One man can't change the course of a battle, but one man can change the course

~Elector “The Demon King” Dire At the Battle Of Grshina First Holy calendar year 2156

Chapter 18: Marshal Saint duel

A Marshall Saint was a position that existed in almost every human country except the theocracy and countries allied to it. The position was not appointed by the Monarch or even by the council. It was a position that had to be earned generally by defeating the existing Marshal Saint in a duel. A tournament would be held if the Marshall Saint died of natural causes or in battle, and the winner would be declared that nation's Marshal Saint. The Marshall Saint of a Nation symbolized their power and Military might. They were the aspirations of all warriors from their nations.

Although a Marshall Saint was not a god, they could still be killed with numbers. Stories of Marshall Saints being killed by being swarmed were not rare. At the end of the day, one individual could not change the course of a battle. For example, if one man was worth 100 soldiers, he was only worth ten skilled knights. So it would be 50/50 if ten skilled knights could kill him. But if he were backed up with an equal number of knights, the tide would turn in his favor

Rasmus Mortur was the Marshall Saint of the Kingdom of Antlatur. After two humiliating defeats at the hands of the Marshall Saint to the kingdom of Black Luca, the Prestige of the Marshall Saint Antlatur had been tattered. But after defeating the Marshall Saint of the Kingdom of Triton in a Marshall Saint challenge and later winning glory in the following war, he restored some of their prestige. Still, he needed to restore the prestige of his office, and there was only one way to do that. Defeat Luca in a duel.

He and his chosen band of elite knights push through the Black formation, guarding the breach. Rasmus watched from a safe distance. He was saving his strength for his duel or any other powerful opponents he may face. He had to give the Black soldiers credit for not running away. The soldiers of Triton fled like spiderlings when they saw his distinctive armor; even their knights of noble bloodline only had the courage for one charge before fleeing. However, the commoner soldiers of the Kingdom of Black maintain their reputation for fearlessness and iron discipline. He watched as one of his knights slashed down an enemy soldier and advanced over him, expecting to face the next enemy in formation. Instead, he was stabbed from behind by the soldier on the ground and had his head chopped off by the soldier in front of him. “Even on the brink of death, they exhibit courage.” He vaguely wondered how someone managed to raise an army like that. He heard the princess was attempting to copy many of the Kingdom of Black methods. Maybe he would ask her about it someday.

As Rasmus was lost in his thoughts, he heard a shout, “Lord Rasmus, get down.” He ducked instinctually. He heard a shattering sound, and when he looked up, he saw one of his bodyguards had covered him. A javelin was lying harmlessly on the ground next to him. His mana shield had protected him. Most of the knights and soldiers who would attack this section of the wall had their mana shields broken by archers. A part of the reason Rasmus was so confident was that archers who guarded this area were a lot less dangerous than javelin throwers.

One problem with mana shields was that they protected the entire body, including already armored portions. For example, if an arrow were heading for your head, even if you were wearing an Adamantite helmet and the arrow would do nothing, it would still break your mana shield or at least damage it. He looked up at the walls and saw the same archers. They were still raining arrows on his men for the little damage it did, but he saw one man holding a javelin. Blue and black Mana had already covered it. When he saw Rasmus looking at him, he hurled his javelin straight towards him. The javelin was well-aimed, and the same knight would block with his body, previously logging himself in the path of the javelin with his shield up. The javelin struck the steel-covered heater shield with a clanging noise and bounced off. The soldier who had thrown it already was scampering away, disappearing into the crowd of archers.

The Black soldiers fought hard, but even these veterans were no match for skilled knights personally trained by a Marshal Saint. In addition, their age had caught up with them. They weren't as strong as they were in their Prime. So, of course, they were gradually pushed back and killed off one by one. They had courage and willingness to die, but it wasn't worth much. Their pride would not allow them to retreat. Their death bought 10 minutes, ten measly minutes, but those 10 minutes changed the fate of this battle, The fate of this country, the fate of the Western continent, and the Fate of the entire world, for a reason that none of them even knew.

Rasmus watched as the last Black soldier attacked a knight, abandoning all defense and attacking with all his might. The knight probably would have died if one of the other knights hadn't stabbed the soldier at that moment. The attacked knight recovered and thrust his sword toward the Black soldier's exposed face. Even injured, he raised his shield in time, blocking while giving a thrust of his own. The knight blocked it with his heater shield as the knight who had saved him earlier and another knight both worked together to kill the soldier finally.

Knight moved through the breach, climbing over the rubble and setting foot on the city of Lepetra. Rasmus was excited, and all of their wars in the kingdom of Antlatur had never gotten a soldier into the city of the Lapetra. He turned to a knight and ordered him, “Return and tell his majesty that we've breached the city, although I bet he already knows.” The knight saluted and rushed off. He turned to his Vice Commander, his top apprentice. “Have the men reform and move out to attack a gate when reinforcements arrive.” The Vice Commander saluted and started shouting orders. Rasmus watched.

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Rasmus heard a shout from his men and looked up. He followed the man's finger and saw something unbelievable. A wall of Black Knights was racing towards them at top speed. The red cloaks flapped behind them, and sunlight glinted off their lances. “There's no way we would have heard their horses before we saw them.” They were shockingly close, maybe only 30 seconds from collision normally; you could hear a charging horse from quite some distance, much less an entire company of charging horses. But then he realized why. “Shit, the den of battle drowned them out.” The noises from the rest of the battlefield, the screams and cries, had completely muffled the enemy's approach. In addition, until recently, his men had been busy dealing with the soldiers guarding the wall.

Rasmus felt like kicking himself. In terms of skill, he was confident that his knights were on equal terms with just about any knights from the Kingdom of Black. But having a horse made a big difference. His men left behind their horses on the other side of the wall to climb over the rubble. They'd be run down and skewered with lances. Even if they won, the casualties would be immense. But Rasmus was a Marshal Saint who could turn the tide of battle. There was no time to bark orders, so Rasmus raced to the front.

He saw the Black Knight approaching him and his lance on his right side, so he moved to the left. As the distance between them became negligible, even Rasmus felt a thrill of fear running through his body. The pounding of countless hooves and the awareness of what would happen if even one armored horse hit him set even his heart racing. He felt his Mana coursing through his veins, and he further augmented his physical strength before coating his sword in Mana. He jumped up, swinging his sword straight for his helmet. His Lance was on the other side, so he couldn't strike back. His blow caught the man in the helmet, and his mana shield was broken with a shattering sound. Mana shields could stop most blows completely, but the blow would continue when the power difference was stark. For example, if a skilled knight hit an average soldier, the shield would break, and the strike would continue. If Rasmus struck an average knight, his blow would continue. However, his sword was stopped.

The knight raced past him, undoubtedly to spear one of his subordinates. Clicking his tongue, he looked at the second wave. Knights came and waved with each row to avoid accidentally hitting each other, giving each other space. The second row approached swords drawn normally. They would be equipped with lances and charge as the first rank retreated, rotating ranks to maintain the shock and maneuverability. They probably knew they were going up against the Knights, but they hadn't bothered to do that; instead, the second rank was equipped with swords, knowing it would get bloody. He noticed that among their number is the target. Luca had more black armor than all the other knights; however, theirs was polished and smooth. His was rough and jagged. It almost looked like cursed armor. He rode a war horse with the same cursed armor and carried a war axe. The haft was made of a black material carved with magic glyphs, and the blade was made of Adamantite. The cursed axe was specially crafted just for Luca.

Luca rode his horse straight for Rasmus. The Black Knights passed around him to join their comrades, but Rasmus didn't attack them. Every instinct in his body screamed at him not to turn his attention away from Luca. He was likely the most powerful opponent Rasmus had ever faced. “Luca, I assume? I challenge you to a duel,” Luca said nothing. He rushed his horse forward and swiped his axe, covered in a dark red Mana, downward. Rasmus blocked, but he felt the power in the blow. “Will you at least dismount so we can fight fair.” Luca didn't respond as he turned his horse around and charged again, attempting to run Rasmus down. Rasmus dodged in and attempted a jumping strike again, but Luca blocked it with his Heater Shield and countered.

Their exchange of blows continued, and it soon became apparent that Luca had the advantage. In terms of equipment, they were about equal; both had armor on par with Enchant Adamantite. Their weapons were about equal; Rasmus was equipped with an Adamantite Enchanted blade, and Luca had his custom battle axe. Luca had a slight advantage in terms of skill, but it wasn't enough of an advantage to completely decide the battle. What made it a complete victory for him was that he was mounted on a horse. On horseback, he was taller than Rasmus and could attack from a higher vantage point; he also had extra maneuverability. Rasmus attempted to attack the horse, but the horse itself nimbly dodged, and Luca counter-attacked landing one of the first solid blows of the battle as he found a nick in Rasmus's armor and gave him a cut. It was far from fatal but proof that Rasmus was losing this battle.

Rasmus was left with only one option. Rasmus charged up his sword with many Mana and pointed it straight towards Luca. “I'll end you now, traitor.” It was common practice in the Kingdom of Antlatur to call those from the Kingdom Black traitors; most still alive today were children during the Rebellion or were born after it, including Luca. Luca, who would gain some distance, charged him again, similarly coding his Ax with dark red mana. When their two blows collided, it produced a shock wave of Rasmus's dark green mana and Luca's dark red mana. It would have blown back lesser men, proof of the transcendence status of the two combatants. Luca prepared another blow, but Rasmus did something strange. Instead of preparing his shield or sword to block, he stabbed straight toward Luca’s horse. Like before, the horse dodged nimbly, sidestepping in a move that seemed impossible for a horse. This caused Luca’s blow to miss. He readied his defenses clearly, expecting this as a prelude to a counter-attack, but instead, Rasmus turned on his heel and ran as fast as he could. It was the dishonorable thing to do, and he knew people would call him a coward, but discretion was the better part of valor.

Rasmus ran back to the battlefield. His knights were getting the worst of it for the same reasons as him. Many of them were already dead, although they had killed some Black Knights. “Antlatur, withdraw!” he yelled in his mana inpowered voice. The Kingdom of Black and the Kingdom of Antlatur shared more or less the same language, both formerly being a part of the Towers Empire. However, the Kingdom of Black had developed a full-scale different dialect partly to differentiate themselves from the Kingdom of Antlatur. He decided to specify to avoid confusion. He hoped Luca would get caught up in the battle and could not pursue him further. He ignored the rest of the battlefield and ran straight for the breach in the wall. A Black knight thrust his lance at him. He blocked it and counter-attacked, slashing his stomach. His Adamantite blade went through his armor like butter. Rasmus didn't look back and continued running. He hastily climbed over the breach in the wall.

Finally, he took the opportunity to glance back. Many of his men had disengaged and were running. Those who weren't engaged were already swarming over behind him. But many of his men had already been stabbed in the back or were now left isolated due to their comrades fleeing. The Black Knights seemed busy dealing with them and not interested in pursuing them. Rasmus clicked his tongue before running to his horse.