Chapter 1: Entering the Fray

In the midsummer of the 4th year of the Magic Calendar, among the seven nations embroiled in the prelude to the War of the Gods—the Battle for the Defense of the Aeminor Continent—every high-ranking military strategist recognized the strategic importance of Xilin Island, located at the Dragon's Mouth of the Lion River. The reason this island had not yet been attacked as a strategic point by midsummer was clear to almost everyone: it was part of the mighty Aemi Empire, the most powerful territory in the known world.

However, this stable situation only lasted until the second month of autumn in the 4th year of the Magic Calendar.

On the night of October 22, 4th year of the Magic Calendar, at 11:00 PM, the battle that would make Xilin Island famous officially began, marking the onset of war.

Historians specializing in the study of mercenary kings generally agree on one point: in the early stages of this battle, if Ying had not been beside Aemi, they might have faced a bloody conflict.

Within the known world, the visual capabilities of different races vary greatly, with humans ranking quite low, especially in terms of night vision.

Forest elves, accustomed to the dim light of the forest, excel in nighttime visibility, making them the best among all races in this aspect.

Beastmen, particularly werewolves and bear people active at night, possess significant advantages in night vision, only second to forest elves.

Gnomes also dwell in darkness, though they rarely need to see far, resulting in slightly shorter night vision compared to forest elves and beastmen.

Dwarves rank fourth in night vision, often able to spot animals from 500 meters away.

Prairie elves, living on vast grasslands, have the best daytime visibility among all races, but at night, they lag behind their forest elf kin.

Humans fare the worst, with most unable to see beyond 100 meters at night, and only humans suffer from night blindness, a condition long overdue for natural elimination.

Aemi was startled by Ying's whisper, causing his fingers to tremble slightly. As a magician, he was well aware of the elves' visual range, and he had no doubt about Ying's words. He quietly called the nearby sentry to alert everyone to prepare for battle.

Those unaware of the actual situation often live blissfully. The sentry, hearing about the approaching enemy and recalling the captain's promise earlier that day, was so excited he nearly went out alone to slay the little pirates and claim the two rare divine weapons for himself.

Mercenaries have a comprehensive management system. The constant danger of living on the edge of life and death has led most mercenary groups to sleep with their weapons ready. The sentry quickly sounded the alarm in each mercenary's quarters, using the highest alert level to awaken every mercenary.

Aemi, to avoid detection by the enemy, had already jumped to the ground with Ying in his arms. Daqingshan, Chi Aotian, and Horns, who hadn't yet fallen asleep, were already standing beneath the building, weapons in hand.

In the mercenary camp, the sound of mercenaries dressing could be faintly heard, along with the gentle closing of doors. Each room, typically housing five mercenaries, was divided by squad. Led by their squad leaders, they ran in the dark to their designated positions on the parade ground. After assembling, squad leaders reported their numbers to their platoon leaders, who in turn reported to the captain and other unit commanders.

For the small mercenary group, such sudden nighttime assemblies were routine training, and today's speed and quality were on par with usual standards.

Aemi quietly ordered each unit to take up pre-practiced positions.

Unlike regular armies, small to medium-sized mercenary groups rarely engage in face-to-face charges during wars, as their most common foes are not honorable enemies but rather thieves and bandits who attack from advantageous positions.

To the west of the small mercenary camp lay a beach, formed by years of wave erosion. The sand dunes on the beach were slightly higher than the island's average elevation and were covered with dense shrubs. The first to occupy positions were the blocking swordsmen, who, led by Deputy Captain Vixi, quickly infiltrated the slope facing the sea. They had previously dug half-human-deep pits there, which they jumped into, pulling sand-covered boards over their heads for concealment. Although Chi Aotian was supposed to lead the team, Aemi believed his murderous aura was too strong and unsuitable for stealth, so he was left behind.

Next were the archers, led by two scouts, who crouched as they moved up the slope. As they passed Aemi, Gersu and Gran Yusi noticed Ying standing beside him. Understanding why the captain had detected the enemy, they cast curious glances at Ying.

The magic swordsmen, the smallest unit, arrived next. Aemi gestured for them to follow the deputy captain into position as quickly as possible.

Finally, the greatsword warriors, the big men, crouched down to avoid detection by the enemy, feeling their way forward and quietly blending into the bushes.

The most disappointed were the falcon swordsmen, who were effectively blind at night and thus missed the chance to join the battle. Thinking of the twin swords Honglan they had seen during the day, they could only hope that other swordsmen wouldn't claim all the glory.

As the warriors took their positions, Aemi glanced at the silver moon above—a waning crescent. The enemy commander was truly skilled; in an amphibious assault, the greatest fear is wading through waist-deep water, a prime target for defenders. At that moment, it was the last stage of high tide, and if the enemy remained undetected, the large ships could ride the tide directly onto the beach.

Aemi, holding Ying's hand, quietly moved with Daqingshan, Chi Aotian, and Horns into the beach's bushes. Ying silently counted the ships ahead, whispering, "There are 20 large ships, each full of soldiers, though I can't tell how many on each. They're about 1,000 meters away."

Based on the Empire's coastal defense fleet's capacity, each ship typically carried around 30 soldiers. Assuming these enemy ships were one or two times larger, the enemy might number 600 to 1,200. The core members of the small mercenary group exchanged glances; if it was 600, victory would be easy, but if it was 1,200, they might face a tough fight.

"The ships are now 700 meters away," Ying reported.

"Now 600 meters."

"They're lowering small boats," Horns said, squinting as the enemy ships entered his visual range.

"Yes, about 10 per boat, with around 30 small boats in the water," Ying added, her vision almost as clear as daylight at that distance. "They look so ugly," she grimaced, "human bodies with heads like dogs—no, more like wolves. They're holding small shields in one hand and short spears in the other, baring their fangs. What kind of creatures are these?"

Aemi gently pulled Ying, hushing her to lower her voice even further. It seemed like another continent was attacking Aeminor.

The enemy commander impressed Aemi even more; evidently cautious about unfamiliar waters, he feared reefs and preferred a small-boat approach.

Regarding these unknown foes, no one had any certainty. Aemi recalled the scant information on werewolves he had studied with his teacher in the Imperial Court Library. In that distant land, various beastmen tribes existed: bear people, centaurs, snake people, and others, with werewolves being the most numerous, inhabiting every region in tribal groups. They were said to be the smartest race—excluding the scattered human populations. Werewolf soldiers were the weakest individually on that continent but excelled in group and continuous tracking attacks. Despite inter-tribal feuds, they could quickly unite against external threats.

Aemi felt fortunate for the separating sea. These soldiers, quick and agile, outmatched the empire's troops and possibly even the mercenary swordsmen in flexibility. On land, with such a skilled enemy commander, these fast units could be devastatingly effective. Fortuitously, the sea breeze blew toward the continent, preventing any sound or scent from alerting the sharp-nosed werewolf soldiers.

Soon, a slight unrest arose from the archers' positions, indicating the prairie elves had simultaneously detected the enemy. By then, the enemy was about 400 meters from the shore.

Gersu turned to glance at the nearby captains. Aemi and Horns gestured simultaneously: "Wait until they're within effective range, then attack at your discretion."

"Prepare to attack," came the clear signal from Gersu's hand, passed swiftly among the archers.

Prairie elves had an archery range of about 250 meters, far surpassing human archers' 150-meter range. Observing the enemy's speed, all archers drew 10 to 20 arrows from their quivers, arranging them before them with arrowheads forward and fletching gathered in one spot.

400 meters.

350 meters.

300 meters.

Gersu, now 470 years old, had grown from a novice archer into a trusted leader through decades of battles, both as a mercenary and an imperial soldier, participating in numerous campaigns. Even an experienced veteran like him felt surprised by these unfamiliar troops, his palms sweating in the night wind. This was nothing compared to the majority of prairie elves, many of whom had never faced war. Their hands instinctively touched the arrows on the ground.

250 meters—within range for most prairie elves. Gersu took a deep breath and shouted, "Rise—," springing to his feet. The other elves followed, bows in one hand and arrows in the other, readying their 1.4-meter-long bows. As Gersu shouted "Fire," 102 arrows flew straight toward the boats on the sea.

From Gersu's initial command to the arrows' release took barely a moment. The sea-bound enemy, startled by the sudden movement onshore, had no time to react before arrows pierced them, sending dozens flipping into the sea from the arrows' powerful force.

Human archers typically used indirect fire, adjusting for range to rain arrows down on enemies from above. In contrast, prairie elves, accustomed to hunting, delivered lethal direct shots—even at a distance of 250 meters.