Chapter 117
As the dim dawn slowly began to stretch across the land,
silence pressed down upon the earth.
No one dared to speak.
No one could even breathe properly.
Only eleven of them.
It was the overwhelming power displayed by knights the likes of which had never been seen before.
If they had been the Empire’s swordsmen or the Silver Cross Knights, it wouldn’t have been this shocking.
Their strength had already been proven countless times over the past decades.
But these knights were different.
They were like beings who had suddenly dropped from the sky.
The crimson storm of the battlefield.
Thus, Acrasion imprinted its presence upon the world.
“Huuh—.”
Dante took a short, deep breath and surveyed his surroundings.
It was a scene befitting the word “devastation.”
Within a hundred meters all around,
every enemy had been torn apart beyond recognition.
But that was not all.
Countless sword marks covered the land, too numerous to count.
Each one a trace of the magic that extended from Dante’s blade.
Dante gazed at the hellish scene he had created, lowering his eyes.
There was no guilt.
They were the enemy.
Still, an overwhelming feeling pressed heavily on his heart.
‘Did I kill too many?’
It had been intentional.
To end this fight quickly and minimize losses among their allies, this was necessary.
Even knowing this very well…
‘…Tch.’
He felt uneasy.
As if he had stepped over struggling insects in order to survive.
“Sir Dante.”
At that moment, Mileon spoke from behind.
“The battle is not over yet.”
He had probably guessed Dante’s mental state.
It seemed he was trying to pull Dante out of his brooding thoughts.
“What should we do?”
“…Resume the attack.”
The command structure had been annihilated.
Only a few great warriors who had led the front lines remained.
They could not sustain this war for long on their own.
If Dante pressed the attack a little more, the enemy would surely retreat.
“Acrasion, form a breakthrough formation!”
Mileon loudly relayed Dante’s order on purpose,
hoping the warriors of Caldrian would be terrified upon hearing it.
And his plan worked exactly as intended.
“Ugh…”
“Madmen!”
“They are not human! They’re not human!”
“Run… we need to run…”
The warriors, frozen in shock, fear, and disbelief, finally turned and began running toward the border.
Even the great warriors meant to control and lead them did the same.
“Maintain formation!”
“Withdraw the front line gradually!”
Controlling the panicked soldiers and preparing for a potential pursuit—nothing more.
Dante quietly observed them and mounted Arpheon.
The excited horses stamped their hooves, snorting.
They seemed eager to charge forward again, tearing through the enemy lines.
But Dante did not allow it.
“Acrasion will return to the Baies Fortress.”
“Orders received!”
“Orders received!”
This time, the response came clearly.
Dante himself had commanded the end of the battle.
The overwhelming magic that had distorted the surrounding space slowly settled.
Simultaneously, the horses gradually calmed.
Dante observed the retreating Caldrian soldiers, now thinning like a receding tide, and gently moved his horse.
The blood-soaked red earth squelched underfoot, producing a nasty sound.
“Any casualties?”
Dante asked Mileon.
“Sir Sierra received a minor thigh wound, and Sir Cain had a spear lodged in his shoulder.”
Dante glanced back at them.
“Hm…”
The two mentioned knights looked embarrassed.
Apparently, they were ashamed to be the only ones injured.
Cain, in particular, looked awkward with the spear still sticking out of his shoulder.
“Does it affect your swordsmanship?” Dante asked.
Cain quickly shook his head.
“The pain is minor. It won’t affect my movements, Commander.”
He answered without his usual playful tone.
“Once we reach the fortress, get treated immediately.”
“Orders received!”
Cain was an exceptional knight whose abilities had been awakened to a remarkable degree.
His physical prowess was nearly superhuman, and with some treatment, he would recover quickly.
Dante carefully observed Acrasion with his heavy gaze.
Aside from Sierra and Cain, no one had been wounded.
‘Magic is stable too.’
Even after breaking through tens of thousands of enemies twice and obliterating their command,
they did not seem overly exhausted.
‘They’ve grown stronger.’
Four years of intensive training under Dante, repeatedly facing life-or-death battles daily—it was only natural they had become stronger.
Dante quietly turned his head and rode toward Baies Fortress with Acrasion.
Unlike the slaughter of enemies, their movement was calm and measured.
Yet, their presence was overwhelmingly imposing.
Especially for the troops of Baies Fortress.
“…I am Rotten Dice, commander of Baies Fortress, paying my respects to Sir Dante, the rightful heir of the noble Aquites family.”
Rotten saluted with utmost respect.
Not because Dante bore the Aquites name,
but as a gesture to the savior of Baies, a knight who had displayed overwhelming power.
Even so, his eyes reflected disbelief—likely due to Dante’s age.
And he was not the only one.
Every soldier and knight gazing upon Dante bore expressions of shock.
“Dante? The son of Marquis Zenon?”
“That’s what they say.”
“He’s barely over ten, isn’t he?”
“Look at him. Even with age, he doesn’t seem older than fifteen.”
“How is this possible?”
They had witnessed it all with their own eyes.
But even so, they could not believe it.
Some soldiers pinched themselves, questioning if it was a dream.
“I heard he performed impressively in the Duchy…”
“I thought it was just a rumor.”
“But it wasn’t.”
Rumor had it that Dante Aquites led knights to repel a wave of monsters.
Most dismissed it as an exaggerated tale meant to glorify Zenon’s son.
But it was true—moreover, it was probably understated.
Gazes of awe and shock poured onto Dante and Acrasion.
It was a weighty atmosphere.
But Dante, accustomed to this in the Duchy, paid it little mind.
He merely addressed Rotten.
“Report.”
Dante was no ordinary knight.
He was the heir destined to inherit this vast, rugged marquisate.
It was perfectly normal for Rotten, commander of this forward fortress, to report the situation.
“The attack began last night.”
The report was brief.
Enemy movements had been unusual for several days, and at sunset, tens of thousands crossed the border.
Support had been requested but was blocked and had not yet arrived.
An invasion of this scale had not occurred in the past ten years.
Rotten speculated on the cause.
“According to spies within Caldrian, they spotted a battle-hardened warrior preparing for combat.”
“Hm.”
The battle-hardened warrior of Caldrian.
The Empire did not recognize him, but he was said to be on par with Zenon or Isabella—a great warrior.
“He’s beyond the border?”
“We cannot confirm yet, but it is highly likely.”
“Reason?”
“All spies sent the same information.”
If it were just one or two, it might be a mistake.
But if all spies report the same thing?
It was almost certainly true.
Furthermore, Caldrian’s movements changed suddenly after he acquired the information.
‘It must be true.’
Dante furrowed his brow.
Among Caldrian’s countless warriors, this one was the most savage, merciless, and strongest.
It seemed he intended to enter the battlefield personally.
“Thus, we consider the recent attack merely a prelude.”
“The real battle…”
“Yes. It will begin when that monstrous one reveals himself.”
Rotten’s body trembled slightly as he spoke.
Even before Dante and Acrasion, he was clearly afraid.
Dante pondered briefly, then asked again.
“Estimated time of attack?”
“Hm.”
Rotten hesitated.
It was not something easily calculated, considering numerous variables and Caldrian’s defeat today.
“Apologies, I need more time to consider.”
Dante nodded with a slight smile.
He was pleased with the answer.
‘Reliable, cautious, with few mistakes.’
If Rotten had answered immediately, Dante might have been disappointed.
“Summon the other fortress commanders. We must prepare for the enemy’s full-scale assault.”
“As you command.”
Rotten bowed respectfully and signaled his aides to carry out the orders immediately.
“And…”
Dante looked around.
“Order the troops to rest.”
Even half a day of battle had exhausted the soldiers of Baies Fortress.
What they desired most was a brief sleep.
Rotten’s expression showed deep appreciation at Dante’s command.
