Lucien scanned the battlefield and spotted Wilhelm and the knights locked in combat with black-cloaked figures at the front. Their formation was already beginning to strain. They were surrounded—the attackers closing in, tightening the ring around them.
"We'll be overrun if we don't reinforce the outer line," Tristan said, summoning his Aura-clad sword.
A blinding light burst forth, forcing people to shield their eyes. Though weaker than before, it was enough to break the knights' focus; cries of pain rang out from the front.
Sensing Mana surging toward them, Lucien raised a transparent barrier overhead amid the brilliance. Earthen projectiles slammed into it with a deafening crash, filling the air with grit and the scent of churning soil.
When the light and dust receded, Tristan unleashed a volley of wind bullets that tore through the trees. The hidden mages burst like fireworks, blood and flesh scattering across the ground.
The front line wavered as enemies pushed through the gaps.
"We're moving!" Tristan barked.
Marching forward, Tristan spared him a glance. "Luce, stay in the rear."
Lucien nodded. "Understood."
A massive magic circle flared beneath the knights, and the ground began to tremble. Lucien swiftly traced its weakest point and fired a Mana bullet, shattering the circle before the spell could take form.
Groans echoed in the distance as the enemy mages' spell backfired. The allied mages behind the knights retaliated, unleashing a volley of earthen spears. A transparent shield flared too late among the enemy mages—the barrier crumbled as the spears tore through, blood spraying amid their howls of agony.
Lucien turned his attention to the breached line. Ice spikes materialized around him and launched one after another toward the infiltrators. One by one, the foes fell, their heads pierced by jagged ice. The allies hastily surged forward to reclaim the ranks.
Tristan and the knights charged onto the battlefield, reinforcing the formation. The rasp of steel and the cries of battle filled the air. Blood splattered between the clashing forces as weapons forced their way past the knights' shield wall, biting into flesh. Lucien joined the mages, hurling spells toward the enemy casters hidden beyond the trees.
Unlike modern warfare, ancient battles were fought shoulder to shoulder, centered on holding or advancing the formation—not the chaotic brawls Hollywood often portrays. Once the enemy broke through the ranks and friend became indistinguishable from foe, it marked the battle's end and the cue to flee.
Explosions rippled through the air as spells clashed overhead. Dust billowed, and debris rained down on both armies. The enemy mages fell one after another, unable to stop the incoming missiles.
On the ground, the knights swung their weapons relentlessly to maintain cohesion. Lucien's brows furrowed as he realized the enemy soldiers were barking orders in fluent Zerounian. Their fair-to-olive skin only made it more unsettling.
"Keep the line tight!" Wilhelm's voice thundered as he drove his sword into an assailant's chest, blood splattering across his already stained armor. "Shields locked! Step together!"
The knights roared in chorus. The front line braced behind raised shields while the second thrust their weapons through the gaps, drawing wails and crimson from both sides. Step by step, to the cadence of boots striking earth, they advanced, compelling the enemy line to buckle.
Then another searing flash erupted, shattering the knights' focus and jolting the formation. Even from the rear, Lucien felt its force shove him back.
"Hold!" Wilhelm barked through the glare. "Do not give them ground!"
The knights roared in unison and pressed forward once more, shields grinding against the earth. As the light faded, Lucien swept the field—several points had been breached. Tristan and the others in the second rank cut down the intruders before they could spread.
With the allied mages firmly in control, Lucien shifted his focus to the infantry. Ice stakes materialized overhead, forming a dandelion bloom before bursting apart, streaking toward the enemy in every direction.
The shards pierced necks and skulls, spraying crimson into the air. As bodies fell, the knights charged forward to seal the gap—armor clanking, boots pounding against the blood-soaked earth.
"Shields locked! Step together!" Wilhelm shouted.
With a unified cry, the knights advanced again. Pressing forward, they ground through the enemy line while the second rank swung their blades in relentless rhythm, slipping into the shattered ranks. After agonizing minutes of resistance, the formation finally collapsed.
"Attack!" Wilhelm bellowed.
The knights roared and poured through the opening, swords flashing as they cut down everything in their path. Screams filled the air—some defiant, others dying—as blood drenched the soil.
Fear carved itself into the enemies' blood-smeared faces. Weapons clattered to the ground as soldiers turned to flee, stumbling over the fallen in their panic.
"Retreat!" someone bellowed amidst the slaughter. "Retreat!"
"Don't chase them!" Wilhelm shouted, raising a fist. "Hold formation!"
The knights skidded to a stop and reformed their lines, panting heavily, armor slick with blood and grime. Their chests heaved with exertion, but none broke rank.
Lucien's gaze drifted toward Wilhelm at the front. Smart.
For all they knew, the enemy could regroup—or worse, lure them into a trap.
"Today, we were ambushed." Wilhelm stepped forward, his eyes swept across the ranks. "But you held. You fought well. I'm proud of you." A rare smile tugged at his lips. "Well done."
A thunderous roar answered him. Weapons lifted high, clanging against shields in victorious defiance.
Lucien exhaled and lowered his arms. Across the bloodstained field, his cerulean eyes met Tristan's emerald ones, a silent nod passing between them.
And with that, his first battle concluded.