The Rykenta main army had begun to move.

“We must not allow those vile, degenerate wind-mongers to set a single step into the lands of the main house!”

The moment Kyrie received the report, he began preparing for expedition.

“Please wait!”

It was such an abrupt movement that nearby knights and scouts tried to restrain him.

“The Rykenta main force is at least ten thousand! Their numbers are more than double ours.”

“More than ten navigators have already been sighted, and if we factor in the artillery crews, repeating ballista units, and mutated beasts, we are inferior both in quality and quantity.”

“If we draw them in slowly and aim for the middle of their marching column, or strike them in fragments—perhaps that would be wisest.”

Kyrie was a commander who always listened closely to the knights and scouts.

“You are correct.”

He acknowledged their words again this time, then spoke.

“But this time, we must go. Have you forgotten why we came to this battlefield?”

“To liberate the Helix Barony and stabilize the south…”

“Yes. The stability we built over these past months. If we withdraw now, the stormcloud of chaos will return. These people will suffer years more.”

Kyrie’s voice was still gentle.

But in his single visible eye—there was the unshakable resolve of one who has drawn an absolute line.

“This swamp-pit war cannot be allowed to drag on. We will fight once, and win once. Navigators or not, one or two Guided Bolts will roast them crisp. Break the navigators, and a few Blue Knights in heavy cavalry can clean up their artillery. It does not matter if the enemy is ten thousand or twenty thousand. Are you trying to avoid a battle we can win?”

A cruel, bright, provoking smile.

White teeth shone like moonlight.

His one eye seemed to see a world twice as wide as theirs.

The knights and scouts felt something indescribable rise.

“Never!”

“Then we go. We will kill them all.”

“Glory to House Astreos!”

“Glory to Lord Kyrie!”

“The Star of Thunderclap shines upon us!”

The thing that stirred in their chests erupted into shouts.

Their voices shook the war-room windows.

Not twice.

Kyrie thought within the roar.

Gracchus cut our supply line. The way Nereus secured supplies was practically plunder—unsustainable. Gluttony and the smugglers are the same. No matter how wealthy, they cannot feed more than four thousand for long. If we do not win here, we will slowly sink.

A slow death awaited.

I refuse that.

The only escape was to race forward like lightning—far enough to break free entirely.

On a day when the monsoon threatened to return—

Kyrie marched out with nearly five thousand troops.

Their destination was a dormant volcanic field near the Astreos–Rykenta border.

The cooled lava soil keeps us from sinking. Fewer giant jungle trees. Only place we can clash large forces and heavy guns.

For forces of this scale, marching routes and possible battlefields were predictable.

Water for horses and men, the road the supply wagons must follow, troop endurance—large armies reveal their own paths.

“They will be preparing,” Joy said, tense, as she deployed formations.

They selected a defensible high ground beside a clear stream.

They raised tents, set palisades, assembled artillery.

“Sir Blue Knight!”

In the middle of palisade construction, a scout ran toward them in panic.

“P-Please look over there!”

“…By the heavens.”

“This can’t be.”

“No way.”

Soldiers stopped working and stared up at the sky.

Saaaaa—

Wind blew.

Unnaturally, from one direction only.

Dark clouds split open from the southern sky.

SAAAHHH—

A blue sky opened between thunderheads.

Sunlight poured through. The burning southern sun showed itself fully.

Step. Step. Step. Step. Step.

Silhouetted against that sun, the Rykenta army appeared.

Ten thousand.

Twice the Astreos force.

“That’s… a lot.”

“Can we win?”

“What if mutated beasts are hiding somewhere?”

Fear flickered in the soldiers’ eyes.

“Master.”

Joy, walking with Kyrie toward the command tent, saw that fear too.

“I know. Brace the palisades and deploy the horse-pikes. Set artillery lines. Send scouts to locate mutated beasts.”

“If they cleaved the clouds with navigation authority, they may strike immediately.”

“I will hold time.”

There was no fear in Kyrie’s expression.

Insane. Insane. Insane. There are so many. Even thirty Calling Down Lightning strikes would not be enough. I could still flee alone. I could. Right now.

His lightning-augmented body gave him perfect control of facial muscles.

No. Victory is near. The sunk cost is too large. Rational choice and practical choice are not always the same. We end this. First—see how strong their wind-authority elite is.

Fear or not—if it was required, he would do it.

Kyrie spurred his horse.

One cannot lose before the battle begins. I must frighten them first, or our army will break.

Center of the Rykenta host.

The supreme commander, Erica, stood in a chariot drawn by two unicorns, facing the Astreos camp.

FWOOOO—

Her golden hair curled like silk from the East, her long lashes and deep double-lidded eyes striking.

Green eyes bright like summer foliage.

Erica of Rykentrion Rykenta.

Direct-blood princess of the Rykenta Sub-Royal House, rulers of the Empire’s southeast.

Bearer of the sigil of shield and wings.

She was not flawless.

One with discernment could see the imbalance.

Her hair—unbound, loose in the wind—was already a statement of arrogance. On the battlefield, most nobles tied their hair, or cut it short and used wigs.

Her attire—a formal Empire dress—was the same. Confidence? No. Hubris.

It was not merely impractical.
It violated the martial dignity by which nobles ruled.

Even her weapon—a curved Eastern saber rather than Rykenta’s ceremonial cutlass—was a departure.

Yet few dared mention such things to a Rykenta direct heir.

There had once been a southern plague that stripped men of fear, but priests had nearly eradicated it.

And those who still stood at Erica’s side had chosen to stand with her to the end.

The watchers and traitors have already been spent. I cannot fight with an enemy at my back.

Navigators understood the fate of Rykenta’s direct heirs all too well.

Several other navigators also wore unusual, unconventional attire.

Erica did not rebuke them.

“Listen.”

Her voice, amplified by the Command-Voice authority, rang across all ten thousand.

“As you all know, I made a pact with a demon.”

Step.

Ten thousand soldiers stopped as one.

“Because those worse than demons tried to kill me. My beloved. My followers. The navigators who swore to me. The knights who placed their swords in my hand.”

Their faces held the same resolve.

“Yes. As you know—my brothers, sisters, foster-siblings. To kill them all, I would have traded with something far worse than a demon.”

No one flinched—not the lowest soldier, not the navigator beside her.

“We paid the price. We cannot travel with priests. We carry political vulnerability. We can no longer hide our army. But I declare this: the power gained was worth it.”

Wind rose.

“I am a liberated navigator. I will give you the same freedom. Ascension or corruption—our choice. We can go anywhere. Do anything.”

The wind surged—like she meant to create a new era.

“Erica! Erica! Erica!”

“Glory to the Princess of the Cutting Gale!”

“May the Free Tempest shine upon you!”

The wind shifted into a whistling signal.

Fweeeeeee—

Pipe whistles rang from all sides, driving the mutated beasts to the left flank.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.

Erica, navigators, knights—all bore desperate fury.

They had to win.

They had to kill and seize everything.

Astreos or siblings—it was all the same.

Erica and the navigators prepared to cast authority.

“Volley with wind-charged artillery and blessed ballista! Then advance! Cast with me—”

“E! RI! CA!”

A thunderous roar cut her off.

From the front, a single Blue Knight charged alone.

Erica and the navigators could not believe their eyes.

“A Blue Knight?”

“The one-eyed Blue Knight?”

“Is that Kyrie?”

“The supreme commander himself?”

Murmurs rippled.

Kyrie cut through it with one clear shout.

“I, the Satellite Star of Orbit and son of Duke Peleus of House Astreos—Kyrie of Astreion Astreos—ask this!”

He rode a black warhorse, Sky-Shard Cloak flying.

Because Erica had parted the clouds with navigation authority, the southern sunlight blazed down on him.

The black eyepatch crossing his face recalled the rumor—that the Blue Knight who sought power had torn out his own eye.

“Princess Erica! Do you not understand the scale of what you have done? A direct heir of a Great House, sworn to the High Constellations and the myriad stars of the Cathedral, now commands mutated beasts!”

Kyrie’s voice thundered.

“The Bishop of the Cathedral is watching this battlefield. If you repent now and withdraw, House Astreos will not pursue this matter further!”

Erica and the navigators wore faint, strange smiles.

They too were nobles steeped in martial doctrine.

“As expected of Astreos.”

“I agree.”

“To stand before us despite knowing you may be shot by wind-lance at any moment—such recklessness. And yet courage, because you would stand anyway. We will not shame you.”

One navigator mounted a warhorse.

“By my lady’s word—do not shame us either.”

Erica nodded.

The navigator spurred forward like the wind.

“I am Tynus, third son of Count Wenterios! If you wish to speak to the Princess, you must break me first!”

As Tynus charged, he invoked authority in rapid succession.

FWOOOOO—

A vortex wrapped his long cavalry lance.

Wind-King Armor covered his body, horse, and weapon.

The vortex sharpened into wind-blades.

“Who can stop me?!”

His body and mount moved as one—like a living whirlwind.

Kyrie did not spur his horse.

He did not draw the Storm-Breaker Greatsword. He did not gather lightning.

“What, fear? Even if you beg now, I will not spare you!”

Tynus drove his lance to skewer him—

At that moment, white lightning crackled around Kyrie’s covered right eye.

CRACK—

And lightning fell from a clear sky.

“—!”

The Wind-King Armor shattered like sugar-glass.

Navigators and Blue Knights shared equivalent physical prowess.

But the navigator had no resistance to lightning.

Tynus left not even blood—only charcoal.

“I could have spared you.”

Kyrie smiled like lightning.

Erica clenched her teeth.

Chapter 68

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