The evening had not yet ended. The sun remained clear, its setting still a distant prospect, while the crisp, sunny air held its chill.
Time moves swiftly in the moments before stepping into formation for battle.
However, when you stand facing an arrogant, powerful army—one basking in rest and vitality—you feel as though time slows to a near-farcical crawl, serving only to provoke you more than the terror you already inhabit.
Nokio sat on a rock, lost in confusion. "Hey, listen Vandal..."
Vandal was watching the orderly white ranks on the other side, yet he listened to his companion's words.
"Do you think the man from yesterday will do the same thing and end this whole ordeal for us?"
Vandal stopped his observation, shifting his focus elsewhere.
"I don't think so. His Grace needs time to replenish the 'Light' he consumed. He also needs more time to gather rocks and set them adrift."
Nokio remained seated in boredom, but he continued to listen. Vandal went on:
"Currently, they aren't capable of deploying someone with a 'Grace.' At least, that is what we have seen since morning. Just routine, ordinary skirmishes with no purpose other than to buy time and exhaust our ranks."
One of the mercenaries behind them intervened. "You're right, Vandal."
The muscular man in his thirties, sporting an eyepatch, continued:
"They are aware we are prepared for an attack from a Grace. They are also aware of Canaria's role as an informant."
He ignited a slip of paper within the palm of his hand. "What we truly need is the element of surprise."
Vandal and Nokio stared at his hand. Nokio spoke up:
"Are you going to step forward and help with your Grace? They also want to drain our capabilities, Casper."
"My Grace isn't something that attracts much attention, and there is no need for their ranks to break their plan for my sake."
As Casper advanced toward the front lines, the soldiers began to notice him. They were already in a state of anticipation, waiting for orders to initiate the charge.
Casper reached the front. Two men stood there, slightly back from the very edge: the irritable, red-faced old man Wilhelm and his deputy.
When they saw him, they ceased their conversation. Kidman initiated: "Ah, the furnace mercenary!"
Casper paid him no mind. "Sir Wilhelm... we must utilize my Grace now. Enough wasting time and men. I will boil the ground beneath their lines."
The mocking look on Kidman's face vanished instantly. It seemed he had heard something he respected.
"Are you planning to die? Commander Wilhelm will not give you an order to act outside the contract agreed upon with Canaria."
"I don't believe I directed any part of my speech to you, Sir Deputy Kidman,"-Casper said firmly- "I am waiting for the green light from the campaign commander. That is all that matters right now."
Wilhelm was calm and silent, his face clear and devoid of pressure. He looked intently into Casper's resolute face.
"Sir Kidman... give the man whatever men he desires for his plan. It is impossible for me to refuse the request of a man who understands the meaning of sacrifice."
Kidman could not argue with the orders now; he did not dare challenge his commander under the gaze of the men. He went with Casper to agree on the next phase of the plan.
Preparations on the other side were also moving with steady steps. Determined faces, horses striking the ground.
The elegant first ranks, the intricate details on their saddles, and the towering white banners mocked everything they faced.
Vandal was among other mercenaries in a unit led by Casper—the man leading his comrades and soldiers he had never known toward an unknown, cold, and dark fate.
Under the sound of bated breaths, commanders from both sides gave the cursed, ill-omened signal: "ATTACK!!!"
The two masses erupted. Horses hammered the earth and men threw their entire weight forward. The vanguards met.
Spears shattered, shields split, and blood was spilled the moment of impact. The sight of flying limbs had become entirely mundane, stirring no sense of disgust.
Casper pushed against a giant shield in the enemy ranks. The man holding the shield didn't realize it at first, but he soon noticed: the shield was nearly melting his hands with heat.
The soldier tried to release his grip, but he was too late. They had melted from the intense heat.
From the horror of his agony, the man stumbled and fell. No one noticed him, or rather, no one cared. Some trampled over him as they tried to move away from this cursed heat source.
The commanders of Oukosia, mounted on their horses far in the rear, observed what was happening.
"Ah, it's that mercenary. Thermal palm, isn't it?" one said with supreme arrogance.
His standing companion replied, "Yes. He calls it the 'Grip of Fire'."
The commanders exchanged glances and laughed condescendingly. After they stopped laughing, another commander asked:
"Shall we summon one of 'The Three'?"
After a brief moment of thought, one replied:
"I don't think it's a wise idea. Bismarck doesn't have the right conditions here. Asteria isn't the type qualified for battle. As for The Fallen... he is currently recovering as much 'Lumen' as possible. He consumed a massive amount of it yesterday."
The commanders looked back at the battlefield.
"It seems we must find a solution, even if temporary, for this one-eyed, muscular suicide-seeker."
On the battlefield, Casper was wreaking havoc to the right and left. Anyone who approached him tasted a blow from that glowing shield.
A rival from afar advanced toward him with force, leaping through the lines. The soldier raised his sword high.
Casper looked toward him; he didn't have the time to defend against an overhead strike. The soldier prepared to strike, but...
A sword came flying from the void, striking the soldier's torso mid-air. The man lost consciousness and thudded to the ground like a piece of timber.
When Casper followed the trajectory of the sword, he found Vandal in a post-throw stance. Casper smiled, but Vandal vanished into the ranks to attend to something else.
Casper was nearly splitting the wing of the Western Oukosia army alone, a defeat the commanders could not tolerate.
"For God's sake! , I will not accept this at all. We do not want to lose the momentum and morale we gained yesterday."
The commander hadn't finished his sentence before another commander dismounted his horse, saying:
"I can't believe we are struggling against a single mercenary. If we left the entire weight of the battle to the 'Graces' we possess, we might as well have stayed in our homes."
He drew his sword and summoned one of his attendants. "Take the commanders to the rear. Take my horse with you. I will deal with the eye-gouged monkey myself."
The commanders respected their peer's decision. The commander appeared distinguished and intelligent, his noble white cloak fluttering violently behind him.
His gaze was a challenge. His hair leaned toward grey and white despite his moderate age—most likely in his fifties. Casper spotted him from afar and grinned.
"A scapegoat..."
Casper said, hurling the shield toward the challenging commander.
"Do you know how much they'll pay for your head?!"
Casper shouted at the top of his lungs, his deep, defiant voice dominating the field.
"Casper, don't do it!" Vandal shouted, but his voice was unheard amidst the din.
Casper lunged. Vandal's preoccupation was constant; he tried to escape one fight only to find himself before more. No matter how many men he dispatched, their numbers only grew.
"Casper!" It was useless.
"Wouldn't it be better to worry about your own situation?"
Vandal's opponent said. He was right.
Vandal did not have the luxury of thinking about another's fate in this conflict that seemed to have no end.
Casper was finally heading toward the commander. He gripped the head of a man trying to escape, but it was futile; the man's head boiled until it burned and died.
Casper tossed him aside, looking with his single eye toward his target, his mouth full of an arrogant, defiant smile.
"Do you want your shield back?" the commander asked in mockery.
"No, it's your shield in the end," Casper smiled, as if wishing to continue the provocation.
The commander paid it no mind. He cast a glance at the shield embedded before him and the steam rising from it.
"You aren't bad at all." The commander assumed a fighting stance, gripping his ornate sword and pointing it toward Casper.
Casper met that challenge with a powerful surge.
"I don't need your praise, but I will accept it as a gift for the opportunity you've given me, Sir Commander, whoever you are!!"
Casper said this with a snarl; it seemed he wanted to devour his opponent, not just kill him.
They finally clashed. With his palm, Casper struck the commander's sword, who defended with all his might. This position was exactly what Casper sought.
The sword began to redden from the heat of Casper's palm. The pressure on the commander increased.
Casper was not just an expert in fighting with his Grace; his massive body helped support that ability. The seasoned commander was well aware of all this.
"How... much... longer!?" the commander said, his voice strained from the intensity of the situation.
"Hm?" Casper didn't understand his meaning.
"The Lumen... it will end soon, won't it?" The commander smiled.
Casper pushed harder, his face contorted in a frown. It seemed the commander was right.
"An ability with such a direct effect... it's impossible to keep it active for long. Heat consumes Lumen at an insane rate."
The commander threw his sword aside and dropped to the ground quickly before Casper's palm could touch him. Strands of his hair and part of his cloak burned, but he survived.
He struck Casper's knee with great speed and force. Casper fell to one knee. They were now at nearly the same level.
Casper struck again with his palm. He missed. The commander was skilled, swift in evasion.
"Don't try. It will be over soon." A rude piece of advice from the commander.
He lunged toward his sword, which had cooled slightly from the heat.
Casper tried to return to a good stance, but... it was over.
Casper looked at the palms of his hands. No heat. Nothing.
He looked toward his opponent. A solid stance. Readiness and an arrogant smile.
"I told you."
Casper was unarmed. Despite his massive frame and combat experience, the Grace that had long accompanied him had abandoned him halfway.
As for the man standing before him, he was in a good position, and in an even better mood.
It could be said that this duel was about to change direction entirely.
It could be said that this duel... would be pivotal.