CHAPTER 280: THE FLAMES OF HARDION

The horses that had been galloping right behind them tried to turn around and retreat in a hurry, but due to the heavy cavalry’s characteristics and the fact that they had to dig into narrow gaps, they had to stop and face the fire.

"Ahhhhh!"

Even the noise of battle stopped for that moment.

The flames devoured the air, burning everything within their reach.

Only the screams of those dying in it, screaming in unison, could be heard clearly there.

The power of the ’Running Flames,’ created by Hardion’s army by deploying all the fire and wind magicians currently available, was as terrible as the flames of hell.

And no one, not even the commanding officers who planned it all, thought that this terrible flame would kindly avoid friendly forces.

The flames created by Hardion’s wizards had a clear direction, but as they spread further from their casters, they gradually lost control. As the fire extended past the flanks and reached the front of the infantry ranks, it began to spread radially, engulfing everything around it.

"Ugh, euaaaah!"

"Run away!"

As Hardion’s infantry formation formed a gentle crescent shape, these flames expanded, burning and killing Siana’s infantry evenly. However, because the fire was spread so uniformly, it also reached Hardion’s own light infantry fighting in the first line.

The flames grew larger than expected, sweeping away an entire company and burning them to death. Three additional companies on the left flank suffered catastrophic damage, rendering them incapable of fighting.

"Ahhhh! Aahhhhhh!"

The screams of the survivors spread along with the rushing flames, carrying their agony across the battlefield.

If you wanted to see what hell looked like, this was the place to do it.

With a single magical attack, all the fire and wind wizards had expended their power.

And with that one spell, the battlefield, which had seemed to be tilting, shifted entirely in an instant.

"Wow!"

The screams of the dying were drowned out by the thunderous cheers of the Hardion soldiers.

To them, the enemies and the unfortunate allies dying in the flames were of little importance.

Survival and victory took precedence over everything else.

"Remember!"

Shhhhh!

Before the shock of the magic could even fade, the archers who had been waiting behind began to fire.

The rushing flames forced the enemy into a diagonal formation, opening up an opportunity for Hardion’s archers to rain arrows onto the flanks of Siana’s infantry.

During this process, the unstable air currents created by the intense heat sometimes caught the arrows, causing them to sway unpredictably and, on occasion, strike friendly troops.

However, the instances of friendly fire were minimal compared to the overwhelming number of enemy soldiers falling to the onslaught of arrows.

"Change! Change!"

"Wow!"

After a series of rapid-fire barrages, the first and third rows of infantry alternated once more.

The light infantry, who had been buying time with their own deaths at the front, hurriedly retreated, while the heavy infantry—who had regained their stamina during the shift—stepped in with the resounding clanking of armor.

All values are relative.

Especially in war, where human lives are weighed on the scales with ruthless precision.

Deploying less valuable light infantry as meat shields rather than exposing elite heavy infantry to magical fire was simply the more ’rational’ decision.

This single, eerie yet calculated move crushed the morale of Siana’s army.

Unfortunately, Siana’s forces lacked the talent to retaliate with magic of similar scale.

Even without this disadvantage, their wizards were already precious assets and had been drafted to the east for the civil war.

This gap in magical firepower had a significant impact on both ends of the battlefield, particularly where Hardion’s right wing clashed with Siana’s left wing.

The sight was even more terrifying and chaotic here, as flames erupted right beside them, consuming both humans and horses in an infernal blaze.

Even with reinforcements arriving, Siana’s left-wing cavalry slowly began to retreat outward, fearing the relentless fire magic.

"Cease fire! Cease fire!"

"Turn around!"

At this moment, Hardion’s reserve cavalry, which had been waiting in silence, finally began to move.

As the archers halted their volleys, the cavalry reserves surged forward, charging into the wide gap between Siana’s infantry and cavalry.

The reserves split into two groups—one attacking the rear of the enemy infantry and the other striking the exposed flanks of the enemy cavalry.

The infantry’s flank was now fully exposed.

The infantry ranks collapsed.

The first row perished, and the second row fell into a panicked retreat.

Only the left and center formations held firm, while the enemy concentrated their attacks on Hardion’s right wing.

Even though their own troops had suffered from magical fire and friendly arrows, the overwhelming enemy casualties meant total annihilation for Siana’s forces.

All of them—both the fallen and the surviving—were mere cogs in the massive war machine that dominated the battlefield.

This was the strategy Carl Feldt Hardion had chosen to use against those who refused to submit to his will.

If he could not suppress them with sheer charisma, he would force them to fight efficiently on their own.

And by thoroughly exploiting their ability to think and act independently, he would secure victory.

This strategy, devised by Carl, was not shared with the commanders fighting on the front lines.

Only the high-ranking officers stationed further back knew the full extent of the plan.

And they were deeply impressed by this ’perfect’ tactic.

By sacrificing a few companies of light infantry reserves, they had managed to kill or neutralize thousands of enemies and secure victory.

With their keen tactical insight—beyond just their specific roles in infantry or cavalry—they could adapt the plan to the battlefield in real-time.

The battle had turned in Hardion’s favor in an instant.

The right-wing cavalry gleefully trampled and devastated the enemy’s flanks and rear, while the infantry line, led by Master Jaren, had not even begun its planned breakthrough.

One could almost declare the battle over.

Kwaaaaang!

At that moment, a tremendous explosion erupted from the right rear of Hardion’s camp.

Everyone turned in shock.

Something black spread across the sky, consuming the crimson hues of the setting sun.

Did something explode?

Was that smoke rising?

"Your Highness!"

The horrified cries and panicked screams of soldiers echoed across the battlefield.

The explosion had occurred where Archduke Carl, the Planter of Laurels, commanded the right-wing cavalry.