Just as Kent and his vanguard approached the glowing teleportation array in the center of Oakhaven, a frantic voice pierced the rain.
"Stop! Wait!"
An old woman came rushing toward them, her shawl pulled tight over her head. Kent immediately raised a hand, ordering his cavalry to halt, and stepped forward.
"We are all going to die!" the woman cried, grabbing at Kent's armored forearm. "The Greenskins are going to kill us all!"
"The horde is broken," Kent replied calmly. "Why do you say that?"
"Because they will come back!" she sobbed. "Only the Purple Wizard can save us! Mugai the Purple! He is one of the oldest wizards alive—he has lived for thousands of years. Please, you must find him! He is the only one who can save us, or you will all die!"
"Quiet, woman! Stop spouting nonsense," a cavalry soldier snapped, stepping between her and the Commander. "Sir, don't pay her any mind. The fear has rotted her wits."
Kent and Maltida exchanged a long, unreadable look, but neither said a word. They turned their backs to the rain and stepped into the glowing teleportation array.
As the magical energy built around them, Maltida leaned close to Kent. "The six Knights of the Phoenix Order need to hold a summit, Percival. And soon. We are in an all-out war. The Elves and Greenskins have made their moves, and I just received urgent news: the Dwarves are marching toward the Iron Horn to take the fortress. It will take them at least a week to reach it. Will you defend it?"
"The Iron Horn?" Kent rubbed his jaw. "What will you be doing, Maltida?"
Maltida opened her mouth to explain her strategic deployment, but Kent suddenly sighed and waved a hand. "Actually, leave it. I don't want to know. It'll just give me a headache."
"Wh—what?!"
Maltida's face flushed red. She inflated her cheeks in pure frustration, looking entirely unlike a legendary Paladin for a split second, and threw a blindingly fast punch cloaked in golden mana straight at Kent's face.
Kent's reflexes were instantaneous. He coated his forearm in dense white mana and brought his guard up to block. But Maltida was a master. Mid-swing, she feinted, dropping her angle and slipping right past his guard, clocking Kent squarely in the jaw with a heavy THWACK.
Maltida turned her head away, crossing her arms with a dignified huff, while Kent stumbled back, catching his breath and rubbing his bruised jaw. Behind them, the battle-hardened cavalry soldiers completely broke rank, bursting into roaring laughter right as the teleportation magic flashed and swallowed them whole.
Two hundred miles to the south, General Ulric Stone stood over a map. He had run the calculations twice. The Elves were not going to strike back anytime soon; they had to deal with the vicious political fallout of losing their high-mages.
Ulric needed to exchange information with Kent and plan their next unified move. Knowing Kent would be returning to his northern stronghold, Ulric ordered his remaining men to break camp and march toward the nearest allied teleportation relay. It would only take him a few hours to reach the Commander.
Ulric penned a quick, coded letter, tied it to a messenger eagle, and sent it flying north. Wait for me at the castle.
Kent stepped out of the catacombs and into the bustling main courtyard of his castle. The moment he appeared, Castle Guards and mages rushed toward him.
High Mage Kelvin immediately stepped forward. The elderly mage chanted a powerful restorative spell, his hands glowing with pure white mana. The healing magic washed over Kent, seeping into the bandages on his side. The jagged tear knitted itself back together in seconds, leaving only a pale scar.
"Commander!" a scout yelled, rushing across the courtyard with a small parchment in hand. "We just received an eagle from Vice Commander Ulric Stone! He managed to defend the southeastern border against the Elven invasion! The enemy had 160,000 troops, and we had 80,000."
Kent narrowed his eyes. "The casualties?"
"He managed to win the battle, sir! He defeated 52,000 Elven troops, including their entire magical core. Our casualties were roughly 19,600. The Vice Commander is using a relay and will be here in a few hours. He requests that you wait for him to exchange information."
Maltida whistled low, genuinely impressed. "Well, Kent... your Vice Commander is truly something else. I am still astonished that someone with that level of terrifying tactical skill is working under you." She smirked, her tone shifting to a teasing lilt. "The biggest mystery of this century is how a meathead like you ever managed to defeat him in the past."
Kent ignored the jab. "Elara is my new Second Vice Commander. He showed incredible skill and leadership in the war against the horde."
Kelvin bowed his head approvingly. "My Lord, you made a wise choice. The boy has the potential to be a great warrior. He manages to execute complex plans easily, reads the battlefield flawlessly, and always finds the appropriate action under extreme pressure."
"You're right," Maltida agreed, her smile softening. "But don't forget those two rookies we left in Oakhaven. They fought with the bravery of veterans."
"They did," Kent nodded. He turned to a nearby servant. "Show Lady Maltida to the guest wing so she can wash the mud off. We will meet up in my conference room the moment Ulric arrives to plan our future actions."
Kent turned back to his High Mage. "Kelvin. Draft letters immediately. Send them to every Knight of the Phoenix Order. Tell them to meet us at the Capital. We have a world war to discuss."