Eskil stood atop his warhorse, the wind rushing past his face as he scanned the battlefield ahead. The sight before him was what he had grown accustomed to—Jorailian forces scattered and broken, their formations in shambles, retreating in panic.
The other commanders, each equipped with their Phones, were just as confident. The coordination between them had been so precise, so effective, that their forces had barely suffered any losses while cutting through Jorailian lines.
Eskil smirked as he raised his Phone to his ear.
"Another clean victory. Have your men push forward—we’ll crush them before they can reorganize," he ordered.
From the other end, Commander Velton laughed. "You’re starting to sound arrogant, Eskil."
Eskil grinned. "Can’t help it when we’re this good."
Velton snorted. "We’ll sweep them up and move ahead."
One by one, the other commanders reported in. The momentum was entirely theirs.
Or at least, that’s what they believed.
But then… something changed.
A murmur spread through Eskil’s ranks as his advisors and scouts rushed towards him, their faces filled with confusion.
"General Eskil!" One of his aides pulled up beside him, his breathing heavy. "We’ve spotted something strange."
Eskil frowned. "Strange? Be specific."
The aide hesitated before speaking. "The enemy soldiers we just defeated… the ones that retreated… They’re back."
Eskil’s brow furrowed. "What do you mean, back? We saw them fleeing south. They shouldn’t be here."
Another officer, his face pale, spoke up. "That’s the thing, sir. They didn’t retreat. They just… disappeared and then reappeared elsewhere."
Eskil’s stomach twisted. "That’s ridiculous. Are you telling me they teleported?"
"No, sir. It’s like they were never actually retreating."
Eskil turned his gaze back to the battlefield.
And that’s when he noticed it.
The positioning of the enemy forces… the way they were returning rather than scattering… the eerie lack of panic on their faces…
As though the entire battle had been part of a grander scheme.
Eskil gritted his teeth as his hands tightened on the reins. "No… this isn’t a retreat." His breath hitched. "This was never a retreat."
One of the scouts, his voice trembling, whispered, "Sir… we’re surrounded."
Eskil’s blood ran cold.
The enemy forces weren’t scattered. They were positioned.
And not just anywhere—
They were positioned perfectly.
Eskil’s army, along with the other commanders who used the Phones, had unknowingly maneuvered exactly how the enemy wanted them to.
Tauron’s trap had been sprung.
The crescent formation that had seemed defensive before was now completely closing in from both flanks. The supposed retreating forces had merely repositioned themselves to cut off any possible escape.
Eskil’s forces weren’t advancing.
They were being funneled.
Velton’s voice crackled through the Phone, now laced with urgency. "Eskil… do you see this?"
"I see it," Eskil muttered, his fingers twitching.
"By the gods, they played us like fools!" Velton cursed.
Eskil’s mind raced. He had never encountered an enemy commander who could plan . To anticipate their every move, to manipulate them so completely—
Eskil gritted his teeth. "How the hell did we not see this?"
Another commander, Ilver, spoke through the Phone, his voice shaking. "They knew. They knew how we move. They knew everything about how we use these Phones to coordinate our troops! This trap was built specifically for us!"
Eskil clenched his fists. ’They studied us. This isn’t just an ambush. This was designed to cripple our advantage.’
But before he could give an order—
A deafening explosion roared from the eastern flank.
Eskil turned sharply—his eyes widened.
Massive fireballs rained from the sky, exploding into his soldiers, sending bodies flying as flames engulfed their formations.
A whole battalion of Jorailian mages had positioned themselves on an elevated ridge—perfectly angled to bombard Eskil’s forces.
And they weren’t alone.
The moment the fireballs crashed into the ranks, another barrage of attacks followed.
Lightning bolts crackled from the distance, arcing through the air and striking down groups of soldiers who barely had time to scream.
From the west, a black cloud of arrows darkened the sky before descending upon the battlefield like an unholy storm.
"SHIELDS UP! SHIELDS UP!" one of Eskil’s lieutenants bellowed.
Soldiers hastily raised their shields as the arrows rained down. Defensive artifacts shimmered as barriers sprang to life, deflecting some of the volleys.
But it wasn’t enough.
The sheer volume of the attack overwhelmed the defenses. The sound of arrows piercing flesh, shields, and armor filled the air.
"Where the hell did they get this many archers?!" Velton shouted through the Phone, his voice barely audible over the chaos.
Eskil’s mind raced. "They were hidden. That’s why we didn’t see them earlier! They weren’t retreating—they were repositioning!"
His forces were in absolute disarray.
The mages on the ridge continued their relentless assault, sending waves of fire, lightning, and earth-shattering magic upon Eskil’s troops.
The archers maintained their rain of death, forcing Eskil’s soldiers to stay locked in defensive formations—making them easy targets for the next wave of attacks.
Eskil’s hand gripped the hilt of his sword so tightly his knuckles turned white.
This wasn’t just an ambush.
Tauron’s forces hadn’t just surrounded them.
They had placed themselves in positions where they could attack freely—while Eskil’s forces had nowhere to counterattack from.
Every movement Eskil made played into Tauron’s hands.
Eskil’s breath was ragged as he turned to his officers. "How many casualties?!"
A nearby captain, his face covered in soot and blood, shook his head. "Too many."
Eskil’s heart pounded.
They had to do something.
There was no clear path to retreat. The enemy had them boxed in. Their formations were in complete disarray. Googlᴇ search novel※fire.net
This wasn’t just a bad situation.
This was a death trap.
And for the first time in his career…
Eskil had always believed that skill, discipline, and strategy could triumph over raw numbers.
Now, he was watching his comrades die.
The battlefield was an absolute slaughterhouse.
Velton, one of the finest tacticians Eskil had ever fought alongside, had been leading his battalion towards a potential opening when a barrage of fire magic rained down upon them. The ground exploded, sending shockwaves through the ranks. Soldiers screamed as they were blown apart, charred remains collapsing in heaps. Velton, still gripping his sword, barely managed to stay standing—before an enemy spear pierced his throat, silencing his last battle cry.
Eskil could only watch in horror as his comrade’s body fell to the ground, the light fading from his eyes.
"DAMN IT!" Eskil roared, his heart pounding furiously.
Commander Ilver, the sharp-eyed archer who had once claimed he could shoot the wings off a fly from a hundred meters away, had taken cover behind a rocky outcrop, directing his remaining men to counter the archers on the ridges. But before they could even draw their bows, the air rippled—a Jorailian mage sent a wave of force crashing down upon them, shattering bones and weapons alike. Ilver tried to rise, tried to call for his men to retreat—
An arrow pierced his skull.
Eskil’s fingers trembled as he gritted his teeth. ’No… No, this isn’t happening!’
One by one, his comrades—fellow commanders who had fought alongside him in victory after victory—were falling.
Their bodies littered the battlefield, their Phones—once their greatest advantage—now nothing but useless artifacts lying next to their corpses.
Eskil’s own forces were barely holding together. His men were desperate, trying to push back, but the enemy was relentless.
The mages on the ridges continued bombarding them with devastating spells.
The archers never stopped.
The Jorailian infantry, well-rested and positioned in the perfect choke points, were cutting down Eskil’s forces as soon as they got close.
Eskil barely dodged a greatsword that came swinging toward his head. He twisted his body, ducked under the enemy’s attack, and in one smooth motion, his own sword flashed—severing the man’s arm before plunging deep into his chest. Blood sprayed across Eskil’s face, but he didn’t even blink.
If not for his skill as a Martialist, he would have already died.
He stepped back just in time as another soldier came at him with an axe. Eskil parried the strike, deflecting it to the side, before delivering a brutal slash across the enemy’s neck.
’We have to break through!’
The only chance of survival was to force their way out.
He grabbed his Phone—but no one was answering.
Of course, they weren’t.
Because most of the commanders who had used them… were dead.
Eskil’s jaw clenched.
"ALL UNITS! CHARGE! BREAK THROUGH THE ENEMY LINES!"
His remaining officers echoed the order, their voices raw with desperation.
The battered remnants of his forces gathered what little strength they had left and surged forward.
It was all for naught.
The Jorailian forces had been waiting for this.
They wanted Eskil’s men to charge.
Because as soon as they did—
The ground beneath them erupted.
Explosions tore through their ranks, sending soldiers flying, limbs separated from bodies. Runic traps had been buried in the soil—activated exactly when Eskil’s forces moved to break through.
Eskil barely managed to react in time, his instincts screaming at him. He threw himself to the side as a blast erupted just where he had been standing. His ears rang from the explosion, his vision blurred for a second. But he couldn’t afford to stay down.
He pushed himself up—only to see even more Jorailian reinforcements arriving.
They were outnumbered. Outmaneuvered. Outgunned.
Eskil’s forces, already exhausted, were losing even faster.
His men fell, one after another. Those who tried to escape were cut down mercilessly.
Eskil’s breathing grew ragged.
’No… I can’t die here!’
A Jorailian knight charged at him, a massive battle axe raised high. Eskil, still unsteady from the blast, barely had time to react. He lifted his sword just as the axe came down—CLANG!—his entire body shuddered from the impact.
The knight grinned, pressing down harder. "You’re strong."
Eskil’s arms trembled under the pressure, but he forced out a smirk. "Stronger than you."
In one fluid movement, he twisted his sword, redirecting the force of the axe downward, causing the knight to stumble. Taking the opportunity, Eskil slashed upward—his blade cutting through the knight’s armor, deep into his chest.
The knight coughed blood, his eyes wide in shock before collapsing.
Eskil pulled his sword free, panting heavily. His body was reaching its limit.
But he couldn’t stop.
Even as his forces were being wiped out—
Even as hope vanished—
Even as his comrades lay dead around him—
Eskil refused to give up.
He would not let them take him easily.
Even if he was the last one standing—
Eskil’s fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword, his knuckles turning white. His breath came out ragged, chest rising and falling in exhaustion, but his eyes burned with a wild, unyielding determination.
The battlefield around him was a graveyard.
His forces—his comrades—were either dead or dying. Their bodies littered the ground, some still twitching as their souls clung desperately to life.
The enemy soldiers, sensing his inevitable defeat, were closing in, their blades gleaming under the flickering embers of destruction.
Eskil exhaled slowly, his mind made up.
’There’s no other way.’
He had one last card to play.
He reached deep into his core, feeling the pulsating presence of the Iron Fanged Tiger’s dark beast essence lying dormant within his body. It was a gift from his master, Gideon—a dangerous, monstrous power that could be unleashed only in the most desperate of moments.
Eskil had always known that using it would expose his connection to the Phantom Assembly.
That the Kingdom of Eloriath would brand him a traitor.
That he would forever be hunted like a beast.
But if he didn’t use it now—
His lips curled into a dark smirk.
Just as he was about to tap into the dark beast essence—
A howling force swept across the battlefield, sending a shockwave that momentarily stalled both ally and enemy alike.
Eskil’s eyes widened.
Before he could react, five figures descended onto the battlefield like phantoms.
They didn’t just appear.
They announced themselves.
One of the Jorailian commanders barely had time to scream before a blur of movement sliced across his throat, blood spurting out in an arc. His head wobbled on his neck for half a second before dropping clean off.
Another enemy soldier raised his spear in panic—only to find himself impaled by a dagger that had been thrown from across the battlefield, the sheer force of it sending him crashing into a boulder.
Eskil’s heart pounded. ’What the hell?!’
These weren’t just ordinary warriors.
His gaze snapped to one of them—an older man with silver hair, clad in loose dark robes, standing calmly amidst the chaos. Unlike the other four, he had yet to make a move.
His mere presence sent chills down Eskil’s spine.
They weren’t just any warriors.
They were Gideon’s men.
Secret operatives, hidden aces of the Iron Blood Spear himself.
Eskil swallowed hard.
’Master… you planned this?’
One of the warriors, a burly man wielding twin battle axes, let out a laugh as he swung his weapons with terrifying force, cutting down two Jorailian soldiers in a single motion. "Damn, kid! You were about to use that already? Thought you had more guts than that!"
Another one, a lean man with a jagged scar running down his cheek, cracked his neck before stepping over a fallen corpse. "Tch. Gideon told us not to step in too early. Gotta say, watching you squirm was pretty entertaining."
Eskil’s expression darkened.
’They had been watching this whole time?’
His entire force had been annihilated, and these five just stood there and let it happen?!
His fists clenched in fury.
Before he could even begin to curse them, another wave of enemy soldiers rushed in.
But the five warriors…
They were already moving.
The silver-haired leader—Eskil still couldn’t tell what he was—finally stepped forward. And with a single flick of his fingers—
A powerful gust of wind erupted.
It wasn’t even magic.
It was sheer martial energy.
The blast of force sent dozens of enemy soldiers flying backward like ragdolls, some of them outright crushed from the impact alone.
Eskil’s eyes widened in disbelief.
’What the hell kind of technique is that?!’
Another warrior, the one with the jagged scar, weaved between the soldiers like a shadow. He vanished from Eskil’s sight—only for the heads of the enemy to start popping off their shoulders one by one.
These weren’t just warriors.
Elite killers who had been honed in the darkness, working only for Gideon.
Eskil could barely keep up with their movements.
And it made his blood boil.
They let his men die.
And now, they were toying with the enemy as if this whole battle was just sport to them.
Eskil tightened his grip on his sword, his anger simmering.
"Why didn’t you step in earlier?" His voice was laced with barely restrained rage.
The burly axe-wielder laughed, wiping some blood off his cheek. "Orders, kid. Boss said to step in only when you were about to kick the bucket."
The scarred man smirked. "Think of it as a learning experience. Nothing quite like watching everyone you trust get butchered, right?"
His breath came out slow and controlled, but his hands were shaking.
This—this was all planned.
Gideon wanted him to suffer through this.
To experience the weight of true battlefield despair.
It didn’t stop the sheer fury burning inside him.
His master had treated this like some twisted lesson.
He clenched his jaw. "You think this is a game?"
The silver-haired leader finally turned to face him fully, his gaze unreadable.
"A game?" His voice was smooth, measured. "No. It’s reality. The moment you relied too much on that little toy of yours—" his eyes flickered toward the Phone still clutched in Eskil’s hand "—you were already dead. Gideon wanted you to understand that."
Eskil’s grip on the device tightened.
He wanted to punch this man.
Right now, there was only one thing he could do.
The Jorailian army was still massive. Even with these five monsters turning the tide, it wouldn’t be easy to escape this battlefield.
Eskil took a deep breath, forcing himself to push down his emotions.
"…Fine." His voice was cold.
"Then let’s finish this damn battle."
The real fight had begun.