Three-Way Battle
In countless military novels, such a setup makes for entertaining reading.
The game of watching who allies with whom, who stabs whom first.
But real three-way battles could be tedious.
In fact, that was often the case.
The reason was simple. The side that moved first almost invariably suffered losses.
For example, suppose there are A, B, and C.
A suddenly charges forward and attacks B.
In this case, C always benefits.
The logic holds true even in multi-sided conflicts with A, B, C, D, E, and F.
The side that moves first almost certainly loses out.
It requires no calculation. It's common sense.
That was why we stayed put for a while even after arriving near the capital.
We weren't the only ones. Numerous factions had set up camp without making the first move.
When things reach this point, eventually someone loses patience, or an external variable erupts.
Or the stalemate continues.
With no one able to move for fear of losses.
That's why I called it tedious.
In novels, you can skip over a year or more of standoff in a line or two, so it doesn't really register. Reality was different.
Therefore, when we heard about the capital's situation and set up camp, I had braced myself for at least a year.
But then a definite card appeared.
"This one is on a different level from the prototypes we've made so far."
The speaker's military uniform bore a white dragon emblem.
He had once been a prisoner. A mage dragged from enemy lines.
That same man now wore Krustein's uniform and stood before me, boasting about his creation.
Life is unpredictable.
"There must be no mistakes."
"I've checked multiple times. And surely not all five stones will have errors."
Ordering five to be made had been my decision.
Magic artifacts are inherently prone to malfunction.
"I see."
"Even if two break down, the remaining three will cover it. With four, the range narrows but luring is still possible, and up to three will have no problems in actual operation. Of course, all five won't break down!"
I nodded.
"If things go according to plan, your contribution will be great. You'll be handsomely rewarded."
"We pledge our loyalty!"
All three shouted in unison.
After the mages withdrew, I summoned five knights.
They were men I had selected in advance.
Combat aside, they were particularly skilled horsemen.
I pointed to locations on the map. Intermediate points along the route leading to Rubens's camp.
"Bury the stones at these locations and return. That's all."
"What if combat breaks out?"
"Run away."
Their faces twisted subtly.
An order to flee couldn't be pleasant for knights.
But they didn't object.
Because they had seen what those stones could do.
They had witnessed firsthand the scene of undead turning their heads and dancing back and forth according to signals.
"I repeat. If discovered, withdraw immediately, and if absolutely necessary, you may abandon the stones."
"What? We may abandon them?"
"Yes. Just having them at waypoints will do the job, and if they happen to take them for investigation, that works out well too."
The knights who heard this seemed to understand and smiled faintly.
Right. These were items that just needed to be delivered to the enemy.
An operation that couldn't fail according to the design.
But there was no guarantee of success.
"We accept your orders!"
And so the knights departed...
"Phew..."
I let out a small sigh.
The moment of giving orders is brief.
But the time in between, the void until orders return as results, is excruciating.
I sat quietly and read a book. How much time passed?
As the sunset turned crimson, multiple footsteps were heard.
"Deployment complete! No combat!"
That was enough.
"Well done. Go rest."
**
Operations room.
Duke Sylvester stood before the control artifact.
His hand moved over the control stone paired with the stone chunks.
There was no sound. No light. No visible change whatsoever.
But I felt it.
A wave spreading outward.
The signal originating from the control stone extending far into the distance registered on my mana sensitivity.
No one spoke. Not because there was nothing to say. At this moment, only one person in this tent needed words.
I closed my eyes.
Several minutes passed.
A subtle movement was detected from inside the capital. A squirming sensation.
Like something stirring beneath the water.
It wasn't just one.
Dozens. Hundreds. The point where counting numbers became meaningless came quickly.
A flow formed. Not the movement of individual entities, but this was like... a wave.
Yes, a wave of undead.
Tens of thousands of undead were leaving the capital at night, following the stones we had buried, walking toward the enemy camp.
"What's happening?"
Father's voice broke the silence.
I withdrew my sensitivity and answered.
"The human army and the undead army have clashed. They seem to have completely failed to predict undead suddenly pouring out through the woods."
It was only natural.
In the middle of the night, without any warning, tens of thousands of undead hiding in the woods begin their march.
There's no way they could predict such a thing...
Father's lips curved upward.
"The scale?"
"The undead forces and human forces are similar."
"At night, the undead will surely win."
"What?"
I reflexively asked back.
"But even at night, aren't humans stronger than undead?"
If the numbers are similar, humans win.
They have knights and mages and, above all, intelligence.
That was common sense. At least as far as I knew.
Instead of explaining, Father said:
"Try sensing a bit more with that impressive ability of yours."
I deployed my sensitivity again.
The undead and human armies were colliding.
The battlefield read through mana flow was different from seeing with eyes.
It was felt as density rather than form. The distinction between undead and human was... hard to explain, but instinctively possible.
At that boundary, mana was colliding like sparks flying.
The undead's density was decreasing.
The human side was also decreasing. But the speed was different.
The undead were being consumed faster.
It was a natural result. Rubens's army was a regular force.
Though they might be flustered by the sudden attack, their combat power itself was high.
As time passed, the gap widened.
The undead's density noticeably thinned.
Just when I thought they might be finished before morning.
It stopped.
The decreasing undead density stopped decreasing.
And...
It began to increase.
"Ah!"
A sound escaped my lips.
"Do you understand now?"
I nodded.
"The undead numbers are increasing again. Even more than before."
That's right.
It wasn't only undead who died in battle. Humans died too.
Dead humans become undead.
It wasn't just the number of fallen human troops.
The sum of fallen humans and defeated undead was joining the undead army wholesale.
The death energy accumulated through battle. It became nourishment for new undead.
Of course, as corpses are damaged, they don't regenerate infinitely, but they would regenerate at least four or five times.
"That's why undead should be killed from a distance whenever possible. Mages are best, and fire arrows are the next option."
The combat mages who heard Father's words nodded, and even the proud knights didn't bother to object.
"I see."
"And one more thing. They have no such thing as fatigue."
It was obvious. Dead things can't lose stamina.
But that wasn't the end.
"They have no morale either. Even if the one next to them gets cut down, the remaining one won't run away in fear."
He was right.
Human armies waver when comrades fall.
When battle lines collapse, fear spreads. At night, visibility narrows, and the carnage unfolding within that narrowed field of vision gnaws at the mind.
Undead have none of that.
Darkness isn't a disadvantage. Fear doesn't spread.
Morale can't hit rock bottom in the first place.
Father was right.
Which side was losing became increasingly clear.
The human battle line wavered. When one side collapsed, it spread sideways.
Retreat began.
At first it would have been an orderly retreat. At least they would have tried.
Amid this, one thing caught my sensitivity.
At the center of the retreating forces. Particularly dense mana clusters surrounded a single point.
Powerful knights. An escort formation including multiple Experts.
And at its center.
One person.
A formation embracing and protecting a single presence.
What this meant was obvious.
"Rubens is retreating. No. He's fleeing."
He wouldn't lose his entire army.
But losing a significant portion was certain.
If that happened, Rubens would be effectively finished.
A commander who got ambushed by tens of thousands of undead in the middle of the night and lost half his army.
He was no longer a threat.
But then.
Why had we targeted Rubens first in the first place?
Because he was the strongest enemy?
No.
Because he was the most dangerous enemy?
That wasn't it either.
"It's time for revenge."
Father abruptly rose from his seat.
The chair scraped the floor as it slid backward, the sound echoing through the tent.
The knights also rose to their feet.
That's right.
The reason we chose Rubens as our first target was because he was the one who personally poisoned Father.
Nothing more, nothing less.