73 — Chapter 73

The ‘River of Wails’ began to redden with blood and tears, true to its name.

A spark born of a trivial dawn misunderstanding became, within days, a massive blaze that swallowed the entire border; Kairos’s 1st and 3rd legions and Valerian’s eastern forces, some 200,000 troops in total, clashed across the river.

The battlefield was hell itself.

“Kill them! Leave not a single one of those cursed snake-whelps!”
“Skin the wolf bastards and make their hides into banners!”

Soldiers from both nations, consumed by hatred and madness, swung blades at one another. The clash of steel and the tearing of flesh echoed without end. Fireballs launched by mages darkened the sky, and magic cannons atop the walls belched flames that swept entire battalions away. The river choked with corpses and shattered weapons and could no longer run; the banks turned into blood-soaked mud, littered with severed limbs and spilled entrails.

Men died. Comrades who had laughed together yesterday had their throats slit before their eyes; bellies were pierced and intestines spilled—horrors that became routine. Their deaths were not those of noble warriors but parts ground up by the vast machine called war.

Rian watched the entire inferno from the deepest, safest chamber of the Aster estate, through the massive mana crystal orb called the ‘Abyssal Eye.’ Not a flicker of emotion touched his pupils at the battlefield’s atrocities. Like a player looking down on a great chessboard from a god’s vantage, he coldly analyzed both armies’ movements, losses, and their commanders’ mistakes.

“Kairos’s ‘Steel Lion,’ General Bartos. Brave, but too reckless. He’s advancing without regard for supply lines and is losing his flank.”
“Valerian’s ‘Ice Witch’ Isabella. Her defensive Magic is excellent, but she’s overly cautious and missing decisive opportunities. If this continues, she’ll be drawn into attrition and wiped out.”

At his side, Meister Gideon and the commanders of the Shadow Blade waited in stifling tension for his next words.

“Master, a report from the ‘Night Ravens.’”

Kael pushed forward the latest intelligence from Argos through the battlefield chaos. The ‘Night Ravens’ were Argos’s most dangerous operatives, disguised as merchants, physicians, even corpse handlers, infiltrating deep into both armies.

“Kairos’s 3rd legion supply route passes through a swamp. The convoy’s guards are lax, and the commander is a greedy noble who takes bribes. Valerian’s mage detachment stores mana crystals in a secret vault in the ‘Red Rock Canyon.’ The guards are strict, but there’s a three-minute gap during shift change.”

Rian skimmed the report and moved pieces on the war map.

“Gideon, is the ‘gift’ ready?”

“Of course, young master! It’s the finest work—dwarven craftsmanship, my genius, and your devilish ideas combined!”

What Gideon presented was an improved ‘mana bomb.’ Fitted with a timer to detonate at a chosen moment, it scattered thousands of tiny poisoned needles instead of metal shrapnel—an inhumane weapon specialized for killing people.

“Good.”

Rian summoned the commander of the Shadow Blade’s assassination unit, the ‘Silent Dagger.’

“Tonight you strike Kairos’s supply route. Eliminate the convoy, including its commander, and burn the supplies. Leave, ‘by mistake,’ a few arrows identical to those used by Valerian’s forces at the scene.”

Then he looked to another commander.

“You go to Red Rock Canyon. Blow Valerian’s mana crystal vault to pieces. Don’t forget to leave a broken sword from the Kairos knights at the scene.”

The two commanders bowed without a word and melted into the darkness.

That night the battlefield entered a new phase. Kairos’s 3rd legion, cut off from supplies, fell into hunger and disarray, while Valerian’s mage corps, drained of mana, could no longer cast powerful Magic. Each side was certain the other had betrayed them with cowardly strikes, stoking the flames of hatred further.

The war sank even deeper into the mire.

Through the ‘Abyssal Eye,’ Rian watched his plan succeed perfectly. No satisfaction, no remorse crossed his face—only the cold reason that calculated the next move flashed there.

“Now that both feet are bound, it’s time to squeeze the neck.”

He pointed to one commander standing out on the war map: the ‘Charge Captain’ of Kairos’s 1st legion, Marquis Bronson. A commoner who rose solely by merit, he was a war hero universally trusted by his soldiers. His fierce charges repeatedly shattered Valerian’s defenses.

“He’s too competent. He might end the war too quickly. Prepare an ‘accident.’”

At Rian’s low command, Kael nodded quietly.

“What kind of accident shall we prepare, master?”

Rian thought for a moment, then for the first time a cruel smile tugged at his lips.

“There is no accident more tragic than being killed on the battlefield by a friendly arrow.”