The fall of night affected Brin's Lance just as strongly as the rest of the army, and their newly donned armor started to squeeze them as their bodies began to swell again. He saw it hit a breaking point in Hedrek who ballooned until the cysts began to burst and trickles of yellow fluid came through the gaps in his armor.

The chorus of groans was even louder, loud enough to disguise the few alarmed shouts of the army watchmen. The armies of Arcaena were crossing the illusion barrier and charging towards the undefended army at high speed.

Few people seemed to have even noticed the threat, and fewer still were doing anything about it, which made it even more important that Brin's Lance get there in time. Naturally, they were taking the horses. Cronby had relented and let them use the horses for the joint exercises and would probably throw a fit when he found out they were riding them into battle. Well, let him. Brin wasn't going to make his men run.

From horseback, Cid led them towards the front and Brin's horse knew how to follow, so he had a minute to think. No, there wasn't much to think about. It was time to decide. No, there was nothing to decide. It was time to act.

He reached for his magic, and panic made him withdraw his mind like a hand from a sudden flame. They'll know it's me. They'll see this and know what I am. He knew that was stupid; he'd never heard of an ability that let someone identify an [Illusionist] just by seeing one of his illusions.

He tried again, and again [Delusionist] pulled him away. If anyone could do it, Arcaena could. You can't let her see [Say What's True].

That might've been true, but what did it matter? If he didn't intend to use this power, then he should've taken the [Mirror Knight].

He firmed his mind, and cast. "Blazing, Burning Light. Sphere of Brilliance. Shine!" He put a good amount of power into the spell, enough that he'd need to be careful with his Mana in the fight ahead. The rows of reclining soldiers were revealed in all their misery as if the entire battlefield were lit up by a giant otherworldly spotlight. No, as if it were lit up by the sun.

It would have been better if he knew the Language word for "Sun", but he knew enough to make the light into real, bright ultra-violet radiation-producing sunlight. And he was only half done. With [Say What's True], he gave the light an opinion. I am daylight. This is day. All nocturnal creatures must sleep now, the sun is up.

His magic clashed against the disease, and the sudden influx of mental stimulus was nearly overwhelming. He could feel his light hitting the sickness all across the plain, his awareness stretched thin like a giant blanket. He split a tiny portion of his mind off to deal with it or else lose himself in the overwhelming mental input. With his mind freed, he was able to see the broad picture: it was working. His fake sun was valid enough for the disease and it had reverted back to the less deadly, more contagious version.

The groans of the army were reduced, and just in time. A scattering of men with leadership Classes, each surrounded by a heavy bodyguard, were riding out fast from the barricaded Commanders Camp. The instant they were in range, they shot off Skills that made whole lines of soldiers snap to their feet, shields and weapons ready. They formed up into perfect lines, some groaning or screaming piteously as they fought with their disease-wearied bodies, but they obeyed the mental compulsions. The soldiers formed up just in time to make a shield wall against the first lunging charge of undead.

Looking from above with an Invisible Eye, Brin saw that the light didn't reach far enough to hit everyone on both edges of the army, so he created two more on either side, balancing the strain on his Mana between the three of them.

Suddenly, something hit his magic, and the three suns blinked in the air, growing dim. It wasn't a new spell or counterspell, it was an argument. The [Witch] who had initially cursed the army was reforming her argument in the Wyrd. Go back, invaders. You have violated our home, our only sanctuary. You are putrid. Let your bodies perish, rot away and nourish the grass and flowers which you have burned!

Brin fought back, not countering the arguments but superseding them. I am the sun. I care not for this war. I burn. I shine. It is day.

The suns returned to their previous intensity. The argument was even more effective than he'd expected, and now he could feel the light magic start to burn away the disease itself, cleaning off exposed surfaces and even driving it out of the bodies of a few of the less-effected soldiers.

The counterargument was obvious and it came quickly. You are not the sun. This is a wicked spell created by a foolish man in a rapacious army.

It was a good argument, since he had to admit it was more or less true. In the Wyrd you could adjust the framing but you couldn't outright lie. At least, not unless you could lie to yourself.

He was already in the process of doing just that. He split off about a tenth of his mind–in this case the stupidier the better–and put it in charge of maintaining the blazing suns. Then with a judicious use of mirrors, Invisible Eyes, and [Mirrored Duplicity], he convinced the split mind that it actually was the sun.

The suns brightened again. Not because he'd actually given it more Mana, but because the new mind worked with a greater purity of purpose. I AM THE SUN.

Now, no matter what arguments the [Witch] tried, Brin's spell wouldn't budge.

You are an illusion. You cannot command my righteous contagion to cease or slow.

I AM THE SUN.

You cannot be the sun. The sun comes at day and now it is night.

I AM THE SUN.

There are three! How can you be the sun when there are three of you?

There is no "how". There is no "three". I care not for such things. I AM THE SUN!

The closer they got to the front, the more the battlefield narrowed in Brin's sight. Though his eyes were still watching from above, now his focus was the men right in front of him. Rather than a long, unbroken line of disciplined soldiers, the allied armies were a hodgepodge of disconnected groups.

A large group of heavy infantry were holding a strong square formation. The enemy in front weren't even bothering with it, and were splitting off to either side.

To the right, empty ground and the enemy had a free way to bypass the army and move further into the camps. To the left, ghouls fought with teeth and claws against a band of lightly armored pikemen. It was the worst possible matchup for the pikemen, who couldn't use their long weapons to full advantage and were having trouble utilizing their Skills. Cid veered to the left.

This tale has been pilfered from NovelBin. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

To his surprise, Cid moved Cowl and Anwir to the front of the wedge, a place that Hedrek normally took with Rhun. The porter and the archer weren't the ones he would've chosen, and [Battle Sense] practically spat with indignation, but again, it didn't matter. His role wasn't to second-guess Cid, it was to make Cid's plans work out.

Then they were in the thick of it. Anwir fought with his arming sword, proving that he was at least familiar with melee weapons even if he tended to avoid them, and laid into the ghouls without hesitation. Cowl fought just as fiercely and they pushed a thin line into the mass of bare undead flesh.

Cid and Hedrek were next, and where the previous two were a precision cut, these two were like a bomb going off. They widened the wedge through the enemy army, cutting through the monsters like they were made of paper. The rest of the Lance passed through, each cutting and gouging where they could. Brin followed, in all his magical fury. He pushed magic into the stones set on his gauntlets, and thrilled in the powerful, unrestrained burst of laser fire that followed.

The laser beams shot through the ghouls' bodies like bullets through a wasp's nest and he followed the Lance and finished any wounded they'd left behind. He knew his Mana wasn’t infinite, but with the way that his armor augmented and focused his magic, it sure felt that way.

Marksi stayed ready, not wanting to leave Brin's horse and also not wanting to spend his own laser attack on the riff raff. He got a perfect chance when a high-level ghoul appeared. It was maybe their commander, judging by the near-sanity in his eyes and the fact that he carried a sword. Brin had just swiped through the stomach of a normal ghoul, and when that one bent forward to collapse on itself, the commander jumped off his back and leapt towards Brin.

Laser. Marksi's beam of rainbow light caught the commander full in the chest and followed him to the ground.

Then the Lance broke free. In open ground, they moved to turn their horses back around for another sweep, but they'd already done enough. The pikeman had been badly matched against the animalistic ghouls, but now that they'd lessened the pressure, the soldiers were able to fight off the last of them and begin to form a wall.

It was just in time. The Arcaenean army shifted and then belched out a force of fifty giant wolves, charging straight for Brin's Lance.

Cid had the Lance veer off and make for the safety of the newly formed pike wall.

The wolves were faster. Cid had Rhun pulled back to defend their rear, and Brin hung back with him. It had to have been awkward to defend the flanks of a horse with a tower shield, but Rhun made it look easy, passing side to side and batting any wolves back who'd gotten too close. Brin stabbed back with his spear where he could, using the glass magic of his armor to stabilize himself, but he didn't waste energy putting much power into his blows.

The giant wolves were quick like shadows. They had a certain ethereal quality to them; they were almost noble-looking, like ancient forest spirits, and they moved like they'd specifically trained against spear-wielding horsemen.

One dashed up fast beside him, and Brin worried that it would be fast enough to reach one of his Lance's horses while Rhun was on the other side. But no, that wasn't the plan. This wolf had a rider.

A human rider; the first human Arcaenean soldier Brin had ever seen up close like this. His eyes were wide and he grinned in zealous fury.

[Wyrdic Inspect] called him a [Basher], and that's all the warning Brin got.

The man leapt from his wolf and slammed into Brin, trying to tackle him off his horse. He had the Skills for it, too, and hit with a power and weight that should've come from a man ten times his size. Unfortunately for the [Basher], he was up against the full weight of Brin's armor and magic.

Brin stopped him with his shield. The man grabbed it, trying to hang on. Brin pulled back, and then slashed with his arm, transforming the shield to sword and taking the man's head and one arm off in a single stroke.

You have defeated: Arcaenean soldier [27]

They made it to the pike wall, and the wolves retreated rather than test themselves against the defenders. Brin thought they might have time to rest, but a volley of arrows came from the Arcaenean side. They glowed purple in the air--a bad sign. That glow would make them easier to dodge, unless dodging wasn't an option. They fell among the battered pikemen like artillery shells, exploding where they hit on the ground.

Rhun stopped one of them, and Aeron cut another out of the air. The Lance started to spread out, intent on shielding as much of the pikemen as possible, but Cid called them to stop. "This way! With me!"

Then Brin saw it, too. A tall [Knight] on horseback was holding a banner high while a [Knight Captain] nearby rallied a scattered force to him. It was a hundred man commander, and while it wasn't their hundred man commander, Cid wanted to follow his directive to form up.

Many of the pikemen gave audible cries of alarm when the Lance abandoned them, but soon after Brin looked back to see the larger force of heavy infantry absorbing them into their number.

Brin's Lance joined a growing group of knights-at-arms, those who had run to defend the camps without order. They became fifty, and then a hundred, then a hundred and fifty.

All the while, madness reigned. The allied forces sent Skills and Classes that Brin had never even heard of. A band of what looked like musketeers, except they shot living birds from their cannons who flew past the shields of the enemy to slam their sharpened beaks in a suicidal lunge. Groups of Commoner casters flung volleys of flame and stone into the enemy, shooting off all their Mana in one attack and then retreating back again. The great beasts were on the field, and Brin saw Marksi's friend the Handrake rampage through a force of undead with impunity.

When Marksi saw the Handrake, he started pulling on Brin's helmet and pointing. He was asking if he should go and help. Brin hesitated for a second, but he couldn't really tell Marksi not to go help his friend. He nodded, and Marksi darted out of sight.

Arcaena also brought out her horrors. Seasoned undead soldiers in heavy armor drove back the allied infantry every time they clashed. Huge undead monstrosities commanded the field wherever they appeared, forcing the allies to flee key positions rather than be trampled. Skilled human soldiers were mingled among the undead, who fought with a feverish intensity and showed no mercy to any wounded they could catch. Dark casters shot shadowy darts that killed quickly or turned entire limbs to black necrosis.

The force Brin's Lance had joined up with reached two hundred, and the commander apparently decided that was enough. The bannerman went first, and the knights-at-arms followed. Looking to his left and right, Brin could only see seasoned knights, men with decades of experience, and he couldn't help but feel safer than he'd been in a while. That was an illusion, he knew. There were plenty of things that could defeat a [Knight], and many of those things were standing just across the gap in the Arcaenean army.

They charged towards a group of riders, some on wolves and some on giant lizards. It was an oddly mixed force, and he could tell that Arcaena was having trouble organizing them because of the haphazard way that cloaked casters were randomly mingled with armored human lancers. Still, it would be a hard fight, as the knights were outnumbered three to one.

To Brin's surprise, the enemy riders retreated, and their infantry scrambled to push a line of spearmen forward instead. These were weaker in levels and disorganized, much better odds, but the bannerman still turned and broke away. The assault returned to their side without engaging at all. Despite how it looked, Brin's [Battle Sense] told him that had been a pivotal victory. They'd prevented an assault that might have broken the allies spirit, and disrupted the enemy formation in a way that would take a half hour to sort out.

The safety he'd felt when they'd met up with this force hadn't actually been ill-founded, Brin realized. A few other things he'd seen and heard clicked into place. Why so many [Knights] weren't far past level 30, why people insisted [Knights] didn't need to be endurance fighters.

It was because they really wouldn't fight much. Sure, you could defeat a group of knights-at-arms by throwing wave after wave of your men at them, but what kind of commander would ever want to make that trade? And on the allied side, yes, a full out assault of knights could wreak massive amounts of carnage, but why risk them in a real skirmish when just the threat of them was enough to solve most problems?

He didn't know how long he'd been fighting when an excited murmur moved through the allies. Rumor moved faster than orders on a battlefield, but Brin's Invisible Eyes were faster than either. He quickly found the source of the army's newfound optimism.

A man in black robes, attended by red-robed servants, strode towards the battlefield. Brin recognized him; he was an [Archmage]. The Creeping Death had taken the field.

He wondered if the Arcaenean army would retreat now, but he saw similar signs of excitement on their side. He wasn’t sure who it was yet, but he could tell. They had a champion of their own.