Tristan Rassier, clad in full plate bar helmet, was addressing his armies a short distance away from the city, Crisuri. He was flanked by a pair of guards clad in full plate, wielding halberds.

  “The day of reckoning is here!” he declared powerfully while making a fist. “We march forth today to fight and defeat the Grimhills, traitors to our nation!”

  The narrative which the count used was that the Grimhill controlled the royals and that the duke was siphoning life of the kingdom. Ansel believed that his claims weren’t completely false. There wouldn’t have been fire without smoke after all. How much of it was true, he wasn’t sure. Whatever the case, the soldiers roared with their arms up rigorously. Many of them couldn’t care less about the real issue. Ansel was, in fact, one of those. This war was going to bring him glories in one way or another and finally climb up higher.

  The count raised an army of six thousand men which were divided into three smaller armies with two thousands each. Ansel was ordered to work with Baronet Hills of Casv. He vaguely recalled the last names because he sent a marriage offer to Gavin previously. Her name was Babara Hills, 18 years old. It was Robert Hills, the baronet who was given an army of two thousands with Asnel as an advisor and an assistant general, the latter title was given to him specifically for additional authority. Robert was fired up for the job because he was promised the rank of baron upon successful conquest.

  I guess he is glad that Gavin didn’t take up on the offer…

  Should he be promoted to a baron, his daughter would certainly be married off to a better partner. Regardless, an army had a general and a mage as an advisor. The six main figures of the war were standing in front, not far from the count.

  “You are Baron Durrell’s page, yes?” Robert asked while the count was making his speech.

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Would you answer if I asked how he reacted to the marriage offer?”

  He wasn’t sure of the purpose of the question. The deal was turned down, the end of. But this was an opportunity to increase Gavin’s reputation.

  “He refused it solely due to the age difference, Baronet. Your rank had nothing to do with it.”

  She was 18. He was 43. In nobility, age difference meant little if benefits outweighed it. Would a father care about his daughter’s happiness in a marriage? Most did not. In their minds, their daughters benefiting their houses would be the ultimate happiness of its own. This was why Ansel was pleasantly surprised at the Fladal royals who let Nuala roam free.

  Robert shrugged. “I didn’t want to send the offer in the first place.”

  That was a bombshell revelation.

  He continued, “But the count has sent letters to those with unmarried daughters to send an offer or else. To be fair, I don’t have a problem with your liege. But a gap of 25 years is a bit too much, don’t you think?”

  Baronet Hills didn’t seem too happy with the count. Of course, not every vassal would be completely happy with their lieges.

  “It’s all in the past. We have a bigger matter to deal with, don’t you agree, Baronet?”

  Robert looked somewhat disappointed. Did he expect Ansel to agree with him? To what end?

  “Fine. The count did tell me to leave you alone unless you do something really stupid. Let’s see what you are capable of.”

  You don’t have a favorable view of me, got it.

  Perhaps, he took offense in his refusal to side with him about the count or perhaps it was about the marriage deal being turned down. The count may have barked at him for failing to secure the marriage as well. Either way, Robert Hills didn’t seem to like him, which was going to make it harder to work with. Perhaps, the core issue was that he was an Asvete who was closely associated with the Grimhill. Regardless, the count’s speech was soon over, which neither Ansel nor Robert paid close attention to. Whatever his rhetoric was, both of them knew what needed to be done in the end. His speech was primarily to arouse the clueless, common, folks. The army which Ansel and Robert was in charge of consisted of four different troops. The first kind was meat shields in spearmen who were predominantly farmers. They had little to no training, and all they knew was thrust their poor quality spears forward. They were taught basic know-how in how to react against a cavalry unit. They’d do poorly against a typical swordsmen unit. Their number was eight hundred and was divided into four units with 200 men in each. The second type was swordsmen with long swords and shields. They were properly educated soldiers and were probably on par with general knights. They were semi-professional as well, meaning they were paid while being trained. There were five hundred of them and were divided into two units, again 250 men per. The third kind was cavalry, two hundred men and divided into two units, 100 men per. They were the elite units and were fully professional soldiers. Ansel and Robert were in charge of one unit each. Finally, there were archers, five hundred men. Thus, the total was 2,000 men.

  Spearmen - 800 - Decent against cavalry, poor against all other units. Conscripted soldiers.

  Swordsman - 500 - All around unit. Semi-pro.

  Light cavalry - 200 - Somewhat poor against spearmen. Excels against others. Professional soldiers.

  Archers - 500 - Ranged support. Conscripted soldiers.

  They had a few days worth of supplies. The Waines were to supply them properly once they arrived in the region.

  “The dragon mow,” Ansel said as the army took a stop before continuing their journey North. The legends said that the Moshil region used to be completely cut off from outside with its tall mountains. Then, one day, a dragon flew by and breathed fire from its mouth, melting away the mountains to make what would become a wide valley. Whether it was true, it was uncertain. But the valley did display some unusual features, such as no plants ever growing on it, petrified trees, and presence of awfully smooth rocks, like those found in rivers. Fortress Mow was named after the valley.

  “We camp here tonight!” Robert barked out his order. It was always better to march through the valley in one go because monsters appeared frequently at night. It’d take more than one day to cross it. By spending a night at its entrance, they’d spend only two nights in the valley. The monsters appeared in a few tens at the most and they were never going to pose any serious threat to armies. But the less number of nights they’d spend in the valley, the better. Because the army had no dedicated supply wagons, there was nothing to prepare. They had no tent to build and making camp fires wasn’t easy, either, due to the lack of trees. Therefore, the soldiers simply sat down and began consuming whatever they brought. For Baronet Robert, however, things were a bit different. He had brought his servants with big backpacks. They were carrying materials for a tent as well as some luxurious food.

  “You are not invited in spite of you being my advisor,” he declared. Ansel shrugged it off and took no offense. Making him angry was actually pretty hard simply because he couldn’t care less about almost everything. What was more important was that the baronet wasn’t going to cooperate from heart. This was going to cause an issue in the long run. The count gave him an order clearly along with more authority. But ultimately it was down to Baronet Hills to apply the said order. While he wasn’t sure exactly why Robert was hostile toward him, the bottom line was that he probably would need to find ways to get things done without his help.

  I should just leave the baronet and head alone to the Waines.

  They could be dealing with the enemies already. Glancing at the makeshift tent the servants built, the baronet looked to be drinking inside. He didn’t seem to be taking this war as seriously as he hoped.

  Shadow.

  It was evening. Therefore, his invisibility spell would work flawless throughout the night. Concealing himself from eyes and ears completely, he headed northward alone, abandoning his horse. He wouldn’t be able to conceal the horse, thus it was better this way. He had a waterskin and a few strips of jerky on his belt. Finally, the alicorn that was wrapped with clothes was hanging on his back. He left the world map along with his horse, believing that he would get them back one day. More importantly, since his childhood, he was very much used to starvation. Therefore, going on a few days without any food was fine with him. Leaving the baronet’s army behind, he casually continued to walk at a fast pace.

  You’ve missed your chance to become a baron, Mr Hills.

  An army without a mage, what could they do? Ansel was certain that Robert would make up some excuses to report him to the count, but Tristan Rassier wasn’t a man who’d fall for such cheap tricks. He beamed a smile.

  I’ve learned the right to act independently.

  This was what he wanted. But there was a problem. Well, there were always problems in his path without exceptions. This was the price to pay for being able to see a bit further ahead.

  I need people under me. I need those who can carry out my orders and instructions.

  He was more of a strategist than a mage. This was why he wanted an army for himself. He understood why Tristan refused to trust him fully. There was more than one reason for that. First of all, with his tender age of just twelve, it would make it extremely hard for grown men to follow. Therefore, the count came up with installing Robert Hills as the general to make this work. Alas, the baronet failed to catch the memo. Secondly, he was an Asvete which was an undisputable link to the Grimhill. Since Robert went awry, he had to find other ways. His solution was to reach the Waines and perhaps find an army there.

  When the army was nothing more than just a dot in the distance, he heard rather loud hissing and shrieking. The sound was clearly not from humans.

  Goblins?

  They sounded like them. Turning to the direction of what sounded like a small conflict, he came into a scene of what appeared to be bullying. Due to the tri-moon, even the night wasn’t as dark. Six goblins had one of their own surrounded. Jumping and shrieking, they were scaring the lone goblin that was cowering. They had crude wooden clubs but they didn’t look like they meant any physical harm. It was just bullying.

  Just like humans, huh.

  The cowering goblin shouted, “Guba! Guba!” (Stay away! Stay away!)

  The bullying goblins were laughing and responded, “Gon! Gon!”

  What would that word mean?

  “N!”

  Folding arms, he gave the situation a thought. The cowering goblin told them to stay away and they responded with a new word he didn’t understand. And the cowering goblin responded “no”.

  The bully goblins continued to shout “Gon” for a moment before merrily dispersing, leaving the cowering goblin in tears in a tucked position.

  What could “gon” mean? What would bullying fuckers say…?

  Then he recalled him being bullied by his own siblings back home. Subtly frowning, he recalled what they barked at him. His face darkened at once because it wasn’t a pleasant piece of memories even for a voidkin who was mostly emotionless.

  “Die.”

  Having spoken a verbal word, his concealment spell broke off, revealing himself to the cowering goblin. The goblin was so surprised that it peed on the spot.

  “They told you to die.”

  “Guba!” (Stay away!)

  “Ni.” (No)

  His nonchalant refusal calmed him down instead of making him react in fear.

  “Ni?”

  “Gak.” (Talk)

  “Gak?”

  “Gooba.” (Yes?) Pointing at himself, he spoke his name. “Ansel.” Then pointed at the goblin.

  “Gurokika”.

  So, goblins had names. The more he got to know them, the more he found them similar to humans.

  “Gurokika,” he pointed at the goblin and then pointed at himself. “Ansel.”

  Nodding, the goblin replied, “Gi.”

  That must mean “yes”. What does “gooba” mean exactly then? Looks like “yours” then…

  He struck out his hand to the goblin to help it stand back up. It hesitated for a good moment before taking his hand to stand up.

  “Good,” it said.

  “Gurokika, guwa?” (Gurokika, why?) He wondered whether it would understand what he was trying to ask. He wanted to ask why it was bullied. With its eyes downcast, it clearly looked like it didn’t want to talk.

  Instead, it asked, “Nyu magi?”

  “Magi? Mage?”

  Nyu must mean you.

  He was picking up valuable vocabulary. He would have loved learning words for greetings though. Perhaps, they never had any.

  “Gi.”

  Holding hands, they walked for a short distance until the goblin began to sniff the air.

  “Nyig Gatve,” it said and let Ansel’s hand go.

  “You leave, huh.” It looked up, and he looked down. Honestly, he could never distinguish between goblin appearances. They all looked the same. It smiled and dashed into darkness.

  “Learned a lot tonight,” he whispered to himself. Talking to Gurokika made him realize that goblins weren’t inherently hostile toward humans. It also made him realize that it was entirely possible to co-exist with goblins and possibly other monsters.

  “Highly valuable lessons,” he said. “Why has no one dived into this?” Then he sneered. “Of course, not. Of course… They are always busy with their own power plays…”

  Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

  Shadow.

  Casting the spell once again, he resumed his journey to the North.

  When he arrived at the South gate of Vlesland, guards at the gate were on high alert. They had to be since they were fighting a war. The city was the headquarters of the Waines. There was a medium sized farming town North of the city which he didn’t yet know the name of.

  “What’s your purpose for the visit, child?” one of the guards demanded. There were eight of them clad in studded leather armor, all of whom were shooting sharp glares at him. Undeterred, he replied calmly.

  “My name is Ansel Asvete, a mage serving Count Rassier. I’ve been sent to assist the viscount.”

  “But you are here alone? Where are the armies they promised?”

  “They are on the way. The count sent me ahead since the situation is dire.”

  The guards looked at each other, clearly looking doubtful.

  “Do you have any proof?”

  Ansel narrowed his eyes. “Listen, I’ve come here on urgent business. Viscount Waines can refuse my assistance if he wishes so. I will simply return. But do not expect me to assist the viscount ever again.”

  His completely nonchalant response meant that they had to take him seriously. Sweating profusely, because his neck was on the line should he make a wrong decision, the guard lowered his upper body to show respect.

  “I apologize, Master Asvete. Please enter. The viscount is waiting.”

  “Your name?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Your name.”

  Sweating even more, he wasn’t sure what to say anymore. By speaking his name, he could be punished specifically. If he didn’t, his entire unit could be punished far less severely. The choice was obvious.

  “Whatever.” Ansel swaggered past the guards. He had no intention to punish the guard anyway.

  He was swiftly guided into the Waines manor by the head butler, and Viscount Lawrence Waines welcomed him with open arms.

  “Welcome, Master Asvete!”

  “Thank you for your heartfelt welcome. The count’s armies are on the way. Expected arrival is two days maximum.”

  “That is great to hear!” The viscount sounded legitimately delighted.

  “May I know the current situation?”

  Both the viscount and the butler donned heavy looks on their faces.

  “Our situation is dire,” the viscount explained after moving to a more secure room with a round table. There was a map with pins indicating where friendlies and foes were. They had two armies with 500 men per. Their job was not to fight the enemies but to hold them until the count’s reinforcements arrived. They were doing the job just barely because -

  “Both of our armies are isolated, especially the one at Eran.”

  Eran was a farming town and the only other settlement the viscount possessed.

  “I assume your mage is with the army near the city?”

  “Yes, he has successfully blasted enemy armies several times, pushing them back. The Benas sent their mage to Eran instead.”

  Ansel folded his arms. Their intention was clear. They aimed to cripple the Waines. Eran won’t be able to hold for long at this point. In fact, it may already be too late.

  “So, there is only one mage on their side?”

  “No, the Grimhill sent an army of a thousand along with a mage. They divided that army into two. We do not have any idea of where the Grimhill mage is. But our mage hasn’t encountered an enemy mage.”

  With the road to Eran blocked by enemies, the priority seemed clear.

  “Our mage has attempted to break off and assist Eran, but his army is currently surrounded.”

  “I find it odd that the Grimhill hasn’t sent in their full force.”

  “They must have their reasons. Whatever the case, we need to break off their encirclement.”

  The viscount didn’t seem to be aware of the fact that Ramor and Fladal were involved. It was very possible that the Grimhill got wind of this crucial news and were diverting their forces elsewhere to counter the invasions.

  “I will go join your mage,” Ansel declared. “I will depart ASAP. Before that though…”

  The viscount looked confused for a moment.

  “Could I have a meal?”

  He starved for three days. He hadn’t had water for two days. If it wasn’t for that he was experienced in starvation, he may have not made this far. It would have been so much better if he had his horse since he could have carried more stuff but alas. Once he devoured a bowl of porridge and some bread, he hauled himself out there in spite of getting really drowsy. He had no time to rest. If his intuition was correct, time was of essence.

  The Waines mage welcomed him with open arms. Their situation was indeed dire and that was an understatement. He invited Ansel to a tent to discuss their plans or the lack thereof.

  “Our general is dead,” the mage, Anthony Frrie, explained. He was a middle-aged man with dark brown hair.

  “Dead? The viscount didn’t tell me about that.”

  “I have not informed him. I didn’t have the heart to tell him.”

  The general apparently attempted to break through the blockade on the road to the East. He failed and was wounded, eventually succumbing to death.

  “I’ve been haphazardly casting magic to stop them from overwhelming us. Fortunately, they don’t have a mage. That’s how I’ve been holding firm on the location.”

  Ansel disagreed in his mind. Their purpose was clearly to hold them here.

  “Are you willing to go on offense?”

  Mage Frrie furrowed his eyebrows. “Going on offense? In our current situation?”

  They had set up rudimentary wooden walls to provide some advantage while holding their position. But they would be overrun if the enemies meant it. Since their job appeared to be holding them where they were, they had to break out. At least, that was what Ansel thought.

  “What element do you commend, Master Frrie?”

  “Fire. I am a fire mage.”

  “Good.” Ansel pointed at a small hill to Northwest. “See this hill over there? It should give you a good view of the whole area. I will lead the army and attempt a fake attack to the East. I want you to cast fire balls and burn them down from the hill.”

  “Are you mad?” he exclaimed. “We must defend this position. If not, they could attack the city!”

  “No, this is what they want. And are you absolutely sure that the general is dead?”

  “What?”

  “Where is his body?”

  “We couldn’t retrieve his body amid the chaos.”

  Ansel narrowed his eyes. “Then I dare say that the general may have been a spy himself.”

  Mage Frrie opened his mouth to retort but remained silent. Closing his mouth, he folded his arms, falling into deep thoughts.

  “I will be damned. That fucking traitor…,” he uttered. “I did feel that he went down a bit too easily…”

  “Have ten soldiers with you. Wait for me to lead the army away from here to the East. They will surely chase me. Move discreetly over the hill and just cast fireballs at our location.”

  “Are you not worried about friendly fire?”

  “No, not in this situation. They will surely move in to block our retreat, exposing their back to you ultimately.”

  Looking convinced and determined, Mage Frrie gave Ansel a firm nod. There was one thing Anthony did right. It was that he never informed the viscount about the general’s fake death. Should he have reported it, the viscount may have ordered him to withdraw and let them lay siege on the city instead.

  “Survive, Master Asvete.”

  “Survive, Master Frrie.”

  The soldiers were rather surprised to learn that they were moving out. Like Mage Frrie, they also believed that defending the position was absolutely necessary.

  “Forget that now!” Anthony Frrie exclaimed. “We must move out! Follow Master Asvete’s order for the time being. I have a job to do!”

  They collectively looked at Ansel who was just a child. It was a somewhat hard pill to swallow.

  “This is not the time for petty prides!” Noticing what was going on in their minds, he barked. “We must do this to protect our families back home!”

  It wasn’t like they had a choice anyway. Mage Frrie took ten soldiers with him while Ansel led the army.

  “Archers! Abandon your bows and arrows! Grab a weapon!” Ansel exclaimed. They carried daggers and sometimes short swords as backup weapons. They wouldn’t be as effective as long swords, but bows weren’t going to be useful at all for the upcoming battle. “And set the camp on fire!”

  The fire would distract and delay enemies to notice Frrie’s fireballs. At least, that was what he was hoping for. Just as soldiers set fire on tents, Ansel and Anthony stared at each other for a brief moment before turning away from each other. Both of them had a very specific job to do.

  “Our job is not to fight the enemies!” Ansel commanded as they moved out. “Our job is to drag their attention on us! Back to back!”

  “Back to back?” one of the soldiers wondered aloud. It was Finnic’s tactics apparently and wasn’t known outside of his circle.

  “Group up with another soldier. One of you will watch the front. The other will watch his back. Make sure that your fellow survives! I suggest the archers should watch the back since they haven’t got the weapon to fight properly.”

  Enemy forces were initially frozen in shock when they saw Ansel’s men approaching the East to break the blockade, which was something they never expected. With their attention fully on Ansel’s men, Anthony’s men were able to move undetected. His force was just 11 men, which helped to avoid detection.

  “They will tackle us from the rear! We will be surrounded! Keep that in mind!” Ansel exclaimed. He wasn’t on a horse because that’d make him stand out. The viscount army, while low on numbers, was semi professional unlike the count’s army where a large portion was conscripted soldiers, meaning they were better prepared for situations like this mentally. And soon enough they were in fact surrounded.

  Loud clashing of metal objects was everywhere. The Waines soldiers were attempting to fend off The Benas and Grimhill forces. Ansel had a bit of terrain advantage due to a large boulder and several trees nearby, somewhat reducing rear exposure. The fire was also preventing enemies from completely surrounding them. This wasn’t planned but a welcome turn of events.

  Shadow bolt!

  A bolt of dark matter struck an enemy soldier in his chest, who was trying to finish off a downed soldier. He occasionally used magic to assist those struggling. With the mana “donation” from Nuala, he had plenty of mana to spare at the moment. And, since he would probably drain more mana from other mages in this war, he didn’t really hesitate to cast magic.

  Shadow blast!

  It was a grade higher than the shadow bolt which shot out around seven smaller shadow bolts in a wide arc, acting like a shotgun. It was pretty lethal in close range. With magic, he alone took down more than 30 enemy soldiers so far. His contribution was holding the line firm because enemy soldiers were somewhat afraid of approaching. Then it arrived. Mage Frrie’s fireballs.

  Because the enemies were completely unaware of the attacks and the fact that they were facing away from the fireballs, they were taken back completely, causing massive casualties in hundreds in a blink of an eye. With bodies flying about, the ground shook. Screams and cries were heard, and some were running like headless chickens on fire. Ansel was in awe. This was the first time seeing a mage doing what he was meant to do in a battle. Hundreds of enemies perished, shaking their morale. In fact, over four hundred enemy soldiers perished. It wasn’t enough to turn the tide of the battle number wise but it was enough to break the enemy rear line. Two more fireballs were cast soon after. The result was even more devastating than before.

  “Finish off the ones in the rear!” Ansel roared with his spear up in the air. “Follow the road to Northward!”

  His secondary goal, if it was deemed possible, was to lay waste on farming towns near Vlence, the capital city for the Benas. He considered Eran lost and had no intention to come to their rescue. Instead, it was an eye for an eye. With the sudden turn of events, morale was high, and the men fought back aggressively following Ansel’s order. They had pent-up anger to let out.

  “Motherfukers, you lot had it coming!” A soldier bellowed, slashing an enemy in half with his long sword.

  “DIE, DIE, DIE, DIE, DIEEEEE!” Another soldier was just mindlessly slashing his swords against them.

  Enemy units began to withdraw after suffering huge losses. Their number was down by more than half. Those who couldn’t get out quickly enough were brutally killed by the Waines soldiers, suffering even more casualties as a result. Anthony Frrie’s unit joined as they pushed Northward. He was all smiles.

  “I am very very impressed, Master Asvete!” he exclaimed merrily. “We showed them! Let us report this joyful news to the viscount!”

  “No, Master Frrie. We will push north.”

  “North? May I ask why?”

  “A payback for Eran. We will set their farming town ablaze.”

  A crooked smile formed from a corner of Frrie’s lips. “There are two farming towns close to each other. Let’s set them ablaze.”

  “Show no mercy!” Mage Frrie bellowed, and his men followed his order to the letter because they were genuinely angry.

  “Do not chase those who flee!” Ansel added to his order. “We must move swiftly! We do not want to run into enemy reinforcements! Set fire on the fields! That’s our priority!”

  “There is another farming town to the West, less than a day away. We will waste that place as well before returning,” Frrie said.

  “I will stay behind, Master Frrie.”

  He looked utterly confused. “Why?”

  “We may have destroyed their armies, but their mages still remain. I would like to get rid of at least one of them.”

  “Get rid of mages? How?”

  “I am a voidkin.”

  Anthony took a step back in shock. “I did wonder why you weren’t very fond of using magic. I now see why.”

  “They will come here to check on the situation. The mage under Count Benas’ direct command will come here probably with his army.”

  Nodding, Anthony responded, “His name is Gritt Havas, a mage commanding earth. He and I have been rivals pretty much for our whole lives.”

  “Not for long.”

  Anthony chuckled. “I assume you won’t tag along with us to the next town then?”

  “No, I won’t. I am going to act alone. I will see you back at Vlesland. Use the mountain route to retreat just in case.”

  With the army moving Westwards, Ansel waited for enemy reinforcements to appear. Meanwhile, he went around houses and dressed himself in a farmer’s attire. This was done before Anthony Frrie left, and he entrusted his belongings to him. He wasn’t going to fool anyone with a page’s attire after all. Everyone had fled the town, and it was eerily silent, bar cracking sounds from burning homes. Wheat fields had completely burned down as well. Rubbing his face and clothes with soot he found, he sat down by a burnt down fence near the East entrance of the town. This was where he expected to encounter enemy reinforcement. He actually dozed off when he was woken up by someone.

  “Hey! Hey, wake up, lad!” A soldier was shaking him. Ansel opened his eyes slowly.

  “... About time you got here,” he said weakly. He was acting. He looked around and saw a middle-aged man in a robe. He assumed that it was Gritt Havas.

  “What happened here?!”

  “Could I have … some water?”

  “Certinaly!” The soldier grabbed his waterskin off his belt and gave it to him, which Ansel emptied it at once.

  “They … came here to burn everything…”

  “They?”

  “I don’t know who they were…”

  “Did you see who was leading them?” It was Gritt who stepped forward and asked.

  “Yes…, a middle-aged man with brown hair in a fancy robe…”

  “Anthony Frrie…,” Gritt mumbled. “Why is that only you are here? Everyone else must have fled.”

  A valid question, he thought.

  “I am actually a page working under a village elder… He left me something to pass to someone called Master Havas?”

  “A village elder…? Oh, you must mean the mayor. What did he leave?”

  He took out a neatly folded paper from his pants pocket, and the soldier was about to take it. The paper was blank.

  “No, he said only Master Havas must see it.”

  “Worry not, lad, that man is Master Havas.”

  “What I am saying is that I must hand it over to him directly.”

  The soldier and Gritt glanced at each other with the latter eventually approaching Ansel to take the folded paper. When his hand was about to touch the folded paper, his eyebrow twitched.

  “Hmm?”

  He must have sensed his skin tingling. Alas, it was too late because Ansel grabbed his hand.

  “UWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!”

  With his eyes rolled back, exposing only whites, Gritt Havas screamed his lungs off. Everyone around the scene was dumbfounded and had absolutely no idea what was happening. His whole body soon began convulsing uncontrollably as if he was having a very bad seizure. Unlike Nuala’s case where he didn’t mean to absorb mana, this time he meant it. With his eyes narrowed, Ansel held his hand firmer. His mana flew into his arm, and it felt like bugs were crawling inside his flesh.

  Absorb all! Show no mercy!

  Gritt started to convulse even harder with their immediate area beginning to distort. He could no longer even scream and was bubbling out of his mouth. Fear of the unknown, soldiers immediately backed off to keep a distance. All they could do was watch their master convulsing. No one dared to step forward and stop Ansel since they feared that it could also happen to them. The mana absorption lasted over a minute during which Gritt was convulsing severely. When Ansel drained the last drop of his mana, the man looked like he was mummified. He wasn’t even sure whether he was alive at this point.

  Teleportation.

  With ample mana to spare, he cast teleportation to get himself out of the scene, leaving everyone utterly dumbstruck. Meanwhile, Gritt Havas looked like nothing more than a dried up tree with branches. Overall, the Benas and the Grimhill forces lost 800 men and a mage from this encounter. Six thousand men from Count Rassier would soon arrive in less than a day with two mages. The Southern front was going to break down.