The Mad Spearman of the Northern Front - Chapter 288

—————
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 (288)
The Royal Palace Conference Room of the Kaerbaldt Kingdom.
The air that had settled beneath the lofty ceiling hung heavy and oppressive.
Across the war map hanging on the wall surface, crimson flags and black marks were densely planted, with the thickest line stretching long along the Ermatir Kingdom Border.
Zerperon Kaerbalt, seated upon the throne, remained utterly motionless throughout the report.
“The Ermatir Kingdom has… formed an alliance with the Seranello Kingdom and the Kalpol Kingdom?”
His voice emerged low and measured.
Before him, Count Rodkale Pelod, the Minister of Military Affairs, bowed his head deeply.
“Yes, Your Majesty. The assembled forces number fifty thousand. Intelligence confirms that Rasion Mertain, Belotian Aldion, and Dorcain Lucet have all joined their ranks.”
A moment of silence.
Rasion, Belotian, and Dorcain.
The elite warriors representing each kingdom had all gathered in one place.
This was no mere border dispute—it was a clear declaration of intent for decisive battle.
Zerperon’s eyes narrowed.
‘Seranello and Kalpol… they cannot withdraw now.’
They had already publicly assembled their forces and positioned their symbolic warriors at the forefront.
To retreat from this conflict would see their kingdom’s honor cast into the dust.
‘No….’
Honor mattered little now.
If they collapsed in this war without mounting even a single proper resistance….
‘They might face a tragic end.’
Yet contrary to such apprehensions, his mind had already grown certain of their downfall.
Had he not already witnessed it once?
The Empire’s advance.
The Empire’s current might was difficult to describe as an ordinary military force.
It resembled a natural calamity.
Like a colossal tempest sweeping across the earth, a power that crushed everything it touched.
But then it came.
One minister cautiously opened his mouth.
“Yet Your Majesty… what if, by some chance, the Allied Forces manage to halt the Imperial Army… what becomes of us?”
In that instant, the Conference Room fell silent as though frozen.
Several ministers averted their gazes.
Some swallowed dryly, others fidgeted needlessly with their sleeves.
That question stemmed not from hope, but from anxiety.
What if the Empire were stopped?
Their position on the Continent would inevitably plummet considerably.
They would not even dare raise their heads, watching the movements of not only the Empire but the surrounding kingdoms as well.
Yet breaking through that anxious silence, Count Rodkale spoke with a resolute expression.
“…I apologize, but such a thing will not occur.”
His voice was unwavering.
Every eye in the Conference Room turned toward him.
“Do you truly believe that three kingdoms united can withstand the Empire?”
His gaze grew cold and piercing.
“The Empire as it stands now is like an unstoppable war chariot that no one can halt. Once it begins to roll, it crushes everything in its path beneath its wheels. There is nothing mortal strength can do against it.”
His words were harsh, yet they reflected reality.
At his words, Zerperon spoke in a low voice.
“…You speak truly.”
His fingers drummed against the armrest of the throne.
“The Seranello Kingdom and Kalpol Kingdom are fools, deceived by Ermatir’s tongue, now clashing directly with the Empire.”
A quiet utterance.
“Idiots.”
Yet soon his gaze shifted, becoming calculating once more.
After this war ended, the three kingdoms would suffer grievous losses.
But only he and his own could predict the outcome.
The neighboring kingdoms might harbor different thoughts simply because three kingdoms had united.
And within that swirling current… depending on what moves he made.
‘I might yet recover from these present losses.’
Zerperon’s eyes gleamed with sharp calculation.
Soon after, Zerperon turned his head toward one of his attendants.
“Send letters at once to the Ruecardia Kingdom, Hollendrum Kingdom, and Noinektra Kingdom. This is urgent—prepare the fastest messengers!”
“Yes, Your Majesty!”
The attendant hurried from the room.
Zerperon immediately ordered the Secretary to bring writing materials and began composing the letters.
The pen nib, dipped in ink, glided across the parchment.
The current state of the war and the situation that would unfold once the three kingdoms’ alliance collapsed.
And the section detailing the ‘mutual benefits’ each kingdom could gain from this.
This was no mere letter of information.
A transaction, not an alliance.
Abandoning the hollow purpose of resisting the Empire, it was a sharing of methods to protect one another within this vast current of change.
Zerperon’s gaze deepened with each passing moment.
If his intentions were properly conveyed through these letters, the Kaerbaldt Kingdom would become not merely a defeated nation… but a counterbalance.
He paused, pen in hand, as he wrote the final sentence.
‘If only… I could loosen even slightly the noose tightening around our kingdom’s neck.’
The candle flickered.
And in Zerperon’s eyes, a desperate longing wavered.
* * *
Whoooosh—crack, crack, crack, crack, crack, crack, crack!
With a sound like the sky splitting open, black specks erupted upward in unison.
Arteon’s eyes narrowed to slits as an enormous rain of arrows descended to blanket the heavens.
‘This is….’
Dangerous.
Thousands of arrows was an understatement.
The archers who had unleashed this barrage likely numbered over ten thousand.
Ten thousand arrowheads descending upon a single point—even a warrior skilled in wielding Aura could not escape such peril.
At this range, there was nowhere to flee.
But then it happened.
“These insane bastards!”
Belotian gnashed his teeth and cried out.
They had unleashed arrows without warning while he and Arteon were locked in combat.
It was a violation of the unspoken code of the Battlefield.
In that instant.
Snap!
Rasion seized Belotian’s collar with brutal force.
“Stay at my side! Run with everything you have until I give the signal!”
Before the words had even finished, he hurled himself toward the Allied Forces Formation with all his might.
Belotian cursed even as he followed close behind.
“Damn it!”
Both men’s feet tore at the ground, propelling them forward.
Dust erupted around them, and their breathing grew ragged from the desperation of the moment.
Yet no matter how fast they ran, they could not fully escape the rain of arrows.
As they reached the very edge of the falling arrows’ range.
“Raaaaaaaaahhhhh!”
Rasion roared, drawing forth his Aura.
A blue radiance flowed across his skin, converging upon his Shield.
The Shield in his grip blazed with azure light, and a hemispherical Aura barrier materialized around him.
Ting-ting-ting-ting-ting-ting-ting-ting-ting-ting-ting-ting-clang!
The sound of metal and Aura colliding erupted like continuous thunder.
Sparks cascaded across the Shield’s surface, and successive impacts reverberated through Rasion’s body, his legs trembling as they sank into the earth.
One step back. Half a step back.
He clenched his teeth and held firm.
Arrowheads ricocheted off the Shield, scattering in all directions.
Belotian huddled within the hemisphere, grinding his teeth.
For mere seconds, the arrows fell.
Yet those few seconds felt like an eternity to Rasion and Belotian.
And then the arrow storm ceased.
With a final ping, the last arrowhead fell.
Stagger.
Rasion lowered his Shield, his body swaying violently.
The impact had been powerful enough to buckle his legs.
He breathed heavily through clenched teeth, his Shield’s surface scarred with arrow marks, his Aura depleted by more than half.
Belotian swiftly hooked his arm beneath the man’s shoulder, supporting him as they moved.
“He can still shoot! Run, now!”
“Ugh…!”
The two resumed their desperate sprint.
And just as it seemed he could faintly hear the bowstring being drawn again ahead of them.
Whoosh.
Belotian turned his head by pure instinct.
He had to know what had become of that man in the midst of this torrential arrow barrage.
‘Surely….’
No matter how formidable he was, without a shield in such circumstances, he should have sustained injuries, shouldn’t he?
Yet in that very spot where arrows had blanketed everything in darkness.
“…!”
Belotian’s eyes widened in shock.
That man stood motionless at the center where smoke and dust were settling.
The ground around him was gouged as though struck repeatedly by a colossal hammer, and hundreds of arrows lay shattered in a circle around him.
Within a few paces of his position, as if an invisible barrier existed there, the arrows had been deflected without touching him—the evidence was unmistakable.
‘Certainly….’
The danger was undeniable.
Yet why was it.
Even watching such a dense volley descend, he felt no doubt that it could be stopped.
“Hah….”
Arteon, observing the arrows embedded thickly around him, shifted his gaze toward where the Allied Forces soldiers stood.
Non-interference in combat between warriors was, in a sense, an unspoken code across the Continent.
The fact that they had shattered even that code to launch such an assault meant.
“They have no intention whatsoever of withdrawing.”
Arteon’s gaze turned toward the Allied Forces formation.
The sheer quantity of arrows they had expended was staggering.
This single volley alone must have depleted the supply warehouse noticeably.
Yet they would not stop.
Even if it meant emptying their entire arsenal, capturing him would be worth a hundred times the cost.
Should the arrows continue in relentless waves, even he could not guarantee he would emerge unscathed indefinitely.
Aura was not infinite, and the body that wielded it had its limits.
It was then.
Bwoooooooooo!
A familiar horn call.
From the Imperial Army formation, the signal for withdrawal rang out.
The air, rigid with tension, trembled slightly.
Soon after, the sound of hoofbeats approached harshly.
“Unit Commander!”
It was Isaac.
Beside him as he rode, the war horse that Arteon had originally ridden galloped alongside him.
Isaac, who had halted before Arteon, spoke.
“The Commander orders an immediate withdrawal!”
A brief and decisive report.
Isaac extended the reins toward Arteon.
The horse’s breathing was ragged.
Even the animal had grown excited by the heat and tension of the battlefield.
Yet Arteon gazed silently at the Allied Forces’ Formation for a moment.
Scattered soldiers, tense Archers, and the distant gaze of a Commander watching from afar.
This war….
He pressed his lips firmly together.
For some reason, he felt as though much blood would spill.
Soon Arteon mounted the horse and turned his head.
“Let’s go.”
A brief word.
As Arteon lightly kicked the horse’s flank and moved toward the Imperial Army’s Formation, Isaac immediately urged his own mount forward to follow in Arteon’s wake.
From far away, the sound of bowstrings being drawn echoed from the Allied Forces’ Formation, but the distance had already widened sufficiently.
Those guys understood as well.
That this brief silence granted to them now was a critical moment to prepare for the next battle.
Soon the wind began to blow.
Flap, flap, flap!
The raised Flag began to flutter violently.
As if to proclaim that this silence was merely the harbinger of the tempest soon to come.
The first day on the Border of the Ermatir Kingdom.
As the distant sun set, the first day’s battle was drawing to a close.

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