Chapter 221: A New Board
The Alliance Forces' temporary command post sat atop a gentle hill where the plains met the mountain range. Smoke rose from the front lines, and beyond it, irregular flashes flickered intermittently—traces of mana left by the Corrupted moving in packs.
Reports from messengers piled up rapidly.
"Eastern front—giants approaching."
"Northeast valley—Corrupted gathering observed."
"Civilians in the rear city have not finished evacuating."
The commanders no longer looked at one another's faces. Only the markers falling across the map conveyed the state of the battlefield. With every red marker added, the blue ones were pushed further inward.
The word ‘retreat’ had become something no one could bring themselves to say aloud.
"There is nowhere left to fall back to."
Someone murmured under their breath. No one contradicted it. They all already knew. If they broke, the next thing in line was the city. Walls and defensive lines were worse than useless. The citizens' homes would become the battlefield itself.
Calix did not lift his gaze from the map.
Before him, letters sent by Astria Kingdom's nobles were piled high, and at the center lay a map tangled with red and blue lines. The terrain was familiar to him—the direction rivers flowed, the density of forests, even the season the winds came. As befitted a mercenary who had walked this land many times, he pressed his fingertips to the map.
"In the end, it comes down to one of two choices."
Adrian ventured carefully.
"Look away, or stand and fight. The former would be tantamount to abandoning the Astria Kingdom. We might never be able to face them again. But we could survive a little longer. The latter, however—"
"We die with honor."
Calix finished the sentence with a nod.
Immediately after, he fell silent for a moment. Every gaze inside the tent turned to him. In the battles thus far, Calix's silences had always been the prelude to a decision.
"We do not run."
It was a short sentence. But the moment it was spoken, the air changed.
"We widen the front line—and this time, we receive them head-on."
Several commanders' expressions hardened. All-out war. In a sense, it was the very option they had most tried to avoid. Prior defeats had widened the gap in numbers, and the Army of Darkness feared no attrition.
"The losses will be severe."
The Latia captain voiced a practical concern.
Calix did not deny it.
"I know."
He said it plainly.
"We do it anyway."
Silence fell again. Within that silence came a tremor from far away—the unpleasant reverberation of a giant's footsteps carrying through the ground.
Battle was not far off.
"All forces, move to designated positions."
Calix's voice was not loud. But it was clear.
"We begin on the plains and end in the mountains."
"That means—"
"We need to make it known—even to them—that there is nowhere left to retreat."
The commanders nodded, one by one. Only then did everyone understand. This battle was not one they were fighting because they had no choice.
Calix hungered for victory more than anyone.
He stepped out of the command tent shortly after. As the Alliance Forces began to move, at the far edge of the plains, a black tide was slowly revealing itself.
A great army of the Corrupted and wolf cavalry intermixed. The vanguard alone was enough to swallow an entire region.
Calix drew a long, slow breath.
‘This war must end here.’
Whatever the outcome, a decisive conclusion had to come.
***
At dawn the following day, the curtain of battle rose.
The Corrupted surged forward without order, and the Alliance Forces received them at a fixed line. Shields crashed, spears snapped, and screams scattered through the air. But even that noise did not last long.
Calix's directions were cutting through the entire front line.
"Hadiya—the left flank pushed too far forward. Tell them to pull back."
"Center—maintain contact. Hold the defensive line at its core."
"The right flank needs to advance a little more. Volga, you'll have to go."
The Alliance Forces did not drive the enemy back. They retreated as much as they felled, and pushed forward only as much as they could hold. The soldiers found it puzzling, but the orders were clear. They could have cut down more of the enemy—but they did not.
Keeeeek!!
The Corrupted, seeing the Alliance Forces hesitate, grew bolder. They mistook the enemy's line for one that was wavering. The enemy troops surged forward, and their density naturally increased.
It was precisely then.
From the far edge of the plains, the earth shook.
Thoom.
A single tremor. At that ominous vibration, every head lifted. The giants were approaching.
The Corrupted rolled their eyes uneasily. But the option to flee did not exist. The beasts hurled their bodies straight forward. If they were not to be crushed beneath the giants, they had to cut a path through.
In that moment, Calix raised his hand.
"Now."
War horns and drums rang out. Messengers broke into a run, and immediately after, the Alliance Forces' formation pulled back in unison. It was a planned withdrawal. The soldiers retreated calmly—stepping back in order, using the shield wall as a brace to strike back in intervals.
Even so, a colossal shadow was drawing closer.
The great Gromchi. Its full shape was not yet visible, but the air had already changed. A suffocating pressure bore down upon the battlefield.
"Hold steady. Don't run—fall back safely."
Calix's voice was low.
The Alliance Forces repeated their withdrawal toward the rear. But as they left, they scattered something across the ground behind them. Ceramic jars struck the earth and disgorged their contents.
The Mana of Darkness had been consuming the land, leaving the grasslands parched and dry. Across that surface, glistening oil spread.
Before long, when the soldiers had withdrawn to a designated line, Calix gave a single nod.
"Ignite."
The elf Airien raised a flaming arrow. Hundreds of fire bolts carved through the air.
Perhaps because the quantity of oil had not been great—
For a moment it seemed as if the fire would die out as it was, but then, all at once, flames erupted. At first low, as if drawing breath, only a portion caught. But soon, the entire plains blazed with light.
The wind was blowing.
"……By choosing, one twists it."
Yelayen planted his staff.
The old man's face had gone rigid. He knew what this act meant. With his own hands, he had broken the balance.
It was something no mage ought to do. He had directly bent the flow of the world. And yet, in the end, he had carried it out.
"After so many long years have passed……"
Yelayen murmured softly.
"I find I still carry a human heart."
Within those words lay hollowness—and alongside it, an inexplicable sense of relief.
The staff pointed to the sky. The wind blowing in from the west flowed out toward the east. Faint at first, then growing fierce—a powerful current cut across the valleys and plains. The flames were driven in the direction the Army of Darkness was advancing.
Fire surged like a wave and swallowed the monsters whole.
Screams burst out.
They were cries of pain born from pure instinct. Limbs curled and contracted, flesh caught alight, and acrid smoke spread through the air. Some tried to suppress the flames with mana, but it only became fresh fuel. Even the darkness itself burned. The fire did not die. The wind kept feeding it endlessly.
In an instant, half the plains transformed into hell.
The vast army of the Corrupted collapsed. Their endless disorder and numerical advantage became meaningless. The densely packed forces were trapped wholesale within the inferno.
The atmosphere of the battlefield shifted drastically.
Soldiers who had been retreating came to a standstill. A breathless, involuntary gasp escaped from somewhere among them.
"……A miracle."
Someone said.
In this single moment, every one of them shared the same thought.
But at the same time—they were far too hasty.
Thoom—craaaaack.
The Corrupted were stamped beneath the giants' feet and ceased moving. They died without a single cry, and yet the fire clinging to those bodies was extinguished.
[Grrrrrr……]
In the center of the battlefield, a colossal shadow came to a halt. The flames reached the giant's legs but could not burn flesh. They left only char, then scattered in the wind.
The Gromchi looked down at the plains. Neither the multicolored flames nor the screams of the Corrupted held its gaze for long.
And then it moved its feet again.
As if nothing had happened at all.
***
Just as the flames were dying, a cheer erupted from the humans.
"We did it!"
"They're breaking!"
Some raised their shields overhead; others thrust into the air the hand gripping their weapon. These were soldiers who, until moments ago, had barely been able to draw breath. The sight of the Corrupted writhing to death within the blaze was more than enough to look like victory.
But Calix's eyes had sunk deep.
He was watching the battlefield. The colossal shadow beyond the fire. Each time the Gromchi took a step, the earth gave a low rumble. The pace was slow—but that very slowness only heightened his vigilance. No one had stopped those footsteps.
Not yet.
Calix raised his hand immediately.
"All forces—rapid withdrawal."
In an instant, the commanders froze.
"Right now, sir?"
"Yes. Right now."
A short answer.
The expressions of the cheering soldiers changed in an instant. Even as they moved their feet in response to the withdrawal signal, they glanced back—and only then, with eyes filled with unease, did they look up at the giants.
There was still distance between them—but not so great.
Calix cast his gaze toward Marik. The Vice-captain was now leading the Mountain Rabbits.
"We have to make it look like we're being chased. We cannot fall too far back—nor draw too close."
At those words alone, the cavalry moved. Mountain Rabbits and Kalahim fighters, knights of various nations, all intermixed. They remained at the outermost edge of the formation. A thin wall had been erected between the main body of troops and the giants.
The Gromchi took note. Those remaining—those that did not flee even upon seeing it—those were the ones that mattered.
The giant's breathing grew rough. There was no command, no judgment. Only instinct. The desire to trample what lay before it, to shatter it, to chase it down and grind it to nothing.
Thoom.
The Gromchi changed direction and began pursuing the Mountain Rabbits.
The pace was slow. Yet no one could stop it. Any who were caught beneath its step died on the spot. The giant advanced not by strategy, but driven by fury.
Calix watched that current from beginning to end.
"Keep it baited. Any unit that falls behind—pull them entirely to the side."
It was a cold-blooded order. The Mountain Rabbits served as the lure, but any unit caught was cleanly abandoned. Even that sacrifice had been calculated. It was bait to hold the Gromchi's gaze.
In the meantime, the landscape of the battlefield shifted steadily.
The plains ended, and the terrain split apart. The wind changed, the ground underfoot grew far harder. The entrance to a gorge cut across one edge of their field of vision. Cliffs rose on both sides, and the path narrowed sharply.
But the Gromchi did not stop.
Fury drove its footsteps forward. The narrowing path and the cliffs blocking its view did not register in its eyes. Only the fact that something was fleeing before it—something irritatingly persistent—held its mind in its grip.
Calix came to a brief halt at the entrance to the gorge.
"This is as far as we go."
With those words, the Alliance Forces' last troops stepped into the gorge. Behind them, a colossal shadow was pressing in between the cliffs.
The battle was not yet over.
But the battlefield had been set—by his hand.