{Malachi Novastia.}
It was a grave miscalculation to overlook this possibility.
Especially after Nicholas warned that the declaration of war would come by the end of the month.
The reality before me was far worse than anything I had prepared for.
The army stretching across the borderland plain outnumbered us two to one, a shifting black tide beneath a sky swollen with tension.
Worse still was the presence threaded through their ranks.
Something unnatural bolstered them, some unseen pulse that thickened their bodies, steadied their nerves, and tightened their formation.
I could not identify it, but I could feel it, like a quiet pressure in the marrow.
Sansir must have met their forward spear first. The luckiest dog among us.
I removed my helmet, letting the cold wind from Fertical's border whip against my face.
Winning without catastrophic losses seemed more fantasy than strategy.
A direct confrontation now would drain us long before we struck anything decisive.
If I engaged personally this early, the predators lurking in Fertical would certainly take notice.
Horia, the monster of Fertical, lingered in every calculation.
And Madikai, the demon, stalked the edges of rumor.
If both descended upon me at once, I would perish.
And Nicholas could not assist yet.
His harsh training inside the capital with Mirabel would not conclude for another week.
In that time, he would remain sealed away, unreachable.
Which meant we only had this short window to complete the border assault and drive deeper into Fertical before their true champions arrived.
I drew in breath and infused my voice with magicae, letting it carry across the hillside camp in an unbroken wave.
"All those before me, hear my call. The enemy is vast, and we are fewer. Cast aside the illusion of scale and strike without hesitation. Do not falter in fear or crumble in despair. Even if you fall today, you will carve open the tomorrow that follows."
A roar erupted in response, rolling through the valley like thunder. Companies split and moved according to the plan.
If the enemy surged down the center, they would meet my core forces.
If they attempted the flanks, they would be encircled.
I stood atop the hill that overlooked the entire border field.
Behind me rose the makeshift fortress, its rough stone walls and timber supports giving the illusion of an unfinished castle.
It had been built in two days and perched over the battlefield like a watchtower.
behind of the castle lay the large stone hut that served as our temporary hub.
Bigger than a common house, it held racks of weapons, crates of medical supplies, spare armor, maps, communication stones.
It had also contained the Bolt's restraints, and everything else the command unit required.
A massive campfire crackled beside it, smoke curling into the gray sky.
From this vantage point, I had a full view of the carnage.
Beneath the fortress, caged within a reinforced chamber, the air shimmered with heat and ozone.
The ground vibrated in slow, rumbling intervals.
A colossal lizard crouched inside. Lightning laced its blue scales, skittering across its body in restless arcs.
A mane of fire shifted and curled with each breath.
Its four massive legs were coiled with dangerous intent, power building beneath its hide like a storm refusing to break.
The Bolt.
Born of lightning, wildfire, and storm. Tamed at great cost. When it fought, rain always followed.
When it took battle seriously, its speed surpassed even light itself.
The very moment the enemy crossed within twenty meters of the castle, I would unleash it.
Across the field, the opposing commander struggled to maintain formation.
I raised my arm and summoned a massive spear of darkness high above the sky.
Then I spun it.
The wind split around it, forming a violent narrowing gale through the center path, making any direct advance nearly impossible.
It was the least destructive method I could use.
Anything stronger would have destroyed too much terrain and too many bodies at once.
The armies clashed. The noise shook the stones beneath my feet.
Our losses rose with every passing breath, though from the surface alone one could not discern how quickly blood was being traded.
Still, it was clear the enemy would soon be forced into something drastic.
I turned away from the sight and walked toward the main camp.
The crackling bonfire cast long shadows across the stone floor of the hut.
Its open entrance revealed the interior stacked with gear, medicine, tools, rations, replacement armor, and giant chains forged specifically to restrain the Bolt.
It had been a long time since I waged war outside my homeland.
Not since the large‑scale skirmish when I was fifteen.
King Nalkafer's wisdom had prevented many conflicts from escalating this far.
I looked down at the fire and let out a low sigh. Victory itself did not trouble me.
What weighed on me was achieving it without being forced to rely on certain… unsavory tactics.
Nicholas was new to war. His presence alone would not turn the tide through sheer strength.
Yet it would bolster morale.
A prince leading at the front carried meaning beyond his blade.
Soldiers believed in symbols, and morale was a weapon as sharp as any sword.
Nicole was already out there somewhere, embedded in the chaos.
Emotion, more than most realized, could shape the battlefield.
Strong emotion strengthened Regalia, sharpened intent, and transformed will into tangible power.
I was no exception, though I preferred to grow through positive emotion rather than rage or fear.
As I walked back toward the hub, I lowered my head, focusing on the lifeforce of those fighting.
Each heartbeat, each flicker of energy across the battlefield, resonated within me.
And then I sensed one approaching.
My head snapped up, and there she was: Kivana.
She stood in the center of the room, leaning casually against the large table displaying the world map.
Her hair cascaded over her shoulders in a shade of deep amethyst, catching the light with a subtle, dark glow.
Her eyes were sharp, slanted, and vibrant purple, gleaming with a joy that seemed almost dangerous in its intensity.
Her lips curved into a delicate, teasing smile, and her skin glowed with porcelain perfection.
"Malachi! I missed you," she said, her voice a warm lilt that carried through the hub.
"It was so boring being all alone in the castle. Why have you been leaving so much?"
She wore white armor, though only the essential pieces.
Beneath, black chainmail and layered cloth allowed for movement, blending elegance with practicality.
My voice was flat, betraying none of her joy. "Why are you here? Go home!"
She didn't listen. She ran forward and wrapped her arms around me.
Hugging me tight enough to nearly shake my composure and remind me of the fragility of the world outside.
"Don't be like that! I missed my husband. How can you be so cruel?"
I struggled to keep my calm. "Please, stand back, Kivana. You know what's at stake. Why insist on testing me like this?"
She pulled back just enough to cup my face in her hands. "It's okay. You can do whatever you like, you know I don't mind."
I frowned, frustration creeping into my voice. "We don't have time for this. It's the middle of a war!"
She chuckled softly and patted my shoulder, her tone playful but urgent. "That's why I came. I have news. Great news."
I crossed my arms, skeptical. "And what might that be?"
She grinned, eyes sparkling, and grabbed both of my hands. "It seems… a powerful force will strike Sansir!"