As Marquis Tristan clashed swords with Idun, his expression hardened.
"You…."
He could feel the immense power radiating from his opponent. In an instant, his sword was pushed back.
A mere exchange was enough to tell how far his opponent had advanced in mastery.
Had he faced this man at his peak condition, it might have been an even match.
But why had such a formidable foe appeared only now?
'Was it truly to wear me down?'
Had they sacrificed countless soldiers solely to exhaust him?
He had never encountered a superhuman who operated this way. If soldiers' lives were to be so casually discarded, what need was there for a superhuman?
Superhumans were meant to counter other superhumans. That was how they safeguarded their own forces.
That was why superhumans were classified as strategic weapons.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
With every clash, Marquis Tristan found himself being pushed back.
It was inevitable. He had been fighting on the front lines for hours and had already faced two other superhumans. His mana reserves were more than half depleted, and his body bore numerous wounds.
In contrast, his opponent radiated vigor. He looked as if he had just arrived on the battlefield, pristine and unscathed.
Boom!
Deflecting Idun's attack, Marquis Tristan stepped back and spoke.
"Huff… Was this your strategy?"
"Yes. To capture you easily."
"You sacrificed countless soldiers just for that?"
"Exactly. Why is that so hard to understand? Soldiers are tools to be used and discarded."
Idun grinned with exhilaration. He couldn't care less about the deaths of insignificant soldiers.
Even his cherished Silver Knights could be discarded if necessary.
What mattered was how much they could serve him.
A man consumed by egocentrism and an insatiable hunger for fame and admiration—that was Idun.
Marquis Tristan ground his teeth. Never in his life had he encountered someone so selfish.
"You're a disgrace, an absolute wretch. Do you dare call yourself a knight?"
"Honor? The duties of the strong? None of that matters. History remembers only the victors."
"Defeat by someone like you would be a disgrace."
Marquis Tristan gritted his teeth and swung his massive sword.
Boom!
The two clashed once more, their battle growing fiercer. Around them, a storm of mana erupted.
Before long, there was no one else in their vicinity. Anyone who attempted to intervene risked being caught in the devastating storm.
As the duel intensified, the Silver Knights abruptly ceased their attack and retreated. Almost as if on cue, the Artrode Army also pulled back.
This was fortunate for the Grimwell Army, who had been overwhelmed by the Silver Knights' might.
The Grimwell flank commander shouted urgently.
"Fall back! Pull back for now!"
A similar scene unfolded at the front lines. The Salvation Church's priests also retreated, shouting commands.
"Fall back! Observe the enforcer's duel!"
"Hold your positions! Watch the knights' battle!"
The Grimwell soldiers at the front looked bewildered.
They had held the advantage on the front lines. Yet the Artrode Army, retreating with such composure, seemed to mock them, as if granting them mercy.
Grimwell's commanders, seeing Marquis Tristan engaged in a duel with the enemy knight, ordered their troops to stand down.
In a bizarre twist, both armies withdrew to watch the duel.
Had Marquis Tristan had any leeway, he would have been furious. Who pauses a battle to stage a duel?
But he had no time to reflect on the absurdity of the situation.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
"Urgh!"
Idun's attacks were relentless, leaving Marquis Tristan struggling to catch his breath.
Seeing the Marquis repeatedly pushed back, Idun laughed uproariously.
"Hahaha! Is this the best one of Grimwell's three pillars can do? Is this all you've got? You're too weak!"
Had Marquis Tristan faced him in peak condition, Idun would have struggled. But the Marquis now was little more than an exhausted lion.
Watching their hero sustain deeper wounds, the Grimwell soldiers grew increasingly disheartened.
Who was Marquis Tristan? The undefeated general who had always led them to victory.
They had never doubted he would win, but now they knew the truth.
"This isn't a fair duel!"
"Fighting someone injured and exhausted—how cowardly!"
"Protect the Marquis!"
Grimwell's knights moved forward first, determined to intervene and save the Marquis.
But the Artrode Army sprang into action as well. Having used the pause to recover and reorganize, their morale was now higher than ever.
Just as the armies were about to clash again—
Crunch!
Marquis Tristan's massive sword sliced through Idun's shoulder guard.
Thud!
Idun's sword pierced the Marquis's heart.
"Gah!"
Marquis Tristan coughed blood. Summoning his remaining strength, he tried to cut Idun's throat, but his sword went no further.
Idun glanced at the trembling hand gripping the sword and revealed a pristine smile.
"It was a good duel, Marquis Tristan."
"You… damn… you…."
Marquis Tristan struggled to keep his eyes open. But his utterly exhausted body, now with a pierced heart, could no longer hold on.
As Idun withdrew his sword, the Marquis's body collapsed.
And then, Idun swung his sword once more.
Slice!
Thud!
It wasn't until his head was severed that Marquis Tristan's body fell to the ground.
"Hmm…"
Idun shook the blood from his sword and glanced at his damaged shoulder guard. Marquis Tristan was already forgotten.
"Tsk. This was my favorite armor…."
It was a masterpiece crafted by the kingdom's finest artisans. Idun had loved its ornate, beautiful design, making the damage all the more regrettable.
He couldn't simply replace the shoulder guard. His perfectionism wouldn't allow for patchwork repairs. If he replaced anything, it had to be the entire set.
As Idun fussed over his armor, the Grimwell Army stood in stunned silence.
"The Marquis… the Marquis is dead."
"How… how could this happen?"
"That bastard killed him…."
Disbelief was etched onto their faces. Their hero, their symbol of invincibility, had fallen.
The commanders of Grimwell realized their mistake. They should have pressed their advantage when they had it.
With Marquis Tristan's death, their morale plummeted. Worse still, there was no one left to face the enemy superhuman.
They had been completely outmaneuvered by the enemy's inexplicable tactics and unsettling aura.
Idun extended his sword toward the dazed Grimwell Army. It was a pose he had perfected through hours of practice in front of a mirror.
A cruel smile graced his lips.
"Kill them."
"Charge!"
The Silver Knights and Artrode Army surged forward once more, led by the Salvation Church's priests, who exuded waves of black energy.
The Grimwell Army gripped their weapons tightly. They had no choice but to fight again, though they knew the truth.
They could no longer stop the overwhelming power of the enemies before them.
Boom!
The armies of both sides clashed once more. Exhausted and demoralized, the Grimwell Army quickly saw their lines crumble under the rampaging priests at the forefront.
Through those gaps, the Silver Knights and Artrode Army poured in, fully exploiting the breach.
The battle was effectively over. Idun closed his eyes, savoring the rising scent of blood on the battlefield.
"This glorious battle will be sung by bards for eternity—in honor of my noble self."
It was a satisfying victory. Defeating the renowned Marquis Tristan would elevate his reputation even further.
But it wasn't enough. Idun felt a burning thirst as he thought of someone.
"Duke Fenris… I should be the one to kill you."
Originally, Idun had been meant to face Duke Fenris during the Lutania civil war.
But the timing hadn't worked out. Hellnik's rampage forced him to act elsewhere to bolster the war effort.
At the time, he had been mildly disappointed but didn't dwell on it.
With Gartros, Kaien, and Raul involved, he had believed defeat was impossible.
Yet, Duke Fenris had emerged victorious. Moreover, his father, Marquis Perdium, had become the king of Lutania.
"Who could have imagined that man would rise to such fame?"
Now, Duke Fenris was one of the most renowned figures on the continent.
The Finest Sword of Lutania.
The Undefeated Grand Duke.
The Ruler of the North.
The Savior of the Plague.
The Saint of the Drought.
The Pioneer of Innovation.
And even…
The King of Mercenaries.
Each of these titles was an honor on its own, yet they kept piling up. Idun couldn't stand it.
"I will not accept this."
If only he had killed that man during the Lutania conflict.
All those glorious titles would have been his.
But it didn't matter. The wars across the continent were only becoming more intense.
Eventually, Duke Fenris would have to face him.
When that time came, he would personally kill him. And with that, all the accolades would belong to him.
"The protagonist of this world isn't you, Duke Fenris. It's me. I'll make you understand that truth."
Idun closed his eyes, lifted his head, and spread his arms wide.
An artist nearby was fervently sketching the scene.
***
"Victory!"
The 3rd Corps of Artrode had also successfully captured a Grimwell stronghold.
At this pace, it wouldn't take long to encircle the royal capital.
Though there was a time limit—the task had to be completed before Duke Fenris arrived—the Artrode Army's goal wasn't to conquer the entire nation.
They only needed to secure the supply routes and key positions necessary to besiege the capital.
A few more battles, and they would reach their destination.
Count Kalmund, commander of the 3rd Corps, turned to the man beside him.
"Thank you for your assistance. Will you be moving separately now?"
"Yes," the man replied curtly.
The Count nodded and continued.
"Leader of the Revolutionaries, your help has made this operation much smoother. But is it truly necessary to leave now?"
The man was the leader of the Revolutionary Army, which had allied with the Salvation Church to overturn the continent.
They had made a deal with the Salvation Church to receive several kingdoms after the war.
A new world and a new religion.
The Revolutionary Army and the Salvation Church shared aligned interests.
Becoming a king was the Revolutionary Leader's ultimate dream. What religion he supported mattered little.
To realize that dream, he aimed to expand his forces and eliminate obstacles, the biggest obstacle among them being Duke Fenris of Lutania.
The Revolutionary Leader smirked as he answered Count Kalmund's question.
"Grimwell will fall easily without us. I see this as the perfect opportunity."
"Hmm, and why is that?"
"The Allied Forces are likely to attack Artrode Kingdom while your main army is here. They've already been gathering near the border."
"That is true."
"They would never expect the forces attacking Grimwell to suddenly turn and ambush them. That's my plan."
"An interesting strategy… but is it wise?"
"I've already discussed it with the priests. As long as you deliver the promised rewards, there's nothing to worry about."
The ambush on the Allied Forces was the Revolutionary Leader's idea.
At first, Gartros opposed the plan. Reducing the Allied Forces' numbers was less critical than other priorities.
But the Revolutionary Leader persuaded him with certain conditions, agreeing to move only after securing key positions in Grimwell.
"We won't engage in a full-scale battle. We'll simply cut off their supply lines, inflict damage, and withdraw."
The Revolutionary Army excelled in raids and ambushes. No kingdom had successfully eradicated them for this very reason.
Right now, the Allied Forces' attention was wholly focused on the Salvation Church and the Artrode Kingdom.
It was an excellent opportunity. The Revolutionary Leader intended to prove his capabilities by dealing a blow to the Allied Forces.
Count Kalmund understood the Revolutionary Leader's reasoning.
"If you disrupt their supply lines and deal damage, it will certainly work to our advantage. But bear in mind, Duke Fenris is among them."
From the Salvation Church's perspective, Duke Fenris had become the most dangerous individual. Even those who hadn't faced him directly treated him with caution.
At this, the Revolutionary Leader smiled slyly.
"I've heard Duke Fenris is remarkable, but at least in ambushes, I surpass him. Striking from behind is my specialty."
The Revolutionary Army had never fought a full-scale battle but excelled in ambush tactics.
Yet, there was one thing the Revolutionary Leader didn't know.
Ghislain's specialties were pursuit, ambush, and annihilation.
[T/L: I am in dire need of support. I will give discount to all those who will buy the rest of the chapters all together, so please support me the reader on my webnovel platform and read ahead chapters on my ko-fi page "RevengerScans" : https://ko-fi.com/revengerscans ]