I had done plenty of stupid things in both my past lives and this one. But without a doubt, the dumbest was fighting Alysia.

Charging at her on my MPA 63, I thrust my blade with all the speed and movements the artifact could muster. Yet, she dodged every strike. Her counterattack came faster than I could react, a shallow cut slicing across my cheek. Gritting my teeth, I yanked the controls, skidding to a halt as the wheels screeched against the blood-soaked ground.

“You’ve improved,” Alysia remarked, her tone as cold. “But it’s still not enough.”

“Thanks for the critique,” I shot back, raising my blade defensively. I lashed out with an arc of wind, but she sidestepped it effortlessly.

How could someone like her not be an elite soldier? The thought gnawed at me as I parried her next strike, narrowly avoiding another scratch.

“How in the world are you this strong and not part of some elite unit?”

I quickly retreated to put some distance between us.

She didn’t answer right away, her gaze sharp. When she finally spoke, her words were heavy with bitterness.

“I’m a princess… from a kingdom the Empire destroyed. It’s only natural they wouldn’t offer me a high position.”

A princess? That revelation hit me harder than any blow she’d landed. But it only made her presence here more baffling.

“And yet, you’re loyal to the very people who crushed your nation?”

“You have no idea how terrifying the Empire truly is. The only reason your kingdom still stands is because the Empire doesn’t even see you as a threat. Don’t get cocky just because you managed to defeat the Storm Crusaders. They were the weakest. There are nineteen more Knight Brigades, each far stronger than the last.”

Her words were a knife to my confidence, but I refused to let it show. Internally, though, I was rattled. The thought of facing even one more brigade, let alone the full might of the Empire’s elite, made my stomach churn. If what she said was true, then this war was already lost.

Alysia struck again, her blade a blur of motion. I barely managed to block, the force of her attack reverberating through my arms. My eyes darted around the battlefield. The initial shock of our assault had worn off, and the Imperial soldiers were regrouping, launching a fierce counterattack. Even with the advantage of the MPA 63s, we were vastly outnumbered, and our forces were beginning to falter.

“Retreat!” I shouted. The soldiers closest to me began to echo the order, but most were too deep in the melee to hear. The situation was spiraling out of control.

“You’ve got guts to ignore me like that.”

Before I could react, my instincts screamed. I spun, raising my sword just in time to parry her incoming strike. The clash of steel rang in my ears, but I wasn’t fast enough to dodge her follow-up, a kick to my gut.

The impact sent me stumbling back, struggling to stay on my feet as I coughed violently, spitting onto the ground.

“You’ve got some wild manners for a princess.”

“You’ll get used to it. After all, with Caelen dead along with the defeat, it’s only a matter of time before the Empire turns on me too. They’ll find some excuse, some fault, and I’ll be their scapegoat. Formalities mean nothing when you’re marked for death.”

“And why are you still fighting?”

Alysia paused, her sword lowering slightly. “Because if I don’t, my family will be killed too.”

Her words hung heavy in the air. For a moment, silence enveloped us. We stood frozen, our swords readied but unmoving, caught in the weight of unspoken understanding.

I stared at her, my resolve wavering. Despite everything, I couldn’t help but pity her. She wasn’t just an enemy; she was someone trapped, fighting a war she didn’t believe in, just to keep her loved ones alive.

But Alysia didn’t falter. She charged again, her blade cutting through the air with determination.

I readied myself to counter, but before I could react, a shadow loomed over me. I glanced up just in time to see Lura descending from above, her hand outstretched. She landed gracefully between us, her expression calm.

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“What… are you doing?” I managed to ask, confused.

The answer came swiftly, though not from Lura’s lips.

Alysia’s advance faltered. Her body convulsed, her sword falling from her trembling hand. She staggered, coughing violently, and crimson blood spattered the ground. Tears of blood streamed down her face, and blood seeped from her nose and ears.

“What…?” Alysia choked out.

Then I understood. Mana overflow.

Lura had used her rare ability to manipulate raw mana, not magic itself, forcing an uncontrollable surge into Alysia’s body. It was a cruel, horrifying way to incapacitate someone, and yet, it was effective.

“I wish you peace in your next life,” I murmured under my breath as I zoomed forward, my grip tightening on my sword.

Alysia’s gaze met mine, her eyes still burning with defiance, even as her body betrayed her. She raised her blade weakly, attempting to block my strike, but her strength had long since abandoned her.

With one swift motion, my blade sliced cleanly through her neck. Her sword shattered under the force, and her head fell, rolling to the blood-soaked ground. Her body collapsed moments later, lifeless.

I didn’t linger. There was no time for remorse or reflection.

“Retreat!” I shouted. “Retreat to the main force!”

My soldiers began to pull back, their movements quick and disciplined as we disengaged from the Imperials. I didn’t spare a glance at Alysia’s fallen form. The battle wasn’t over, and the regret could come later. For now, all I could do was survive.

[(0)]

LOCATION: 9TH CORPS’ MAIN COMMAND.

“Why is it that every commander always ends up on the battlefield?” General Cedric mused with a smile, his voice carrying over the din of hurried orders. “Instead of staying safe in the rear, we always march straight to the front. Strange, when you think about it.”

“Please, my lord, spare us the jokes,” Bridger General Devon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “You’ve always been at the front. And when I say always, I mean every single time.”

“Fair enough. Perhaps I shou—”

“No, my lord. If you go down, we lose our command structure entirely. We’re already outnumbered. The last thing we can afford is losing our commander to some stray arrow or—”

Cedric slumped, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright, point taken.” He turned his binoculars to the battlefield, scanning the chaos below.

What had begun as an assault was now falling apart. A woman wielding a katana had emerged from the Imperial ranks, slicing her way through the 9th Corps with terrifying power. From the looks of it, she was a commander, and her mere presence was enough to rally the Imperial troops. Their morale soared with every slash she made, while Cedric’s forces scrambled to avoid being encircled.

“Damn it,” Cedric muttered under his breath. He had already abandoned the original plan to break the center. Instead, he’d ordered a strike on the weakest flank, hoping to create an escape route. But even that wasn’t going well.

“Order the archers to focus fire on the frontlines. Distract their advance! Pull the injured to the center and fortify around them. Keep casualties as low as possible!”

Devon relayed the orders with a curt nod, but his expression betrayed his worry.

Cedric gritted his teeth as he watched the chaos unfold. The sheer size of the enemy army was overwhelming, twice their numbers, and the effects of it were becoming painfully clear. His men fought bravely, but courage alone wouldn’t win the day.

Even if, by some miracle, they managed to win this battle, Cedric couldn’t shake the grim reality. The war was far from over. And as he surveyed the battlefield, the thought clawed at him: even a victory here might leave him with no army left for his mission.

“Lord Cedric!” A messenger sprinted toward him, panting heavily. “Lady Aria and a force of 700 soldiers are advancing toward our position! They have 50 MPA 63 units ready for deployment and are requesting permission to join the battle.”

Cedric’s eyes widened briefly before a smile broke across his face. He exhaled in relief, the weight of the situation momentarily lifting.

“Permission granted.”

The tension eased from his shoulders. Major Aria, known across the battlefield as the Silver Angel, was known for her prowess. With her forces bolstering the line, they might actually have a chance to lower the losses and secure a retreat.

“Relay this order to all units: begin the retreat immediately,” Cedric commanded. “Archers are to form a rear guard and provide covering fire!”

“Yes, my lord!” The messenger saluted and dashed off.

Moments later, Aria’s force appeared, cutting through the Imperial lines. Her soldiers moved like elites, their MPA 63 units tearing into the enemy ranks. The damage inflicted wasn’t large by any means, but it was enough to cause confusion among the Imperials. That hesitation was all the 9th Corps needed.

“Pull back!” Cedric’s voice carried across the field as the main force began to retreat. Arrows rained down on the enemy, further stalling their advance as the 9th Corps withdrew toward safer ground.

Watching from a safe distance, Cedric allowed himself a rare chuckle. “It seems we’re always leaning on Major Aria. Perhaps she should take over as commander.”

“Please, my lord,” Devon groaned. “Not the time for jokes. Now, retreat with the others.”

“Alright, alright. “I’ll leave the field in one piece.”

By the end of the day, the first day of battle was over. The Empire’s soldiers suffered losses of 2,000 men, while the 9th Corps lost 3,000. But the most significant casualty was one of the Imperial division commanders who had been killed by Silver Angel.

For the first day of battle, the result was a bitter stalemate.