The words caught in his throat as the youth leapt, staff held high. A blade of pure magic materialized, blossoming from the crest of the Carian Royal Family. He gripped the staff with both hands, as if it were a sword, and brought it down with all his might. "One-Stroke: Carian Slicer!" Spirit, energy, and focus converged into a single, deadly line. The strike was undeniably fast, accurate, and ruthless. Splat.
Blood erupted in a crimson spray. The knight cried out in pain as the light blade sliced through his shoulder armor and into his chest.
But he didn't die. Instead, he cast aside his sword and reached out, grabbing the other's throat. Does the Carian Slicer's strength depend on mana? Thorne ignored the large hand in front of him. He raised his right palm, catching the falling Bloodhound's Fang just in time. With a twist of his wrist, he swung the blade in a horizontal slash. Swish—
A flash of cold light swept across the knight's neck. The large hand, choking Thorne, instantly lost its strength. The nearly two-meter-tall warrior collapsed to his knees, his head rolling far away.
Blood geysered from the severed neck, drenching Thorne. He became a man of blood.
With an expressionless face, he removed the hand from his throat and turned his head toward a sorcerer, frozen at the edge of the forest. His lips curled into a kind smile. "Sorry, I practice both magic and martial arts."
The dark clouds dispersed, and the full moon once again cast its radiance upon The Lands Between. Moonlight filtered through the gaps in the leaves, illuminating Thorne's blood-stained blade. Drip, drip...
Blood droplets fell continuously from the hem of his clothes. Thorne lowered his head. His curved sword was impaled in the sorcerer's back, a pool of blood spreading beneath. There wasn't much to say. The panicked sorcerer had stumbled into an ambush. In his haste, he retaliated with magic, shattering tree after tree, but the ambusher didn't get close, instead using Glintstone Pebble from a distance to break the man's legs.
Thorne Wright was a sorcerer by trade and understood these casters all too well. After breaking his legs and letting him writhe in pain on the ground, Thorne pounced and ended his life with a single sword strike. Swish—
He pulled out his sword and flicked it, sending a line of blood flying. Thorne leaned down and pushed aside the Glintstone crown, revealing the terrified face of a middle-aged man. "Just as I remember, most sorcerers are scholars and aren't good at fighting. Even on the battlefield, they need the protection of warriors."
This was normal; Glintstone Sorcery naturally emphasized raw power. He closed his eyes, his lips involuntarily curling upward. "Mana and focus are increasing. It's confirmed: when plundering life, killing a sorcerer primarily enhances Intelligence."
Unlike in the game, strength was determined by physical fitness, mana levels, and perception. Depending on the target killed, Thorne's gains varied.
He glanced behind him. The fire in the forest was spreading, scorching the four corpses. Even with the advantage of the terrain, this was his first time killing a knight in a direct confrontation.
This meant Thorne had the ability to survive in The Lands Between without being killed by some random soldier jumping out. "I'm still not strong enough. Before I can rely on brute force, I at least need to increase my mana. Otherwise, that Carian Slicer would have cut him in two."
Thorne wasn't satisfied. Holding his sword and carrying the Cuckoo Knight's head, he began walking back. The sounds of battle were still roaring, but his pace was steady as he seized the time to recover his stamina.
The Cuckoo Knights weren't fools; they had waited until the Carian reserves were depleted before launching their sneak attack. If not for Karin's squad holding them back, they would have long since rushed into the manor to set fires. Even if they only burned down the granary, the manor would be impossible to defend.
But Caria had already done its best. As for masters like Ranni... He looked behind him. The massive Caria Manor was hidden in the night, with flashes of fire faintly visible. They couldn't come out; there were even more terrifying enemies dealing with them.
"The waters of Caria run deep," Thorne muttered to himself, picking up his pace. He repeated the old saying: "Treat me with sincerity, and I shall repay you with righteousness!"
He rushed out of the forest and could see the noisy manor from afar. Soldiers from both sides were fighting to the death on the walls, with the radiance of 'Carian Greatswords' occasionally visible. Allen was cutting down rows of enemies, while another Troll Knight, Boros, was blocking the entrance. His body was riddled with arrows as he raised his foot to crush the nearby enemies into pulp.
Ballistae and catapults tore through the air, smashing the sturdy towers. Sorcerers from the Azur Classroom were fleeing in all directions. The situation on the front lines seemed critical, but the terrain was narrow. No matter how many Cuckoo Knights climbed up, they would be cut down. Dead bodies were piled high on both sides, with broken swords and spears scattered everywhere. Behind the manor, the fighting continued. Over thirty Cuckoo Soldiers, led by a knight, were pushing their way in along the dirt road.
They held their shields in a battle formation, with Fire Pots and Cuckoo Glintstones flying everywhere.
Opposing them was a group of wounded soldiers and a Troll swinging a greatsword.
The scene was too chaotic.
Corpses were scattered all over the road and along the walls. Thorne couldn't see where the members of Karin's squad were for a moment; it seemed the two sides were evenly matched. No, Caria was falling into a disadvantage. Those Fire Pots had ignited the houses, and many warriors were already looking back.
In the heat of a bloody battle, there was no time to count how many enemies were coming from behind. Thorne didn't hesitate. He tied the knight's head to his waist, reached out to grab a panicked horse passing by, and turned it around. He took the spear hanging by the saddle and slapped the horse's rump hard with the shaft. "On this long night of blood and fire, I shall lead the charge!"
Clang!!
Greatswords collided, and the resulting wind pressure blew away all the soldiers within several meters. Two knights retreated several steps, staring intently at each other.
Matthews massaged his numbing wrist. Seeing several Cuckoo Knights climbing the wall, he sneered, "The city is about to fall. Why haven't you crawled back to that manor yet?"
"Hah, I can hold out until I die of old age," Allen said, raising his shield, though he was secretly anxious. He didn't regret his decision. With his forces stretched so thin, it was impossible to send dozens of men to the lakeshore to catch the breeze. It was just that the Cuckoo's attack tonight was too fierce, and the reserves had long since been exhausted. Haven't they driven those damned Cuckoos out yet?
Allen instinctively looked back and then quickly raised his greatshield. Five Cuckoo Knights pounced on him at once, attacking with greatswords, halberds, and warhammers. Even though a Carian Knight was a level above them, it was difficult to fight back. Nearby crossbows continued to fire, interfering with his counterattacks from tricky angles.
"Hmph, stubborn," Matthews sneered, shaking his still-numb hand. He shouted to those around him, "Press on! Pin down the Carians! They can't hold out much longer!" The Cuckoo Soldiers' morale soared.
They didn't know how many people were in the assault team, but from the wall, they could see the pincer attack, slowly compressing the defensive line toward the center. "If those sorcerers were willing to act, we wouldn't have to lose so many men," Matthews gritted his teeth. But he had to persevere. Once this manor was taken, Caria would be trapped in a lone city and completely out of the game. The ownership of Liurnia would then be a contest between the Cuckoo and the Academy.
"Commander, look!" A knight beside him shouted.
Matthews looked up, his pupils constricting as he saw an armored horse galloping from the manor's direction. Carian reinforcements? How was that possible? They said…
The thought vanished as quickly as it came. It wasn't a vast army charging toward them. Only one knight came, and his blood-soaked appearance was pathetic.
He gaped. "Where did this madman come from!?"
Clop, clop, clop…
The rapid sound of hooves thundered against the ground. The fighting Cuckoos turned, shocked, to see a white horse charging from behind their lines.
The lone knight leveled his spear and plunged into their formation without hesitation. "Kill!!"
Accompanied by a thunderous roar, the lance pierced through several men, and the horse's hooves crushed others into the mud. Thorne kicked the horse's belly wildly, eyes fixed on the Cuckoo Knight at the very front as he charged straight through the crowd.
What!? The knight had been in the middle of cutting the Troll's calf, preparing to thrust his spear into the giant's eye socket. He turned to see the horse bearing down on him. It was too fast, too fierce.
With an aura of fight-to-the-death, the lance's sharp tip grew in his pupils. Fortunately, Tore was a veteran. He twisted away from the attack, feeling a chill as his helmet was knocked away. Then, using the momentum of his turn, he swung his spear horizontally. Thud!
The armored horse was hit so hard that its four hooves left the ground. It collapsed with a despairing neigh.
Tore wasn't faring well either. The horse's charge slammed into his left-hand shield, knocking the wind from him and causing his forearm to swell. Who dares to ambush me?? He held his greatshield in front of him and saw the intruder. Thorne was flying through the air, having tossed his lance. He gripped the curved blade on his back. "Slash!!" A vertical silver moon rose, severing the incoming spear.
He concentrated his strength in his left shoulder, using the fall's momentum to slam into the shield's upper edge. Thud!
After killing Daligre, Thorne's strength had increased again. This collision even dented his shoulder armor, and the caught-off-guard Tore fell backward. He landed on his toes and steadied himself, eyes wide. He'd never seen such a "mad dog" fighting style. Then he saw the blood-soaked man pressing forward, his staff emitting a brilliant light. Magic? Swift Glintstone Shard!
Thorne swung his staff frantically, unleashing Glintstone Shards like a machine gun. Ordinarily, his mana wouldn't be able to support this, but now, this barrage of rapid fire actually lasted for several seconds. Ding, ding, ding, ding...
Sparks flew continuously as the Glintstone Shards blasted dense indentations into the shield's surface. They couldn't break it, but the force kept pushing Tore back, and the mana seeping through made his left arm swell. "Get lost!" With a slap of his shield, he created a powerful gust of wind.
Seizing the opportunity, Tore drew the straight sword at his waist, ready to rush forward and kill the strange sorcerer. But then something grabbed his trailing right foot.
The broken-legged Troll had reached out and grabbed his calf. Its immense strength began to deform the armor. Before Tore could swing his sword back to strike, he was violently yanked backward. Was this his plan all along? The knight realized something as he was flung into the air.
No wonder the opponent wasted mana—it was all to push him into the Troll's reach? Bang!
The Troll's hand rose and fell, smashing a shallow pit into the ground. Protected by his armor, Tore was only dizzy. He was about to cut off the Troll's fingers when a foot stepped on his back. "Time for you to die."
The cold words reached his ears, and a moment later, all consciousness faded into darkness. As if slaughtering a chicken, Thorne chopped off the knight's head with a single strike.
He then drove the Bloodhound's Fang into the ground and grabbed the head in the air.
Taking the other head from his waist, he held both at chest level and roared like thunder: "The enemy general has been slain!!"
By the flickering firelight, two hideous, ugly, and familiar heads were displayed before the twenty or so Cuckoo Soldiers. Many of them had been charging forward to help, but they all froze, as if a paralysis spell had been cast on them. This... Their thoughts solidified, and their brains went numb.
Just as they were wondering what to do, the blood-soaked swordsman tossed the two heads into the mud and drew his curved sword. "Flee or die!?" The blade was a dark red; there was no telling how much blood it had drunk tonight. At this moment, the old, weak, and wounded around them also snapped out of it. Arnold clutched the wound on his abdomen to keep his intestines from falling out, his veins bulging from the intense pain. "Flee or die!" More and more people stepped forward with their blades raised, their roars converging into one.
"Flee or die!!"
Clang.
A Cuckoo Soldier dropped his straight sword and turned to run. They had fought for half the night and were exhausted. With the knight's death, their tightly wound nerves finally snapped. These Carians were all suicidal mad dogs, and the roars made their frozen brains start working again. Flee! Run, now! The battle formation collapsed; shields and weapons were scattered everywhere. The Carian soldiers didn't just stand by and watch; the sound of bowstrings vibrating followed, and arrows accurately pierced the enemies' backs, picking them off like prey.
Thorne turned his head and saw Karin, the tough woman, standing on a roof. Her rugged face was covered in blood, and a gash on her cheek ran deep enough to reveal her gums. A true iron-blooded warrior, he thought.
He abandoned the heads and used Glintstone Pebble to pick off more enemies until his mana was exhausted. Outside the manor, the road was now a path of flesh and blood; all the Cuckoo Soldiers lay dead. The arrows and magic suddenly stopped. Everyone turned their gaze toward Thorne in the center. Since he had changed his equipment, most people didn't recognize him.
In the awkward silence, Thorne turned to face them and slowly raised his curved sword. "Glory to Caria!" His voice wasn't loud, but it carried a sense of heroism. Against the backdrop of the corpses covering the ground, those words seemed far more persuasive than usual. "Glory! To Caria!!"
A wild and powerful cheer erupted, like a storm sweeping through the blood-and-fire-soaked manor, drowning out all the other sounds of battle. Perhaps it was an illusion, but the manor, which had been noisy for half the day, fell silent for a moment.
Both friend and foe were drawn by the cheers and looked over. "Those who can't walk, stay behind to finish off the survivors," Thorne said. He felt those gazes of shock or joy. He lowered his curved sword. "Those who can walk, follow me! We will hunt down and kill every last one of those despicable Cuckoos!"
The battle wasn't over, and their bodies were exhausted. Yet, as the soldiers watched the lone hero walking forward, they found strength from somewhere in their legs and followed him. The depletion of his strength made his limbs tremble slightly, but Thorne's steps remained firm.
He walked at the very front, treading on the blood-soaked mud like a banner, gathering the scattered soldiers from all around. Fifty people, eighty, a hundred... Under the light of the fires, an iron stream surged from within the manor. Though they were in rags and their armor was broken, they were like a shot of adrenaline to the struggling Carian soldiers and a heavy hammer blow to the Cuckoo Knights. "Commander, look!" "I see it!"