The Insane Regressor: Throne of Pride

Caesar’s command rang out from the rear, and immediately a group of half-Rassasians threw themselves directly beneath the human cavalry’s horses; some slashed the tendons in the horses’ legs, while others clung to their necks even after the lances had pierced their bodies.

A horse at the front went down, sending its rider tumbling across the ground before three Rassasian swords closed in around him.

He never had the chance to rise, as all three blades immediately drove through his body.

At the center of the front line, Malrik was already fighting as well.

His blond hair whipped with every strike, while his green eyes remained fixed upon his opponents without ever losing track of what was happening across the rest of the battlefield, even as he wielded the enormous battle-axe in both hands, bringing down at least one Rassasian with every swing.

The remaining soldiers of the Death Squad gathered around him, forming a small wedge that pierced the Rassasian lines and prevented them from separating the human flank from the center. They operated like a compact mercenary unit, carrying out individually minor tasks that, when combined, exerted an undeniable influence on the course of the battle.

Malrik raised his metal axe with both hands and braced it before him, intercepting an aura-coated spear hurtling toward him; at the same time, his power began gathering several meters to his right while the surrounding soldiers monitored the battle and guarded one another’s backs.

A massive, translucent yellow replica of Malrik’s metal axe manifested from his aura—this one fashioned entirely from aura.

It touched neither his body nor his real weapon, yet it moved according to his will.

The manifested axe descended upon three Rassasians attempting to encircle the Death Squad’s soldiers, crushing their shields and bodies into the ground as easily as someone stepping on a few insects.

This was the difference between Darius and his commander.

Darius had reached the Ninth Rank, allowing him to use aura so long as it remained connected to either his body or his sword.

Malrik, however, was an Eighth-Rank Soul Liberator and could grant his power a physical form independent of himself.

”Darius!” Malrik shouted.

Darius turned his head just as an Eighth-Rank Rassasian fighter charged toward the unit’s flank with three spears of aura manifested around him.

Darius understood without needing an explanation.

”Second Squad, with me!” he shouted before heading toward the exposed flank.

Malrik turned to face the approaching Rassasian, his manifested axe moving beside him while the real one remained ready in his hands.

The four manifested weapons clashed in the air and against the ground almost simultaneously, and the pressure produced by the collision spread through the surrounding ranks.

The ordinary soldiers retreated beyond the two combatants’ range, then resumed killing one another outside it as though this were merely another routine occurrence.

The battle did not stop for even a moment.

Whenever one line fell, another advanced, and whenever a group of Rassasians retreated, fresh half-Rassasians were driven forward to fill the gap.

Despite that, the humans maintained their formations and continued advancing slowly, step by step, until corpses began piling up behind their feet rather than in front of them.

...

On a rocky rise overlooking the battlefield, Karius stood with both hands clasped behind him while a long spear rested across his broad back.

Gray mingled with black in his hair, and he did not need to shout or issue dozens of orders to command the respect of everyone standing around him.

Two of the faction commanders under his command stood beside him.

The first was Caesar, with short black hair, metal armor, and a longsword. His gaze remained coldly fixed upon the battle while one hand rested on the hilt of his weapon, and his one-handed shield was secured across his back. His close-quarters fighting style resembled Elias’s.

The second was Frank, Lysandra’s older brother.

His green hair moved with the wind, while the green aura within his body remained still, revealing itself only as a faint glimmer around his eyes whenever he focused on a distant part of the battlefield.

Caesar and Frank were both Seventh-Rank fighters, and each commanded an entire faction within Karius’s company.

Yet neither had descended onto the battlefield.

On an opposing rise behind the Twilight Empire’s army, the Rassasian company commander stood surrounded by his guards.

He had not moved since the battle began, which was why Karius and his two faction commanders had remained where they were as well.

”Something is unusual about this attack,” Karius finally said.

Frank narrowed his eyes as he watched the Rassasian lines.

”Because they didn’t send the beasts first?”

”That’s part of it,” Karius replied. ”They usually use beasts to wear down our formations before committing their soldiers, but they haven’t sent a single beast tonight. They even began the attack before the rear of their army had finished taking up position, and now they’re driving even the pure-blooded Rassasians toward the front faster than usual.”

Caesar looked toward the opposing rise.

”Perhaps they want to seize the region before dawn.”

”If the land were their only objective, they wouldn’t squander their numerical advantage like this,” Karius said calmly. ”They’re attacking so violently because they want to force us to do something or... take revenge for something.”

”Revenge for what? And what exactly are they trying to force us to do?” Frank asked.

Karius did not answer him directly, instead fixing his gaze upon the distant Rassasian company commander.

The man stood perfectly still, yet he had not taken his eyes off Karius since the battle began.

”If you intervene now, you can end this clash before more of our men fall,” Caesar said firmly yet respectfully.

”And if I intervene, so will he,” Karius replied, indicating the hill on the opposite side with his chin.

A brief silence settled among them.

”At that point, this would no longer be a medium-scale skirmish,” Karius continued. ”As long as the opposing company commander doesn’t move, neither will I.”

Below them, Malrik’s axe manifested once more and shattered two spears of aura, while Darius and the Death Squad’s soldiers rushed toward the right flank to close another gap.

Karius watched their movements for several seconds.

”Malrik is controlling the center remarkably well despite the absence of most of his elites,” Frank said.

”And he’s keeping the lines from collapsing without the slightest fear,” Caesar added.

Karius nodded once.

”Let him do his job,” Karius said with a smile as he looked toward Malrik, under whose command the Death Squad operated. ”I’m preparing something new for them.”

As though the other side had chosen that exact moment, the Rassasian lines suddenly parted.

Two figures emerged and walked to the front of the army.

The first was a pure-blooded Rassasian man carrying two curved swords, while the second was a towering, gray-skinned woman who was muscular yet agile, holding a long spear between both hands.

Their power was not displayed through their weapons alone.

The air around them trembled, and thin, dark cracks appeared in space before closing immediately.

The distortion was weak and limited, yet it was not something an Eighth-Rank fighter could produce.

Both were Seventh-Rank fighters.

They were faction commanders serving under the Rassasian company commander standing upon the opposing rise.

The man raised one of his swords before filling the battlefield with a voice reinforced by aura.

”Karius Dmitri!”

The intensity of the battle diminished for a moment as dozens of faces turned toward the human rise.

”We’ve heard much about the Guardian of the City of Light!” the Rassasian faction commander continued. ”Will the marquis remain hidden atop those rocks while his soldiers die for him?!”

The woman planted her spear into the ground.

Four ice spears manifested around her, and one disappeared into a small rift before reappearing several meters from its original position, yet still within her immediate vicinity, as though she were merely putting on a display.

Rifts—the unique ability of the Seventh Rank.

”Come down and duel us, Karius!” she shouted. ”Or does your courage only show itself when you face orcs?!”

Karius’s expression did not change, as though the challenge were no more than a breath of wind brushing against his face.

The green aura within Frank’s body, however, began to stir slowly, yet with barely contained violence.

”Two faction commanders challenging a company commander,” Caesar said. ”Even they can’t be that foolish.”

”They aren’t fools,” Karius replied. ”They want me to descend first so their commander has an excuse to intervene.”

Frank looked toward the man and woman before taking a step forward.

”There is no need for you to descend, Commander.”

Karius looked at him.

Green aura emerged around Frank’s shoulders and arms, dense and radiant enough to bathe the nearby rocks in its color.

”If two faction commanders are the ones demanding a duel,” Frank said, ”then two faction commanders will answer them.”

Caesar drew his longsword from its sheath.

”I was about to say the same thing.”

Karius remained silent for a moment as he watched the opposing company commander, then said, ”Don’t stray beyond our army’s reach. If their commander moves, retreat immediately and leave the rest to me.”

His eyes then widened as he stared at the company commander on the opposite side.

”And I hope he does.”

Frank and Caesar gave him a brief, proud look before turning their attention toward the battlefield below and the two Rassasian faction commanders.

”Understood,” Frank said.

Caesar merely tilted his sword over his shoulder and nodded.

Frank leaped from the rise, his green aura erupting around him as he descended, while Caesar charged down immediately behind him.

Below, neither Malrik nor Darius stopped fighting to watch them.

Every rank had its own battle.

And now, it was the Seventh Rank’s turn.