Silence lingered in the conference room.
The words of Count Denver had crossed the line of common sense.
Daniel Cairo spoke with a somewhat weary voice. “... I acknowledge that Roman Dmitri is an exceptional swordsman. At merely twenty years of age, defeating Homeros and proving himself as a Third Star swordsman is indeed a blessing for the Cairo Kingdom. However, those gathered here know well, do they not? A mere Roman Dmitri cannot influence the larger tide of events.”
Cairo’s four factions.
The reason they desired Roman was due to his future potential.
Having achieved the Third Star at such a young age, everyone was eager to recruit him, but if one were to compare current martial strength, many were stronger than him.
This meant that against the Hector Kingdom, Roman Dmitri was nothing.
His plan to incite division from within appeared to be nothing more than the reckless bravado of youth, someone who had yet to experience the world properly.
This time, even Marquis Benedict sided with the king. “I share the same sentiment. Roman Dmitri is the future of Cairo. Rather than losing our talents to unnecessary conflicts, it is wiser to minimize the kingdom's losses through prudent judgment. After all, the southern front has already fallen to the Hector Kingdom, has it not? It is a battle we have lost from the start.”
It was a realistic assessment.
Moreover, Roman Dmitri was the target that Marquis Benedict wished to recruit.
They could not simply let him die.
Having laid sufficient groundwork at the Southern Training Camp, they planned to recruit him as soon as his military service was resolved.
It was a strategy that everyone opposed.
Based solely on the information available, there was no one who would support Count Denver.
‘What should I do?’ Count Denver swallowed his laughter.
It was information that could allow him to take the lead in managing the rankings.
If he were to reveal the truth, it would surely turn the atmosphere around, but Count Denver had no reason to go that far, even if Cairo’s blood flowed through his veins.
His mind was in Valhalla.
“If everyone feels this way, I will not insist on my stubbornness. However, with three days at hand, I do not believe we need to yield to the demands of the Hector Kingdom just yet. Just three days. We will mobilize our forces in preparation for ‘war,’ but if no variables arise on the southern front within those three days, how about we accept the demands of the Hector Kingdom?”
It was a compromise.
Edwin Hector had given them three days.
A time to think, yet one that could not turn the tide of war.
Count Denver placed his bet on that.
If they could produce meaningful results in such a short time, they would have to reassess Roman’s value.
Not merely as a Fourth Star swordsman, but as a monster of greater worth.
Perhaps it was because he thought Count Denver’s proposal was reasonable.
After a long contemplation, Daniel Cairo nodded with a grim expression. “... Whether we accept or reject the proposal, we need time. From this moment, the Cairo Kingdom will prepare for both war and negotiations with the Hector Kingdom.”
They were merely preparing for a contingency.
Everyone except Count Denver accepted the fact that the battle was over the moment the Warp Gate was seized.
There would be no miracles.
At that moment, Henry Albert felt as if his mind was about to shatter. ‘Damn it.’ When he set out following Roman, his heart was filled with unfounded confidence.
With Roman, who was slaughtering countless enemies, he felt that he could overcome any danger.
But what was this? From the very start, things had gone awry.
With his poor stamina, he could not keep up with Roman’s forces, and before long, he lost his way.
And when he finally arrived at the Southern Training Camp, having searched for traces, Henry Albert faced the harsh reality. ‘This is bad.’ The scene before him was devastating.
Just a short while ago, a place that had been peaceful was now a wasteland, with familiar faces lying lifeless all around.
Roman Dmitri was nowhere to be seen.
It was a moment of confusion.
The ominous thought that Roman might have been harmed made him hastily turn back.
“We retreat to the First Defense Line.” The hero’s mindset had long vanished.
What he needed now was safety.
A barrier to protect himself from the enemies who had turned the Southern Training Camp into ruins.
The sight that greeted Henry Albert as he hurried his steps was the already collapsed and burning First Defense Line.
“... What in the world.” His mind went blank.
In truth, he had not realized how serious the situation was.
Although the Hector Kingdom had attempted a surprise attack, the Fifth Defense Line had held strong thanks to Roman’s efforts.
He believed there was hope for the other lines as well.
But upon confirming the reality of the blazing First Defense Line, Henry Albert could not help but collapse to the ground, his trembling legs giving way.
“It’s over.” The First Defense Line.
The core stronghold.
If the Southern Training Camp had been attacked and that line had fallen, there was essentially no hope left for this war.
He sprang to his feet.
Cairo had been defeated.
Yet, he did not have to sacrifice himself.
“Retreat over the mountains immediately!” “Move quickly!” His judgment was swift.
The Southern Mountains.
Though the terrain was rugged and not suitable for escape, it was far better than staying here and being slaughtered.
Henry Albert ran with all his might, drenched in sweat.
His poor stamina had him gasping for breath, and even his soldiers, accustomed to a comfortable life, could not hide their exhaustion.
He did not know Roman Dmitri’s whereabouts.
But if he had chosen to fight, staying on the Southern Front with him would be akin to jumping into a fire with a bundle of straw. ‘A hero of war? I don’t need such fame! I just need to survive!’
He ran for a long time.
The scenery around him changed.
In the midst of the lush mountains, feeling somewhat safe from danger, Henry Albert pressed his face to the ground to catch his breath. “Huff, huff.” ‘I’m alive.’ Down below, they were still fighting.
Once he crossed the mountains, he would truly be safe.
Just as he thought this, a sudden sound interrupted him.
“Shh. Be quiet.” A cold blade was pressed against his neck.
The owner of the voice was none other than Chris.
About to wet his pants in fear, Henry Albert sighed in relief upon seeing Chris’s face.
The reason Chris had aimed his sword was to prevent any sound from escaping.
After retrieving his sword, Chris walked ahead.
“Follow me.” Perhaps it was the relief of being alive, but as he followed Chris, a question arose in Henry Albert’s mind. ‘...
Why is Roman Dmitri’s knight here?’ It was strange.
Roman had said he was heading to the rear stronghold.
So why had his knight appeared in the middle of the mountains?
He thought it might be related to the attack on the Southern Training Camp, yet it still made no sense.
If it were him, he would have fled over the mountains at the earliest opportunity.
Although he had managed to escape a fair distance, he could not say he was safe from the enemy’s pursuit.
How long had they walked? Henry Albert’s eyes widened at the changing scenery. ‘What is this?’ Just a few steps, and the surroundings had transformed.
It was a perfectly prepared stronghold.
Adequate-sized cover concealed the soldiers’ bodies, and behind it was a space for resting.
It was hard to believe this was a place created in the middle of the mountains.
A stronghold of this caliber should have been visible from afar, yet when he closed his eyes and opened them again, it had suddenly appeared before him.
The soldiers around him were equally bewildered.
Seeing the soldiers looking around, Henry Albert asked on behalf of everyone, “When on earth did you create this hideout?”
Chris did not stop walking.
After signaling to the sentries that it was safe, he answered without looking back. “On the way to the rear stronghold, we confirmed that the Southern Training Camp was under attack. My lord judged that the rear stronghold had already fallen and immediately ascended the mountain to establish this secret stronghold.”
“Then we should flee over the mountains right away! Why are we still here?” Chris halted abruptly.
He turned to face Henry Albert, his gaze tinged with a hint of disdain. “The war is not over yet. The reason we remain here is to protect allies like you, Henry, and to eliminate the enemies coming up the mountain. The mountains are a favorable place to face many foes with a small number of our own. If you were one of Hector’s men, the sword that was aimed at you would have ended your life.”
It was a chilling statement.
Henry Albert felt his mouth go dry.
There was a wall of status between Chris and him, but having witnessed his fighting prowess, he could not treat him lightly.
Roman and his soldiers were all monsters.
Especially Chris, who displayed exceptional combat skills that stood out among them.
‘How does the Dmitri family possess such monsters?’ He swallowed his questions and asked the one he had to confirm. “... Where is Roman Dmitri? I haven’t seen him since earlier.” They had already entered deep into the stronghold, yet Roman was nowhere to be found.
In response to his question, Chris calmly replied, “My lord is currently dealing with the enemies at the very front.”
Henry Albert’s face turned pale.
It was as he had expected.
Roman Dmitri.
He was a madman.
The outcome of war leads to a clear conclusion.
The death of the defeated.
Immediately after the First Defense Line fell, the troops that fled from there were subjected to a one-sided massacre by the pursuers.
Crack! “Gah!” “Cough!” There was no way to survive.
Under attack from all sides, Cairo’s soldiers struggled, but one by one, they fell, screaming under the merciless hands of their enemies.
Edwin Hector had made it clear that he did not need many prisoners.
Given the need to swallow the Southern Front whole in a short time, capturing too many prisoners was deemed a risk.
Massacre.
Blood and death ran rampant.
As the troops dwindled in number, Brant, one of the officers of the First Defense Line, could not hide his pale expression. ‘Donald, you bastard.’ Before the attack, Brant had witnessed Count Donald receiving a message from Roman.
If only he had listened to Roman then, they might have avoided the worst situation.
Choosing to defend out of unfounded bravado, the First Defense Line fell without holding out for long. ‘The Hector Kingdom was fully prepared.
Starting with a surprise attack, they seized the rear stronghold and even the flare.
This was a battle we had no chance of winning.
Roman Dmitri must have suggested fleeing to the mountains for that reason.
Though he said it was for guerrilla tactics, it meant abandoning the Southern Front.’
He had no intention of calling it cowardice.
It was the right judgment.
The price of complacency led to the rear gate of the Southern Front being seized, and from that moment, the outcome of the war had already been decided.
An overwhelming defeat.
A metallic taste lingered on his tongue.
Even without tasting blood, the smell of it was enough to make his nose tingle.
Thud! Right beside him, a soldier’s face was smashed into the ground.
A spear had pierced the back of the soldier’s head, and Brant instinctively swung his sword at the enemy.
Swish! “...!” A hair’s breadth away.
The attack failed.
Meeting the furious gaze of the knight before him, Brant felt a chill run down his spine. ‘Is this it?’ He had known from the moment the First Defense Line fell that neither he nor any of the troops from the Southern Front would return alive.
He gritted his teeth.
Accepting death, he prepared for his final counterattack.
Just then, crack! Splatter.
Blood sprayed.
The head of a Hector knight floated up into the sky.
In the gaze of Brant, stained with horror, a man with black hair suddenly appeared.