Translator: Nox

Ch#232

232

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The moment he stepped out of the stone tower, a deafening roar that seemed to shake heaven and earth struck his ears.

Varkas turned his head toward the source of the sound and froze at the sight of the northern wall engulfed in flames.

It appeared the infiltration team had successfully destroyed the gate’s opening mechanism. He could faintly see a massive battering ram surging through the wide-open double iron gates.

Seeing the outer wall guards swarming like a cloud of locusts to block the enemy’s entry, Varkas hurriedly changed direction.

“It would be best to find another escape route.”

He could potentially break through the enemy lines to join the main force, but the risk was too high.

He glanced sideways at Gares, who was dressed shabbily in nothing but a velvet coat over a thin shirt.

If he dragged him into the thick of the battle in that state, the prince would be turned into mincemeat in an instant.

Tsk. Clicking his tongue softly, Varkas immediately began to sprint around the stone tower toward the southern outer wall. However, as soon as he rounded the corner of the building, he ran head-on into guards moving shells.

He instantly drew his sword and slashed the throat of the nearest soldier.

The helmeted head rolled across the ground, and a fountain of blood erupted from the severed neck. At the sight, a scream-like shout burst from the guards’ mouths.

“Intruder! An intruder is making off with the prisoner!”

Just then, a heavy explosion shook the air—likely the Imperial Army detonating a shell—and his cry was cut off before it was even half-delivered.

However, it seemed to have succeeded in drawing the attention of the soldiers patrolling the outer wall.

Seeing dozens of torches approaching, Varkas shoved Gares against the building wall and swung his sword horizontally at a soldier who had reached striking distance.

His blade, lightened to prevent arm cramps, tore through the man’s armor and sliced through muscle, entrails, and bone in a single stroke.

The man’s body was severed at the waist in an instant, and an agonizing scream tore from his lungs.

“M-Monster…!”

As if someone’s terror-stricken cry was a signal, the soldiers who had been rushing forward with weapons faltered and came to a halt.

Varkas did not miss the opening and immediately kicked off the ground.

Clad in minimal armor for the infiltration, his body moved as lightly as a warhorse casting off its yoke.

Dashing toward the enemy with the speed of an arrow, his blade buried itself deep into the torso of a pikeman at the front of the line.

Varkas dragged the sword downward, splitting the man to the crotch in one motion, then immediately pivoted his blade to sever the knees of an infantryman who was late to take a defensive stance. The soldier, losing both legs in an instant, slammed face-first into the dirt.

A pikeman watching the scene with a face pale with terror let out a frenzied roar and lunged at him. It was a movement closer to an instinctive struggle for survival than a strategic attack.

Varkas held his sword at a diagonal. He parried the halberd flying toward his head upward, then snapped the point of his blade vertically to plunge it between the soldier’s neck and collarbone.

Seeing three soldiers lose their lives in the blink of an eye, several others turned and fled.

Ignoring the retreating enemies, he barked an order at Gares.

“Stay close behind me!”

Gares, who had been standing in a dazed posture, scrambled to follow.

Varkas began to push through the enemy encirclement, taking care not to let the distance between him and Gares grow too wide. However, the path toward the west gate was completely blocked.

In this chaos, scaling the wall with a rope was out of the question.

I suppose breaking through the main force is the only way after all.

His mind raced as his eyes scanned the area for an exit, when a familiar voice called out from ahead.

“Your Excellency!”

Varkas whipped his head around and let out a small sigh of relief upon discovering the vanguard of the Imperial Army, which had already pushed into the inner courtyard.

The fact that the main force had successfully infiltrated the heart of the fortress meant the tide of battle had already turned.

He grabbed Gares by the arm and leaped into the courtyard where the melee was unfolding.

“I have rescued the Crown Prince! Escort him at once!”

Half a dozen heavily armed infantrymen immediately rushed toward them.

Varkas pushed Gares toward the soldiers as if handing over a burden and quickly surveyed the surroundings.

The Northerners were being scattered in all directions by the momentum of the Imperial Army, which was surging in like a broken dam from both the front and rear gates.

It was a natural outcome. Half of the rebel force consisted of militias who had never received proper military training. Once they lost their geographical advantage, there was no way the Northern rabble could withstand the elite Imperial troops.

Now that they had lost their only bargaining chip—the prisoner—no breakthrough remained for them.

“Take His Highness out of the fortress immediately.”

“Understood!”

The soldiers surrounding Gares immediately turned toward the gate.

Varkas sprinted to the very front of the line to clear an escape path.

At that exact moment, with a sharp whistle of displaced air, a bluish flash streaked toward him in a straight line.

Varkas instinctively raised his sword. Simultaneously, a heavy vibration rippled through him like a wave, traveling from his wrist to his elbow and up to his shoulder.

He quickly regained his center of gravity and looked up at the man pressing a sword against his own.

The pale light of the breaking dawn faintly illuminated the enemy’s massive silhouette. Though his face was hidden by a black helmet, his identity was not difficult to recognize.

“Bjorn…”

“It’s an honor. To think Your Excellency would remember a name like mine.”

The man sneered, leaning his weight even harder into the blade. Varkas gritted his teeth against the immense brute strength, then channeled his entire body’s power to deflect the opponent’s sword. He immediately moved to thrust his point into the enemy’s chest, but Bjorn quickly widened the distance between them.

Varkas hurriedly corrected his posture and glared at him with cold eyes.

“The outcome is already decided. Surrender now.”

“I can’t let it end so boringly.”

The man burst into a cackling laugh.

“If things are going to end anyway, shouldn’t I at least have some fun until the very last moment?”

It was not the bluff of a man driven into a corner. Two eyes, stained with a madness that did not fear ruin, burned like fire from within the helmet.

“Everyone calls you immortal. Shall we see if that’s actually true?”

With those final words, a massive blade lunged toward him.

Varkas immediately twisted his body to the side, swinging his sword to deflect the attack. However, his opponent instantly changed the blade’s trajectory and poured out a second strike. It was an agile sequence that belied his heavy build.

Instead of backing away, Varkas chose to dive straight in. Grabbing the flat of his blade with his other hand to parry the incoming strike, he sent the man’s arm flying upward.

Not missing that split-second opening, he slammed his cross-guard down onto the Northerner’s head. Because the man quickly jerked his head to the side, it wasn’t a direct hit, but the impact against the side of the helmet seemed significant enough to momentarily break his stance.

Varkas immediately unleashed his next attack. Heimdal desperately tried to regain his balance to parry the sword, but he was a step too late. The longsword, extending like an arrow, buried itself deep into his shoulder.

“This is for the debt from last time.”

“Ha… You certainly hold a grudge.”

The man, gripping the blade embedded in his shoulder with one hand, spoke with a voice full of mockery.

Varkas immediately twisted the hilt to widen the wound. Finally, a faint groan escaped from inside the helmet.

He watched the man desperately swallowing his pain as if observing a spectacle, then pulled his sword downward, forcing him to his knees.

The enemy commander, who had been holding out through gritted teeth, finally collapsed. Varkas, ruthlessly crushing the wrist of the man who still refused to let go of his sword under his military boot, murmured lowly.

“The game of war ends here.”

The Imperial soldiers, who had been watching the scene with bated breath, let out a collective victory cry.

On the other hand, the rebels who witnessed their leader’s defeat lost their will to fight in an instant and began to retreat, faltering in despair.