The Mad Spearman of the Northern Front - Chapter 286

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

Mad Spearman of the Northern Front (286)
The Imperial Palace Garden breathed quietly beneath the midday sun.
Though much restoration remained to be done, the Palace had largely reclaimed its original splendor.
Neatly trimmed arborvitae and seasonal flowers swayed in the breeze throughout the Garden, while clouds stretched like white silk drifted slowly across the pond.
The water’s surface lay calm, yet the stones submerged beneath rested with weighty finality.
Even as news of war shook the Continent, this place alone remained mysteriously serene.
And through that tranquility, two men walked side by side.
Duke Carbain and Svein.
Between them flowed a silence heavier than words.
Their pace was measured, and only the steady crunch of gravel beneath their feet continued unbroken.
After a moment, Duke Carbain spoke first.
“I apologize for taking your time when you must have so much to attend to.”
“Not at all. How many in the Empire could walk like this with the Duke?”
Svein replied with an unruffled expression.
Indeed, Duke Carbain, having reached the 8th Star, was an idol to all warriors.
Merely conversing with him and receiving his experience could be invaluable learning.
Yet at Svein’s words, a faint smile crossed Duke Carbain’s lips.
“Thank you, even if merely polite words.”
“I speak sincerely.”
“Hah, I appreciate it. But… I heard something recently—that you’ve crossed blades with him before. Is it true?”
He had not specified who, yet Svein understood immediately.
The Empire’s new Sword, descended from the North.
He meant Arteon.
Svein lowered his head slightly.
“It was less a fight than… merely a Sparring Match.”
“Hah.”
Duke Carbain laughed softly.
It was a composed laugh, yet his eyes did not smile.
“I heard the intensity was quite considerable for a mere Sparring Match.”
“It was a Sparring Match for mutual development. Compared to the level at which ordinary Knights cross blades… it was necessarily somewhat more intense.”
His words were measured, yet the scene from that day flashed through Svein’s mind.
The thick smell of blood seeping deep.
The compression that tightened around his neck with each breath.
Duke Carbain walked a few steps further before suddenly stopping.
Two shadows stretched long across the pond’s surface.
The overlapping silhouettes wavered in the breeze upon the calm water.
“I’m curious about something… have you never crossed blades with me?”
He spoke of that day when, because of Belkakrode’s betrayal, they had been forced to turn their swords upon each other.
Svein nodded slowly.
Duke Carbain’s gaze tilted to the side.
“So tell me—is there a difference between him and me?”
The phrasing was indirect, but the meaning was unmistakable.
Who was the stronger of the two?
Svein did not answer immediately.
He took a moment to steady his breathing and gather his thoughts.
Within the tranquil garden, his gaze drifted across the surface of the pond.
Svein spoke, looking toward Carbain.
“To be perfectly honest… you did not fight me with your full strength either, did you?”
Carbain’s eyebrows twitched ever so slightly.
“Well…”
It was the truth.
At the time, with witnesses present, he had indeed used considerable power.
But since he had never intended to kill Svein, he could not claim to have fought with his full strength.
Svein, knowing this fact, answered in a measured tone.
“Therefore, an accurate comparison is difficult.”
However…
“But…”
Svein stared into empty space for a moment.
The days when he had clashed with that man under the guise of Sparring Matches flashed rapidly through his mind.
“Regarding that matter, if I were to speak with absolute certainty on one point…”
“…one point?”
Svein gazed into the void for a brief moment, then turned to look at Carbain and spoke.
“If he were to decide to kill me… I am certain that within ten exchanges, my head would fall to the ground.”
At those words, Carbain’s expression hardened like stone.
* * *
In the heart of the Allied Forces Camp.
Marcelo, the commander of the Ermatir Kingdom who held the position of Supreme Commander of the Allied Forces, felt his pupils dilate sharply.
His hand, gripping the commander’s telescope, trembled slightly.
‘What… what is this…?’
He had certainly seen it. No—despite having seen it, he wanted to deny it.
Two warriors rushed toward each other, and in the instant golden light flashed.
“…”
In a span shorter than the blink of an eye, Dorcain’s head soared into the sky.
After the head fell, the body mounted on the horse took a few more steps forward before collapsing to the ground.
It was a sight as though time itself had skipped a beat.
“C-Commander!”
To the trembling voice of his Adjutant, Marcelo could not respond.
Soon after, he clenched his teeth and muttered.
“How… how could this…”
He wanted to deny reality, but reason returned to him in an instant.
Along with it came an unbearable surge of rage.
“Damn it… Dorcain, that stupid bastard…!”
The original plan was for three 7-Star Warriors to apply pressure in a triangular formation.
Dorcain would create an opening from the front, while Rasion and Belotian would drive in from the flanks.
But that entire operation crumbled due to the reckless actions of a single man.
Marcelo stared at the two Warriors standing at the vanguard of the army.
‘What in blazes were they doing…!’
Could they not even stop Dorcain from charging forward?
No, more than that—how could they be so arrogant when they’d just heard that the Kaerbaldt Kingdom had collapsed so helplessly?
“…Damn it.”
Now only two 7-Star Warriors remained.
Rasion and Belotian.
These two alone would have to face that monster of a man.
But at that same moment, in that same space.
The ones most shocked by Dorcain’s death were Rasion and Belotian themselves.
“….”
“…Hah.”
A sigh that was almost a groan escaped Belotian’s lips.
He stared at the spot where Dorcain had fallen, his expression hardened.
Crimson blood seeped across the ground, spreading outward, while tension pressed down upon the entire battlefield.
Belotian spoke at last.
“The rumors… weren’t exaggerated after all.”
The two men knew Dorcain’s abilities better than anyone.
They had clashed with him on the battlefield for years, and they had felt firsthand how relentless his axe could be.
And yet such a man fell in a single strike?
Rasion clenched his teeth.
“He was far too reckless.”
Belotian answered quietly.
“It wasn’t like him. He… underestimated his opponent far too much.”
Silence fell between the two men.
There was simply nothing to say, no way to comprehend what had just happened.
But after that brief silence.
Rasion carefully opened his mouth.
“According to the rumors I’ve heard… there’s talk that this young man has already reached the 8th Star.”
Belotian’s eyes flashed.
“That’s insane.”
His tone was resolute.
“Dorcain falling in a single strike is shocking, but 8th Star? That’s far too exaggerated a rumor.”
The 8th Star was a realm that stood as divine to all Warriors across the Continent.
It was precisely for this reason that all the kingdoms of the Continent could unite against a single man—Duke Carbain of the Empire.
But that young-looking fellow is an 8th Star?
Belotian shook his head.
“It’s because Dorcain charged in so stupidly. If he’d been in that state earlier, I would’ve taken his head in a single exchange.”
“….”
Rasion maintained his silence in response to Belotian’s words.
Though they tried to deny it, both their hearts were racing.
Soon the two exchanged a brief glance and nodded at each other.
No matter what they said, this was a fight they couldn’t avoid.
Then….
“We go all out from the start.”
“Let’s not pull any of Dorcain’s foolish stunts.”
Both men seized their horses’ reins simultaneously.
Thud!
Two war horses immediately kicked off the ground and surged forward.
The commanders watching the scene swallowed silently.
The noise of the battlefield seemed to lower mysteriously.
But then.
Tap.
Arteon slowly dismounted from his horse.
His movements were leisurely, as if taking a stroll.
Then he gently stroked the neck of the horse that had carried him.
“You stay back.”
“Neeeigh!”
The war horse whinnied anxiously.
As Arteon gave the formation a gentle push with his back, the horse obediently retreated.
For a moment, the air stilled as if the wind had ceased.
An oddly chilling atmosphere.
Arteon watched the two warriors charging fiercely toward him.
And finally he spoke.
“Come down first.”
Whoooooom!
The Iglis gripped in Arteon’s hand vibrated.
Golden Aura flowed along the spear blade.
The light grew increasingly dense, and space itself seemed to tremble.
Then Arteon swung the spear horizontally.
Shuuuuuuck!
A crescent-shaped Aura stretched across the battlefield.
At that sight, Rasion and Belotian’s eyes widened simultaneously.
“…!”
This was different from what they expected.
The density, breadth, and speed of the Aura.
Instinct screamed first.
“Jump!”
Both men hurled themselves from their horses’ backs in near-perfect synchronization.
Crash! Crash! Crash! Crash! Crash! Crash! Crash! Boom!
Where the Aura had passed.
The earth split open in a long fissure, and the Allied Forces soldiers arrayed in formation behind it were swept away entirely.
“Gaaaaaaahhhhh!”
“Ahhhhhhhhh!”
In an instant, the battlefield was consumed by agony and screams.
Dozens of soldiers standing defenseless vanished without even comprehending their own deaths.
And surrounding them, a number easily twice that of the fallen cried out in terrible pain, grievously wounded.
In a single strike, over a hundred soldiers had been killed or rendered combat incapacitated.
“M-Medics!”
“Bring stretchers! Quickly!”
Chaos descended upon the battlefield in an instant, and Rasion and Belotian, dismounted from their horses, turned to gaze backward with furrowed brows.
“That damnable bastard…!”
“How dare you drag innocent soldiers into a duel between warriors?”
Belotian spoke, looking toward Arteon.
But Arteon merely regarded them with an impassive expression, unmoved by his words.
And he spoke.
“You dodged the attack and got your soldiers killed—so why blame me.”
His voice was soft, yet the Mana woven through it carried with crystalline clarity.
Killing intent flashed across Belotian’s eyes.
“You dog…!”
Whooooooosh!
But then, as the sound of a horn echoed from behind, the Allied Forces soldiers swiftly withdrew their formation.
“Fall back! Create distance!”
“Move quickly! We don’t know when the next attack will come!”
“Withdraw the formation!”
The damage inflicted in a single strike had been far too catastrophic.
As the Allied Forces soldiers rapidly retreated, Rasion and Belotian held back Arteon, buying time for their withdrawal.
And then.
“Let us withdraw our formation as well.”
The Supreme Commander of the Imperial Army.
Belkain too issued the command to withdraw the formation.
A battle between an 8th Star warrior and two 7th Star warriors.
Those who had transcended the mortal realm by far—to be caught in their clash was to risk losing one’s life in an instant.
As both formations rapidly withdrew several hundred meters, a vast arena had been created, wide enough that the combatants could no longer see one another.
Standing in the center of it all, the three men regarded one another.
In the air thick with dust and the smell of blood.
Rasion lowered his stance, while Belotian raised his sword.
And Arteon watched the two of them without the slightest change in expression.
His eyes were calm.
As if standing in the eye of a storm, there was no wavering.
Whiiiiing!
Though it was early autumn wind, it carried a rather biting chill.
As the wind swept his bangs aside, Arteon’s golden eyes settled with quiet composure.
Then Arteon raised Iglis, leveling it toward the two warriors.
“Come.”
And with that single word.
Boom!
Crash!
Rasion and Belotian’s forms began to charge toward Arteon.

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