like wind.
Ian fixed his gaze on Tomi, drenched in blood. A rough breath escaped, followed by a sorrowful sigh. Here I am again, throwing myself into the tempest of relationships. Here I am again, drawing people close and tangling their fates.
“Hold them back! I can see them growing weary!”
“Ugh, uuuaahhh!”
“Hurry, lead the way!”
Ian wiped his chin with the back of his hand. Bloody moisture dripped away.
Damon continued retreating while gripping Tomi’s hair, then ordered others to bring more Mages. Tomi’s body kept going limp, making him wholly unsuitable as a hostage.
“Hurry! Quickly!”
“Bring two more Mages!”
“Ian! If you keep coming, I’ll sever all three of their necks at once! And let me warn you—you cannot defeat me!”
Clang! Clang!
Ian let Damon’s threats pass through one ear as he continued to swing his blade. He would not waver. No matter what whispers were spoken, he would shed blood only for Bariel.
Countless lives brushed away by the tip of Ian’s blade. It was the moment he leaped skyward, pushing off the earth.
Screeeech!
A colossal raven dove through the air, streaking past Ian. Its gaping beak bristled with hundreds of razor-sharp teeth, each one glistening with nauseating slime.
Monsters supplied by the Atan Clan. When I tried to seize one of their necks and twist, the Mages stepped in instead, shielding me from harm.
“Ian! Go!”
“We have the skies covered!”
Boom! Boom!
One, two, three…
Their numbers were considerable, but mercifully, the Sorcerers’ limitations were becoming apparent. In this chaos, controlling both the Synthetic Monsters and the flying beasts simultaneously seemed beyond their grasp. Their attack precision had deteriorated significantly, allowing the Mages to repel them without difficulty.
“Hey! There goes Bariel’s lackey!”
“Chieftain! What do we do?”
“What do you mean what? Stop them! Listen to it yapping like it’s a horse—idiot.”
“It’s a Bariel Mage! The Mage is targeting King Damon!”
The Atan Clan, who had come as reinforcements, noticed the danger to Damon and signaled one another. But—
Screeeech!
“Where do you think you’re going, bastard.”
“Step aside. Let me save Damon and play with you.”
“You’ll die first, so forget about playing.”
“Huh? Getting cocky?”
Berik never retreated, even when pushed back. He anchored himself against the Atan Chieftain’s blade with all his strength. Efdiram laughed mockingly, and Berik grinned in return.
From the Great Desert to the civil war, there was one truth his body had learned above all else: whenever he faced such overwhelming strength and brushed against death’s edge, he always emerged stronger.
So it would be the same this time. A loss before death was no loss at all. Berik had always triumphed, grown, and laughed. Just as he was laughing now.
“If Ian interferes, I’ll die trying aaaaah!”
“Get out of the way for a second!”
“Hraaaaah!”
“Berik!”
Crash! Bang!
Two figures descended on either side of Berik—Barsabe and Jairot. Barsabe provided cover while Jairot unleashed a lightning-swift blade aura.
But Efdiram unfurled a protective barrier and neutralized the attack, then clicked her tongue in annoyance.
“This is why I hate Imperial dogs.”
“So you are Efdiram? I am Jairot, one of the Three Commanders of the Imperial Guards.”
“Keep your name! Hey! Protect King Damon!”
“Understood, Chieftain!”
“Don’t you dare!”
Those rushing forward, those pursuing, those cutting across, those blocking, those grasping—they all mingled like a swarm of ants. On the surface, it was a war between Clippoford and Burgos, but the closer one looked, the more the entire current swirled around Ian and Damon at its center.
Shiiiiing!
Twang!
An arrow shot through the heavens, targeting Ian. I reflexively batted it away, then immediately recognized it had come from the Ruswena side.
In the distance, I caught sight of long teal hair fluttering in the wind. Eriponis.
‘Things are unfolding as planned, it seems. Zaira.’
It was too far a detour to circle around toward Bariel. From Ruswena’s perspective, the optimal strategy was to repel Bariel first, secure Clippoford, and take measures to prevent a rift from occurring according to Burgos’s wishes.
Starting with her arrows, countless Ruswena soldiers poured down the hillside.
With fierce battle cries, they charged down the slope like rolling boulders, and the Clippoford soldiers froze in panic. Ruswena was attacking from behind them. If this continued, they would be surrounded on both fronts, and the battle would turn dire.
“Prince Noah! Ruswena is joining the battle!”
“They’re pouring in from behind! What should we do? We can’t divide our forces!”
“Send a signal to the barrier! We need reinforcements too!”
“Damn it!”
Burgos in front, Ruswena behind. Noah’s eyes darted frantically left and right as he reached for the military banner.
Whistle! Whistle!
Thud! Crack!
Arrows from an unknown source rained down from the forest, piercing through the chests of Ruswena soldiers. The Ruswena soldiers, who had been charging forward without hesitation, stumbled and looked around. Forest, nothing but forest. Though invisible from below, the angle of the arrows made it unmistakable.
Noah furrowed his brow and focused his gaze toward the forest, and soon he saw a blue hue slowly revealing itself.
Boom—
“Bariel reinforcements!”
“The main force from Bariel has arrived! Everyone, listen! Bariel has sent soldiers for Clippoford! Victory is ours!”
Bariel’s seal, inscribed with golden thread, glimmered in the sunlight. Tweller recognized his subordinates even from a distance and laughed wickedly as he split an enemy soldier’s head in half with his axe.
“They arrived quickly!”
“Minister Tweller!”
“Yes! I see them! Don’t worry about the rear! Our family has come, so let’s focus on what’s ahead with peace of mind!”
Crash!
Tweller’s subordinates were those who had rolled through battlefields with him. Observing the situation from above the forest, they judged that stopping Ruswena’s participation was the priority and blocked their approach with arrows.
“Charge!”
The general then issued orders not toward where Clippoford and Burgos were mixed, but toward Ruswena. Following the general’s command, the soldiers charged forward with vigor, and dust rose as if the world itself were burning.
“Damn.”
Thud! Damon had no choice but to stab Tomi in the ribs and continued retreating. Ian had already entered the front lines, and now Bariel’s main force was joining. Retreat was inevitable. Regrouping and devising a new strategy was the best option.
When Damon saw a soldier bringing a Mage, he quickly threw Tomi to the ground. Tomi coughed blood as soldiers trampled over him.
Seeing this, Ian hesitated for a moment. Should he continue pursuing Damon, or should he go now and take Tomi’s hand?
“Ian! Don’t hesitate!”
Crash!
At that moment, a Mage descended swiftly and dragged Tomi by the arm. Blood gushed more profusely from the wound in his ribs, but there was nothing to be done. This was Damon’s intention.
As the Mage carrying Tomi disappeared toward the barrier, Ian released all restraint and detonated his mana.
Zing! Zing!
“Ian! We still have two left!”
Yen and Kanci.
Damon grabbed Yen by the hair and drove his blade into her forearm. It was both a threat and a means to incapacitate a Mage who might otherwise be absorbed into Clippoford. Idgal, deeply embedded, caused Yen to writhe in agony, her limbs twisting.
Boom!
Crash!
With the speed of falling stars, Ian’s mana sent soldiers tumbling in all directions, and he closed the distance to Damon in a single breath.
Close enough for their noses to touch. Damon felt a sense of déjà vu and opened his eyes wide once more. Ian’s golden eyes gleamed like flickering flames.
Crash!
Ian seized Damon by the hair and slammed his head against the ground. In that same instant, a small necklace tumbled from Damon’s grasp, rolling across the floor alongside its disheveled owner.
“…Damon.”
“Ugh—!”
Ian pressed his head harder against the ground, applying his full weight. The General and Soldiers froze in shock, yet none dared move. One misstep and the King would be dead.
Though he merely pinned him down, Ian’s killing intent was extraordinary—an overwhelming force incarnate. He drove his knee into Damon’s throat while gripping his hair, shaking him violently.
“Damon. Answer me.”
Without response, unable to move even slightly, Damon’s hands clawed desperately at the dirt. In that desperate moment, he noticed the Idgal necklace beginning to glow faintly. The magical power causing the rift was gradually intensifying.
As Damon reached for it, Ian laughed mockingly and stomped on the back of his hand. Then he asked.
“How do you think this will end for you?”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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