Around the Tower of Control, a crowd of over tens of thousands was bustling.

Soldiers in orderly formations. Knights with gleaming silver armor. Mages commanding them with a tilt of their chins.

It was a sight that seemed like a miniature representation of the values held by the force called Control.

At the center. Inside a luxuriously spread military tent, Teur Rognir watched the image of the enemies reflected in a crystal ball.

“They really came.”

Instead of robes and staffs typically associated with mages, a bizarre group wearing suits that enhance the body or swords spewing flames.

A crowd of magic dolls and golems marching as if surrounding them.

Seeing the Tower of Protection’s forces burning with fighting spirit clear even from afar, Teur inwardly sighed.

It would have been easiest if they just fell apart without doing anything.

It was a bit awkward to say this as a commander responsible for the previous defeat, but rather because he was a commander, Teur knew well just how bad the current state of the Tower of Control was.

While the quality might be inferior to Annihilation’s side, the mage force that had been the largest in scale within the Magic State had shrunk to less than half, and the damage to high-ranking mages, who couldn’t be easily nurtured, was at a fatal level.

They had managed to turn back the scales that had once tilted due to the Witch Mombi’s activity, but in other words, it meant they had fallen as a force to the point where they had to rely on Mombi’s individual ability.

Teur had hoped they would collapse without making the decision to fight, if only to prevent further weakening of their forces, but things in the world didn’t always go as one wished.

Even if they somehow won like this, would the prosperity they desired remain afterward?

While harboring such doubts, Teur deliberately erased those thoughts.

After all, if they couldn’t win the war before their eyes, they couldn’t even guarantee that “later”.

“I don’t see the flying ship. Is there no other intelligence?”

“I’m sorry, but there’s no useful information. Most of the informants we planted in Protection have been discovered and few remain, and above all, since those guys are half outsiders, it seems even within the Tower of Protection they don’t know their exact location or plans.”

“They can trust and use such people well… No, we’re not ones to talk, are we?”

“Lord Teur?”

“No, it’s nothing. The battle formations are all set, right? Even if the enemies enter magic range, don’t attack immediately. And—“

“—Wait, wait, hold on. You’re not thinking of fighting, are you?”

Teur’s face frowned at the sight of the man who roughly opened the tent flap and entered.

“What are you saying, Valdeus? The enemy is before our eyes, of course we have to fight.”

“Oh ho, you should call me Brother Valdeus.”

“Just answer the question.”

Either not knowing Teur’s mood was bad, or knowing and deliberately irritating him, Valdeus Rognir spoke with a sneering attitude, “Aren’t those guys here to rescue the Tower of Protection head and their comrades? We’ve captured the enemy king, why should we give them a fair fight?”

Noticing what Valdeus was trying to say, Teur asked back as if dumbfounded, “So what, you’re saying you want to use hostages to subdue the enemies now? Are you in your right mind?”

To be honest, Teur wasn’t very keen on the current situation of using the Tower of Protection head as bait to call the enemies in the first place.

After all, it was cowardly and dishonorable behavior.

Some might cynically say that considering face in war was something only fools did, but that was knowing one thing and not knowing two.

Cowards were despised. The dishonorable were not respected.

A force that only pursued immediate benefits without caring about justification and prestige might be feared but couldn’t earn respect. As a nation, that was a fatal loss.

At least until now, they could make excuses like “Instead of unnecessarily increasing damage by surprise attacking each other’s bases, we tried to settle it at once through a frontal battle”, but if they tried to use hostages any further, they would surely be branded as truly despicable people.

For Teur, this was absolutely unacceptable.

But Valdeus seemed to think differently.

“Hmph, then you just watch. This big brother will solve everything neatly.”

“I don’t allow unilateral action, Valdeus. Just stay in your place quietly.”

“You have no authority to order me around! You’re the one who cornered the tower into this predicament with your incompetent command! How long are you going to act like a master!!” Valdeus shouted as if growling and then left the military tent, and Teur cursed while watching his back.

“That idiot, as soon as he’s released from probation…!”

Valdeus, who had failed to properly deal with the bone flute incident, was originally destined to be relegated to an insignificant position and live with his head bowed, but now the Tower of Control was no longer as abundant in talent as before.

While his leadership and political skills were questionable, Valdeus’ magic skills were excellent as a 4th rank mage, and he had the title of being the gray old man’s eldest son.

Thinking it would be a waste to just leave such talent idle, the gray old man had given him the position of guerrilla unit commander, but that frustrating person was already trying to cause trouble again, unable to endure even that short time.

He seemed to think that if he showed great achievements now when Teur’s prestige had weakened due to taking responsibility for the defeat, he could be designated as the successor again, but Teur wanted to tell him to please consider the situation before engaging in power struggles.

“What should we do? Should we forcibly restrain him?” a subordinate, who saw Teur’s distorted face, carefully asked.

While Teur and Valdeus’s positions themselves were the same, directly under the gray old man, unlike Teur who had all the regular troops outside the tower in his hands, Valdeus only had a small number of mages, not even twenty, under his command.

If they tried to restrain him by force, they could certainly do so.

But Teur shook his head, “There’s nothing more stupid than showing a gap by squabbling among allies when the enemy has approached right in front of us. Let him do as he pleases. We’ll move according to our original plan.”

Since all the hostages were in the Witch of the North’s hands anyway, it was impossible for Valdeus to harm them.

All he could do was make empty threats.

Keenly feeling the absence of his other siblings, who were certainly competent regardless of their personalities, Teur massaged his throbbing head at the reality of having to treat even such a person as a major force.

***

“That arrogant bastard.”

Valdeus gritted his teeth.

He greatly disliked Teur. He thought that while they were both equally dirty, Teur unnecessarily pretended to be clean and acted hypocritically.

Of course, Teur wasn’t particularly pursuing justice or goodness but rather avoiding unnecessary risks as a ruler, but Valdeus lacked the ability to distinguish that far.

In fact, even if he knew, nothing would change. He cursed all his siblings who aimed for his position, anyway.

As noble royal blood, Valdeus naturally thought that he, the eldest son, should ascend to the next throne—tower head—but the gray old man had trampled on his hopes.

He gave some bonus points for being the eldest son and provided more support and opportunities, but just that much.

Teur, Jeras, and other younger siblings, who received less support than Valdeus, achieved greater results than him, and even cousins like Skoll and Hati showed outstanding abilities, so he soon fell to being the eldest son in name only.

But not anymore.

Most of the strong competitors had died at the hands of enemies, and now among the remaining siblings, only Teur was clearly superior to him.

In other words, if he could just achieve more merits than Teur, he could reclaim the rightful rights he should have obtained originally.

And that future was not far away.

— Hey, you there. Are you Lotbart’s son?

— Y-yes, yes! Great Teacher! I’m Valdeus, the eldest son!

— Oh, is that so? Come to think of it, I think I remember you in Orin’s memories. You were quite small then… This is perfect timing. Take this.

— It’s a pouch. What’s inside?

— The Tower of Protection head and other mages. You manage it as you see fit. If you put mana into it, they’ll return to their original forms.

Recalling the conversation he had with the Witch of the North, Valdeus tightly gripped the pouch in his hand.

What could be the reason the Great Teacher specifically entrusted this to me? She must be trying to support me!

If a big shot like Mombi supported Valdeus, the position of next tower head was not a dream.

Suppressing his excited feelings, he shouted towards the Tower of Protection forces.

“You fools who tried to intimidate and control the Great Teacher of the Magic State at will! While your crimes each deserve extreme punishment, I, Valdeus Rognir, have decided to grant you one last chance! Put down your swords and staffs and surrender right now! If you follow instructions, I will give lenient treatment, but if you don’t comply, your representatives will meet a miserable end!”

As Valdeus’s words spread through amplification and reproduction magic, great agitation could be seen in the enemy camp.

Feeling elated at the sight of the enemies reacting to each of his words, Valdeus took out a plant root shaped like a human from the pouch.

When Valdeus put mana into that root, the figure of Hermina, the head of the Tower of Protection, appeared unconscious and limp.

“Well, what are you doing!? Surely you’re not going to abandon your tower head! Hurry up and surrender!”

Valdeus felt a superiority he had never experienced before.

At this moment, everyone on the battlefield was focusing on him.

He was undoubtedly the protagonist of this war—

Boom!

—or should have been, but what was this sound?

At the sudden noise, Valdeus’ head turned to the side.

On the side of the battlefield.

A magic ship with a jet-black hull and golden sails was charging towards the tower, firing cannons.

“W-what, you guys! Don’t you care what happens to the hostages!?” je shouted in confusion, but no answer came back.

Not only that, but ominous changes began to occur in the sky as well.

A flock of birds, so numerous they looked like black clouds, was flying towards the tower in not one, but three groups.

The birds’ claws were holding ropes woven in spider web form, and large leather pouches big enough to easily fit one person each were hanging from those ropes.

To avoid repeating the tragedy of Balascamb, spirits and mages with flight abilities deployed in the air poured various fires at the flock of birds and the leather pouches they were carrying.

The birds were shot down in the blink of an eye, and the leather pouches were torn apart.

The bags of the first group? Their contents were undead.

The bags of the second group? Why, its contents were also undead, of course.

And the bags of the third? You’ve already been fooled twice, so just shut up, accept your gullibility, and have even more undead!

The moment they lost their minds in confusion and disappointment, a huge shadow silently fell over their heads.

Those who saw the giant undead falling towards the tower were shocked, finally realizing that the flock of birds and leather pouches were just a bluff.

Just as they thought the tower would also collapse under the mass at this rate, tremendous mana gathered at the top of the tower and spewed out a huge beam towards the falling undead.

The giant undead was instantly pierced by the intense attack, hot enough to be felt even on the ground.

There was no content inside, so it looked as if a hole had been punched in an empty ball.

And while they were wasting firepower on such an irrelevant target, Bill’s pirate ship reached the tower without any problem.

As a bonus, there was the sight of the Tin Knight. who had somehow already dropped down, hugging a black witch with one arm while scraping the outer wall of the tower with his sword to reduce speed before landing on that pirate ship.

Amidst the chaotic battle situation, Valdeus muttered blankly, “No, but the hostages are here…?”

***

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