“All units, on guard. The Blackblood War Chariot is in position. Lina, Iling—eyes sharp.” A flicker of urgency crossed Medith’s face. Sais clenched her jaw, mana driven to the brink, her whole body taut as a drawn bow, staring across the dark field.

Harrison scoffed and smiled. At his command, three Bonecrusher Arrows sprang loose.

Whooo—oom— A shockwave slammed outward the instant they launched. Operators were flipped like leaves in a gale. If the chariot weren’t reinforced, it would’ve splintered apart right there.

Inscribed with Wind Magic, the Bonecrusher Arrows cut the night like era-crossing beam cannons, scrawling brilliant lines of green and streaking for Dawnlight Castle faster than thunder outruns its own echo.

Even quick-eyed Sais could only throw herself to block the one racing for Iling’s watchtower.

“Hyah—haaa—!” Sais swung with everything she had. Dark Blade met Bonecrusher Arrow, and the collision hummed like an earthquake. Air twisted under the violent flow of magic.

Bang—clang—clatter-clatter— The Bonecrusher Arrow shattered. Every etched rune broke loose, became dust, and drifted away. The shaft couldn’t bear that world-breaking strike; it snapped in two and fell.

“Ugh—ah—!” A woman’s scream tore down from above. Sais’s twin Dark Blades were both broken. Her scarlet hair hung in chaos, and arcs of blood fell from the air, sketching a bleak and terrible beauty.

“Sais—!” Medith jolted, soul knocked clean off its hinges. She flashed, leapt, and caught Sais. Sais’s hands bled in sheets, trembling without end. Cold sweat slicked her brow and dripped. Lips once ruby-bright had gone pale.

Her charming face had no color now. Her body shook, a clear sign of grievous hurt.

“Sais, hold on. Medic—medic—!” Medith shouted in panic. In moments, medics with red crosses on their armbands arrived and rushed Sais off the field.

“How can this be? With Sais’s strength she barely stopped one?” Medith’s fists clenched, anger tight as wire. At that instant, three sharp watchtowers were punched clean through by one coarse arrow. Its spiral head unraveled their innards to nothing.

The towers dropped like melting chocolate. The Lina Sisters had jumped early, but blast-driven shrapnel still sliced their cheeks. Blood ran. Iling fared no better; when they found her she was clutching her arm, moaning through gritted teeth.

Those Bonecrusher Arrows, bolstered by Wind Magic, punched through the castle itself. Six gaping maws wounded the stone. Inside, spiral drill-scars made the eyes flinch. That power was fit for war engines; one honest hit into a formation and no shield or troop type would matter.

One volley like that could reap hundreds. The Bonecrusher Arrow had always had terrifying penetration. It lacked only speed and shaft resilience. Often, the arrow broke mid-flight, or distance dulled its bite.

Medith, helpful to a fault, fixed every flaw in one breath. She carried the favor all the way, solving speed, penetration, hardness, and a magic-breaking edge into one invincible weapon. Her “kindness” sowed a future mistake.

She likely never foresaw it. “Commander! We can’t hold!” a mercenary yelled. Without the Lina Sisters’ covering fire, the Hexclaw Legion surged like a black tide. With their cupful of strength, they couldn’t stop it.

“I… I can still fight… as long as I’m here… it’s fine…” Iling clutched her right arm, face pinched with pain. The sisters traded looks. Rita, still battle-worthy, moved to block on the wall. Lina turned to emergency treatment.

“This is… bad. Did the arrow graze you?!” Lina felt it the moment she touched. The blood in Iling’s arm flowed wrong—thick and sluggish. Foreign bits packed inside. The bone might be shattered to grit.

Iling gave a bitter smile and loosened her grip. Lina flinched. Half the flesh of Iling’s arm was gone. White bone forked out in cruel angles, and even that bone looked drilled by an explosive bit—frightening, aweful to behold.

“Clipped… by the arrow’s edge. If I hadn’t jumped, my head’d be gone…” Iling took the hit in the second wave. Almost the moment Sais screamed, another volley of Bonecrusher Arrows arrived. She could only jump on instinct to dodge.

In the scramble, her left hand was poorly placed. The grazing head carried off half her arm. Lina swallowed at the sight. A wound like this was likely beyond repair.

Wind Sprite healing can repair, not regrow. Time was a knife at their backs; every spark of mana was precious. Lina hesitated, then staunched the bleeding. Iling understood and breathed, soft as smoke, “Don’t mind me. We’re a step from the plan. Hold out, and we win.

I can still fight. Trust me. We swore it—after today, we won’t lose anyone ever again.” She forced a wan smile.

Lina’s eyes flashed with tears. She nodded hard, turned, and drew her bow to hold the line.

…

“That side’s about to fold. Well, the enemy has three reaper engines… Still, they lasted longer than I thought. Credit to Clive hesitating for a while.” Milia spoke low, remembering Medith’s midnight counsel, then looking at today… it was dreadful.

She was unsurprised by a near-collapse. To be honest, she’d expected only a few hundred left by now, the women barely breathing.

Sometime along the way, Milia realized she’d grown more like Medith on the battlefield. The situation was a cliff’s edge, yet she felt no panic, no fear. Death counts didn’t stir her. Lives became numbers, spoken and gone.

Around her, faces were set with final resolve. One more strike and the gate would break. Her mind was shockingly clear; she knew exactly what she had to do. “Is that good or bad?

Am I still me? Medith, do you feel this too?” Confusion trailed like mist. Was she still herself?

“Between good and evil lies a single thought. Don’t forget your oath.

We can never truly know if we’re good or evil; that’s just words. All we can do is protect what little we have.

Above all, don’t waver—hesitation is defeat.”

Medith’s words thundered in her mind and snapped her back to the present.

“Pers, get ready. On my order, spill the oil. Then follow the plan.” Milia spoke evenly. Pers gave no extra reply, only a nod. He directed men to haul round barrels marked with a red bullseye.

His face was cold, the world around him a void. Perhaps only books—and Medith’s secrets—could ever draw his eye.

…

“Report, sir. Frontline says enemy chiefs are all wounded to varying degrees. Their resistance’s cut down. They’re at the end of their rope. Erig at the side gate is about to break through. Victory’s near.” The scout rattled it off.

Harrison hummed and nodded, satisfied. “Small hiccups, but we’re on track. Let’s see… it’s 2:30.

Not bad. Much faster than expected. What did I calculate to think we’d fight till dawn?”

He felt something important had slipped his mind, but couldn’t catch it.

Manto’s steps clicked twice. He turned with a peculiar look. “You forgot Medith. Medith hasn’t acted once. Even when the Bonecrusher Arrows launched, she didn’t move.

With her power she could’ve stopped them, yet she chose not to. And tonight she looks strange—like her spirit’s off wandering.”

“Hm?” Harrison felt the chill. He raised his scope at Medith again. Her face wore the same bold, martial look as always, but her brows carried a thread of panic.

“Come to think, she hasn’t used her Lawbreaking Ability. Is she afraid of hitting her own, or…”

“They’re almost all dead. Do you really think Medith would care?”

“So you mean?”

“I don’t know… Clive’s about to charge. Truth and lies will sort themselves. Before that, shall we discuss the spoils?”

Harrison arched a brow. The inevitable had arrived. “Don’t worry, Sergeant-Major. Your share won’t be short. I’ll report it clean. Also, no matter what trick Medith plays, I won’t flinch. I’ve got a backup plan.”

“A backup plan…” Manto narrowed his eyes, thinking.

…

“Break—!” With Erig’s final thrust, the battered gate finally crashed down. The army roared at the sight of victory and pulled tight together. Erig spurred in first, two knight-captains at his side.

Milia felt no panic at Erig breaching within. Gerald and Norris flinched hard. Erig’s gaze swept and found Milia with her unmistakable look. She hadn’t given him trouble that day; now was time to settle accounts.

Right then, Milia smiled in a way that was wrong. Erig’s heart lurched. An omen as foul as midnight water washed over him.

A pungent smell drifted in. Erig sniffed twice. He glanced back at the massed Sage Soldiers outside, packed tight as bricks. His face went chalk-white. “No—back—back—!!”

The Sage Soldiers outside faltered, steps stuttering. Barrels floated into the sky.

Arrows punched the red marks. Viscous, acrid fire oil rained down. At the same time, one barrel was hurled farther out.

“Sniff… sniff… Fire oil?! But… why’s the smell off?” They had no time to wonder. Instinct pulled them back two steps. Milia’s fire arrow had already flown.

The oil caught at once.