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Pallas’s words were met with a complex mix of emotions, but time marched on regardless.

Salvation needed to be swift, and perhaps because it concerned Prigos, Aliya acted with exceptional speed.

However, it was too late to request reinforcements from other cities, so she drew upon the trainees, reservists, and even retired soldiers of Pohlen.

Though hastily assembled in just two days, Aliya’s competence ensured that a plausible army of five hundred was ready for the rescue.

Furthermore, under the banner of a holy war—not merely a human conflict, but one involving the intervention of malevolent entities—the champions of the Martial Arts Tournament and disciples of the priestess Araya, the holy warriors, also prepared to enter the fray.

Even so, there was no intention of truly pitting them against humans; they were to be deployed only to support the Forest Keepers when the number of Orcs became overwhelming.

And amidst these soldiers was a group that felt out of place.

While everyone else was tense and rigid at the prospect of reinforcing retreating soldiers, this group exuded a relaxed aura, armed only with light equipment.

The Forest Keeper Elves.

They hailed from the Elven Road, where Araya, practically revered as a living deity in the city, resided.

The soldiers found solace in the serene expressions and demeanor of these beautiful beings, even as they prepared for battle.

To humans who believed in the Immigration Church, Elves were akin to angels descended from the heavens, capable of flight and possessing wondrous abilities.

With eighty such angels joining them, courage surged through their ranks, even as they marched toward a battlefield where their king was losing.

And so, as all the forces for the rescue stood arrayed before Pohlen’s gate, Aliya, clad in armor instead of her usual archaic robes, mounted her horse and announced their departure.

“Our goal is the rescue of His Majesty Prigos! We march!”

The soldiers and their supply train formed a long procession as they passed through Pohlen’s gate.

◈         ◈         ◈

“They’re following us again.”

“As always, do not engage first. Only respond when they attack.”

“Haa… I’m so sick of this.”

Buker, Prigos’s long-serving adjutant, said with a shudder.

Prigos’s army had suffered a crushing defeat in its first engagement with Bayatur Muktuk, the lord of the south, and had been retreating ever since.

As a result, those barbarians shouting about the southern Bayatur were now chasing them with wild abandon, laying waste to the cities and villages of Pohlenia in their path.

However, under Prigos’s direction, the people had been evacuated, so while villages and cities burned, casualties were relatively low.

Despite the retreat being slowed by the growing number of refugees, the damage itself was surprisingly limited.

“…They’re nothing if we actually stand and fight.”

“They know that too, which is why they’re content to wear us down, even after their great victory. Muktuk seems to have some cunning, despite his brutal nature.”

“…Is this really the time to be praising the enemy?”

Buker grumbled impudently at Prigos, the king he served.

Prigos paid no mind to his insolent adjutant, merely gazing at the enemies who were stalking them from afar.

He may have praised Muktuk in words, but he didn’t truly hold him in high regard.

Considering the ‘variables’ in this battle, they should have been devoured by the beasts of the field long ago.

The Bayatur warriors led by Muktuk before him, the ‘human’ soldiers, didn’t seem particularly threatening.

But as the battle dragged on and the shadows deepened, monsters invariably emerged from within those shadows.

They were two heads taller than humans, with repulsive green skin and faces that resembled a cross between a human and a pig.

The Harmony Sword Masters, originally from the Eastern Continent, called these monsters Orcs.

The problem was that these Orcs were so strong that it took three trained soldiers to take one down.

In the first battle, these Orcs appeared everywhere a melee broke out.

And to make matters worse, among those Orcs were three particularly monstrous individuals known as the Three Commanders, who wreaked havoc and inflicted heavy casualties.

As a result, Antirea, the eldest of the Harmony Sword Masters, suffered a severe injury when her left arm was severed by one of the Three Commanders while desperately trying to open a path for retreat.

Despite inflicting significant damage on the enemy in return, the fact that their original force had been reduced to a third of its size was a bitter pill to swallow.

However, since then, they had avoided situations where the shadows intertwined and melees broke out, focusing on minimal engagement while retreating, which kept casualties low.

While the enemy had formidable monsters, they still had the Harmony Sword Masters on their side, who were monsters in their own right.

“…Even so, something feels off.”

Even if shadow attacks were most effective, the Orcs were still formidable monsters who could have posed a significant threat by simply charging head-on, especially after inflicting such devastating losses.

There was no need for trickery.

While slowly pursuing and wearing them down to minimize casualties was a good strategy, wasn’t it dragging on for too long?

Not that he minded, as it bought them time.

‘But why are they being so passive when they could have ended it after the first battle?’

Prigos’s army was elite, but currently exhausted.

However, they had managed to endure for two reasons. One was their faith in the Immigration Church. Prigos’s soldiers were blessed with the miraculous power of martial arts. Their faith was more devout than that of ordinary believers, and while some had deserted in the face of adversity, they did not abandon their comrades, as dictated by their doctrine. And thanks to this, Prigos’s army, which possessed the strict discipline born from its original myth of invincibility, did not disintegrate even after a major defeat.

The other reason was that they were only being pursued by Muktuk’s Bayatur army.

Against other human armies, Prigos’s army was undefeated.

Even while exhausted, Prigos’s army repelled Muktuk’s army, which outnumbered them five to one and repeatedly attacked them, as if swatting away flies.

Armies usually suffer significant damage to their confidence and morale after a major defeat.

However, the fact that they were easily repelling the enemy’s attacks even while retreating restored their confidence in their invincible army, regardless of their accumulated physical and mental fatigue.

That’s why he couldn’t understand it.

Why weren’t they crushing them when they were at their weakest, instead of giving them time to recover?

Why weren’t the Orcs and those hideous witches being more proactive?

“…Are Muktuk and Algul’s Orcs not perfect allies?”

Muktuk was not ignorant of how to fight.

If the Orcs obeyed his commands, Muktuk would have undoubtedly done everything in his power to crush him.

Defeating him, or perhaps capturing or killing him, would allow him to seize a significant portion of Pohlenia’s territory.

A man with such ambition wouldn’t pass up that opportunity simply to play with him.

“Well, I suppose those monsters wouldn’t readily obey a human.”

Even if they were working together for some unknown reason, they clearly weren’t moving as one, unlike his own forces.

It would be strange for a monster from the Eastern Continent and a human from the Western Continent to cooperate so harmoniously.

‘…Not that I’m one to talk.’

After all, he himself led a succubus from the Eastern Continent.

But seeing those ferocious and savage Orcs made him realize how fortunate he had been with Aliya and her sisters.

If he had first encountered Algul, Prigos would have seen him as an enemy to be overthrown by humans someday, rather than an ally.

“Is Pohlen’s territory about a week away?”

“It might take a little longer, considering the increasing number of refugees.”

“…I hope Antirea arrived safely.”

Prigos said, thinking of Antirea, who had suffered a severe injury while protecting him and had left the battlefield.

If necessary, Antirea could spread her wings and fly faster than a horse, so she would have already arrived in Pohlen and informed Aliya of the situation.

‘…But what should we do after that?’

They had lost one warrior, but the five Harmony Sword Master sisters remained.

They were considered goddesses of victory, and if they started to fight, humans wouldn’t be able to stop them.

But that was it.

The Harmony Sword Master sisters were currently the strongest force humans possessed.

That meant that if they couldn’t defeat the enemy, humanity couldn’t win.

Aliya might lead a rescue.

But even if Aliya came, could they defeat Algul and the monsters with their already exhausted soldiers?

‘Probably not…’

That’s why the defeat was so painful.

They might have to rely on Pohlen’s barrier and hold out for a long time until they could find a way to win.

But if they did, they might lose most of Pohlenia’s territory, which they had been expanding for so long.

There would be no reason to follow a defeated king who couldn’t protect them.

‘More importantly, I need to worry about my own life right now.’

The battlefield was still being maintained thanks to the absence of the Orcs and witches.

In fact, they were relying on the enemy’s whims to survive.

If the enemy decided to act now that they had reached their limit, they might collapse at any moment.

“This is painful.”

It was a situation he hadn’t even imagined before the campaign.

He had taken victory for granted and was only thinking about the future after unifying the Western Continent.

As he tried to compose himself, he thought of his master, who had gone missing after being attacked by a being presumed to be an Elder Loa in the north.

Would things be different if his master were here now?

Araya wasn’t an easy person for Prigos, but in this situation, he really missed her presence.

“Y-Your Majesty!”

A soldier, filthy from not having washed in a long time, rushed into Prigos’s tent with a desperate expression.

From the despair in that desperate expression, Prigos sensed that the news this soldier brought would be more bad than good.

“…Bayatur Muktuk… and the Orcs and witches… have appeared with their entire army!”

“…Shit, we’re screwed.”

Buker muttered blankly after hearing the soldier’s news.

Prigos squeezed his eyes shut at those words.

◈        ◈         ◈

When Prigos left his tent and looked ahead, he saw that all the Bayatur soldiers who had been harassing them in small groups had come out, and they were now twice as numerous as his own forces.

Among the soldiers were Orcs and nearly naked women.

They had formed a battle line in preparation, but the enemy’s grand appearance, which was vastly different in scale, caused the morale of the exhausted soldiers to plummet.

“I, Bayatur of the Bayatur, born of heaven and earth and established by the sun and moon, respectfully ask the King of Pohlenia: Are you well!”

Among them, a robust man led his horse forward and shouted loudly towards Prigos’s camp.

There was no way he was genuinely asking about his well-being. It was a provocation to mock Prigos’s miserable situation.

The confidence in that brave man’s shout, which was certain of victory, further dampened their spirits.

Prigos had also encountered that man on the first battlefield.

Bayatur Muktuk.

A valiant warrior with a body as large as an Orc’s and unkempt, wild hair.

“…Your Majesty?!”

“I’ll be back. Buker, reassure the soldiers and prepare them to respond to any battle.”

Buker, who had been staring blankly, watched Prigos ride forward and cried out in surprise.

In battles between groups, the morale of the soldiers was crucial.

He couldn’t let Prigos’s spirited boasting continue unchecked.

In the current situation, the barely maintained army could collapse even before fighting began.

He had to step forward himself.

“Lamiya. Are you there?”

“…I’m here.”

As Prigos led his horse toward Muktuk, he spoke to himself, and a reply came from within Prigos’s shadow.

“Depending on the situation, we might have to take Muktuk’s head in a surprise attack. I’ll need your help.”

“…Following you always seems to lead to nothing but hardship.”

“I’m sorry.”

“If it weren’t for my sister…”

Lamiya grumbled, but she didn’t refuse Prigos’s request.

And, circulating the energy in her body with the divine art created by her master, Araya, she rode her horse to a position where Muktuk’s face was clearly visible.

Muktuk watched her approach with a confident and relaxed expression.

‘…Is it because he’s so sure of victory?’

It was understandable, perhaps.

Prigos smiled wryly.

Soon, just like their first battle in the desert, less than ten days ago.

The ruler of the North and the ruler of the South faced each other between their lined-up armies.