Beneath the scorching mid-day sun. Along the barren sands of the Katze Plains stood the army of Re-estize.
Their forces divided into three sections with the King leading the middle.
Amidst the nervous men preparing their wits against the coming conflict, one remained distracted in thought.
'The Emperor was... slightly impressive. But then again, the man's arrogance was earned.'
Momonga stood steady with his arms crossed against his chest as he thought back on the meeting.
Hiding his grimace at how poorly it went on the Kingdom's side.
He spoke no words. Merely observed, seeing how there had been no point to the conversation. While brief, it highlighted the state of corruption within the Kingdom.
Assurance of noble safety for negotiations. That's it. No word of sparing those who surrendered. Possible trade for prisoners of war. Not even word of possible renegotiation should the toll of the war become too heavy.
Nothing but assurance for nobility's safety. Something the Emperor himself made them claw and fight for despite the barely hidden amusement.
Momonga knew with a glance that the Emperor had been more than ready to agree. And instead, the Kingdom made a fool of itself.
'...chaos is a ladder... chaos is a ladder..' Momonga reassures himself.
Despite the public display of dissonance among the Kingdom, the King had added other terms. The preservation of the dead so that they may be brought home and buried.
A term that instead fell flat. Rejected by the Emperor with calming ease, and worse is the public rebuttal of his own Lords.
And while Momonga felt the rising irritation at the disparaging display of unprofessionalism. He could at least understand why the Empire held so much sway with little to no fear of failure.
He saw it with his own eyes. Or at the very least, the Emperor was willing to have it displayed.
Columns upon rows of Knights. Each wearing a tabard, beneath leather, beneath steel. All armed with a sword and shield.
Armored with a full helm, chestplate, gauntlets, pauldrons, and greaves.
Shimmering with enchantments, and standing in uniformed unity.
And he counted fifty thousand men. A quarter of the Empire's forces if the whispers are to be believed.
With this, far as the Empire is aware, they would never lose. Not with the trained forces in their possession.
So if the King is to actually make proper concessions in his favor, he needs to force the enemy into the negotiation table through force, power, and victory.
Victory he can't achieve within the Kingdom in obvious fracture.
Something he could step into. And lead an impending invasion of Imperial Territory.
'The threat of power is the only thing they will collectively agree to. I guess this is what Albedo meant.'
Momonga stood with a steady posture. Silently enjoying the breeze against his skin.
Not the poisonous air, nor the prickling sensation of impending sickness. Just the breeze of the wind that carried hints of the sun.
He looked like a man prepared and ready for the worst. A mix of assurance and confidence. Giving the men behind him a sense of courage as he stood right in front of the pikemen of the East Wing of the army.
A far cry to both Albedo –who stood behind the pikemen at the right-wing– and Gazef –who stood closer to the archers behind the infantry at the center. Standing alongside the King.
As if to boom through the very air, the horns blared.
*thuhooooom~
From beyond the hill, dust kicked up with the sound of hooves announcing the Imperial Cavalry. First they trotted, then they galloped, and in seconds, the ground was shaking with the horses' sprint.
'An impending clash.' Momonga looked back to the men behind him as they shook against the coming tide.
But his eyes softened when he saw Sylvia. The frightened woman, standing strong atop her armored horse. Gripping fearfully at the reins of her horse. And shaky eyes barely maintained as if stopping herself from counting the coming riders.
He smiled beneath his helm, it was amazing how far the girl had come. From the girl with an uncompromising moral compass. Who only saw pain and sought to ease them.
To a woman who seeks to understand, the good and the bad. With desire and strength to uproot the cause of the Kingdom's rot.
'Albedo had trained her well.'
The stray thought gave him strength. Albedo had done remarkably, while he believed himself simply riding on her coattails.
'No more.'
He turned his attention back to the cavalry and prepared himself.
Light exploded at his periphery. Along with a loud warcry mixed with cheers, that echoed across the plain.
And there he saw Albedo, raising a pole of silver and a golden banner.
[•Under Divine Flag•] bloomed into the battlefield. Steadying the hands of men by her side and easing their hearts for the inevitable.
"...how envious."
Momonga knew he couldn't achieve the same feat. Not through the same means, but he could do something else entirely.
'If I can't encourage the men then, I'll just have to frighten our enemies.'
He extended his hand to his side and with a flick, his greatsword flew into his hand. He held it to his side, prepped for a wide swing. His body hunched, legs bent and ready to launch himself forward. With his feet firm to the ground to provide stability for power.
While his eyes tracked the approaching cavalry.
A hundred meters,
Eighty...
Sixty...
Forty–
Time slowed to his perspective.
His eyes sharpened into focus.
His cloak billowed into the wind.
His sword, stilled in his grasp.
His armor caught the warm reflection of light.
And with a thunderous crack that caved the very dirt he was standing on.
*Bahng–!
Momonga launched himself like a cannonball, with his first swing, bringing terror to the men of the Empire.
—.—.—.—.—
The Empire's command base was a large tent. Occupied by every General of the Empire's Legion.
Along with Fluder Paradyne, his five acolytes, and servants holding message scrolls.
All of whom are focused entirely on the floating images before them. Where three scrying spells are carefully maintained by nine different mages.
And while the tent was quiet, it was completely at ease.
"The cavalry should make short work of this, your majesty."
Many nodded, knowing the lengths and resources poured into the enchanted armors of the Knights and their horses.
Jircniv himself was ready to nod along but frowned when one image focused on someone.
Momonga poised to attack and meet the Empire.
All turned their attention to the image that captured the Emperor's interest.
And without warning, Momonga moved leaving cracked ground.
Their hearts stilled as they saw him move like a streak of black and red. Landing explosively behind the first row of riders. And with a wide circular arc of his sword, cleaved a wide circle of twelve riders around him.
Wood scraped against wood as the Generals stood in surprise, but Momonga didn't stop and continued cutting as many riders and horses as he could. Swinging his large sword that seemed to leave a fissure on the very ground while his footsteps created dents against the dirt.
One of the men grabbed a scroll to give out an order, freezing only when Momonga threw his sword like a spear. Impaling three riders off of their horses. And then proceeded to muscle his way through, punching and kicking those unfortunate enough to get too close, whether they be horses or men.
"What do we do!? Who do we send!?" snapped one of the generals.
Jircniv gave his answer. "Send Leinas and Ernard."
The order was immediately given, and the two Imperial Knights rode out, expecting to face a skilled warrior.
But despite the command, the tension in the tent did not ease.
As if to distract them, the rest of the battlefield smashed against each other.
The center clashed with great momentum. Flesh, blood, and armor were crushed and torn against the heavily armored cavalry.
Held back only by the Kingdom's own ill-placed cavalry. And a row of brave Warriors under Gazef's command.
But the East Wing did not give.
Jircniv gritted his teeth. Watching a beautifully horned paladin lead the defense. Strengthening the Kingdom's levy in golden light that seemed to sharpen the hearts of those washed with it. Allowing them to hold against the cavalry and kill many among his men.
"The Paladin's 'Lion Series' spells." remarks Fluder. "Strength in body, armor, weapons, and mind. A frightening combination."
"Send in Nimble and Baziwood." Jircniv gritted out, receiving affirmation from his commandant.
"I shall prepare then." said Fluder. And it made everyone's heart skip a beat.
Once more they turned their attention to Momonga. And what they saw made them freeze...
"It can't be! Is he... an arcane magic caster!?"
Panic, fear, and doubt started swirling around them and all Jircniv could do was stare at the image. Hoping his mentor would arrive in time.
—.—.—.—.—
Momonga gripped an incoming lance and pulled the rider down. He kicked the rider in the head, spilling blood through the cracked dent. And hurled the spear with his strength, piercing through a horse and two riders.
A dismounted Knight rushed at him, sword raised high– "Die!" and missed. His collar was grabbed, and Momonga proceeded to throw him against another armored knight. Creating an explosion of steel and flesh against steel and flesh. An unnatural noise that made those nearby flinch.
Amidst their side of the war, Momonga moved to decimate the forces of the Empire. Unknowingly giving the Kingdom's men a courage to look towards.
Riders had begun circulating him. Trying to put him down with horses and spears. But their motions were too straightforward.
Impale.
Making it easy for Momonga to adjust himself since he neither feared their spears nor their legged battering rams.
Another group of riders circled to rush him with spears. But Momonga met them. His foot dug and cracked the soil beneath him, and without hesitation, shoulder-tackled a horse launching it meters atop another rider while grabbing a fallen spear and hurling it. Killing a knight straight through the throat.
While he raised his foot and crushed a fallen rider's head. Spraying blood and brains everywhere.
He gave no warning, no acknowledgement, no victory nor did he rejoice at the kill.
He just moved to the next. And from there, the massacre continued.
The Kingdom's troops who were watching felt warmth in their hearts seeing one man tackle an invading force just to keep them alive.
Just as courage was about to explode into action, a poleaxe cut through the air striking Momonga as he guarded with his forearm.
*Blang– rang the axe's impact.
Ernard of the Four Imperial Knights dismounted and without breaking stride, ran and grabbed his weapon and swung again.
Momonga recognized the black Adamantite armor. And met the attack, stepping into the pole and elbowing the man's faceplate.
Ernard fell on his back.
Momonga was about to throw another punch at the downed man but a flash of silver caught his attention.
His hand snapped around the base of a spear tip, and he skidded back. He was dragged and forced through the dirt by the rider while he struggled to prevent the tip from touching his armpit.
With a heave, "Hn!" Momonga dug his feet firmly and forced the rider off of her horse.
But the rider rolled onto her back, moving with nimble footwork and making distance.
Momonga stood outside the massacre he had created. Now standing in an open field, met by two of the Emperor's personal guards with a gathering of Imperial cavalry just behind them.
Ernard hefted his axe on his shoulder, while the other, a long blonde-haired woman took a stance behind the man with a spear ready at hand.
"Hmn! Impressive." Momonga remarked with a smile.
He flexed his shoulders, as if to wipe away the dirt and extended his hand. And from his open palm, heat converged into a ball of flame the size of a man's torso and said–
"Let's see how well you fair."