YEAR: 1724. OCTOBER 17TH. LOCATION: GENERAL DECLAN’S OFFICE IN FORT CAINHORN

The whole fort was alive with celebration when we returned. After all, this was the first time the 4th Corps had successfully fought back against the feared Storm Crusaders. The fact that we only suffered 500 losses while dealing such a blow to their rear made it all the sweeter.

The mood quickly began to shift as the soldiers prepared to throw themselves into full-blown revelry. Laughter and cheers filled the air, and the faint smell of alcohol wafted through the corridors. But just as the party was about to swing out of control, General Declan stormed into the main hall, his voice booming over the noise.

“The battle isn’t over!” he barked, his words cutting through the excitement like a blade. The cheers died in an instant, replaced by silence and the shifting of uneasy feet. Declan, his face like thunder, glared at the room before ordering everyone to return to their posts.

Moments later, I was summoned to his office.

When I entered, I found Declan standing by his desk, a glass of whiskey in hand. He didn’t bother to sit, instead swirling the amber liquid thoughtfully before speaking.

“Your plan was good, I admit,” he said, taking a sip. “I never thought it would work so well. You managed to deal a blow I didn’t think possible against the Storm Crusaders.”

He paused, setting the glass down and fixing me with a sharp gaze. “Now tell me, what do you plan to do next?”

“We would need to buy as much time as possible before the main army arrives, sir.” I replied with a salute.

But honestly, I wanted to scream at him.

Why are you asking me? You incompetent fool! Honestly, if you are going to ask a child about battle plans, how did you even manage to get in the position in the first place?

“It is likely they are shaken, and it would be a good idea to launch a night raid to further lower their morale.” I said.

Actually, couldn’t they do that? Now that I thought about it, it was almost impossible to always maintain their storm. It was naturally impossible.

Declan frowned, rubbing his temples. "We’ve already tried night raids. Their camp is always set up in the open plains, and their mages guard the perimeter. We can’t get close without taking heavy casualties."

I nodded, though my mind was already racing. "Then we need to disrupt their formation before they even set up camp," I said. "If we can force them into chaos before nightfall, we might have a better chance."

"And how exactly would you suggest we do that?" Declan asked, his voice laced with skepticism.

I hesitated for a moment, trying to think of a plan. Then it hit me. "We’ll harass their supply lines. They rely on their mages to maintain the storm, but without supplies, food, and water, they’ll crumble under their own weight."

Declan raised an eyebrow. "Harassing their supplies is easier said than done. Their rear guard is strong, strong enough to fend off all of our attacks."

"Not if we attack from multiple points at once," I replied. "They’ll have to spread their forces thin, and that’ll give us an opening."

Declan sipped his whiskey, nodding slowly. "Fine. You have my approval. Take 500 soldiers for the mission. But you’d better make it count."

"Yes, sir," I said, saluting him sharply before turning on my heel to leave.

Honestly, I was questioning if this Kingdom was in the right mind for hiring somebody useless as Declan, but it was easy to manipulate him I guess. Still, I wondered how the Eastern Line held up until now with generals like him.

[(0)]

LOCATION: SOMEWHERE IN THE PLAIN OF OPLEA

Night was starting to fall by the time we reached the edge of the forest bordering the plains. My unit was already in position, crouched low among the trees, their breathing controlled and quiet.

The Storm Crusaders’ supply caravan stretched out before us, a long line of wagons carrying mana crystals, provisions, and ammunition. The wagons were heavily guarded by knights and mages, their armor catching the dim light of the setting sun.

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"Remember," I whispered, addressing my soldiers. "We hit hard and fast. Split into three groups, Group A hits the wagons at the rear, Group B takes the center, and Group C moves to the front to create chaos. Don’t stay in one place for too long. Strike and retreat. Understood?"

"Yes, Lady Aria," they murmured in unison, their voices low but firm.

I glanced at Lura, who was crouched beside me. Her face was as calm as ever, but her crimson eyes glimmered faintly in the dim light. "Lura, you’ll stay with me. We’ll handle the mages guarding the center."

She nodded silently, her expression unreadable.

With a deep breath, I gave the signal. "Move out."

The attack began like the sudden snap of a whip.

Arrows whistled through the air as Group A targeted the rear, taking out knights before they could react. Unlike the main army, they couldn’t maintain a powerful storm with the lack of numbers, and this was our golden chance.

Shouts erupted from the guards as the first wagons went up in flames, the supplies inside exploding in a blaze of fire and smoke.

Group B struck next, charging into the center with their swords drawn. I saw knights stumbling, scrambling to defend themselves as my soldiers darted in and out of the fray, striking with precision before retreating into the shadows.

Then it was our turn.

"Lura, disrupt their mana flow," I ordered, drawing my sword.

Lura had came up to me just before the mission began and said:

“Lady Aria, I could control the mana. Please let me disrupt the mana flow in the air. Please let me do it.”

I was skeptical at first, but I allowed it since even if she did fail, we still had our MPA burst. If things got worse, we could retreat.

Lura raised her hand, and a faint hum filled the air as she released a concentrated burst of mana. The mages guarding the center staggered, their spells faltering as their control over the storm weakened.

The air around us grew still for a brief moment, free from the howling winds that had been their constant defense.

I didn’t hesitate. Charging forward, I cut down the nearest mage, her robes stained red as she crumpled to the ground. The knights turned toward me, their swords gleaming, but they were too slow. My soldiers surged past me, clashing with the defenders as the wagons burned around us.

"Retreat! Regroup at the forest edge!" I shouted, slashing at a knight who tried to block my path. My unit responded instantly, pulling back as planned, leaving behind only chaos and destruction.

As we retreated into the shadows of the trees, I glanced back at the smoldering wreckage of their supply line. The Storm Crusaders were scrambling, their once-disciplined formation thrown into disorder.

For now, we had won another small victory. But I knew the real battle was still to come.

[(0)]

YEAR: 1724. OCTOBER 18TH. LOCATION: IN THE COMMAND TENT OF 20TH KNIGHT BRIGADE

“The supplies were raided?” Commander Otis scoffed, his tone sharp with disbelief. “How?”

“Apparently, they attacked under the cover of the forest,” the knight reported, his voice tense. “The storm had already weakened due to the earlier skirmishes, and the final strike overwhelmed our defenses. The wagons didn’t stand a chance.”

‘So that’s their plan,’ Otis thought grimly, leaning back in his chair with a heavy sigh.

The enemy was using their vulnerability, the doubled numbers meant more mouths to feed and a heavier reliance on the supply line. And with so many inexperienced soldiers, defending the line effectively was becoming impossible.

The reports were damning.

Their main supply line had been raided at least ten times, with each attack leaving more wagons destroyed and more provisions lost.

The worst blow came during the last raid, where the infamous "Silver Angel" had led the charge. That had been the tipping point, an ambush so relentless that the there was nothing left.

They had other supply lines of course, but those weren’t nearly enough to feed the entire Knight Brigades.

Their hit-and-run tactics were devastating. The enemy would strike hard, destroy what they could, and vanish into the shadows before anyone could regroup. Even with the Storm Crusaders’ disciplined formations, the constant raids were wearing them down.

Otis clenched his fists, the veins in his hands visible as his frustration boiled. They were being toyed with, cut down piece by piece, not through brute strength, but with calculated thoughts.

Nothing had gone wrong until that girl had appeared out of nowhere.

“The Silver Angel,” Otis muttered, his voice low but dangerous. “So, it’s her again.”

The knight hesitated before speaking. “Yes, Commander. The reports confirm she led the raid. Her unit struck the center of the line, disrupting the mages, and left

little survivors. The remaining defenders were… scattered.”

Otis slammed his fist on the table, the sound echoing through the command tent. “Enough! Strengthen the guard on the remaining supply lines immediately. Double the patrols. And I want every available mage on storm duty to focus entirely on the perimeter. No more excuses.”

“Yes, Commander!” the knight saluted before hurrying out of the tent to carry out the orders.

Left alone, Otis leaned over the map of the battlefield, his eyes narrowing at the marked positions of the supply lines and the enemy’s known movements. His frustration gave way to cold calculation.

‘They think they’ve outmaneuvered us, again’ he thought, his lips curling into a grim smile. ‘But no one humiliates the Storm Crusaders and gets away with it. If it’s a game of hit-and-run they want, then we’ll see how they handle being the prey.’

He reached for a quill and began sketching new formations on the map. The Silver Angel may have won this round, but Otis was already planning his counterattack.