General Tybalt's face tightened. The grim battle carried on longer than he expected. Gaiatic Paladins augmented Wilmand's infantry units and those that could heal kept the men fighting. It dragged on. Worse, their mages used spells only as a method to control the battle-space, to keep distance locked, and Rangville's army lacked a proper magical counter.

Both leaders plotted a trump card.

What concerned General Tybalt was the lack of decisiveness in the clash. Prince Wilhelm seemed content to slug it out in place. If his elf archers could still shoot, the battle would be evenly matched, but, as it stood, Rangville would grind down Wilmand.

Lady Elin's ability far outshined the elites of Rangville, the way a cat played with a mouse. Without Ian, Doge and Rex could not overcome her. Fortunately, she was but one woman. When Wilmand's army finally cracked, then Rangville could surround her.

"It's ugly," General Tybalt muttered, "but it'll be our win."

With Camp Wolf razed--

"Sir," a cavalryman jogged forward, gasped, and stumbled from exhaustion, "We failed!"

The general spent days calculating Wilmand's numbers and forces. Under no circumstances should they have enough reserves in the area to stop a cavalry raid. The general demanded an explanation.

"I don't know how it happened. The horses... they just died!"

"Lieutenant Ian?"

The cavalryman shook his head, "The berserkers surrounded him as he tried to fight the wizard, but..."

What an intolerable debacle. The general glanced over at the enemy army.

"Speaking of Ouroboros, there's the wizard now. Signal the rangers. We'll have to use that option."

"Sir Walter," Prince Wilhelm nodded from his horse, "Though, I suppose, after this, I'll have to promote you to 'lord.' Perhaps even 'archwizard?'"

"I'll stop at lord, I guess, no reason to upset the political landscape any further. I want a promotion for Lady Elin, too, an official and public one, I mean. She doesn't really care, but she does, deep down. You know?"

"Of course. Goes without saying." Prince Wilhelm chuckled. His relaxed laughing did not fit into the scene of battle, yet here he was. "Not many men would pass up a freely given title of 'archwizard.'"

"Well, I have other more important responsibilities."

"Baby making. I understand."

Walter winced and covered his face, "That's not exactly what I meant."

"Well, I do believe it's time you put on a spectacle, Sir Walter."

Lord Remont, never once in his life, did he feel so powerless, and he despised it.

Sir Walter walked from the prince's protected line to the front line, in the middle of a box-unit of Odinic Templars. The formation, from berserkers, was unheard of. They weren't the type to perform an honor guard. Any of the soldiers obtuse enough not to move free of Sir Walter's path were violently shoved aside. Whatever Walter did to defeat the cavalry impressed the Odinic Templars this much.

What Lord Remont witnessed next made him screech in despair.

Sir Walter crouched but did not cast a spell, and he slowly lifted his hands as if picking up a weight. They trembled with exertion. After a deep breath, Walter doubled his effort and forced his hands up.

Orbs, Sir Walter's magical constructs from Magic Missile, climbed out tiny snow tufts and rose into the air. Lord Remont didn't bother counting them, there were far too many. Hundreds? Maybe over a thousand? They arranged into a grid and drifted closer to Rangville's army.

"What the fuck is this?!" Remont sputtered, "This isn't right! I can't allow this!"

The din of combat slowly faded as the attention of the soldiers, from both armies, redirected to the sky. When the front line of orbs hovered over the Rangville army, they seemed to move like rolling off a table and streaked down. Men screamed, nearly as loud as the explosions from the magic. Dozens fell, many others were injured. A dead silence followed after.

The next line didn't descend. Instead, the sheet of orbs positioned over Rangville's army. Terror gripped the men. As the anticipation from the falling magic increased, so did their disorganization. Even if Walter chose not to drop them, in moments, they would be routed.

The first strike acted as a demonstration, a psychological attack. Walter proved the orbs can't be shielded, as if they were arrows. Against their force, a soldier had better odds deflecting a catapult's stone.

Lord Remont tried to figure out how many casualties Rangville would suffer. A third of his army, perhaps.

This is why Sir Walter suggested they wait at this battlefield! He could hide as many as he wanted! Is it even possible magic can persist this long?! What kind of mind can even control this many at once?! With magic like this, he could eventually crush the Necropolis! All of the cult's plans will be ruined!

This damn curse remnant better work!

,,¡ᴉɔo˥ ɟo poɥʇǝW,,