Night Knight.

No one was surprised by the final results of the bombardment.

After several rounds of typical concentrated shelling, the artillery fire stopped. It seemed this was nothing more than yet another hopeful attempt. After all, earlier reports had already recorded that even with over a hundred guns of all calibers firing simultaneously, they had failed to breach the magical barrier. With just the level of bombardment they had seen moments ago, how could they possibly expect success? Yet no matter how foreseeable the outcome, the sudden barrage from their own side still left them with a faint sense of disappointment.

"But what's the meaning of this? The battle plan didn't mention any friendly artillery support."

"Who knows? Maybe the commander in the rear has made some new arrangements."

Rogm, who was often paired with regular army units in joint operations, was more accustomed to such unplanned changes. But judging from the result itself, it was hard to say whether it would have any real impact on their current situation.

"I think we can delay the plan to strike at the enemy commander. Right now we should follow the withdrawal plan we just outlined."

"Agreed. The enemy isn't moving for now, so there's no need to rush a breakout. As Rogm said, our allies may have a move in play—we should wait and see how things develop before deciding."

"No, there must be another way...an effective way..."

Trenchap and Nemilic were indeed experienced officers, but their time in the military academy had also burdened them with the kind of doctrinal rigidity common across the Dazilet Army. That dogmatism had dulled their initiative even more than in the reformed Luvina forces.

"Take the head to catch the bandit. If we can seize their commander, we should be able to use him as leverage."

"Hmm, I like that idea."

By contrast, Otto's plan was far bolder, and it quickly earned the support of Rogm and a platoon leader from the 32nd Company.

"We stick to the original plan. My platoon and the 1st Platoon of the 32nd Company will carry out the assault. Rogm, you'll lead the other four platoons to hold back the enemy reinforcements—especially the Red Robes."

"That's a dangerous gamble. If we fail, there'll be no way back."

"Then we'll keep hitting them until they beg to let us go!"

"..."

Rogm's bold words drew approval from most present, many of them nodding in agreement.

Unlike the earlier plan that failed to account for the massive barrier covering the entire camp, now that they were truly cornered, they had no choice but to stake everything on one desperate strike. Perhaps it was the only sliver of hope left.

"Then, gentlemen—"

Otto swept his gaze around the group. Trenchap and Nemilic still seemed unconvinced, but they stood tall with their chests out, ready to receive orders nonetheless.

"Prepare to move."

...

"How fares the Gus Pillar?"

The bombardment just now had caught the legion commander's attention. He knew the barrier raised by the Gus Pillar would not be easily broken, but he still wanted as detailed an update as possible.

"It is unharmed, you need not worry."

Through certain spells, the priest could communicate with those stationed at the formation. But the intensity of the bombardment just now hadn't even warranted a direct check.

The staff in his hand glowed faintly, as a circle of runes emerged from nowhere and spiraled around its upper shaft.

"I've sent thirty Sevar to join Lucon's unit."

"But shouldn't our focus remain here?"

Faced with the commander's question, the priest did not answer immediately. His eyes were instead fixed on the Night Knights gathered together, discussing in hushed tones. After a moment, he finally said:

"Be wary of the shapeshifter assassin."

"The shapeshifter assassin? Is she truly worth such caution from you?"

"There is no harm in being careful."

Whatever he saw, the priest's pale brows drew tight, his gaze hardening into a sharp glint.

He suddenly clenched the hand holding his staff and flung it skyward. Three concentric arrays of runes sprang forth in rings around it.

The staff did not fall back under gravity, but floated steadily in midair. The pale-golden runes shimmered faintly, and the bullets streaking toward them were stopped by an unseen force, each one losing its power before clattering harmlessly to the ground.

"Defensive array!!"

Realizing what had just happened, the legion commander immediately barked orders to the nearby soldiers.

He shot a glance at the priest, who was fully focused on the spell. If not for his quick reaction, they would already have been shredded by a storm of lead.

"Begin the encirclement!"

War drums thundered. The signaler sprinted to the very front of the platform, waving his flags to relay the command to every unit.

In the front ranks, soldiers raised their heavy shields from the ground and pressed forward with long spears, tightening the circle step by step. The synchronized motion of hundreds upon hundreds of armored men, the clang of plates striking plates, and their rhythmic battle cries as they advanced—it all became a flood of steel, slowly closing in to drown the Night Knights at the center.

"Gunners—ready—"

At the center of the tightening noose, Rogm glanced once more at the two platoon leaders charged with the assault. With both nodding back in reply, he gave the final command without hesitation:

"Fire!!"

Eight 20mm autocannons roared at once, their ferocity no less terrifying than the armored infantry themselves. The armor-piercing rounds tore through shields, then through plate armor, leaving the men inside mangled like torn meat in a tin can. Only the gaping holes in their armor still spewed thick streams of crimson. And it didn't stop there—the rounds, even deformed from their first impacts, kept plowing forward, leaving bloody trails until finally lodging in the fifth man they struck.

"Shift fire to the flanks!"

Rogm barked another order.

This time it wasn't just the gunners—other Night Knights from several platoons raised their submachine guns and joined the storm. Ammunition was still ample. The leading platoons surged forward, charging straight into the breach left by the autocannons, before the enemy could close the gap. Here and there, soldiers who had survived the initial storm stumbled into their path, but they were no obstacle. Their armor might withstand swords and arrows, but it was no match for streams of bullets.

"Left flank! Red Robes incoming!!"

Nemilic, holding the right of their line, shouted a warning. Even the armored infantry stopped their steady encirclement, breaking into a sudden rush.

"Damn it..."

Ammunition was always scarce, and now the enemy launched a massed charge. Infantry alone they could hold—but those cursed Red Robes were joining in again.

"Gunners! Prioritize the Red Robes! Don't let them reach the platform!"

Rogm's swift order proved effective. The leading Red Robes were hammered mercilessly by the autocannons, over a dozen of them bursting into gory "blood bubbles" in an instant. The rest scattered immediately, vanishing into the steel tide of infantry. Only thin red streaks, like venomous snakes, slithered unseen among the mass, striking without warning.

"Fall back!"

Everyone knew what the Red Robes' attacks could do. Their crimson lines were hard to dodge, and though the Night Knights reacted swiftly enough to avoid most direct strikes, the inexplicable explosions they triggered could not be ignored.

"Fire!!"

Reforming their firing line, they unleashed another storm, once again suppressing the enemy with sheer firepower. But soon, the flood surged in from other directions. Again and again the cycle repeated—until at last, the Night Knights suffered their first casualty of the night.

On the far right flank, a Night Knight was caught while changing the magazine of his submachine gun. Three Red Robes struck at once, their lines converging from three angles. In the chaos, he never noticed the one streaking from behind. It punched through his heart, and the explosion that followed left no chance of survival.

"Fall back!"

The surrounding tents had become more and more of a hindrance. Many armored infantry were using them as cover to creep closer. The Night Knights, rationing ammunition, couldn't waste rounds blasting at empty canvas. They fired only when enemies burst out from behind cover—and so the distance closed steadily. With the gunners' belts running dry one after another, the Red Robes grew ever more dangerous, slipping through the gaps and into the melee.

Those who broke through sowed chaos—some locked the Night Knights in close combat, shattering their formation, while others dashed past to reinforce the platform. As their firepower faltered, even the infantry were now pressing into the camp's heart.

"Abandon position! Link up with the assault team!!"

The situation had collapsed.

At this rate, they'd be fighting armored infantry hand-to-hand—and that was the last thing they wanted. Worse, any attempt to move the squad would be nearly impossible then. While they still had bullets, Rogm had to bring the main force to Otto's side, or else they'd be cut apart and devoured piece by piece.

"The south gate's lit up too."

From the high platform, the legion commander clearly saw rings of blue ripples in the southern section of the camp. Compared with the ripples born of the earlier bombardment, however, these were little more than splashes.

The priest said nothing, concentrating fully on the defensive spell that shielded the platform from sudden sniper fire, even though Otto's men had stopped trying to attack them with guns.

"These Night Knights are nothing special after all."

The legion commander already seemed to see his victory. The very force that had plagued every nation of the south would tonight be broken by his legion. The soldiers who died bravely, sacrificing themselves for the great cause, had proven their worth in war; surely they had earned the right to stand before the Holy God. And he himself would be rewarded, promoted after this battle.

"Hmm?"

Beside him, the priest's brows, which had just begun to relax, suddenly drew together again. A faint look of surprise crossed his face, as though he sensed something amiss.

"No... this isn't right..."

The surprise swiftly deepened into shock, so obvious that even the commander noticed.

"What is it?"

The priest did not reply. Closing his eyes, he poured himself once more into the spellwork. But only moments later, a violent tremor forced the commander's gaze away, as the ground itself shuddered beneath them. The quake did not subside—it grew worse, until the commander could no longer stand and was forced onto his hands and knees.

"The power of the Holy God... the mana..."

The priest was equally shaken, unable to keep his footing. Learned as he was, he recognized the phenomenon as an earthquake, and yet terror still filled his face.

"What are you saying?"

On the wooden frame, a brazier toppled over, crashing down toward the priest. The commander, quick-eyed, yanked him aside just in time.

"The mana... it's disappearing..."