The experienced [Strategist] knows that overconfidence can be the death of a fighting force. To the surprise of many, even Jade knows this. Fighting the [Bandit Lord] over the years has taught her to be careful where she steps. Mistakes cost lives, and the toll accumulates with time. Even a mountain will eventually crumble from the rain.

She has to admit, Rathos is crafty. If she’d rushed forward like the idiot [Tacticians] wanted to, she would have lost even more time, soldiers, and morale.

“So he’s delaying us?” one of the [Tacticians] asks while staring at the report.

“There are better ways to delay,” a sullen voice adds.

Jade clears her throat and the [Tacticians] all go silent. Unfortunately, one needs experience most immediately before one gets it. After a week of eating crow and losing soldiers to Rathos’ traps, the other [Tacticians] are finally listening to her.

“If this shithead [General] just wanted to stall us, he didn’t need to spike the pitfalls or poison the razorwire. It’s clear he has more than enough [Earth Mages] to just make a big ass crack we’d have to march around.” She shakes her head. “The fucker’s trying to bleed us before we reach Sanavil.”

One of the older and experienced [Tacticians] grumbles in annoyance. He points at the map. “Yes, but why does he continue to? With your orders to scout with [Earth Mages] and [Trappers], we’ve been able to counter most of his traps. Why does he continue making the effort? Why doesn’t he send any sorties?”

The [Royal Strategist] frowns at the question. Rathos’ movements seem strange. He is constantly trapping the land, attacking her [Scouts], slowing her down, but most importantly, annoying the fuck out of her.

“It doesn’t fucking matter!” she announces. ”The piece of shit is wasting his time. Once we get to Sanavil, we’ll fuck him and the city up,” she leans forward in her chair and points at the map. “Anyways, his little holes aren't going to be effective anymore. We’re coming up to rockier terrain. Manipulating solid stone is going to cost him too much mana.”

The [Tacticians] all frown at the map. Indeed, the terrain is rockier, mountainous even, but it will force them to squeeze their army through a single narrow path, a perfect environment for an ambush if there ever was one.

“Wouldn’t it be safer to go around?” a [Tactician] asks.

Jade snorts. “And what, waste another three days fucking through trapped dirt and forest?” she shakes her head. ”No, we’ll go through the pass. The forests are just a easy a place to get ambushed and with those fucking flying lizards watching us all the time, that cocksucker knows exactly where we are. The sooner we can start shoving soldiers up his ass, the better.”

_________________________________________________________

“It makes no sense!? How did you know they are going to take the mountain path? To me, it seems like a needless risk when they could just go around.”

Rathos smiles down at the new [General]. Though Doreson has the class and skills, he still lacks the experience to fully comprehend and manipulate the battlefield.

“The Fog of War. You make the best decisions you can based on the information at hand and the experiences you’ve had.” Rathos stands on a rocky outcrop at the northeast end of the small summit. The tiny clump of rocky mountains rising above the surrounding forest spreads out below him. He watches the enemy army reorder itself to march through the narrow passage between the rocky hills.

“I’ve had traps placed throughout their entire journey, with fewer near rocky terrain and more in softer terrain. I’ve given them an illusion of safety on harder ground. I’ve also had wyverns watch them from the sky this entire time. The enemy knows I know where they are and they can’t split their forces.”

Doreson perks up. “You also avoided any and all direct confrontations. You’re making them think that you are afraid of fighting them directly. They don't think you will ambush them!”

“I am afraid of fighting them directly.” Rathos declares. “Fighting an overwhelming force, even with an advantageous position, can cost so much that even victory is pyrrhic. But you’re wrong. They assume I will ambush them.”

Doreson nods slowly. “But you said things are different now.”

Rathos crosses his arms. He brims with confidence. “It was going to be a close battle. Pitting my smaller, higher leveled army against their exponentially larger one will lead to many losses in a prolonged battle.” he raises his armored fist, ”I specialize in creating and capitalizing on decisive moments, not fighting extended battles.”

He opens his fist and points at the enemy. “The weakness of their army is that they are divided. They are a loose coalition of armies under the nominal leadership of one commander with no unified chain of command. Break that leadership, or even disrupt it enough, and the armies will fall to anarchy.”

Doreson stares at the army, attempting to decipher Rathos’ stratagems. He could ask, but he’d learned long ago that Rathos teaches in riddles to help him level up. As Rathos would say, the process of coming to his own conclusion is as important as the conclusion itself.

Also, didn't he say things were different after Doreson explained his new skill?

____________________________________________________________________

The combined army of over thirty different city states stops its march through the pass. A wall of Minotaurs decked in heavy armor blocks their exit from the pass. From atop her horse, Jade looks over the opposing army. Behind the Minotaurs, she sees the pikes of [Spearmen], and behind them fly the pennants of archers and men at arms. She doesn’t see the Centaur cavalry, but there’s no flanks they can attack.

Yet these are all afterthoughts. Perched high on an iron-clad cart, the demon [General] Rathos lounges on an ornate throne, lording over them all. The [General]’s armor rhythmically flexes and blood red light pulses between the armored plates as though it were alive. Black lighting arcs around the throne, playing across the armor’s joints and cutting molten rivulets into the iron cladding.

Jade feels a shiver of fear. She had initially scoffed at the reports of [General] Rathos’ demonic nature, but seeing is believing. She feels his aura blanket the battlefield with suffocating potency. He can probably feel her entire army from where he sits.

But, Jade isn’t one to gawk. Her fear turns to anger as her own aura flares to protect her troops. “[Archers] to the front. [Soldiers] cover the archers. [Mages], prepare anti-air countermeasures. [Cavalry], cover the rear.”

Her orders resound throughout her army and her captains take over, reforming fresh battlelines while the enemy watches and waits. She watches Rathos warily, expecting him to take this moment of vulnerability. He slouches a bit to his left and rests his jaw on his fist. His complacency confuses and enrages Jade. Is he toying with her? Where is his cavalry? Where are his wyverns? Well, she doesn’t expect to see the wyverns till the fighting starts. When they do appear her [Mages] and [Archers] are ready to take them out.

She continues looking at the battlefield, finding nothing out of the ordinary. Still, she feels unsettled. There’s a trick, somewhere…

The enemy stands still and allows her firing line to form. She hears her [Lieutenants] and [Soldiers] activating their skills, strengthening her army. The time is near and the enemy continues to wait. Rathos is still leaning to the side, elbow at the side of the throne while his fist keeps his head aloft, as though he’s bored and her army isn’t worth any effort.

She grinds her teeth, but continues to wait. He could be baiting her to attack early, but she won’t. No, if he wants to wait, then he can wait until she’s damn well ready!

Seething, her army finishes its preparation and she wastes no time.

“[Archers], draw,” she orders.

Rathos straightens his aggravating posture and leans forward.

“Open Ranks,” he orders. The front line of armored minotaurs shift to the side. Jade's eyes widen at the dozens of loaded ballistae.

Before she can even react, Rathos raises an armored hand and points at her army.

“RELEASE!”

With ominous thunks, the artillery launch their deadly payloads. The bolts spear through her entire front line. Her [Soldiers’] armor and shields are little more than scrap before the siege engines. Each giant arrow pierces through a dozen soldiers before its wrath is spent.

“RELEASE!” she shouts and her [Archers] block out the sky with arrows.

Rathos bellows out orders in rapid succession, “[Shield Wall], [Instantaneous Reload], RELEASE!”

The [General]’s soldiers react instantly. Before her arrows even land, another volley from those damned ballistae tears into her army, then they raise their shields and create one giant dome. The Minotaurs at the front block most of the arrows. Their heavy armor protects their own bodies and they raise their shields high to protect the ballistae crews.

“[Triple Volley], [Strategic Angle], [Splitting Arrows],” She hears more skills activate all at once, then the sky is once again smothered by arrows, but not by hers. Somehow, the enemy [Archers] are able to reach her army from the enemy rear.

“Son of a, fucking, piece of shit!” she curses. A nice heavy cavalry charge to break the enemy line would soothe her soul, but she curses again realizing that her cavalry can't maneuver. She’s a sitting duck. “[Shield Wall]!” she cries. Her own [Soldiers] raise up their shields to block the enemy volley, only for the heavy thunk of ballistae to echo again. Even more of her [Soldiers] die as the arrows fall through the broken shield wall.

Swearing, she goes through her repertoire of skills and finds that she doesn't have a simple direct counter. Even her [Final Stand] skill is useless unless her [Soldiers] are in the thick of a fight.

“You fucking cunt,” she snarls. “Get the fuck down here and die!” she screams and points at the enemy army. “[Sprinting Charge], [Accelerated March], [Armored Formation], [Unwavering Parade]; All units, charge!”

She slumps in her saddle as she catches her breath. Using high level skills in quick succession takes a lot out of her, but Jade grins. The ground shakes as her army charges. She can hear the arrows fall, her own [Soldiers] dying, but the horde continues.

__________________________________________________________

Almost casually, Rathos watches the army blindly charge at him. With the enemy’s cavalry in the rear, this suicide charge is their simplest option.

Thankfully, he prepared for this exact scenario.

“Close Ranks. [Soldiers], forward.” he orders.

The Minotaurs close their battle line and a second row of soldiers form up behind them. As the enemy nears, Rathos activates skills.

“[Spear Wall], [Piercing Strike]”

All at once, the [Soldiers] kneel down and pick up spears that were hidden under a small layer of sand. The enemy [Soldiers], affected by charging skills, are unable to slow down or react in time. Half of the enemy's entire front line perishes against the spears.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

“[Defensive Formation], Advance!” he calls out and his army locks up. Though the enemy charge was broken, the battle is no longer one of range. The true bloodbath begins.

________________________________________________________________

Defensive skills are annoying, Thorous concludes as her sword scrapes across a metal shield instead of bisecting it. The damn thing isn’t even enchanted, but enough skills are presently active that it might as well be.

Using the momentum from her failed attack, she pulls in her tail and spins out of the way of a spear. She stabs low and pierces the [Spearman]’s leg. He screams and falls, but before she can finish the job another [Spearman] takes his place, jabbing through the same gap in the Minotaurs’ shields she’s using to cut her opponents down.

While she dances and dodges, her allies slaughter with impunity. She hates to admit it, but this battle does not suit her weapons or skills. Through the reaching blades of foreign [Soldiers], she sees the flickering form of her father weaving ahead, cutting down the men unlucky enough to survive the minotaurs’ shield wall.

“Thorous,” a whisper calls, “go rest. Darrow will take over.”

“Finally! Let’s go, [Shield Bash]!”

Before she can react to the order, an armored titan barrels into her enemies. Darrow rams into the minotaurs’ shields from behind. The shock travels right into the enemies pressed against the shield wall and sends them flying, some as no more than bloody ragdolls.

“Hahaha, is that all you got?! Come at me!” She hears him laugh while he starts making corpses.

Taking the opening he created, she retreats behind the front line and mounts a wagon filled with supplies. There, she takes several gulps of [Mage] cooled water before pouring the rest over her scales. The water sizzles as it quickly cools her body down.

Unlike most humanoids, gejan do not sweat. Instead, their scales heat up as their bodies work to keep a constant core temperature. Thus, a gejan can eventually overheat, but with proper measures they can cool down much faster than humans.

While Thorous rests, she analyzes the battle going on. Despite the disparity in numbers, Sanavil’s army is holding firm in the face of adversity.

Yet it will not last.

She looks up at the man keeping the enemy army from overtaking them. Rathos sits on the throne, barely even moving from his position. From afar, he looks like a demon lazily watching the battle as it unfolds, a guiding hand that keeps his army moving, shifting through the battlefield, reacting quickly to stop any attempts to break the shield wall. But as close as she is now, she can see that, though he attempts to hide it, Rathos is sagging.

The enemy has numerous [Lieutenants], [Captains], and [Tacticians] to cycle through with their skills. They can constantly keep their [Soldiers] buffed up while Sanavil’s leaders are forced to strain both mind and body to keep their own [Soldiers] alive. The horrible predicament would have broken their army within the first hour of fighting if not for Rathos’ steady stream of skills and commands.

Absurd is what he is. After using hundreds of skills over the course of the battle, he is only slightly sagging. Were she in his place, she’d have passed out long ago.

Thorus pulls her gaze from the throne and refocuses. She stands and stretches, shaking out her limbs as she does so, before jogging back to the battle.

She wonders if the centaurs are having more fun.

___________________________________________________________________

“Can we join the fun yet? At this rate, my hooves will fall off from lack of use,” Dragkenoss whines while shifting his weight from one hoof to the next.

“Stop moving! You’ll give us away,” Doreson growls at the [Royal Cataphract Herald] who is more than thrice his age but still acting like a child. “We’ll attack soon. We just need to wait for Rathos' order.”

“What if the order doesn't come? What if Rathos makes them surrender somehow?” Dragkenoss points at the rear of the enemy army. “We will have wasted our time and never gotten to fight anything!”

Doreson can't help but pinch the bridge of his nose. Two years. Two years, and the brooding, serious Dragkenoss turned into a battle junkie. Even his new [Priestess] companion hasn’t calmed him down.

Doreson sighs at the man who raised him like a son.

“If he can win without us, then that would be great. It would mean that the enemy army isn't nearly as strong as we believed,” he grimaces, “But I doubt it. Their army is too big. He can only last for so long, even with his [General] class.”

Dragkenoss clicks his tongue. “Skill fatigue.”

Doreson nods. Activating any skill will tire one out. For most people, this is not a big problem since they have few skills and must wait for the skills’ cool down times to pass before using them again, but, when one has numerous skills, some which can be reused often or chained with others, then an unwary person can use skills till they pass out.

“Rathos is waiting for an opening to employ his six phase plan.” Doreson explains.

“If he can commit a bit faster,” Dragkenoss grumbles but immediately goes silent as Doreson raises his hand. The new [General] smiles. He releases his own aura and melds it with Rathos’.

“He’s ready, it's time to charge. Burn everything to the ground!”

Dragkenoss smiles. He raises his halberd in the air and notifies the five thousand strong centaur cavalry. “[Unified Might], [Slipstream Acceleration], [Overwhelming Charge],” he activates several skills. The entire cavalry starts to glow. Then he rushes towards the enemy's rear.

Doreson follows in the center of the charge. The new [General] opens his mouth.

“[Tectonic Battlefield]”

_________________________________________________________________

Rathos, exhausted, smiles beneath his helmet as the jaws of the trap finally close. The earth starts to tremble, the ground upheaves, and the enemy loses their footing. Doreson’s skill shakes the battlefield like a continuous [Earthquake]–no, an [Earthwrecker] spell. The enemy army loses their footing while the ground underneath his own army is left unaffected.

As the ground trembles, the second phase begins. The thin layer of rock he had had transmuted to dust and sand pours off the surrounding walls, blanketing the pass in a dust cloud.

“Wyverns riders, commence attack.”

In the distance, the [Wyvern Riders] lead a pack of five thousand wyverns to the battlefield. With loud screams, the wyverns strafe Skalag’s army. Ice, fire, and earth rain into the dust cloud, slaughtering untold numbers of enemies.

Explosions bloom and screams echo from the enemy’s ranks. Disordered and unaimed magic shoots back at the wyverns, but the blind fire mostly just strikes the mountain walls and kicks up more dust.

Biting his lip, the [General] pulses out and focuses his aura on a distant part of his army. He raises his shaky hand and reaches in the direction where his [Cavalry] is charging. He feels his heartbeat quicken as he calls up his most powerful skill.

“[Designate Flamewreathed Cavalry]”

________________________________________________________________________

Dragkenoss, the [Royal Cataphract Herald] smiles as he feels shimmering heat envelop his body. Wisps of vibrant orange trail across his jet black fur before ignition occurs and he is engulfed in flame. His eyes behold his halberd being subsumed in a burst of fire and dancing reds glint off the pearly whites of his feral grin.

He roars in savage joy, and the flaming centaurs behind roar with him. They accelerate, the air whistles with burning bloodlust as the ground continues to tremble.

The rear of Jade’s army quickly notices the incoming enemy but the shifting ground prevents them from forming up to meet the charge. The human cavalry struggle to turn and face the centaurs, but their horses are too off guard. The [Pikemen] ahead of them kneel to brace their spears in the desperate hope they can break the charge, or at least slow it down.

Those hopes are dashed as the leading centaur speeds up and raises his halberd. The centaur releases a fiery breath through teeth clenched into a facsimile of a smile. He liberates his aura and cackles.

“[Flamewreathed Stampede]”

Orange and red condense into brilliant blue. The charging centaurs ignite the very air with their presence, every stomping hoof kicking up molten earth. The burning air twists and pulses, a blazing cyclone wraps around the cavalry, feeding off each and every individual. The sky roars with their passage.

The stampede arrives and the wooden pikes burn to slag.

[Soldiers] scream as they cook within their own armor, molten metal fusing to flesh. They scream as their eyes burst and their lungs are seared by scorching air. In death, they scream as hot air seeks to escape their boiling bodies.

The dying cries of [Soldiers] are drowned beneath a wave of fire. Only the sound of sizzling flesh, molten ground, and the movement of corpses is left in the storm's wake.

_______________________________________________________________

“How did they get in?” Henceforth asks while cowering on his throne. The [High King] sweats profusely while the clamor of fighting outside continues.

“I’m not sure. Someone must have ordered the gates open,” [Royal Knight] Peris replies while pointing his sword at the locked double doors leading to the throne room.

“Are you saying we have a traitor?” Henceforth asks.

Peris nods. “Yes, my [King].”

“But who?” Henceforth asks the gnawing question. “Who would dare let them in?”

His question goes unanswered as the fighting arrives outside the throne room. He hears the clanking of steel, the pounding of boots, and the death cries of his [Guards]. The moment that the gates were opened, the outcome was set in stone. Without an army or a solid defense, the city of Skalag falls.

The din lessens down as the last [Guard] crashes to the floor a corpse. Boots click on the tiled floor as someone stops outside the door. The latches on the door rattle as someone attempts to turn them. The lock holds.

For a moment, you could hear a pin drop.

With the splintering of wood, the handles are ripped from the door. Without anything to hold them, the doors swing open from the recoil.

Dominus, dressed in armored leather and carrying a broadsword, tosses the crumpled handles away and steps into the throneroom. The [Warlord] meets the [High King]’s eyes. One has hazel green with smudges of brown. The other… has the exact same.

The [Warlord] removes his weapon from his shoulder and points it at Henceforth.

“It has been a while, brother,” Dominous intones the greeting without inflection.

“Brother!?” Peris exclaims and looks at his [King]. “What is he talking about?”

Dominus chuckles bleakley. His laugh is short and pained. He glares at the [King]. “Of course. Even now, you cling to your secrets as though they would shield you, when in truth, they’ve only weighed you down.” Dominus reproaches the fool on the throne.

“[Henceforth] has no siblings!” Peris splutters. “He is an only child.”

Dominus shakes his head. “Your [King]’s father, the late [King] Hitherto, was promiscuous.”

Peris frowns at the claim. He looks to Henceforth who remains silent after Dominus’ declaration.

Peris grimaces. “Even if I were to believe your words… A bastard has no right to the crown.”

“Fuck the crown! Fuck the castle! Fuck the kingdom! FUCK IT ALL!”” Dominus aura booms with his words. The throneroom shakes as he glares at the [King]. He roars and points his sword up at his hated enemy. “You, my brother,” he spits word out as though it disgusts him, “are all I want. I want to watch you bleed. I want to watch you suffer. And then…”

Dominous breathes. “Then I want to watch you die.”

He looks back to Peris, who is shaken by the vitriol. “So stand aside, or meet the same end as those before you.”

Peris inhales. He steps forward and brandishes his longsword at Dominus. “I refuse. I’ve sworn loyalty to my [King] and I will fight till my death.”

The [Warlord] and [Royal Knight] eye each other. Both are powerful and deadly classes, but one is clearly superior to the other. Dominus prepares to engage, but stops as Henceforth leans forward. A tired gaze meets that of his half-brother.

“Peris, enough.”

“My [King]?”

“Surrender. If I am to die anyway, then I shouldn’t bring those most loyal with me to my grave.”

“But-”

“Peris. As your [King], I order you to stand down.”

“My [King]…”

Henceforth shifts his gaze from Peris and lands it on Dominus.

“Before my death, tell me Brother, which one of mine betrayed me and opened the gates?”

Dominus frowns. He does not like the resigned look from Henceforth.

The [Warlord] shrugs. “Don't know. I came for a siege and the gates were open already.”

“What?” Henceforth exclaims incredulously “Then who ordered the gates open?”

“That would be me.”

All eyes shift to the one who spoke. A man walks around a pillar with a smile on his face.

Both Peris’ and Henceforth's eyes widen in shock.

“Gavis!?” Peris screeches at the [Knight Commander]. “It was you!? Why? Why betray the Crown!? Why betray your [King]!?”

Gavis simply smirks. He walks forward where the sunlight is brightest. “Sirs, I believe you are laboring under a major misapprehension”

The light bends around Gavis, scintillating quickly. The illusion shatters and Gavis is replaced with a finely dressed centaur.

Silence descends within the throne room. The centaur placidly smiles. “Forgive me for my poor court manners. My name is Arron, and I am [King] Quasi’s [Mirage Spymaster].” He bows. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”