The chirping of insects stretched on without end.

Trees stretched out dense branches, weaving together overhead.

Everything seemed unchanged from before.

"Strategist, order the troops to halt!"

"Barzak, call a stop to the march."

I gave the command without hesitation.

In moments like this, decisiveness mattered—no time for pointless questions.

Only after the entire army stood still did I ask:

"What did you find?"

"Strategist, though there are no footprints, the grass and trees here show signs of a large force passing through recently."

"So... an ambush?!"

"Barzak, Inner Energy!"

"Hah! Understood."

Barzak instantly grasped my meaning, unleashing his Inner Energy to blanket the entire army.

Troops weren’t constantly shielded by Inner Energy—it drained warriors to maintain coverage day and night. Without it, ambushes became terrifying: one side armored in energy, the other as vulnerable as soft tofu.

Even at a distance, Herates sensed movement.

*[They’ve spotted us! Strike now—before they regroup!]*

Baha Balm’s forces were still two to three hundred meters away. The ideal range was closer, within bowshot, but there was no time to wait.

Herates gave the signal. His army surged forward.

The next moment, insect chirps erupted—not the steady drone from before, but sharp, rhythmic bursts.

The forest remained filled only with insect sounds and the rustle of our troops pushing through branches.

Then, in an instant, shadowy figures emerged from all directions.

Iron arrows rained from every side, piercing Baha Balm’s ranks.

The Inner Energy shield came too late. Hundreds fell in seconds.

Not all wounds were fatal, but without treatment, death was inevitable.

"Hold formation! Counterattack!" I roared. Hiding was pointless now—this order had to be swift.

Baha Balm’s chaotic troops quickly rallied.

We closed the distance, minimizing their archers’ advantage.

Herates marveled at their swift reaction and decisive command, then ordered a retreat.

His plan was hit-and-run—bleed Baha Balm dry.

I noticed their orderly withdrawal: slow, methodical, raining arrows while avoiding close combat.

Casualties mounted under the arrow storm.

Lightly armored, they moved like ghosts through the dense forest—a clear ambush setup.

My mistake. My arrogance.

But regret had no place on the battlefield.

"Mentu, pick off distant enemies—leave the close ones to the soldiers. Barzak, ignore the rest. Shatter their lines."

"Understood!"

"Hah!"

The narrow terrain limited the frontline. Each clash claimed only about ten of our men.

But we were at a crushing disadvantage.

Their losses were single digits per wave.

They’d calculated perfectly: by the time we exited the forest, half our force would be gone.

On open plains, with wide fronts and equal strength, hundreds would fall per clash.

I wouldn’t fear them then—I held two thousand Wildfield Cavalry.

What troubled me now was their unnatural speed. Even lightly equipped, this was excessive.

They were retreating *while* fighting.

This was Herates’ pride. His command prowess was unmatched in the South, if not the continent.

As a warrior, he was merely B Rank. But his explosive leadership had awakened a unique talent:

**[Cunning General]**.

A legion-specialized gift. Zero boost to personal strength. Its sole effect: transforming his army’s formations at will.

For Herates, it was enough.

In this tangled forest where even marching was a struggle, his troops shifted formations like flowing water.

Front lines morphed into fish-scale arrays, clamping onto Baha Balm’s forces, then instantly coiled into serpent formations to disengage.

Rear light infantry unleashed crossbow bolts and javelins before vanishing into new positions.

They bled us dry while suffering almost no losses.

Battle formations were art.

Under **[Cunning General]**, that art reached its peak.

The scales tipped in their favor...

Or so it should have been.

At my order, Barzak charged alone—a reckless move that usually got commanders instantly focused down.

But this was Barzak.

The moment he broke formation, a thousand arrows targeted him.

A dense hail of arrows—inescapable.

He didn’t dodge. Barzak erupted with Inner Energy, deflecting most arrows. The few that struck couldn’t pierce his muscles.

Not even a flinch. Arrows jutting from his body, he crashed into their ranks.

No normal soldier would dare such a charge...

Barzak rode his black steed with unstoppable momentum. Trees or enemies—anything in his path was swept aside by his Great Halberd.

Their neat formations shattered. With every enemy he felled, Barzak’s Inner Energy surged higher.

**[Overlord Rider]**.

No one could deny Barzak’s talent now—unlike last time, when Chining tricked him into holding back.

**[Overlord Rider]**’s effect: his Inner Energy grew endlessly with every kill in a single battle.

Let him carve through thousands, and no one could withstand a single swing of his axe afterward.

Seeing Barzak’s blood-soaked fury, Baha Balm’s troops erupted in frenzy, sweeping away their earlier despair.

"AHHHH! MORE! GIVE ME MORE!"

A dozen arrows stuck in Barzak. Even he couldn’t avoid them all in the storm.

But his overwhelming Inner Energy kept them from piercing deep. Still, the sight made my eyelids twitch.

A Stanki soldier slashed a hand-javelin across Barzak’s arm, leaving a shallow cut.

In the next instant, Barzak’s Great Halberd slammed into him, hurling the soldier meters away.

"ROAR!!!"

A beastly roar tore through the Stanki ranks.

Herates stared at this monster. His head felt ready to explode.

*How do you fight this?!*

No one could last a single exchange head-on.

But that wasn’t his biggest worry. If they couldn’t win head-on, they could still retreat at full speed.

You couldn’t kill this juggernaut, but you could kite him, right?

And despite the frontline chaos, casualties were low—thanks to constant repositioning and loose formations. Barzak’s kills were manageable.

The real threat was the arrows sniping Stanki troops from the rear.

Too precise. Too powerful.

Inner Energy shields crumpled like paper. Every few seconds, one arrow claimed a life.

Nearly two thousand had fallen in the rear—almost a thousand felled by a single Baha Balm general.

Only his need to reload quivers had slowed the slaughter.

"Full retreat! Cease fire! Disengage at maximum speed!"

No more lingering. Their gains were already erased.

Baha Balm had lost around two thousand. The ambushing Stanki force had lost nearly four thousand.

They’d fatally underestimated the enemy generals...

If not for Barzak and Mentu, this would’ve been a massacre.

We’d have to wait for Karl’s backup...

"Don’t pursue."

I gave the order.

Chasing a cornered foe was folly.

Regroup, march on, and stay alert for another ambush.

Their commander was formidable... His leadership crushed mine. Without Barzak and Mentu, we’d have bled out here.

*Sigh.* My command skills still weren’t enough.

After marching awhile, darkness fell.

The already dim forest became nearly pitch-black.

We’d planned to exit before nightfall, but the ambush had delayed us too long.

Then—flames. My pupils contracted sharply.

Stanki was setting the forest ablaze.

They were burning their own natural barrier to erase us.

Fire assault was always the crudest, most effective tactic.

By day, such fires were easily spotted. With clear sightlines, most could escape—even with losses.

But now? The situation was dire.

Yet... I felt relief.

If they’d used trickery, I might have been helpless.

But forest fires? There was a way.

"Barzak, can you clear all the trees around us?"

"Easy enough."

"After clearing them, can you dig a wide trench around our perimeter?"

"Hmm... tough, but doable."

"Then do it."

A firebreak—removing fuel to stop the flames.

Normally impossible: protecting ten thousand men required a trench miles long.

But with Barzak as our human excavator? Simple. Even Chining could’ve managed it.

The enemy had prepared oil and torches. Flames erupted with terrifying speed.

Without that deep trench, we’d have been annihilated.

In the night, fire raged. Baha Balm’s army stood safe behind the firebreak, untouched by the reaper’s breath.

The fire’s glow illuminated my face.

Herates, already clear of the forest, stared in shock at the distant Baha Balm forces—untouched by flames, as if blessed by gods.

Fire assault was the hardest tactic to counter. Few understood flame dynamics; fewer could stay calm amid primal fear to find the simplest solution.

It was near-impossible.

He narrowed his eyes, studying that young face lit by firelight.

**[Sass Vies.]**

Herates carved that name deep into his memory.