In a vast plain bathed by the morning light, in the heart of Milis, a herd of Nufulaus grazed with apparent tranquility.
The creatures, monstrous variants of common buffalo, measured three times the size of a horse, with long, curved horns, hooves hard as iron, and eyes that shone with a strange reddish hue.
Classified as rank D and C monsters, they rarely posed a threat when unprovoked, but could tear entire villages apart if angered.
However, on that day, the calm would be broken abruptly.
Without any warning, a lightning bolt streaked across the plain. Agile. Uncontrollable. Devastating. The bluish spark cut the horizon like a divine blade, not hesitating even before the herd.
The bolt passed through the Nufulaus as if they were air, shredding their monstrous bodies in a more-or-less straight line.
The shockwave of its speed raised the earth around it, cracking the ground and sending debris flying in every direction.
Flesh, blood, and entrails exploded into the air in a grotesque, instantaneous blur, as if the herd had been struck by divine judgment.
The plain, once filled with the low sounds of the Nufulaus, became a field of panic. The surviving monsters ran wild, in instinctive frenzy, as if death itself lurked behind them.
But the bolt remained unaltered in its course, crossing the plain in an instant.
In the next moment, already far away on a hill that stood out against the clear sky, the lightning finally slowed. Its end was not abrupt, but rather like a train trying to stop after reaching top speed.
The ground over which it passed was torn open, carving deep furrows; grass and stone yielded to the force driving it forward.
When it finally stopped, the previously indistinguishable figure made a slight leap, landing on a higher point of the slope. It was Rygar.
His body still radiated heat and static, strands of hair standing on end from the accumulated energy. His golden eyes, his Demon Eyes, were active, pulsing with light.
The Lightning Step, his high‑speed movement technique based on electricity, had been in constant use on his recent travels.
Despite the destructive impact and the strain it caused, Rygar had improved greatly in controlling the technique.
His body, once unable to cope with the speeds achieved, was now far more capable. His magical, physical, and mental control had evolved.
He could also rely on the enhancement of Touki and the keen, slow‑motion perception of his Demon Eyes.
The ability was still not ideal for direct combat, but it had become a powerful form of displacement… for now.
Now, it was no longer a matter of creating the technique. It was a matter of mastering it. And that, he knew, was only a matter of time.
But Rygar was not traveling with this ability merely to practice.
On his journey toward the Second Vanguard Division of the Iron Legion, he had intercepted a large Milis troop.
Composed of elites, the unit moved silently to reinforce an ambush planned for dawn. He had extracted the information from the commander, whom Rygar made "confess" entirely of his own free will.
According to the plan, they would reach the ambush site in the heat of battle, creating a deadly encirclement.
Obviously, Rygar made sure that troop would never reach its destination. Still, he did not allow himself to relax.
His sixth sense had not alerted him to any danger to his allied forces there, which meant they were likely safe. But, forewarned is forearmed.
And so he arrived.
On the horizon, his eyes caught the image of a massive Blue Dragon circling a mountain range. The dragon, despite its imposing size, showed clear signs of severe injury.
Its wings beat unevenly, and a trail of blood ran down its flank. Yet the creature did not retreat. It hovered over the ambush area, waiting for an opening.
Rygar frowned. The smell of blood and iron was unmistakable. He could also hear the muffled sounds of a camped army.
"All right… let's take down this lizard first."
He adjusted his stance, took a deep breath, and his eyes shone with renewed intensity.
---
On the shattered battlefield, the Iron Legion's armies were currently encamped. They had won.
Three Milis Generals had been killed, and the feared Silver Army was largely decimated. The enemy's retreat unfolded exactly as predicted—both by their now‑dead commanders and those who survived.
It was a massacre. The bestial and demonic races of the Legion moved through the mountains with greater agility than the humans.
Although there were humans in the Legion, Milis's army was composed solely of them.
The pursuit was waged on three fronts: the Legion's mages unleashed relentless bombardments on the fugitives, Ghislaine led the warriors in an unrelenting march, and the dragon forged ahead, crushing those in its path.
Even so, retreat was the wise choice at that moment. After the death of the three Generals, the Milis army faced only total annihilation if they insisted on staying.
In retreat, they suffered staggering losses, but some managed to escape.
After that, the Legion's focus turned to the dragon—now badly wounded—and theirs to deal with.
Ghislaine led a brutal assault on the beast, driving it out of range of the common soldiers.
They nearly killed it, but the dragon displayed great intelligence. Realizing Ghislaine could indeed slay it, it flew away and began attacking from above with its fiery breath.
However, as soon as it came too close, it was struck by fierce magic. The Black Wolf climbed a nearby mountain and leapt straight onto the winged creature, ripping its scales as she rode it.
The Terror Dragon truly struggled to shake her off; it was an intense aerial battle.
Now, it no longer dared approach too closely, but still circled overhead, its right wing injured and body covered in deep lacerations. It watched them with hatred, yet kept its distance.
At one point, Verdia announced that until the dragon was killed, the Legion would not move on. It would be too dangerous to march with such a monster on their tail.
The Legion had no choice but to camp there, surrounded by mountains and under the menacing gaze of the wounded beast.
"Do you think the Chief can tame one of these?" asked Linia, her tail swishing excitedly.
Verdia brought a hand to her chin, thoughtful: "I believe it would be difficult. This Dragon is old and stubborn. It's not willing to let us leave, even after being so injured. I believe it would die… but not be subdued."
Ghislaine remained silent. Her Magic Power Eye scrutinized the creature. Then, she smiled faintly.
The dragon continued to glare at her with hatred, circling the skies, but she felt another presence of mana approaching—one extremely familiar to her.
Without responding to the other two girls, she turned and began walking calmly toward the tent.
"He may not be able to tame it," she murmured, "but he would have no problem killing it."
Linia and Verdia watched her with doubt. Then, in the sky, a silvery‑white flash tore through the clouds. Both turned their eyes to the dragon, alert.
But all they saw was the creature's head and body plummeting from the sky, lifeless, carried by their own inertia.
Beside the figure who had felled it, something wrapped in lightning floated in the air. Then, slowly, it began descending at high speed toward the ground.
Thousands of soldiers watched in disbelief as the dragon's severed head fell. Then, a colossal roar shook the mountains as the body hit, creating a tremor that reverberated throughout the camp.
The figure enveloped in crackling sparks descended like a war angel. A predatory aura exuded from his body.
Verdia smiled as she recognized him. Linia, on the other hand, was still completely shocked.
Rygar surveyed the armies for a moment, understood the situation, and then looked at Verdia with a slight smile:
"Looks like I'm a bit late for the show…"
Verdia let out a laugh, her eyes turning to the dragon's corpse:
"No… You arrived just in time!"
---
In the end, hurrying had at least been worth it. Rygar had secured an almost clear route once more for the Second Vanguard Division by slaying the Terror Dragon.
Of course, they had won the real fight without needing his help.
With three Generals dead in that battle and the Silver Army in ruins, it was unlikely Milis could muster a formidable new force to intercept their march.
Except, of course, if Galgard appeared in person—which, strategically speaking, seemed very unlikely.
He was sure that Pope Lucios Galard wouldn't leave Milishion so soon. Even more so with Rygar roaming the country, devastating their forces.
The Supreme Pontiff would keep close his two greatest assets: the White Knight and Galgard himself, both near the capital.
That meant that, although other Legion divisions might still face dangerous resistance, the Second Division—commanded by Ghislaine Adoldia and Verdia Solarion—would advance like a victorious hurricane.
The Legion's objective was not merely to win battles. There was a greater purpose in their presence in Milis: to seize the cities, conquer their power centers, and establish a new order.
Even if the Pope had "given up" on the rest of the country outside Milishion, local leaders remained steadfast in their defense.
The troops stationed in the cities were no match for the front‑line armies, but still represented obstacles.
The Second Division would now continue occupying cities, but large‑scale battles should no longer occur—at least, that was the expectation.
If any city irrationally chose to resist, Ghislaine would bring it to its knees quickly. However, conquering a city was not the same as passing through it and killing its leaders.
The true goal was cooperation and the surrender of local authorities.
After all, on the front line, hesitation could mean the death of your comrades. But in the interior of Milis, where war gave way to civilian dwellings and cities, brutality was unnecessary.
Diplomacy—even if forced—was more valuable.
Rygar was satisfied with the division's success and made a point of "rewarding" Ghislaine when the two were alone again.
After that, he met with Verdia and Linia to discuss new tactics, organize reports, and chart future routes. Meanwhile, soldiers of the Iron Legion busied themselves recovering the Terror Dragon's body.
The creature's Magic Stone—intact, thanks to the clean cut made by Rygar—would be sent to Brightstone to enchant someone's weapon in the Legion.
With the Second Division marching forward, Rygar set off to meet the Third Division, led by Taes and Lerov.
They had not faced any Generals, but had met fierce resistance at a Milis fortress. Still, they prevailed with organization and power.
Rygar briefed them on the situation, shared strategies and advice before continuing on his way.
During his journey, Rygar occasionally encountered small Milis troops—disorganized fragments of a dying army. It was clear: Milis's frontline was collapsing.
The devastation was gradual and relentless: it began with his arrival; then, the fall of The Hill; and then, the Legion's brutal retaliation.
The campaign stretched over days that turned into weeks, and Milishion became, with each step, the last safe haven of the enemy's army.
Rygar did not know exactly what the church hierarchy's plans had been, but he would wager that losing so many Generals and consecutive battles had not been part of them.
Continuing his tireless run, Rygar arrived at the First Division, commanded by Ornthorn and Kilian. There, he learned of a surprising fact: there had been an assassination attempt on the North Emperor.
An unknown enemy, apparently able to hide even from Ornthorn's keen senses, had managed to slash his throat during the night.
Ornthorn's constitution, however, saved his life. Even with the nearly lethal blow, the warrior survived long enough for Kilian to arrive and use Saint‑level magic to stabilize him. It was still somewhat dangerous.
The assassination attempt left Rygar thoughtful. Could it have been the same scout who watched him during the incident where he killed The Hill? The invisible presence he had barely detected?
After that, Ornthorn's division moved on, fighting their own battles and sieges, ever advancing. Only one division remained to visit: the Fourth Division, led by Demon King Gretta.
Additionally, Rygar needed to check on Eris. If she wasn't with Gretta, she would be somewhere else unknown.
Unlike Ghislaine, with whom Rygar shared a magic earring that let him know when she was injured or in danger, he had nothing of the sort with Eris.
With that in mind, he made a decision: he would obtain a similar artifact for her once the war ended.
Resolved, Rygar adjusted his pace and set off toward the Fourth Division.
-----
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