“Full charge—” Medith fixed on Manto, mind taut like a drawn bow. The packed ranks rippled, then rose into a brick-red seawall, a human rampart that slammed her to a halt.

Resolve flashed across her eyes. She deliberately eased off, dropping behind her riders. Then, like oil hurled into a furnace, her Cavalry Corps shot forward at a speed that defied belief.

A small cyclone curled up from their passage. Even the many Sage Soldiers felt their guts ice over, as if this wave would crack their wall like thin ice.

“Ahhh—” The knights hurled themselves at that iron cliff. Heavy swords whirled; they crashed into spear-forest and steel tide. Bodies flipped like tossed dolls, some skewered and hung in the air like butchered game.

Yet their impact hit like a meteor. Heavy shields split cleanly, halves clattering like broken plates. The knights rushed in like moths to a flame, throwing themselves onto the killing ground without a pause. Their fury and will made the Sage Soldiers’ hearts quake. With each round of death-charges, the defensive line wore thin like frayed rope.

Every gap filled like mud in a flood, endless and relentless. The knights, though, were nearly spent to bone and ash.

“Long live His Majesty Ogathas—”

“Eunomia will never fall—”

“Sia City’s soldiers will never be slaves—”

The final wave ebbed, and the ranks exhaled as one. No one knew why, but those riders hit like thunder; with so few, they shredded five hundred men in full arms and ordered ranks. If there'd been more, the wall would’ve cracked for good.

In that slack heartbeat, the line gaped. A single figure came on like a cyclone, storming into the seam. Then everyone felt their stance tilt, strength leaking away like sand.

“Break-Army Aria: Suppression.” Medith’s blade rose and fell. She drew a round arc of steel, a circling crescent that sliced clean. A tight-packed hundred were parted like by a cutting machine—upper and lower, and the ground spilled its secret organs.

“Ah—!” Her roar ripped the air. All her magic flared like dry tinder. Green flooded her crystalline eyes. Her sword began to thrum, a hive-buzz of steel—“humm—humm—”

“Ah—kill her! Kill her!!” Manto jolted, toppled from the high platform, nearly broke his neck with the fall.

“Die—”

“The castle is mine—”

Soldiers lunged like mad dogs. “Damn it! Don’t kill her, keep her alive!” Every now and then, someone remembered the “promise,” barking reminders through the chaos.

For Medith, the world fell away. Only a single target burned in her sight—Manto, black-gold armor gleaming like night. She ignited her mana in an instant, turning into a green arrow that streaked for him.

“Hell—Medith!” Manto found his breath too late. He saw her coming and nearly died from fear alone. He crabbed backward, pointing with a shaking hand. “Don’t—don’t come closer! Kill her! Kill her! Rules change! Rules change! Whoever kills her, I make him Commander!”

“Protect the Sergeant Major—” The crowd surged like a tide toward Medith. She took it in, felt her magic spent to embers. “Silence Bomb...” The thought rose, but something in her refused. She knew she could kill Manto without it.

She bit down hard, then flung life-fire into a blaze. Her green hair bleached to snow right before their eyes. Her shape blurred like heat-haze, smashed through hundreds in a breath, and appeared behind Manto.

Hundreds of heads sprang skyward like tossed gourds. Their spear-gripping hands collapsed forward, heavy and useless. Blood ran like a river, painting the earth.

Up with them flew a helm-capped head—black gold and a pheasant plume streaming like a dying banner.

The headless giant body sagged to its knees, then toppled hard, thunder on stone.

“Battle Song March: Light of Life.” Medith rode like a streak of sun, a lone rider breaking ten thousand. She blazed across the crowd like dawn’s first disk. Yes—dawn had come. The long-lost sun, no matter what, would cloak the earth in gold.

“Ah...” A soldier finally understood, freezing as if lightning struck him.

“Manto... the Sergeant Major...”

“The Sergeant Major is dead—”

“Ah—devil! The Green Devil killed the Sergeant Major—”

Their morale shattered like glass. That single sword, carving down hundreds and Manto, branded itself into their eyes. Fight leaked out of them; panic spilled in.

Medith seized the corpse. In three nimble bounds—thud, thud, thud—she sprang up the high platform.

Sword in her right, she hoisted the headless body skyward with her left, then loosed a primordial bellow: “Raaahhhh—Manto is dead—!

Who still dares resist—your end will be like this brute—!!”

“Medith!!!” Sais heard and broke into tears of joy. She had done it. She really had.

“Commander! Bad news! The Sergeant Major—he—he—!” More Sage Soldiers had seen her. What froze them worse was that headless hulk.

“I know.” Erig’s voice was calm enough to chill bone. “So that’s it? A neat lure-the-tiger-out and burn-the-boats gambit. Medith... Medith Waheit, you’re terrifying. With such wit, nerve, and hands like knives—give you a crown, and the continent falls in time.”

“Second Brother! Big Brother, he...” Sinis panicked, lost for words.

Right then—“Wooo-wooo-wooo—wooo-wooo—wooo-wooo—” Urgent, razor-sharp horns stabbed the air.

Palmer gasped, disbelief ringing in his throat. “That’s a rescue horn!! Reinforcements!”

“What?! Reinforcements!!” Erig started like a man jabbed by ice. That horn was real—and it was the Royal Capital’s cadence. He couldn’t mistake it. When it sounded, it meant at least a duke or higher had arrived, and they’d blown the war-call. Sia City’s siege had spread long ago; only the help hadn’t reached them yet.

Sais and the others lit up like lanterns. “Ha! You’re finished! The Mountain Bandits will pull out at once. Our citizens will swell with courage. You’ve lost your spine—what can you do? The gate’s shut, right? It’s your grave now. Ha! You brought this on yourselves!”

“Ships docking and breaking the wall take at least two hours,” Erig said, his eyes cold as a winter lake. “Before that, I’ll finish you. A pity I won’t see you stripped and sobbing in the dirt.”

“Still want a trapped-beast brawl? You already lost!!” Milia shouted, voice sharp as a whip.

“Lost? Who told you we lost?” Erig’s grin twisted, all teeth and shadow. “You really think Lord Manto left no back hand? That was fake! A double, idiots!

War—starts now!

Brats!!!” His roar cut the air, and the army lunged.

Sais and the others blanched, souls flying, eyes round as plates. Milia recovered first, her voice cracking like a spark: “Kasda—!”

“What?!” Erig slammed to a halt like a horse at a cliff. “Could it be? Damn! That’s where the basement is!”

“Retreat—”

“Boom—”

A dreadful “Woooo—” rolled up from the deep. The ground beneath the statue caved like an abyss opening its maw. A sky-piercing pillar erupted, shattering the statue to dust, then swallowed the crowd in the square’s heart in a single gulp...