"Haah!"

    Irian''s spear clashed against Hernandorf’s massive blunt weapon.

    That moment signaled the start of the battle, as soldiers from both sides surged into combat.

    In terms of sheer numbers, Serpina’s army had the advantage, as the Aishus forces were spread across multiple battlefronts.

    However—

    More than half of the Aishus troops present here were elite soldiers originally stationed at Valharat Castle for the planned invasion of Laccline Castle.

    These soldiers were not ordinary.

    They were highly trained veterans, seasoned by war, and further honed by the exacting discipline of Airen Juliet.

    Serpina’s army was formidable as well, but their recent campaigns had left many wounded, and they had also absorbed a number of former Brans soldiers who had yet to fully adapt to their ranks.

    This slight disarray in their formations meant that, in a direct fight, Aishus forces had a noticeable edge.

    And then—

    He was not just some ordinary soldier.

    He was a legendary warrior, one of the key figures responsible for building an entire nation through war.

    Comparing himself to Hernandorf right now was simply unrealistic.

    Perhaps, one day, when he fully realized his potential, he could stand on equal ground.

    But this was not an academy.

    This was a battlefield.

    Growth, talent—none of that mattered here.

    If he lost, he died.

    "If I lose here... I won’t get another chance!"

    Irian withdrew, pulling back into the ranks of his soldiers.

    Hernandorf let out a booming laugh, raising his weapon.

    "Are you running, boy?! Such big talk, and now you flee like a coward!"

    "Tch. Let him talk."

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