With a soft yawn, she observed the army below her with bewilderment. While it was common for the guard to be on alert in such a situation, her entire troop was already equipped and finishing dismantling the camp.

More than half of her forces were in position, fully armed and ready for combat, while the few specialists gave orders and ran through the camp.

Then, she stood up and took a step forward, letting her body fall.

Landing gracefully on the ground, her legs didn't even tremble, and the ground didn't crack, as if the weight of her body and armor had been reduced to nothing.

"What's going on? Why the rush?" She asked one of the specialists, a tall man with an ordinary appearance and red hair.

"None of the scouts have returned, Miss Lydia. They should have been back at the camp over an hour ago," the man replied with a heavy and anxious voice.

A single or even several scouts delaying for such a long time would be understandable, but so many scouts not returning to the camp all at once was concerning.

Ambushes and assassinations of scouts were common, as they were the eyes and noses of any army, carrying out reconnaissance missions to locate and account for enemy troops, alerting allies of the risks even before they approached.

Lydia's mind spun quickly as she contemplated a course of action. Her normally carefree face grew stern as she surveyed the forest around her.

She then released a strong Aether pulse powerful enough to sweep a 5-kilometer area, but received nothing in return, not even a single piece of information. That was not good news.

Everything in this world, living or dead, had Aether. Trees or insects, when sending out an Aether pulse, the manipulator would receive clear information about the various life forms around them. It was easy to distinguish a tree from an Aether manipulator or an Aether beast, as the level of response and the intensity of the passively circulating Aether were much greater.

Receiving no signal meant only one thing: someone was directly blocking her energy pulses, preventing her from receiving a clear response from her reconnaissance.

Without hesitating any longer, she shouted, her deep, heavy voice resonating throughout the camp, "Formation! Shields up!"

Unfortunately, by the time the few soldiers who were still dismantling the camp started running to grab their equipment, it was already too late.

A sharp buzzing sound filled the air as hundreds of arrows flew through the dense forest, raining down on Lydia's troops in a deadly melody.

That was the sound no commander wants to hear when they are at risk of being ambushed. Painful cries echoed throughout the camp as the unarmed soldiers were mercilessly struck by the enemy's arrow barrage.

The troops that were already in formation barely suffered any casualties. Raising their shields, they held steadfast against the arrow rain, forming four phalanxes: one to guard the left flank, two for the center, and a fourth for the right flank.

Lydia didn't even bother to protect herself. The arrows hit and ricocheted off her body as if hitting a solid steel wall.

"What the hell are you all looking at? Shoot back, you idiots!" she shouted at the archers, who had retreated to a safe distance and were observing the infantry troops from afar.

"Shoot at what? We can't see anything!" replied the leader of one of the archer battalions, using his aura to defend his troops from the few arrows that reached them.

"Anything! Just shoot towards the forest!" Lydia shouted again.

Listening to their commander's words, the archers began to approach the infantry, shooting over them towards the dark forest.

Although they couldn't see anything even with Aether imbued in their eyes, muffled and distant screams, along with a decrease in the number of arrows raining down on them, clearly demonstrated that their enemies were also suffering from this attack.

This assistance was more than enough for the rest of the infantry to assume their positions in the phalanx.

Soon, the enemy arrows ceased, and a deep cry was heard. After that, a sea of men burst through the forest.

They were mostly equipped with two-handed axes and green leather scale armor. Their helmets were adorned with the heads of bears, wolves, and deer.

Their terrifying cries didn't even make Lydia's troops flinch. Firming their shields against the ground, they formed a powerful shield wall with the shields of the four phalanxes, using their spears as spikes between them.

The distance between the clearing where Vasbrusk's army was and the edges of the surrounding forest was about 100 meters, and the barbarians covered that distance in seconds, heavily colliding against the shield wall of the phalanxes.

It wasn't a pretty sight; the front line of the barbarians had to face the spears head-on. Many were impaled, pushed against the spears by those coming from behind, becoming nothing more than flesh shields to cushion the impact against the rest of the troops.

A handsome young man with long black hair and a completely bare chest could be seen just behind those lines. His movement style made it clear that he was a great genius, a warrior just a step away from becoming an expert.

With a powerful cry, he used one of the impaled bodies of his compatriots as a base and propelled his body more than 5 meters into the air.

With a sneering smile, he observed the top of the shield walls and positioned his axe over his head, preparing to dive into the phalanx and destroy it from within.

Unfortunately, reality was cruel. Even before his body began to descend, he saw the shields open and dozens of spears raised in the air, ready to receive him.

It was a cruel and bloody greeting. The young man could only watch in terror as his body was pierced by more than 5 spears, ending his short life in an instant as his heart was impaled and his internal organs were destroyed by the explosion of Aether carried by the spears, killing him instantly.

This scene repeated itself in many places among the phalanxes. Barbarians climbed over the bodies of their compatriots, trying in any way to throw themselves onto the phalanxes and find any opening to kill their enemies.

It was cruel, chaotic, and insane, but that was the fighting style of the northern tribes: violent, without the slightest attachment to life, more concerned with taking an enemy down with them than actually surviving and winning the battle. Their belief in their war gods turned them into lunatic berserkers.

Lydia observed everything from behind. She had already swept the entire battlefield with her Aether senses and estimated that there were at least 3,000 enemies in that region. Although they had a tactical advantage, she needed to act quickly, or they would be killed one by one.

"Where are you, you filthy rat..." Her gaze carefully scanned every corner of the forest on the horizon.

She knew well that there was a master somewhere leading that army, the same one who had blocked her Aether pulses. And one of the only ways to ensure victory was to swiftly cut off his head.

Then, a cruel smile appeared on her face when she saw a dark figure observing the battle from afar.

"There you are!" she shouted before planting her feet on the ground. A red aura appeared around her body, and she propelled herself forward, covering that distance in less than 1 second.

The dark figure acted quickly and threw itself backward, catching a glimpse of Lydia's body crashing into the tree, breaking it as if it were nothing but a twig.

Lydia landed heavily on the ground, shattering the earth beneath her feet and creating a cloud of dust.

As the dust settled, she could see her opponent, a man in his forties, young compared to her level alone.

He had handsome features and green hair. Unlike the other barbarian troops, he wore a dark green armor made of refined leather and wielded a massive halberd in his hands.

The man said nothing, neither did Lydia. In the moment their eyes met, they already knew exactly what their opponent had to say.

Only: 'death.'

PREV INDEX Next