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COUNT Broome led the army attacking from the east gate. They had come out to attack, but that didn’t mean they were in any hurry to fight. Instead, their goal was to buy time and try to take advantage of their numbers by adopting a formation that encircled the Farunian army.
Meanwhile, Chrom and Warren led the Black and Red Knights on a daring assault before the enemy could deploy in formation. The Eylish army let loose arrows and spells at them, but neither of the knights paid them any mind.
“Raaah!”
Warren was the first to make contact with the enemy, his competitive spirit on full display. His colleague, Chrom, had defeated Count Godwin in the last battle, so this time around, Chrom had deliberately given up his position in the vanguard to Warren.
The greatsword Warren wielded literally sent Eylish soldiers and knights flying. Though they used spears to try and contain, encircle, and defeat their foes, it was meaningless in the face of the Red Knights’ tenacious advance. When they tried to block using swords, they and their weapons were swept aside, and when they tried to defend with shields, they were simply crushed beneath them. The motto of the Red Knights was that the best defense was a good offense, and Warren personified that.
The Red Knights made a beeline for the enemy commander, Count Broome, and although the Eylish troops tried to stop them, it wasn’t as effective as they were hoping. The Black Knights guarded the Red Knights’ backs, and their skilled support helped make it impossible to tell who was actually attacking.
“Their strength as individuals is too much,” Count Broome said with a grimace as he watched the approaching Red Knights.
War had taken on its present form after going through a sort of refinement, and this form existed to harness the strength of the collective to its maximum extent. The era when individual strength could turn the tide of battle was already in the distant past, verging on primitive. Ultimately, humans were social animals, and their strength was best leveraged when put to work as parts in a system.
There were all sorts of tactics to deal with just one or two powerful individuals. However, Farune simply had too many powerful individuals. They were like undomesticated beasts running amok. It was almost enough to make a person start grumbling to them about learning to be better members of society.
Though Count Broome ordered his subordinates to surround Farune’s knights in large numbers, the knights in question tore their way through. It was like trying to hold back an elephant with a line of ants. The enemy had more vigor than when they had fought on the Lind Plain, and they were also exerting more pressure. It was only a matter of time before they made their way to the count.
“But as one of the Three Counts, I can’t afford to retreat,” the count said. He drew his sword and let it rest on his right shoulder, waiting motionlessly until the time came. The sound of wild shouting gradually came closer. Finally, the Farunians broke through the last of his army’s lines, and Warren appeared before him. The knight was an imposing redhead with a commanding presence. His red armor was blackened with sprays of blood, and even his face had turned bright red from the excitement of battle.
Count Broome sprang into action the very moment his foe appeared. A sword technique called Flash had been passed down through generations of the Broome family. It was a skill where the user risked everything on a single stroke, consuming extreme quantities of energy and mana, but in exchange one could let loose a powerful, lightning-fast attack. It was the epitome of a certain-death technique.
As the name suggested, Count Broome’s sword became a ray of light as it cut into Warren’s shoulder.
“Guh…” Warren grunted, his determined face twisting in anguish. He had taken a direct hit from Flash, leaving a deep cut in the top of his shoulder, right through his armor.
“What?!” Count Broome exclaimed, seemingly surprised at his own actions. But his surprise came from the fact that he hadn’t inflicted a fatal blow. It’s a shallow wound?! That’s impossible! he thought.
Flash was a skill that cleaved one’s opponent in half with near-total certainty. It wasn’t supposed to end with half of his blade being stuck in his foe’s shoulder.
Count Broome’s energy began to ebb. This was the price of using Flash.
It can’t end here! Just this once, give me strength! He tried to use his remaining stamina to pull his sword out of Warren, but it wouldn’t budge. Warren was tensing up his body to keep it from moving.
“Damn, old timer! That smarts!”
The red face of the knight before Count Broome transformed into something fierce. It was a wicked look that the count recognized.
“You… You aren’t human! None of you are! You’re monsters!”
By way of reply, Warren seized the count’s neck in his right hand.
He’s unarmed?!
Warren’s strength was unbelievably tenacious. The count’s throat closed, preventing not only his voice but also air from passing through.
If I could just use my sword!
Count Broome had sought a knight’s death. In his final moments, he heard the sound of his neck as it snapped.