The Fake Wife of the Strongest Husband Wants to Survive - Chapter 64

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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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Episode 64
They had succeeded in pushing the defensive line closer to the Abyss, but the battlefield remained a hellscape.
Monsters poured in from all sides, shattering the Defensive Formation and threatening the Supply Units.
Winged creatures slashed through the sky and dove at the soldiers, while burrowing ones shook the walls and buildings.
Each Squad fragmented and regrouped in desperate rhythm, barely holding their ground.
So far, it all aligned with Owen’s battle plan—but there was one variable he hadn’t accounted for.
The Variant Monsters he’d defeated before.
What he’d thought were rare mutations proved otherwise; their numbers swelled with alarming speed.
Each was three times the size of a normal specimen, with scales hard as steel, and they moved in coordinated packs.
When one fell, the rest trampled over its corpse and surged forward like a wave.
The line fractured rapidly.
“Hold formation! Aim for the eyes!”
Armored completely in sturdy Armor, the only vulnerable point these creatures exposed was their eyes.
“Squad 8! Fire!”
Owen’s voice cracked as he bellowed, but the situation was dire.
Whether from distance or sheer indifference, the monsters swatted away the soldiers’ Arrows as casually as one might brush off a mosquito.
“My lord, the targets are too far away!”
“We’re just scratching the surface!”
As the monsters roared, the sound vibrated through the soldiers’ bones, draining color from their faces.
At this rate, they would be overrun.
Owen tightened his grip on his sword, jaw clenched.
“Damn it…….”
Then it happened.
A sharp whistle tore through the air.
Whoooosh!
An Arrow shot from a distance pierced one of the Variant Monsters’ eyes with perfect accuracy.
The beast shrieked, clutching at its face as it thrashed its head into the ground.
Arrows followed in quick succession, finding their marks in the eyes of the other monsters.
As the cries overlapped, the soldiers’ morale surged back to life.
“Now! Strike the vitals of the ones that are down!”
“Ha! Without their sight, these bastards are nothing!”
Watching the continual rain of Arrows, Owen’s mind raced.
‘A sniper accurate enough to fire arrows like that in rapid succession……could it be?’
Before he could finish the thought, the thunder of hoofbeats erupted behind him.
Thump-thump-thump-thump!
Dust exploded upward as a cavalry unit surged toward the battlefield.
Leading them was Enchao.
He nocked another Arrow and bellowed at the top of his lungs.
“See that! I’m still alive, you hear me!”
One of the mercenaries riding behind him cursed and shook his head.
“You mad fool! An archer doesn’t lead the charge! Are you trying to get yourself killed!”
“Did you see my skill! You remember, don’t you? Back in the day, I…….”
“Shut up and watch the road!”
Their bickering voices cut across the battlefield, bold and unmistakable.
Familiar silhouettes on horseback emerged from the dust, surging forward.
Owen’s eyes widened as he recognized the approaching faces.
Once they had been comrades he could trust with his life—a bond he thought had ended.
Watching their loud, quarrelsome forms felt like stepping back six years into the past.
As the Variant Monsters’ eyes were pierced one by one, the tide of battle turned dramatically.
Blinded, the creatures shrieked and thrashed across the ground, and in that moment, soldiers and Cavalry Mercenaries drove forward.
Spear points tore at their necks, digging between the scales.
“Push forward!”
At Owen’s cry, the soldiers roared as one and charged.
Enchao continued loosing Arrows from the vanguard, his voice ringing out.
“Hey! Want to see me take down two in a single shot!”
“Shut your mouth and keep shooting, you lunatic!”
Curses mixed with laughter, but it meant one thing—the battle had turned.
One of the massive monsters made a final desperate roar, flapping its wings wildly.
But Arrows and spears soon pierced its eyes and wings, and it plummeted.
Dust rose up in a great cloud.
The remaining monsters tried to retreat as the humans’ momentum proved overwhelming, but the soldiers refused to let the stragglers escape.
The battle, relentless and unbroken, ended in victory for the Swap Army.
Tension drained from the soldiers’ shoulders, and the cry of triumph—forgotten for so long—finally erupted from their throats.
Owen lowered his sword point slowly and drew a deep breath.
A thin smile traced across his face, streaked with sweat and blood.
“Hey, Enchao! Since when does an archer keep charging to the front?”
“Shut it, idiot! If I hadn’t been there, you’d already be rotting in some monster’s belly.”
“That’s rich coming from you—I’m the one who saved your hide when that tunnel-digging creature ambushed us.”
“Argh! My spear snapped again!”
“Again? That’s what happens when you grip it like an oaf. You’ll probably get yourself killed by Lucas before any monster or enemy gets the chance.”
They hurled insults and shouted at each other, yet what shone on their faces was not fear but a spirited joy long absent and finally returned.
The soldiers watched and chuckled softly; the scattered ranks reformed with practiced speed.
Owen quietly held in his gaze the sight of comrades he had lost long ago and never expected to see again.
* * *
The pre-dawn wind bit sharply—winter was drawing near.
She had stayed awake all night, yet felt no drowsiness.
But Pesha stood on the Castle Wall, her eyes never leaving the horizon beyond the walls. Her mind would not settle.
The moment the Taligan Mercenary Corps heard the situation from Pesha’s account, they drove their horses toward Swap.
Hoping to bolster the garrison, by the time they arrived she learned that Owen had already been gone for three days, leading his troops against the monsters.
The Taligan Mercenary Corps left Pesha at the castle and rode straight for the southern fief where the Swap Army was engaged.
For two days after, no word came through—only anxiety mounting in the silence.
She stared across the horizon until her eyes burned, and then a single flag rose suddenly beyond it.
The Victory Flag announcing the triumph of the Swap Army.
The soldiers who spotted it were the first to cheer.
Drums thundered in answer.
Boom— Boom—
Residents who had tossed sleepless through the night poured toward the Castle Gate.
Some clutched newborns to their chests and wept with relief; others knelt on the ground, hands clasped in prayer.
Still others embraced one another in gratitude or simply cried out in triumph.
The Castle Gate swung wide.
Soldiers, drenched in dust and blood, marched through in ordered formation.
They looked exhausted, yet their expressions shone with brightness.
There in the center of the column, mounted on a war horse, was Owen.
His face and armor were filthy with blood and dust.
Attendants hurried forward with towels and water, pressing them into his hands.
Owen took the water, washed his face, and wiped the bloodstains from his hands with the towel.
Though he must have sustained serious wounds and pushed himself hard afterward, he looked far better than she had feared.
“Sir!”
At the familiar voice, Owen lifted his head.
There stood Pesha, worry etched into her features.
“Are you all right?”
Owen handed the soiled towel back to an attendant and nodded.
“Yes. We’ve reclaimed all the territory they occupied, and we’ll begin repairs to the fortress at once. Once the walls are properly rebuilt, we can move forward with restoring the fief.”
At his words, Pesha’s brow furrowed sharply.
“That’s not what I’m asking! I want to know if you’re all right!”
Caught off guard, Owen fell silent for a moment.
Pesha’s gaze drifted naturally toward his right shoulder.
Though hidden beneath armor and appearing solid, the wound beneath surely remained.
Yet Owen did not answer.
When he looked up, he was watching her with an odd expression.
“Did you get hurt worse?”
“…No. I’m sound and well.”
“You should still be careful. The wound might reopen.”
As she was about to launch into further warning, a weighty sound reached them from behind.
Heavy footsteps and creaking armor.
When she turned, the Taligan Mercenary Corps who had returned with the Swap Army stood before them.
Their appearance was equally disheveled, but they caught their ragged breath and suddenly knelt.
The unexpected reinforcements had drawn curious glances, but when these armed men knelt before the lord, the soldiers and townspeople who had been stealing looks gasped in surprise.
Pesha’s eyes widened and her breath caught.
“C-commander….”
The mercenary at the front spoke first.
His voice cracked and wavered, punctuated by a series of hoarse coughs.
Just as he was working his lips to form words, Georg beside him cut in.
“Commander. It’s been a long time since we’ve seen you.”
Owen then stepped toward them and spoke.
“Yes, it has been. I’m not sure how you came to be sent as reinforcements, but you don’t look well. Get to your feet for now.”
“No, sir. We’ve come to ask your forgiveness.”

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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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