Chapter 869

Chapter 869

The sky was choked with thick layers of clouds, a dense haze that masked everything from view. I hadn’t truly grasped the extent of it until I soared into the white expanse myself, but the reality was undeniable once I was within. Yet, the lack of visibility was a minor inconvenience. Even in the heart of that blinding fog, Odd-Eye accurately tracked the location of the foes. For Enkrid, the task was equally simple; the powerful, rhythmic beating of the gryphons’ wings created a cacophony too massive to be suppressed.

*Kwaaa, Kwaaa.*

As they flew against the gale, a pungent, foul odor drifted in their wake. The combination of the noise and the stench served as a beacon for their exact coordinates.

*Kieeek!*

Driven either by reckless courage or a lingering spark of animal instinct, two gryphons emerged from their cloudy cover, closing in from both flanks. Odd-Eye adjusted its wings and came to a dead stop, angling its feathers against the rushing wind. It was a jarringly fast deceleration. As they came face-to-face with the two beasts, Enkrid swung Penna, which had transformed into a brutal, spiked mace.

*Pung! Ppeok!*

The skull of the creature on the left shattered instantly. The one on the right attempted a desperate peck in that split second, but the effort was futile. Enkrid’s reflexes were far superior to those of any beast. Furthermore, Odd-Eye was not a static target; sensing the trajectory of the right gryphon’s beak, Enkrid shifted slightly back. Their movement was unrestricted in every direction. Flying in the same sky didn’t make them equals; Odd-Eye possessed a speed and a range of multidimensional motion that left the gryphons far behind. Enkrid lunged forward with Penna. In that strike, the captured relic of the fallen knight—the blade that once rattled and coiled—tore deep into the gryphon’s chest.

*Ppeobeok.*
*Gwek.*

The dying shriek of the monster felt like a familiar tune.

“Too much noise.”

Enkrid retracted Penna and unsheathed Dawn, slicing through the creature’s neck as they glided past.

*Ping—. Whiiing.*

The only sound left was the whistle of cloven air, yet the gryphon’s severed head remained suspended for a moment before falling. By the end of this aerial skirmish, Enkrid had wiped out twenty-six of the Gryphon Riders.

—

“Look at that… Simlak is down.”

On the ground, the three southern knights watched with wide, disbelieving eyes. They had weighed various outcomes and scenarios, but this particular sight had never entered their imagination. Shock was unavoidable. However, the knight among them known for his stoicism was the first to transition from disbelief to action—from a state of surprise to a tactical response.

“Get all units into combat formation.”

Unless the opposition were fools, they would seize this opening. For days, the southern forces had been exerting pressure, moving into positions designed to maximize their advantage for the coming conflict. They had been preparing for a decisive engagement. Now, the momentum was shifting. Typically, they would dictate the start of the battle under their own preferred circumstances.

“We’ve lost the initiative.”

An unexpected winged horse had seized the sky, challenging the gryphon riders for dominance. Simlak was gone, and it took little effort to foresee the impending slaughter of the others.

“They’re going to be wiped out.”

Had the enemy not yet noticed the movements of the primary army, a retreat might have been feasible. However, despite the aerial threat of the gryphons, Naurillia had been diligent, constantly deploying their quasi-knights for scouting missions. A leader might be forgiven for a failed tactic, but one who fails in situational awareness is fundamentally flawed. Naurillia was led by competent commanders who never let a chance go to waste.

“Know your enemy and know yourself.”

The fundamental rule of engagement. He understood it well, and because of that, he knew the enemy would strike now. The knight of the Amethyst Order, Galluto, looked upward.

“Elma, Gellik. You two handle the enemy knight. If Cypress joins the fight, pool your strength.”

“Lien and Ingis are present as well,” Elma replied. She was the sole woman among the four, but in terms of pure combat prowess, she stood at the top. She harbored a desire to challenge Cypress in single combat.

“And don’t forget the one in the clouds who killed Simlak. A member of the Mad Order of Knights has arrived.”

The conclusion was easy to draw. Despite the mounting pressure, Galluto closed his eyes briefly. It wasn’t an empty show of calm; he needed to view the battlefield with absolute detachment. It was a long-standing practice. Taking a moment to breathe didn’t magically create a master plan, but it provided the clarity needed to avoid fatal errors. When he opened his eyes again, his dull, earth-toned gaze was filled with a stubborn, cold resolve.

“Forget the rest. Seize Cypress and retreat—that secures our win. Abandon the other knights to the main body of the army and employ every resource we have left.”

Their infantry outnumbered the enemy two-to-one. While the duels between knights would dictate the overall winner, the sheer weight of numbers was a factor. Even so, Galluto’s suggestion was desperate: sacrificing a portion of their superior numbers just to stall the enemy elites.

“Understood.”

In the hierarchy of the Amethyst Order, the four were technically peers, but Galluto was widely seen as the successor to the vice-captaincy. Elma and Gellik gave their consent. Internal friction before a clash was a recipe for disaster. They were knights—living weapons forged through a lifetime of training. Yet, what they hadn’t accounted for was the presence of those specific battle-hungry lunatics and their allies.

While some hesitated and others organized, the attack was launched. Galluto, Elma, and Gellik, as knights, all felt a sudden chill of impending doom. Their instincts screamed before their ears could register a sound. They dove in three separate directions.

The noise arrived late. Before the boom, a massive object cut a path through the air, narrowly missing the spot where they had stood. It moved with such velocity that even their enhanced vision couldn’t track its shape. The three felt the air compress and a violent gust surge outward. For a heartbeat, silence reigned as the projectile dragged the sound and air along with it before vanishing. It was the eerie calm that precedes a storm’s peak. That silence shattered.

*Kwaaaaaaaang!*

A deafening explosion echoed as a massive plume of debris erupted behind them, right in the middle of their main ranks.

Galluto knew that when a shock is sufficiently traumatizing, the screams are delayed. The realization of loss—the sight of a missing limb or a comrade who was just speaking a moment ago—takes a second to register. Only then does the human mind process the horror.

“……Kkyaaaagh!”

The screams began.

“What was that? Where did it come from?”
“Incoming! We’re under attack!”
“Is it sorcery?”

In an instant, years of discipline seemed to evaporate. Some men, faced with such a disaster, surrendered to terror. Knights were themselves disasters—beings made to dismantle armies—and yet, the rank and file weren’t all broken. A few soldiers, possessing the hearts of heroes if not the titles of knights, stood their ground.

“Get a grip on yourselves!”
“Stay in formation! Spread out!”
“Even if we are in the abyss—!”
“We keep fighting!”

The battle cry of the south rose up. *Even in hell, fight on!* Officers began to pull their units back into order. Galluto emerged from the settling grit.

“Do you see them?”

Gellik, the sharpest-eyed among them, squinted into the distance. “Four of them.”

Regardless of Naurillia’s movements or their own commander’s struggle in the sky, these intruders moved by their own rules. The southern knights didn’t yet know the man named Rem, and as the saying goes: ignorance comes at a heavy price.

—

“Slaughter them all. Enki.”

Burnion didn’t weep; instead, he struck his chest over his heart. Their job as a diversion was complete. Every man looked toward the heavens. Between the breaks in the clouds and the blue sky, small shapes shifted. The rain of stones and magic had ceased. They had become an audience to the falling gryphons and the miracle descending from above.

“Goddess of the Scales,” Burnion whispered. She never tipped the balance without reason; she must have granted their side a weight equal to the enemy’s. Beside him, Lapild added, “The War God is looking down on us.”

Every eye was fixed on Enkrid, who reigned over the heights.

The question of who held the upper hand was shifting.

“That demon!”
“The madman!”

Soldiers cheered in triumph. The grizzled veterans and the Red Cloak Order of Knights nodded in silence, refraining from loud celebration. They had served under a knight who had performed even greater miracles than what they were witnessing now. They had learned by watching his back and sharpened their blades in his shadow. Though they felt the thrill of the moment, they knew that if it were Cypress, he would find a way to win regardless of the odds. They remembered him succeeding in feats far more suicidal than this. The name “One Who Accomplishes Anything” was earned, not given.

Consequently, the Order stayed composed. Only two of the more boisterous members spoke up.

“He can certainly fight!”
“That’s a hell of a show.”

No amount of training could suppress their natural personalities. Their leader, Cypress, allowed a small smile to touch his face, his eyes softening slightly.

“A pleasant sight.”

He offered no further critique. He signaled for Aurelia to approach. The enemy’s location was confirmed; it was time to engage.

“Grandfather, the madmen have already made their move.”

Aurelia referred to the Mad Order of Knights, though she omitted their formal title—a sentiment Cypress understood.

“They are quite fast, aren’t they?”

The old knight seemed to reflect on the weight of the passing years. His expression grew contemplative and heavy. He knew the time for action had arrived. He had sensed the moment just as they had, though the “madmen” had acted with a split-second head start, as if they were certain their leader in the sky would achieve a total victory. He recalled the words of King Crang.

“People assume I’ve placed myself in danger,” the king had said. “Quite the opposite. I have found the safest sanctuary in this entire conflict. Even if my personal power fails, I am standing where someone will always shield me.”

Crang’s blue eyes had burned with conviction as he spoke, his golden hair catching the light. It was a remarkably bold claim.

“If the ground my knight stands upon isn’t the safest place on earth, then what is?”

What did that truly mean? The king had gambled his life on the army’s success. If they fell here, he wouldn’t plead for mercy. He would fight to the last, betting on the outcome with the best odds.

The southern forces had tried to buy time with their gryphon tactics. Normally, the Red Cloak Order of Knights would have been divided and sent to various fronts to counter such tricks, but the king had kept them together here.

“Defend what you hold dear—with total freedom. Act as you see fit.”

The king had made a promise they hadn’t even asked for. Though he wasn’t a knight himself, he had sworn it like an oath.

“To protect and fight for what you believe in—that was your wish, was it not?”

Indeed, it was. The southern soldiers were his kin. If commanded, a knight would sacrifice them and dive into the fire himself. Such was the nature of his vow. But the heart and the duty do not always align. Crang had recognized this, telling him it was acceptable for them to be one and the same. The king had then pivoted to his own desires.

“Who really wins if this war drags on? The Empire? The Demon-lands? I’m not sure. But I know for certain that as the fighting continues, more people will suffer.”

He wasn’t just thinking of Naurillia. Cypress realized the king’s vision was far grander than his own.

“It might be a political liability,” he mused, “but in today’s Naurillia, no noble is foolish enough to challenge the throne.” The Council of Ten was effectively neutralized; six were staunch royalists, and the other four were the king’s own agents playing the part of the opposition. It was masterful statecraft. Crang had shared all of this with him.

“I plan to take them all on—the Demon-lands, the Empire, and anyone else who fans the flames of war.”

Cypress had merely nodded. He realized then that the “safest place” the king spoke of wasn’t necessarily at Cypress’s side. The king was referring to the space beside that Mad Order knight, Enkrid.

“Intriguing, truly intriguing.”

Cypress spoke as if reciting a poem. His voice had a natural lilt. He was a gifted singer; had he not taken up the sword, he would have been a renowned bard. Only his inner circle knew he had composed the very ballad that made him famous.

Aurelia understood her grandfather well. He wasn’t given to shallow sentimentality. The stillness in his eyes was replaced by a sharp, renewed interest.

“Aurelia.”

“Yes.”

“These aren’t the only ones left. Double the scouting efforts. Use the main force to see if more hostiles are approaching. Detachments have likely crossed the border, but we aren’t looking behind us—we are looking ahead. The king’s command is simple: press forward.”

That command was in perfect harmony with his own intent.

“I trust the rear can fend for itself. We will break whatever comes at us from the front. That is what I will do.”

Aurelia thought briefly of Aisia. The duty of protecting the crown didn’t fall on her shoulders alone. Cypress, the knight known for his gentle demeanor, looked toward the horizon. The Mad Order of Knights was already in the thick of it. He wondered how they would fare. It was, without a doubt, a spectacle worth observing.