After leaving the panel, Baines arrived at the next building, where he stood in a long line before finally receiving his uniform, sword, and armor.
Then came the quarters—modest and bare: a bed, a table, and a toilet, this was the supposed higher treatment he was given; however, he didn't mind at all. Alongside that, he was given access to the martial techniques of the empire's military and knowledge.
The army residing on the last front was divided into three legions, consisting of hundreds of thousands of soldiers each:
The Sunblade Legion, composed of elite infantry and swordsmen, the Radiant Legion focused on long-range attacks, and the Pyre Vanguard, a fearsome force of magic-infused shock troops and heavy cavalry.
And, as an enlister in the Pyre Vanguard, Baines was entitled to a warhorse and a battle lance.
In his quarters, he laid his weapons and uniform on the bed before sitting at the table, eyeing the stack of martial books.
"Eye, scan these techniques."
[SCANNING...]
While the scan processed, he undressed, folding away his worn clothes—clothes that had either become too tight or had fallen apart from years of wear, then he glanced at his reflection in the mirror emotionlessly.
His body had grown leaner, harder—sharpened by solitude and battle.
[SCAN COMPLETE]
"Do it."
He winced, gritting his teeth as the flood of information surged into his mind. Even at his current level, the neural impact of a full transfer still bit into him.
But once the pain faded, he gave a nod.
"Not bad," he muttered. For an empire that claimed strength, its techniques did not disappoint. Though they didn't come close to those he had learnt, they weren't half as bad.
He began donning his armor: thin shock-absorbing plates for his chest, groin, knees, and arms, designed to block attacks. Over them, he wore his black uniform marked with elegant golden accents, and a deep red cape attached to shoulder plates. Finally, he wrapped his black scarf tightly around his neck, covering his mouth.
'Time to go.' He strapped on his sword, left the room, and stepped out into the open.
He was now a soldier, meaning they weren't given time to rest.
Thirty minutes later, Baines stood silently with nearly three hundred other recruits in a wide field.
None dared speak. This was the military. Discipline was survival.
The Vanguard legion always had the fewest recruits. Most flocked to the prestigious Sunblade because they were the empire's main army. But Baines didn't care. He hadn't come for glory. He came to fight.
A massive man soon approached. He was the commanding officer and a five-star sword master. He didn't begin with any flowery words, soldiers didn't need that. He went straight to the point.
"RECRUITS! TODAY, YOU RIDE! THE KEY IS COMMUNICATION. CHOOSE YOUR MOUNT!"
He then gestured to the right, where a line of enormous red warhorses stood clad in golden-plated barding. Their sheer presence radiated intimidation.
With the order given, they went to a warhorse each.
Baines moved toward the left, where a horse—taller and broader than the others—stared him down.
"Eye, what do you think?"
[HER EMOTIONS TOWARD YOU ARE FAVORABLE]
"Her?" He raised a brow, then smiled faintly as he stroked her head. "You don't mind me being your rider, right?" He projected his will, not just through thought, but emotion.
The warhorse grunted softly, nudging his palm.
"Good."
He mounted her in one smooth motion. Reins in hand, he signaled gently, and she moved. Fluidly. Obediently. He guided her through several maneuvers like they'd been training for years.
Some recruits cast envious glances his way. He only had to stroke its hair and he was able to ride it while some were even getting chased and even bitten.
"He must be the young sword master, Jin," the instructor muttered, watching and nodding his head. "He's good."
By evening, most recruits were still wrestling with their mounts.
Baines, meanwhile, sat alone in the general cafeteria.
"Hey! I didn't see you in the Sunblade Legion!" a cheerful voice interrupted. Baines raised his head as he heard a familiar voice. It was the talkative young man from the recruitment line.
Without responding, he continued eating.
"Why are you always so cold?" the boy sighed and took the seat across from him, choosing silence over complaint.
When dinner ended, Baines silently went back to his quarters under the weird gaze of some people. The truth was, some people wanted to jump him and teach him his place, however he was a sword master.
How would they handle the consequences when he was as strong as their instructors?
That night, in his room, Baines tended his plants.
He hadn't forgotten his roots. If there one thing he didn't forget during his training, it was his plants. Each day, he experimented on them. Combining new flora and testing their effects.
Now, after six years in isolation, he could identify a plant by scent alone.
Once satisfied, he stored them in his pocket space and went to sleep.
The next morning, training resumed, and this time, they focused on Vanguard techniques.
Once again, Baines was recognized above them all. After a bit of 'mistakes', to avoid suspicions, he performed the techniques perfectly.
His achievements were bound to reach the ears of the other recruits in the other legions.
"A five-star at 18, now mastering Vanguard techniques in a day? That's gotta be you, the Silent Recruit." By dinner, the same talkative boy found him again.
"You're really not gonna talk, huh?" he asked, taking his usual spot across the table. "They should've called you 'Iceblade.' instead." The boy chuckled at his joke, looking sideways for a reaction.
However,
Baines said nothing.
It was precisely this silence that earned him his name, Silent Recruit. The number of people who had heard him speak was no more than ten, and that was being generous.
On the third day, Baines proved to be very proficient in his movements as a vanguard. Then orders came for him to learn the signals, formations, and strategy.
If they had a talented person like that, they could as well train a general on the battlefield, right?
And that was when his intelligence shone more.
That night, Baines whispered to his companion:
Over the night to the fourth, Baines asked Eye to transfer all battle strategies and formations that had been used in the wars of the future.
By the fourth day, he woke up as an experienced strategist. Not only had he memorized the formations, but he even made suggestions. His insights stunned the instructors.
On the fifth day of his arrival, they decided to throw him in the 'Sunblade legion'.
If possible, their upcoming trump card should be able to learn everything possible. There, the talkative boy greeted him with a wide grin and a raised brow when Baines returned it with a nod.
He also soaked up the techniques like a sponge. Within hours, Baines began adjusting Sunblade techniques, suggesting refinements that enhanced Vanguard compatibility.
His name was spreading more than normal. Well, maybe the worst part was, his name wasn't really known. However, if one were to ask, do you know the 'Silent recruit' or the 'Sponge sword master' they would immediately direct them.
Soon, rumors flooded all three legions.
Too much fame led to suspicions. Information on his origins was raised, and actions were taken.
Baines wasn't too surprised about the development. However, his surprise came when someone came through for him.
"Vole Malakar," Baines whispered to himself when he heard the news.
The Calm Sword Master had claimed to have trained him personally.
The name 'Malakar' seemed to have thrown everyone off. How did that massive family enter this equation? Their investigation was cut off like that. Besides, given Baines' behavior—calm, disciplined, unproblematic—it wasn't hard to believe.
His identity was cleared without issue.
On the sixth day, he was taught Sunblade strategies, signals, and battlefield roles. Once again, he impressed. This time, the higher-ups of the recruits were here to see what Baines would change, and he didn't disappoint.
Even the recruits began to improve, motivated by his presence. Baines was taking all the glory, but that didn't matter, since they couldn't reach him, they would settle for 'the man that reached after him'
In the end, the talkative recruit earned that title. He became the second to display the techniques perfectly and move on to the commanding role.
On the seventh day, the higher-ups, now thrilled, sent Baines to the Radiant Legion to learn long-range fighting.
This time, the Radiant recruits were terrified. And the terror turned to horror as he picked up the bow and arrow and mimicked the techniques after only just seeing it.
And he did something scarier.
He created his own technique.
This time, it couldn't go unnoticed. He was summoned to explain its origins before a panel of instructors and left them speechless.
His analysis gave even the veterans new insights. They ordered him to continue developing techniques and taught him the Radiant Legion's formations and strategies.
Then, they all noticed something about Baines during his short stay.
Whenever his black scarf wasn't covering his face, no matter the situation, Baines never smiled.
Even after adapting and improving the empire's techniques, sharing his insights, and outperforming all expectations, Baines never once smiled.
The higher-ups noticed, of course. His silent demeanor wasn't just a mystery anymore; it had become an enigma. Still, they couldn't demand answers. Asking why someone wasn't happy didn't sound right, not in a military as disciplined as this.
So, they sent others, even the talkative one who got the most of Baines's attention, but nothing.
On the ninth day since his entrance, Baines was promoted from recruit to Battlefield Commander. The youngest ever and the fastest ever. This was the first rank given in the army to those going up the leadership ladder, and it was usually earned after a decade of service.
Without surprise, his fame on the last front almost blew out of proportion, and it came with a new nickname: Young Sun Commander.
His achievements also robbed on the other recruits.
By the twelfth day, over 50% of the recruits in the combined training had perfected their training, with 2% of that number learning the battle formations and commands, and by the fifteenth day, 40% were ready to officially move to the main barracks as soldiers.
Of the 40 percentage, sixty percent were 3rd stars, twenty percent were 4th star, and Baines being the sole 5th star were considered next to be moved.
Word had it that this was the most talented the last front had gathered in the past 100 years.
On the last day, a little party was thrown for those moving to the main battlefield. Well, calling it a party wasn't the right word for it. They were told what to expect in the main camp, the higher-ups they would come across, and the code of conduct. Afterwards, they were allowed to have their last drink before hell.
However, as others were jubilating, only one person was indifferent, and he turned out to be the most celebrated of them.
Until the end of the training that was supposed to last months, Baines never spoke to anyone. The aura around him made unapproachable, even the trainers didn't approach him. He wasn't doing anything wrong, so why disturb him?
At the end of the short party, a salute was made by the entrants to their superiors, then they retired to prepare for their next day.
…
It was already the next day.
For some, it was just another day, and for a very selected few, it was a new beginning.
"Finally," Baines muttered, staring at his reflection one last time while facing the mirror.
He recalled how the training days passed, but he stopped.
It infutriated him so much that he was in so much pain, and some people were actually having the best times of their lives. And sadly, there was nothing he could do.
At least going to war against the outliers could relieve him a little of the pain. After a last glance, he pulled his scarf over his mouth, picked up his sword, and left his room.
Upon reaching the central grounds, he saw the thousands of recruits neatly lined up, ready to move to the main battlefield.
He couldn't help but stare longer at the army before him. There was a certain desire in him to have this kind of army. 'Will I ever?' He let the question hang as he moved in between the army.
Several people had varying expressions seeing him, however his commanding presence couldn't be taken from him. As a battafield commander, he was already higher than all these recruits and will be after they march to the main camp, so it was his role to lead the march.
The recruits were expecting some words from their commander and most talented, however, maybe it wasn't so shocking anymore.
Without a word, he led the recruits, in a march to the main barracks. There were no instructors to monitor or watch them. There wasn't even anyone to see them off, but they knew, they were being watched.
As the most talented of the bunch, a lot was expected from them.
They weren't going to another training ground. No, it was the real battlefield. This was where the main fighting, strategies, and formations they had all been learning about would come into play.
In this place, survival wasn't determined by the elites, survival was through grit.
As they crossed the boundary of the training grounds, they were met with another scenery. A thicker stench of blood than what was in the training ground wafted their nose, and the powerful aura that hung in the air, as if telling them that this wasn't a playground.
And as if proving to him, from the entrance, he was already sensing 5th star masters.
If he was a special thing in the training grounds, here, he was as common as these men. His only advantage over them was, he was younger.
As Baines stopped before the entrance of the main camp, waiting to be received, and surprisingly or not, a high rank personnel was here to receive them.
'6th star High Commander Dinkret.' Baines muttered, recalling the information that had been passed on to them.
He had a tall and slim stature, white hair that was neatly packed to the side, and an elaborate military dress.
One would ask. Why was a high commander here to receive them?
Normally, he wouldn't be present, but Baines's existence had become too significant to ignore.
With one final step, the new soldiers halted before five figures in ornate uniforms and saluted most respectfully.
All eyes, including Dinkret's, landed on Baines.
They had heard the rumors, his achievements, and now he was standing before them.
'Good temperament. Great talent. But those eyes…' Dinkret thought as he stared at Baines. Just like the panel Baines had faced, High Commander Dinkret could read his apprearance.
At the moment, he could see Baines looking at him, however, it was like he didn't even put him in his eyes.
'We should try and find out the reason.' After the thought, he said in clear voice,
"I accept you into the Last front." Then he turned to leave.
Then came the unexpected—
"Show respect!" A voice resounded, telling them to salute.
"The Darkan family is arriving!"
Hearing the order to salute, Baines had no choice but to obey.
'They're just arriving now?' Baines blinked. Vole had spoken like they'd already arrived. 'Then, how did he know?'
Whoooosh…
From the skies, specks appeared, growing larger by the second until they became more visible.
About three-meter-long beasts with thick, red scaled hides and thundering wings, ridden by armored warriors.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
One by one, they landed. Dozens turned to hundreds, and hundreds to thousands.
The Darkan Family.
Just like any other family, their humble beginning as descendants of an ancient red dragon. However, as descendants, they were meant to be dragons, but they turned out to be humans. To remedy the dilemma, the ancestor gave his descendants other dragon eggs, in hopes to resolve the situation.
Instead, the family turned into a dragon-knight family. As the name went, they were specialized in fighting with dragons, meaning they were aerial based fighters. Along the way, they also became a power under the empire and earned two suns.
Two massive dragons landed in front of the gathering. These dragons were almost twice the size of the dragons that landed earlier.
DOOOM. DOOOM.
After releasing a thunderous roar, the riders dismounted.
"Welcome, Lord Darkan," Commander Dinkret bowed respectively towards the towering man.
Lord Darkan was a tall and bulky man. He was red-haired with red beards. The air around him was powerful, and his aura was oppressive. But it wasn't his stature that gawked the crowd.
7th star.
Even Baines stiffened. Other than Martos, whose level he couldn't yet confirm, this man was the strongest he'd seen.
"Dinkret?" Lord Darkan smiled and greeted after seeing a familiar face.
"You must've had a long flight. And welcome, Lady Tasha." Dinkret also bowed to the woman behind with a light smile.
With beautiful flowing red hair, gorgeous curves, and a pretty and indifferent face, she was the woman referred to as Tasha, the daughter of the darkan family head and sole heir to the darkan family.
'4th star,' Baines noticed, then looked back at the Darkan family head.
"Hahaha," Lord Darkan laughed at the atmosphere, until his gaze finally landed on Baines, who didn't flinch beneath his presence. "And who is this one… so unshaken under pressure?" His voice showed surprise.
"He's the most talented of the recruits," Commander Dinkret replied recognizing who he was referring to.
"Fifth star? At such an age?" Darkan's voice held disbelief. The talk also seemed to have also attracted Tasha's attention as she looked at him.
However, with his scarf covering his mouth, she couldn't get a full view, but her interest was piqued.
Dinkret quickly pivoted, "Lord Dinkret, we believe an attack may happen today, please we will fill you in," while leading the Darkan's lord away, leaving the two sides glancing at each other.
...
Later, in the Darkan residence...
After a few hours of meeting, Lord Darkan was with his daughter, relaxing in the living room.
Whoosh…
A figure appeared kneeling before them.
"And?" Tasha asked, glancing at the figure.
"His name is Jin, and was recommended by Vole Malakar, who claims to have trained him."
"That's all?" Tasha asked, unimpressed.
"T-There's more," the figure said. "Since arriving, he's said to have mastered the techniques, formations, and strategies of all three legions. It's said he even created one." the figure didn't seem to even believe the information he was delivering.
"What?" Lord Darkan's eyes narrowed.
The figure quickly added, "He defended it before a panel. The report said his knowledge even gave them insight."
Father and daughter shared a long look of shock, unbelief, then an unspoken conclusion forming.
Before they could speak further—
WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
An alarm shattered their conversation.
The two shot to their feet at the call. The bell signified something.
The outliers had arrived, just like they had predicted.
Subordinates rushed in after the other and orders were given as preparations were made.
...
In the barracks quarters, the call to arms echoed everywhere.
The new recruits hadn't even settled when they were made to gear up and appear before the pyre vanguard center ground.
Several foots moved, orders were given, and within thirty minutes, an orderly line was formed by the soldiers. New recruits were stationed to the back of the line.
Baines also had his armor on, scarf wrapped, cloak, and mounted on his war horse.
Soon, over a hundred thousand soldiers on war horses were formed in the assembly yard, facing a grand platform.
Atop it stood the Grand Commander of the Pyre Vanguard, Wastin Ploot. His form was battle hardened and his 7th star presence that towered the whole army as he began to speak,
"Lately, we've had little skirmishes between the outliers, and now it seems they even learned how to form allies," he roared. "They think they can break us. But what are we?!"
"THE VANGUARD!!" A thunderous reply.
"I SAID—WHAT? ARE. WE?"
""THE VANGUARD!!""
"OPEN THE GATES!" He roared.
DRRRMMMMMMMMMMMMM
A colossal metal door that led outside the last front rose, revealing the snow-covered plains that stretched unto an unknown depth.
In the far distance, shadows could be seen rumbling toward them like an avalanche. No one needed to be told. These were the enemies, and a bloody battle was about to occur.
"MOVE!!"
Commander Ploot led the charge, and the vanguard stormed out.
Five hundred meters away from the gate, his voice rang out again:
"FORMATION 2: INFERNAL CHARGE!"
Like a well-oiled machine, the army shifted into a flaming arrowhead of a hundred thousand.
Riders and horses burst into flame, melting the snow underneath their feet and undeterred by the pain from the heat. Among the reasons warhorses were used, was to beat the cold and turn it into an advantage. Another was to match against their terrible enemies.
Minutes later, the distant rumbling shadows became visible. And their number, at least three times the pyre vanguard and still coming.
"WE HAVE MOMENTUM ADVANTAGE. CRUSH THEM!!!" The Grand Commander raised their momentum, raised his lance, consuming hundreds of outliers in his flame.
Soon, the blazing formation of the Vanguard collided with the enemy line.
BOOOOOOOOOOM
The battlefield erupted in chaos.
The outliers.
No one knew exactly why they hated or attacked humans. Some said it was for food, others for the thrill of the hunt, and some believed it was fear—fear of what humanity could become. But judging by the expressions on the faces of the outliers currently storming the battlefield, it looked like they simply enjoyed the violence.
Especially the Nomands and Barbarians.
The Nomands were humanoid in shape, but that was where the resemblance ended. Their skin was a deep shade of blue, and they had four arms instead of two. Their strength scaled with their height, and even the shortest among them towered over a grown man.
But what were they known for? Their lust.
In that regard, they preferred other races to their own. However, in the absence of other species, they turned on themselves. Their urges were so depraved, it wasn't rare for them to assault their own kind—siblings, elderly, males—it didn't matter. If caught on the battlefield by a Nomand, it wasn't uncommon to become a victim of rape. Their having four arms only made matters worse.
Then came the Barbarians.
Also humanoid in stature, but once again, that's where the similarity stopped. Their skin was crimson, and their bodies were covered in tribal tattoos that glowed faintly. Their strength and ability to resist the cold weren't based on their muscle but on the markings on their bodies. Each tattoo represented a win, a ritual, a kill. The more they had, the stronger they were.
And what were they known for? Their love for battle.
The Barbarians could have easily breached the front long ago, but they never did. They didn't want conquest. They wanted war. They occasionally sent small waves just to release stress. They even waited between assaults, giving the humans time to rebuild and regroup, just to fight again.
But this...this was different.
The two tribes, known to crave different things and despise each other, were now fighting together. Attacking with overwhelming numbers and coordinated fury.
A tribe of lustful creatures and a tribe of battle-craving warriors, the combination wasn't palatable for any army.
Thankfully, this was what the war horses were for. With their burning lances pointed out, the army charged in. However, it looked vain as more outliers filled up the space.
The disregard for their lives could demoralize any army, no matter how many times they fought.
Thankfully, they weren't alone.
RAAAAAAARRRRRRRRR—
With the roar of dragons, massive shadows swept over the vanguard like guardian angels and rained fire. Crimson flames together with the burning flames from the army increased the heat intensity, burning weaker outliers with just the heat.
The Vanguard didn't stop. They were never meant to stop. Mounted for momentum, they pierced through the fire and bodies.
The strategy was brutal, yet effective. They moved continuously. If one missed… the next wouldn't.
Baines, together with the new recruits, were stationed at the back of the formation. Meaning, he only got to kill stray outliers; others hadn't been able to kill.
"AHHHHHHH!" Shouts and screams resounded in the background as Baines spotted his first enemy. A 4th star nomand.
Around the nomand's bosom, two saggy flabs hung. It was clear; this was a female.
She also spotted Baines's look on her and widened her four arms with a big smile. She didn't seem to care about his rank; she just had to catch him, and it would be over.
'This would be the first time,' He tightened his grip on his lance. This was going to be the first time he was going to take a life. It was something he had always prepared, but no amount of preparation was enough for reality.
The sound around his disappeared. In his field of vision, it was just him and the nomand. He didn't stop, and he got closer.
The nomand grinned wildly, about to grab him, when a lance showed in its body.
What could this nomand do against a 5th star?
Nothing.
Ptshsch...
Together with the sound of piercing its body, its blood flowing through his lance, and the life slipping from its body, Baines watched all of it.
"Huup..." He heaved heavily, and everything came back to him.
The loud and bloody battlefield. He didn't have to contemplate as another outlier came running at him.
His lance gleamed again as he pierced through the outlier. Then another.
Five...Ten...Fourteen...
The more he pierced through the outliers, he got more accustomed. The sensation of killing the former let him to become calmer.
He heaved and looked around.
A 5th-star barbarian was smiling at him.
'5th star,' He gazed at the barbarian and around him. A good number of recruits were still around him, while some were already killing outliers.
Without hesitation, he jumped off his warhorse.
"Battlefield commander," One of the recruits shouted in panic, hurrying to hold Baines' warhorse before it ran away, however, it just stood in its position.
Baines pulled out his sword burning with sword aura and closed the distance with the barbarian. The barbarian responded with a fist to his face, which Baines calmly dodged and pierced with his sword.
Bang...
The barbarian grunted at the attack and struck its own on Baines's chest.
Bang...
Likewise, there was no movement.
'So, a body coated in aura is this strong?' Baines mused. The barbarian's attack felt more like an itch to him.
Whirr...
'Hm'
The markings over the barbarian glowed, revealing red aura claws. It smiled at Baines, as if telling him, round two.
'Alright, let's test out other things a 5th star can do.' He charged at the barbarian, and a flurry of attacks was exchanged.
As he fought, he noticed that, though the sword aura of a 5th star could deal damage to a 4th star, it wasn't the same for a 5th star. Any 5th star would acquire similar skills, meaning there was no advantage over another. It was then left to techniques and skills one knew, techniques like those he learnt during the training period and skills like constructing with aura.
'It all comes down to sword intent.' He mused as he watched the slightly frustrated barbarian. After unlocking its claws, it had expected to get his enemy, however hadn't been able to inflict another damage.
'Will to cut.'
He knew the will came from one of the absolute techniques he had with him, and it just felt right with him. He focused his will on his sword. No visible change was made, however,
The barbarian stiffened.
In a fit of rage, he roared out some incomprehensible words and lunged at Baines.
And just like he had done, Baines moved and attacked its arm, just for it to detach.
At that moment, he understood that it meant it in a literal sense; Cut.
The barbarian screamed for its missing arm. With a final swing, Baines beheaded the Barbarian.
"Phew..." He exhaled. From this fight, he was able to figure out a lot of things, and ultimately the way forward.
He turned to mount his warhorse when,
Grrrrrrrr...
A 5th star male nomand with other lesser nomands grunted at him.
"Oh, yes, yes, come." Baines's eyes widened as he beckoned for the enemies to come at him.
The subordinates around him tensed. For most, this was the first time hearing him speak, but the situation didn't make it memorable.
Like a battle-crazed fighter, he ran into the gathering nomands and began swinging his swords. Once in a while, it seemed like he was teleporting, his sword on flames, and his blade passing through the outliers like butter.
The more he killed, the better he killed the next. From one sword swing to kill one, to killing five with a swing.
After twenty minutes, the outliers around him were no more.
He mounted his horse with his to observe, his gaze landing on the barbarians.
But unfortunately for him, more people than he would have liked had seen his previous stunt.
With no unique threat yet, he chose to observe.
In the end, the barbarians piqued his interest, specifically the markings on their body.
'How are those tattoos formed?' he asked silently.
[SCANNING...]
[MARKINGS SEEM TO BE FORMED FROM THE BLOOD OF CREATURE]
'Blood of creatures?'
[A RITUAL WHERE THE TALENT OF DEAD CREATURES IS FORCED INTO THE BODY.]
'Doesn't that limit them?' Baines noted. It was common sense, if you forced the talent of one on another, there were bound to be limits.
And Eye confirmed it,
[CORRECT. THEY CANNOT SURPASS THE TALENT OF THE DEAD BEING.]
'I can imagine the strongest ones must've used an ancient beast of some sort.' He glanced forward.
'There are so many of them…' Even with the Vanguard's devastating formation and dragon fire support, the sea of enemies kept coming.
Inevitably, the weaker soldiers in the vanguard began to fall. Unfortunately, most were among the recruits and the weaker soldiers.
"ᏩᎨÖᎹ ØËÐðÿÔ ÑĀăċᏩ"
"ĦņĹŐIJĤŒœ ŹƐƜƜƜĀƛƙ"
"ƗƕƔƓƁƁ ƁƂƋDŽ"
"ǯDzȜȠ ȣȢɀȾ ȶȴȲɃ"
"ɆɎɏɐ ɞɜɛəəɮɸʉ"
"ʅɣʩΝΨ"
Their language was a discordant, alien mess. Harsh, inhuman, filled with no familiar roots, just like the enemies he had just fought, all their sentences sounded like curse words. Even between Nomands and Barbarians, there was no common word, raising the difficulty of communicating with them.
However,
'Eye... translate.'
[SCANNING…]
[TRANSLATING…]
Leaving it to process the language, Baines stared at the swarm before him, his lance dripping with blackened blood, which later burned from the flames surrounding his body.
'This number is overwhelming, even with a 7th star, I don't think we can clear it.' Everywhere his sight looked, he could only find outliers. And their numbers were going to overwhelm them one way or the other.
With no choice, he looked around to find variables.
'Soldiers, fire,' He looked around him, then looked up, 'Dragon... fire.' An idea then lit in him.
He only stopped once in a while to glance at his surrounding, but he kept attacking and ten minutes passed.
And,
[TRANSLATION OF NOMAND LANGUAGE COMPLETE.]
'Transfer it.'
He winced as a sharp jolt passed through his brain as the dialect embedded itself. Like a puzzle piece snapping into place.
[SCANNING… TRANSLATING BARBARIAN DIALECT…]
This time, it took longer. Around him, the battlefield got bloodier.
"Arghh!"
"No—NOOOOO!"
Nomands tackled soldiers from their mounts, pinning them down with four arms and violating them amidst the screams. Male. Female. It didn't matter.
The Barbarians…They weren't raping, they were stacking. Competing to form the highest hill of corpses.
Hundreds were dying every few minutes. And yet, the outliers were also falling in droves.
Thirty minutes passed.
[TRANSLATION OF BARBARIAN LANGUAGE COMPLETE.]
'Transfer it.'
He braced this time, his eyes twitched as the second dialect settled into his mind.
After a few seconds,
"Phew..." He exhaled and took in his surroundings.
Now, he could hear their words.
"Die."
"Let's see who can stack higher."
"I'll violate their corpses too."
"Rip their spines out."
'So, this is their language.' Baines felt that if he wanted to speak that way, he would have to twist his mouth and grind his teeth.
Their speech… it wasn't just ugly; it was malicious at its core.
Still, something didn't add up.
The Nomands and Barbarians had never fought together. So why now? Now he could understand them, why not try to figure out a bit.
'Eye, filter the conversations of fifth stars.'
"These ones are weak."
"They can't even last one thrust."
"..."
He scowled.
Their conversations were no different from the rest.
'Filter sixth stars.'
"Is this all of them?"
"I think so."
This conversation immediately caught his attention.
"With me," he ordered, turning his battalion forward.
The arrowhead formation had already splintered under the chaos, so taking a few steps forward wasn't wrong, right?
"Hyaaaaah!" they shouted, driving deeper into the battlefield with him.
Explosions fell from the sky. Flames melted snow. Blood painted steel. As they got to the center, the battle got more intense, and Baines found himself blocking and attacking with more power.
Then, he saw them.
"Stop!" he ordered his subordinates to help clear the outliers around, as he watched it.
Commander Wastin Ploot, locked in combat against two towering seventh-star enemies: a Nomand and a Barbarian.
Their shockwaves caved the earth and split the sky.
And just beyond them, the three Legion Commanders were fighting five sixth-star outliers, two Barbarians and three Nomands.
Baines narrowed his eyes. His sight could barely keep up. He only knew the grand commander was fighting because his battlefield was the loudest and largest, followed by the legion commanders.
'Eye, slow it down for me.'
A screen appeared before him in real time, playing the battle in slow motion. And after watching for about five minutes, he concluded,
Ploot was holding strong against his opponents. But the Legion Commanders… they were struggling.
And then—
"These guys are weak," a Barbarian scoffed, dodging a fiery strike and kicking a commander in the chest.
"That's why they'll fall today," a Nomand grinned, dragging a female commander by her hair.
Another Barbarian frowned. "Hey, we don't want that either."
Baines' ears perked. 'What do they mean?'
"They should be attacking now, right?" one Nomand asked, glancing to the horizon.
Baines turned his head sharply, following the direction of the Nomand.
'The mountains… but the Sunblade and Radiant Legions aren't stationed there…'
His breath caught.
They're planning an ambush. From the mountains.