Chapter 93: That Name, the Most Vicious Insult

Beneath Morning Light City, the two armies faced each other. At the far end of my sight, that handsome yet wicked young man was standing at the front of the army formation, wearing a crown with the bearing of a king, looking arrogantly in the direction where we stood.

Perhaps his name was Stevenson Tai Miguela, but for us, he would always be Stevenson de Miraze. I cursed this detestable name. I wished that all the misfortunes in the world would block his path in the name of justice and revenge; I wished that the wronged souls who died by his hand would haunt him and disturb him in the deepest nights, never allowing him a single moment of peaceful sleep; I wished that he would personally experience the misery of being abandoned by all his friends and kin, and the pain of ten thousand blades cutting into his body, dying in the most cruel circumstances in the world. Even after his death, I prayed that the kind Deities who sheltered lonely souls would ignore his existence, casting him into a desolate and dark world from which he could never escape, letting his soul be forever eroded by loneliness and fear, accompanied by eternal torment in the deepest depths of the earth, until the end of time itself.

Yes, this was a curse born from the darkest corner of the heart of an ordinary tavern owner’s son. The darkness and viciousness of this curse made even me feel frightened and shrinking inside, yet it came from the most honest thoughts in my heart. If I was destined to be cruel once in my life, then let it be now. I was willing to go against my very nature and preferences and pay any price to make this enemy before me receive the punishment he deserved.

Blood surged up to my face. On this battlefield filled with the neighing of war horses, I felt that everything was so quiet, so quiet that I could hear my own heartbeat.

After taking Silver Shield Castle, we had done our best to incorporate the city’s defenders into our ranks, but most of the soldiers still chose to leave. We did not try to stop them. The remaining battle had nothing to do with them anymore. They might still have felt ashamed of abandoning their comrades on the battlefield and fleeing alone, but they had no more reason to help us raise their swords against their own King and fellow soldiers. Counting the losses we had suffered in taking the castle, our current strength was still only about ten thousand men or so. To our enemy, we were still nothing more than a “rebel army” that perhaps could not be called weak, but was certainly not strong.

As for our enemy, Miraze, he not only had two complete legions of the Eastern Route Army and a large number of noble private soldiers, but he also controlled the Royal Guard that protected the Royal Capital, as well as the large armed forces that Marquis Meneval and Duke Gallett had gathered in the capital to contend for the throne. Altogether, his forces numbered no fewer than fifty thousand.

Even so, after taking Silver Shield Castle, we still held the initiative in this battle:

For Miraze, Fred’s death was a necessary condition for reaching a truce with the Cretans. He had to kill us before we fled east or west; otherwise, all the power he had just gained would vanish in an instant. Even if we did not attack Morning Light City, he would take the initiative to attack Silver Shield Castle. He had no right to choose whether to fight or not. And that was the greatest initiative we, who were determined to take revenge, held.

That was also why he was willing to give up his towering city walls and fight us in a positional battle on the plain.

Of course, besides the harsh condition of having to kill Fred, perhaps his proud vanity as a king also made him choose to fight us face to face despite holding an absolute numerical advantage. From the very first time we had met, he had harbored deep jealousy and hatred toward Fred, believing that Fred was simply lucky and had stolen the honor that should have belonged to him. And now, perhaps this was the best opportunity for him to prove that he was better than my friend.

When the formations were set, he rode with his personal guards to the center of the battlefield and called out loudly: “General Guderian, we meet again. Perhaps you would be willing to have a talk with me, your old friend, right here. You may bring your attendant, that one called… called Lieutenant Colonel Gid. I promise I will not harm you. This is the promise of a king. If you do not trust me, you may bring your soldiers. I will not mind.”

His voice was arrogant and smug, filled with a strong sense of showing off, making people feel disgusted. Every time he uttered the word “I” in that royal manner, he would lightly narrow his eyes, as if speaking such a word could bring him great pleasure and satisfaction. If I could land a heavy punch on that smug face of his right now, I would pay any price.

Fred’s face was ashen, and his lips trembled uncontrollably with anger. He glanced at me, said nothing, and did not need to say anything. A moment later, Fred and I stood side by side on our horses, facing the deadly enemy who had harmed our friend. Just the two of us!

“General, long time no see. How have you been lately? What a pity that I cannot receive your kneeling homage upon my throne. Killing you might become a decision I will regret for the rest of my life, but unfortunately, I have no choice but to do it.”

Fred stood there just like that, like a magnificent sculpture. His eyes stared fixedly at Miraze’s face, like two beams of sword light searching for a gap to cut flesh.

“Ah, isn’t this that Lieutenant Colonel Gid? We have met before, haven’t we? How is it that you are still a Lieutenant Colonel? Oh, I forgot. I never issued the order to promote you. Perhaps I can make up for that and sign one right now.” Miraze did not care at all about Fred’s silence. He smugly turned his head and face toward me and continued to brag. At this moment, he looked no different from those nobles of the Royal Capital whom he had once despised – pretentious, flashy, and hypocritical, even going further than them. It seemed that because his ambition and identity had been suppressed for too long, once it erupted at the right moment, it had completely twisted his personality.

“What was it you said to me? First come, first served, wasn’t it? You were absolutely right. I completely agree. But there was one thing you got wrong. The one who took the best seat first was not General Guderian, but me. Do you understand? It was me. From the moment blood began to flow through my veins, I was destined to be the ruler of this country. No one can change that reality.”

“Miraze? Ever since I was very young, my mother told me that this lowly surname did not match my status. Likewise, the man bearing this lowly surname could not be my father. Do you remember what I told you? General, everyone has their own place. Only now have I truly sat in my own place. As for you, your place will always be beneath mine. Hahahaha…” He laughed wildly and neurotically. It was a bizarre kind of laughter. The muscles on his face twitched continuously in subtle places, as if every blood vessel and every nerve in his body was in an extremely excited state.

“I am the destined King. You see, General, before me, everything can only develop in the one and only correct direction. All the stumbling blocks in my path can only end in destruction. Do you still remember General Vincent? And those stupid fellows around him? I merely gave those idiots a tiny little hint, and they, afraid that the credit would fall to someone else, rushed forward eagerly to die. You really should have seen that sight, General. It was absolutely splendid. The only thing that displeased me was that bastard Vincent never stopped giving me orders even until the moment he died. Not being able to personally kill this person who gave me orders is truly regrettable. But then again, things in this world cannot always be perfect, can they? Just like now – I want to accept your surrender and have you serve me, yet I have no choice but to kill you. What a great pity, hahahaha…”

“…Oh, I am so happy today that I almost forgot why I came here. General Guderian, you may order your army to surrender. I will forgive all their crimes of rebellion and still recognize them as soldiers of Delanmaya. Including you, Lieutenant Colonel Gid. If you swear loyalty to me, I can keep your current rank, and I can even give you a promotion and a title. How about I make you a Baron? I can even give you a noble surname, for instance… Miraze. Baron Miraze. Oh, it sounds so familiar and warm. What do you think…”

I felt my head buzzing with noise. The flames of anger were not only burning in my heart, but had already ignited my skin and bones, ignited my soul. Baron Miraze – to me, this had already become the most vile and shameless label. I would have felt it was too much to insult anyone else with this name, except for this very person in front of me. And now, he actually put this name on my head without a care, completely without asking my opinion, as if it were only natural. There could be no more vicious insult than this! If I could endure even such an insult, then I would rather not continue to exist in this world as a person.

My hand rested on my sword, and in my eyes there was only that ugly mouth that kept moving and making sounds without stopping. I wanted revenge, with all my strength. Even if that man had hundreds of guards behind him, even if that man had tens of thousands of troops behind him, nothing could stop me from drawing my sword to take revenge. I wanted to kill this man…

“We did not come here to listen to your rambling.” Just as I was about to lose control of my body, my friend Fred’s voice sounded in my ears. His voice seemed as calm and pleasant as usual, but I could tell that surging endlessly beneath that calm current was his boundless anger and hatred.

“I came here to tell you three things, sir. First, Lieutenant Colonel Gid is not my attendant, but my friend. Lieutenant Colonel Riley, whom you abandoned at Dark Cloud Castle and who died there, is also my friend. Such friends are worth cherishing and protecting with one’s life. No matter who harms them, I am willing to pay any price to take revenge for them. Friend – this is a word that ignorant people like you will never understand, but I do not sympathize with you because of that.”

“Second, the reason I came here is to see how ugly the despicable creature about to die by my hand truly is. Now I have seen it…” Fred paused for a moment, then strengthened his tone of disgust and said heavily: “You are ugly to just the right degree – enough for me to kill you without feeling guilty, yet not so much that seeing you would endanger my health.”

“Third, I did not see the King of this country. I only saw a Baron wearing a crown…”

“You will always be Baron Miraze. This title will follow you into the grave. Until the day you die, you cannot change this fact…”

“Let us meet on the battlefield, Miraze… Baron!”

Fred finished speaking with deep venom, then immediately led me away without staying a single moment longer. It was as if the air here had been polluted by someone’s breathing and had become too filthy to breathe.

Behind us came Miraze’s hysterical voice:

“Address me as Your Majesty, Your Majesty! Do you hear me! I am forever no longer a Baron, forever…”

“I will take your head, stop the war in the south, and wipe out the Winston in the north. After stopping this war, I will personally lead a campaign against Crete and crush those barbarians who once invaded my land. Five years – no, just three. Three years from now, my Delanmaya will become the most powerful empire on the entire continent, surpassing every dynasty in history. My royal footsteps will tread upon every piece of land on this continent, and my military might will crush everything that does not submit to me…”

“My name will be immortalized in the world, and my dynasty will last for ten thousand generations. You must address me as Your Majesty…”

“I am the King… Your Majesty…”

I had not expected Fred’s words to provoke Miraze so deeply, like a magic curse. He shouted abnormally like a madman, not stopping even when his throat became hoarse. Rather than trying to prove his own worth in this way, it was more like he was trying to prove the reality of his own existence. His originally clear voice cracked because of his congested vocal cords, like torn cloth being brutally trampled. Even the howls of wild dogs devouring corpses on the wasteland sounded better than this. If his guards had not forcefully held him back, the deranged Miraze might have already ridden alone toward our formation by now.

Listening to the mad barking like “I am the King” that kept drifting over with the wind, I felt much more at ease in my heart, and a smile I had not worn for a long time appeared on my face.

Fred’s words had deeply enraged Miraze. Not long after Fred returned to our position, the horn of attack sounded.

Had the final battle finally begun?

I gripped the long sword in my hand tightly. Even through the soft Knight’s gloves, I could still feel the cold touch coming from the hilt. The gloves had not completely blocked out the winter chill. The cool sensation stimulated my nerves and sharpened my spirit. There was no sweat in my palms – only the unwavering resolve of an avenger. For the first time ever, I did not feel disgust toward this battle. On the contrary, this was exactly what I had been looking forward to. I looked forward to this battle, looked forward to fighting, to staking my life. There was one reason that made me swing my sword with strength, like a truly bloodthirsty person.

A force of about three thousand Heavy Cavalry surged out from behind Miraze. Their horses’ hooves struck the dry, cracked frozen ground, producing faint but solid sounds. The riders’ faces were blocked by helmets with visors, making it impossible for us to see their faces clearly.

This was good, wasn’t it? If we could see the frightened or conflicted faces of these fellow countrymen and brothers, perhaps we might hold back during the fight.

“So it really is the cavalry moving out first? Such an uncreative move.” Poirot’s tone seemed very relaxed, as if he were making snide remarks.

“You call that cavalry? If I had not planned ahead, just give me five hundred Star Knights and I could deal with them within the time it takes to eat a meal. If my losses exceeded thirty men, I would lose my blades to you.” Red Flame stared hard at the charging formation kicking up dust ahead, the warlike blood boiling beneath his skin, raising his morale high.

“We agreed that this is our business. There is no need for you to interfere. Besides, what use would I have for your blades? Would I give them away to please some girl… Ow ow ow ow ow…” While he was speaking, the Necromantic Warlock, who had been talking nonsense, suddenly found a Dark Elf’s hand attached to his right ear.

“Give them to which girl to please her?” Miss Eliot – oh, no, she should now be called Mrs. Poirot – asked in a coquettish voice while idly playing with her beloved large chain flail with her free right hand, looking playfully at her husband with both eyes.

“Ouch, of course… of course I meant for you. Red Flame’s twin blades are shiny and exquisite, and they would match the set of armor you are wearing. If you used them to fight, you would surely… ah, surely look heroic and graceful, attracting the world’s attention, admired by all, becoming the most beautiful violet on this battlefield…” With his “handle” firmly in his wife’s grip, Poirot was now saying sugary words without thinking, with a complicated expression of pain and happiness on his face. After marriage, Eliot was no longer always the naive, unworldly girl she used to be. She had also gained a deeper understanding of her beloved’s past misdeeds. The evil bloodline of the Dark Elf was finally gradually showing itself in Eliot. Although the Eliot around us was still that gentle, kind, and somewhat naive little girl, Poirot had completely lost his sense of dignity and initiative as a man in front of her.

While this flirtatious battlefield interlude was happening, Roll had already led a unit of Light Infantry charging out of the formation, directly meeting the onrushing Heavy Cavalry head-on.

On the plain, using Light Infantry to directly confront charging Heavy Cavalry, while also being at a numerical disadvantage – anyone making such a decision under any circumstances could only be described as “stupid.” We seemed to be doing something stupid, so stupid that even our enemies were stunned. Seeing Roll and his men pouring out of the formation, those cavalrymen almost did not know how to react, and even slowed their speed a little.

When the two sides in the engagement were less than twenty paces apart, an astonishing scene appeared: the war horses in the front row suddenly let out mournful cries in unison and fell to the ground one after another. Less than a quarter of the cavalrymen continued charging forward. After that, those remaining front-row riders met the same bad luck as their comrades. Another batch of horses fell without any warning.

When horses running at high speed stumbled, they often paid the price of broken leg bones. Our enemies were no exception. Those injured horses that had lost the ability to run lay on their sides on the ground, neighing in misery, struggling and twitching, completely ignoring the riders pinned beneath them. These unfortunate warriors were pressed down by their own horses and could not move. Some were simply crushed to death on the ground.

The neat formation and strong inertia made the riders in the rear rows uncontrollably rush to the side of the fallen horses. Caught off guard, they had no time to react and, following the laws of nature, obediently tumbled to the ground, accepting the same fate as the front-row cavalrymen. In an instant, the stumbling of one row turned into chaos across the whole area. In the end, only the last dozen or so rows of riders managed to stop their horses in time, but they no longer had the power to change the outcome of the battle.

This was, of course, not the work of the Deities of fortune using their power because they favored us, but rather our own doing. Long before the battle began, Poirot had already led our team of Mages, using the opportunity of clearing the battlefield, to set up several layers of magical traps in the places where the enemy cavalry might attack us. This magic called “Grease Spell” was only a very low-level and ordinary spell that could use magical power to reduce the friction on the surface of objects. Before this, it had mostly been a defensive spell that Mages cast on their own bodies to avoid attacks, and occasionally it was used as a prank to make others fall. Its duration was enough for it to remain effective for quite a while after the battle started. Moreover, concealed by the ice and snow, a small slip underfoot would often be ignored by the enemy who was also clearing the battlefield, making it far more covert than ordinary trip ropes.

For the prepared Light Infantry, the effect of the Grease Spell was not very noticeable. But for cavalry charging at high speed, this large-area slipping was a fatal threat. Nothing could harm the combat effectiveness of cavalry more than their own comrades falling. Those soldiers wearing heavy armor, once separated from the support of their horses, were nothing more than clumsy, slow-moving live targets.

This was also why Poirot had said to Red Flame that this battle was “their business.”

Roll and his soldiers pounced forward fiercely, treating the enemies before them, who had almost no ability to resist, with the most cruel methods we knew. The favorable situation allowed them to calmly slit the enemies’ throats, cut open their arteries, and pierce their hearts without worrying about counterattacks. For some reason, the soldiers following Roll, even without having received any training in this regard, could instantly transform into bloodthirsty maniacs dwelling in the human world. They were not fighting; they were cruelly butchering the enemies before them. It was as if merely taking the opponents’ lives was no longer enough to satisfy their desires. Only blood spraying more wildly and human organs steaming with fresh heat could prove their bravery.

Perhaps this was because the performance of Roll – their commander – had stimulated them.

Even in a chaotic battle of several thousand people, you could easily spot Roll, because only he could fight in such a manner. He was like a human-shaped mold formed by poured and solidified blood plasma. You simply could not tell what colors his hair, his skin, his clothes, and his weapon had originally been. Every time he killed an opponent, he casually used a dagger to smear that person’s blood onto his own body and face. His movements were skillful and gentle, as if he had been killing people and smearing blood like this nonstop since the moment he was born. He never dodged the blood spray flying toward him. Instead, he always strode forward to meet it, and after passing through that rain of blood, he would continue to search for the source of the next rain of blood. Those red liquids carrying the energy of life were like a medicine to clear his mind and ease his pain. This warrior burdened with guilt and regret could only slightly relieve the oppression in his heart through this method. But without a doubt, the side effects of this medicine were also very obvious and terrifying.

Beside him, even if the good Deity Daremoth himself came in person, I was afraid he would go mad as well. At least, that was what I thought.

There was no need to stand beside them, no need to hear their words – our enemies were wavering. Not only the Heavy Cavalry who were fighting – or rather, being slaughtered – but also all those standing opposite us, pointing their weapons at us. There was no doubt about this. Faced with Roll’s almost desperate fighting style, even we who were his comrades felt chills down our spines, let alone how our opponents would feel.

And this was exactly the reason we had sent Roll first to complete this first clash that we were sure to win. Facing an opponent with an absolute numerical advantage, there were not many things we could rely on to win. If doing this could strike at the morale of Miraze’s army, we did not mind letting such a horrific scene appear before us.

Finally, a squadron of light cavalry charged out from the opposing formation and shot several volleys of arrows toward the middle of the battlefield to scatter the enemies who were slaughtering. Roll had already given the order to retreat the moment they began to move, so not many soldiers were actually harmed by the arrows. Those arrows, which did not distinguish friend from foe, fell from the sky, and some directly pierced through the bodies of the still-living cavalrymen, completely cutting off their chances of survival.

The enemy’s reinforcement force did not dare to continue pursuing, as they feared suffering the same miserable fate as their comrades.

And so, we opened the curtain on this campaign with a local victory.