Chapter 15.2, Year 960 of Chronicle of Truth, The Third Month of Yellow-Green Field Season (2/2)

Translator: Lizz

 

A few days after Zechs and his comrades arrived in Maha, mages dispatched from nearby towns also joined them. In response, a full-scale suppression operation was decided upon.

 

It was confirmed that the rebel army also had mages among them, though small in number. Perhaps because of this, the three mage companies from the Iron Fortress were assigned to the vanguard. Upon hearing this from the Company Commander, one mage muttered ‘So they’re just spectators?’ as he gazed at the fortress, and although no one else voiced agreement, they all felt the same way.

 

Most likely, the knights thought that as long as the mages took care of everything and they themselves didn’t get hurt, it would be fine. If things went that way, the credit for quelling the rebellion would go entirely to Lord Regoa, the Supreme Commander, and his knights. They would gain honor without suffering any harm themselves.

 

Though they felt dissatisfied about it, Zechs and the mages who had been given orders had no choice but to silently begin their preparations.

 

Even on the battlefield, the equipment permitted for mages remained the same. Since mages did not engage in close combat, heavy armor was unnecessary. However, if the enemy managed to get close, their chances of survival would be slim.

 

Fortunately, the terrain between Maha and the mining town where the rebel army had set up camp was open, providing a clear line of sight. The risk of being approached unnoticed seemed unlikely.

 

Outside Maha’s defensive walls, a force of about six hundred mages was stationed, with the knights permanently stationed in Maha positioned behind them. One mage company, along with mages from nearby towns and knights dispatched from Rhiannon, remained within the walls under the pretext of town defense.

 

And so, on a clear day in the middle of the Yellow-Green Field season, the battle began.

 

The mage companies advanced and deployed at a point where the rebel army was within range, initiating their long-range assault. Lavarta’s finest mages wove their magic in unison at the signal, unleashing fiery arrows that filled the air with tense magic energy. At first, many struggled to focus on the unfamiliar task, sending their spells flying in completely unintended directions. Additionally, the units responsible for maintaining the defensive barrier failed to synchronize their timing with the incoming attacks, resulting in significant casualties. The Commander shouted orders in an attempt to restore order, but things did not go smoothly.

 

Amid the chaos, Zechs maintained his exceptional accuracy, striking his targets with precision. Furthermore, he abandoned the pretense of chanting spells, as this was no time for such things, and relied entirely on his well-honed instincts, casting magic as naturally as breathing.

 

A goddess clad in wild, dancing flames – that was the image that surfaced in Zechs’ mind. Drawing power from the magic vein, he wove it with unseen hands, and in an instant, a raging inferno swept across the grasslands before him. The flames licked the earth with an intensity far beyond the feeble fire arrows cast by the other mages, surging toward the enemy lines. Sparks scattered like a blizzard, but soon, they too began drifting toward the enemy. It seemed the other mages had combined their strength to shift the wind’s direction. However, no matter how many of them worked together, their power was too weak to contain the monstrous fire Zechs had unleashed. Before his own flames could harm his allies, Zechs dispersed them at will. In the enemy camp, the flames that had spread to the watchtowers, structures, and supplies had mostly burned out, leaving behind charred black earth, and the acrid scent of scorched vegetation lingered heavily in the air.

 

Zechs’ overwhelming power boosted the morale of his own forces, and from that moment on, each mage began to fully unleash their true strength, completely different from before.

 

The Commanders assessed the fatigue levels of their mages and issued orders for rotations with the reserve units. Evan’s platoon also withdrew several times, but compared to the others, Zechs himself showed little exhaustion. He could hardly wait for his turn to come around again.

 

To Zechs, this battle was the perfect opportunity. With countless mages and knights watching, he would achieve a feat that no one could dispute.

 

The mages on the side of Lavarta were unleashing their most powerful magic. However, the rebel army, rather than panicking, calmly began their counterattack.

 

The catapults lined up along the border of the mining town displayed remarkable precision, and there was also a counterattack that appeared to be the work of mages. Though their numbers and power were nowhere near that of the Iron Fortress, their attacks carried a certain disciplined, battle-hardened quality.

 

The mages of Lavarta, who had assumed they were merely facing an untrained rabble of common citizens, felt a faint sense of unease at the unexpected resistance. The knights stationed behind them seemed equally unsettled, as messengers constantly rushed back and forth, trying to assess the situation.

 

The exchange of fire continued for over an hour, and most of the dozens of catapults had been destroyed beyond use. Though the battle had not completely ceased, the outcome was already clear. However, the mages of the Iron Fortress were visibly fatigued. The casualties were not insignificant, and Zechs watched from the corner of his eye as several mages near him were blown away.

 

“Just a little more. Hold your ground!”

 

At the Company Commander’s call, the mages steadily advanced, closing the distance between them and the enemy. As if making their final stand, the rebel army intensified their assault. Enduring the onslaught, the mages pressed forward.

 

The rebels were now close enough to be clearly seen. From a distance, it was easy to detach from the reality of harming and killing other humans. But at this range, attacking them stirred a faint reluctance in the heart. Still, it was obvious that the enemy had no intention of holding back, and so they couldn’t afford to either. No one wanted to die.

 

Another agonized cry rang out behind Zechs. A mage had likely fallen under enemy fire. Zechs’ mind became a whirlwind of emotions; there was his desire for glory, but there was also his fear of death. He felt concern for his fallen comrades, yet somewhere deep inside, he was also coldly looking down on them.

 

Zechs tried to focus on the battlefield, deliberately ignoring the turmoil within himself. Before him stood a ragtag group, each armed in their own way, hardly resembled a unified army, yet their movements were astonishingly coordinated, their counterattacks relentless. Right now, the only goal was to eliminate the enemy before him as quickly as possible.

 

Screams, shouts, battle cries. The deafening roar of voices echoed across the battlefield, friends’ and foes’ indistinguishable.

 

They noticed something unusual when they had closed the distance to the rebel army. Among the familiar war cries of their allies, a different kind of scream began to ripple through the ranks. That strange sound spread like a wave from the rear to the front lines, and before long, the mages halted, turning their heads and scanning their surroundings, searching for an explanation.

 

Zechs was no different. Positioned particularly near the front lines, he was unable to even form a guess as to what was happening; only bewilderment filled his mind.

 

Confusion, unease, and fear slowly spread among the mages. Then, at last, the order to ‘Retreat’ was passed along like a game of whispers. No, voices from all directions were shouting the word, indistinguishable from screams.

 

(Retreat? After coming this far? Why?)

 

However, the mages, who had initially hesitated and listened to the shouts as if uncertain, suddenly began to move in unison, scattering like spiders’ young. They all ran in the direction of Maha.

 

The mages ran, each scrambling to escape first. They shoved aside the exhausted and the weak, sometimes trampling over them, crying out, nearly driven to madness as they fled. Then, as if to pour salt on a wound, the rebel army launched another attack from behind. The few remaining catapults fired, and mages who had somehow regained their strength unleashed their spells. Worse still, they had entered the range of enemy archers, who now joined the assault. With their support, soldiers wielding weapons surged forward in pursuit.

 

Zechs, running after the others in their retreat, was stunned. Screams filled the air, and they had become a disorderly mob, scurrying home without any control.

 

Stepping over countless fallen bodies, Zechs finally entered the town of Maha only to be met with an even more shocking sight. He had already noticed the corpses of both mages and knights outside the walls, but inside, the scene was no different. Everywhere, knights and mages lay scattered, some already lifeless, others groaning in agony and drenched in blood.

 

Those still alive did nothing but scream as they ran in terror. Someone was shouting for everyone to flee the town.

 

It was clear that Maha had been attacked. But by whom? There should have been around four hundred mages alone stationed for its defense. Who could have so effortlessly defeated them and the knights?

 

Zechs instinctively halted as a streak of heat shot past his vision. Magic. Reflexively, he lifted his gaze to pinpoint the source and noticed the towering fortress ahead. The attack had come from one of its narrow openings. That could only mean one thing: the fortress had already been seized by an unknown force.

 

Someone was shouting for everyone to flee the town. Earlier, Zechs had ignored the voice, but now, without hesitation, he obeyed.

 

Zechs barely managed to evade the relentless rain of magic attacks and the blades of the rebel army that had caught up to them, escaping the town with his life. He ran in the same direction as the other fleeing mages, putting as much distance between himself and the town as possible.

 

“Zechs!”

 

Zechs had just begun to slow his pace when he heard his name being called amid the screams and sobs echoing all around. He stopped and looked around, spotting Aster and Fio standing side by side, waving at him. Relief washed over him as he realized they were safe, and he hurried toward them.

 

“Thank goodness, you’re safe too.”

 

Fio’s cheek had some faint smears of blood, but at a glance, he didn’t seem to have any other injuries. Aster looked exhausted, but aside from that, he also appeared to be fine.

 

“You’re safe too… Wait, what about the others?”

 

“For now, everyone in the third squad is accounted for. The Commander is safe as well, and we’re having each squad confirm their members. Not everyone has regrouped yet, but so far, there’s no report of any fatalities or serious injuries among our squad.’

 

Following their lead, Zechs pushed through the battered mages. Up ahead, he spotted Warren, standing a head taller than those around him. As he approached, he saw that Rigitte and Danya were by his side. All three of them showed visible relief upon seeing Zechs, though Warren was dragging his right leg – it was apparently injured.

 

“What the hell happened?”

 

Rigitte had just returned from reporting the safety of the entire third squad to Evan when Zechs asked the question. The others only furrowed their brows in unease.

 

“I don’t know. All I remember is suddenly being told to retreat, panicking, getting shoved from behind, and just running for my life.”

 

Rigitte shrugged, and the others remained silent, seemingly having had similar experiences.

 

Aster, however, was deep in thought. After a moment, he spoke hesitantly.

 

“Did you see the corpses of the knights outside the walls?”

 

“Yes, very well.”

 

“Most of them fell forward, didn’t they?”

 

At Aster’s remark, everyone exchanged glances.

 

They had seen the bodies, but none had paid attention to which direction they had fallen.

 

“Wait. That means the knights outside the walls were attacked from behind… In other words, from inside the walls?”

 

“That’s what I think is most likely.”

 

“…Yeah, that makes sense. So Maha was attacked from the south side, and the fortress was completely taken over. That would mean the knights outside the walls were killed by the invaders… But who did it? Did the rebel army somehow circle around?”

 

However, everyone knew that theory didn’t quite add up. If there had been such movement, it would have been clearly visible from the watchtowers. There was no place around Maha where troops could have been hidden.

 

“What are the knights saying?”

 

“I don’t know. When we returned to the town, there weren’t any knights left. Not all of them could have been killed, so they must have fled.”

 

Rigitte spat out the words. Just then, Evan announced that they would be camping here for the night.

 

By the time the scattered mages had regrouped and each platoon had finished confirming their members’ survival, it was already past midnight.

 

The casualties were less than ten percent, but around thirty percent had suffered severe injuries. Including minor wounds, nearly eighty percent of the mages had been hurt.

 

The surviving mages set up camp several kilometers away from Maha, while the knights kept an even greater distance from them.

 

The Commanders were summoned and, upon returning, explained the situation to their troops. The sheer number of the wounded and the fact that the knights had been the first to abandon the fortress shocked the mages. But the most astonishing revelation was the cause of this disaster.

 

“The Guild mages defected.”

 

Evan, having just returned from the meeting, looked down at the injured comrades gathered around her and stated plainly. At first, the platoon members struggled to grasp what she was saying.

 

“The Guild mages who had remained in Maha launched a surprise attack on the fortress, assassinated Lord Regoa, the Supreme Commander of this operation, and seized control. With Lord Andrews, the ruling Lord, fleeing immediately, the other knights followed suit and withdrew from the town.”

 

Evan’s tone remained indifferent, but the strain on her face was unmistakable. As her words sank in, the platoon members gradually grasped the gravity of the situation.

 

“Commander.”

 

Among the speechless members, Aster raised his hand, seeking permission to speak.

 

“After we retreated, the rebel army launched an offensive, right? So does that mean the Guild mages colluded with the rebels and defected?”

 

“There’s no proof. But given the circumstances, that possibility is highly likely.”

 

Cries of ‘No way!’ and ‘Why?’ erupted from the group. Zechs, just as shocked as the others, found himself strangely convinced.

 

(So that’s why they chose this moment to rise up.)

 

The rebel army had likely approached the Guild mages and persuaded them. They must have been waiting for the Guild mages to agree before making their move.

 

Zechs suddenly wondered if any of the defected mages were people he knew. Though the mages of Daza that he was familiar with had long grown accustomed to discrimination, like beasts with broken fangs.

 

“For now, our next mission will likely be to reclaim Maha. Until then, get some rest. And… be prepared. The knights will be even more hostile toward us than before.”

 

Evan concluded.

 

The knights’ decision to camp far away from the mages now made sense. It wasn’t just their usual disdain; there was suspicion. And how would that suspicion affect the mages? Just imagining it cast a shadow over the heart.

 

With a sigh, Zechs turned to the north, gazing at the faint flickering lights of the fortress.