Chapter One Hundred: Finally Recognized and Valued

While Kevin was still studying the spatial ring and taking a rest, the battles involving other units remained lukewarm. During a moderate-scale night engagement, the Blue Army had deployed over ten thousand troops directly via teleportation, while the Red Army fielded as many as thirty thousand. Although most of the Red Army forces were logistical personnel hastily armored for combat, their numbers were still impressive.

Amidst the darkness, both sides exchanged chaotic volleys, with many fighting to the death without retreating. At that time, Kevin was still descending the mountain slope. It wasn’t until he arrived nearby to observe, and then Master Anthony teleported in at dawn to take control of the situation and remove all the casualties, that they realized fewer than a thousand troops remained on each side.

The directing committee then declared the battle a mutual annihilation, as both sides’ Sword Sages perished, marking the end of the conflict. The Red Army’s commander was killed, and power automatically fell to Orson, former commander of the 254th Regiment. The 254th Regiment had always been responsible for training new officers across the entire army. Orson, who had commanded Kevin during his recruitment days and was stationed in the mercenary-ridden city of Mosier, was known for his authority—even mercenary captains dared not defy him.

Yet, having him directly lead the remaining forces now seemed insufficient to inspire confidence. The headquarters was filled with regimental commanders, each prioritizing their own regiment’s interests. Moreover, the loss of the main commander was a severe blow to morale. Although everyone knew it was just a military exercise, a sense of despair inevitably crept in.

Though the Red Army also lost a Sword Sage, theirs was not the commander. Their leader, Richard, was exceptionally skilled—practically a step away from becoming a Sword Sage himself. If Richard were to duel any present commander, whether by scenario settings or actual strength, he would be unbeatable.

Since the start of the exercise, the Red Army had suffered far greater losses than the Blue Army. Early on, a forbidden spell, a thousand-mile ice seal, wiped out nearly half their troops and severed their supply lines. General Oude chose to tunnel underground to break through. Later, the enemy sent a night raid, forcing Oude to dispatch a large number of logistical personnel into combat, in addition to recalling the second battalion of his Thunder Knights. Ultimately, all were lost, including himself.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the ice seal, Red Army units were constantly being spotted and easily overwhelmed by concentrated fire, leading to confirmed deaths. Though soldiers desperately hid and used decoys to confuse the enemy, these were mere stopgap measures.

The Blue Army had almost complete air superiority. Once a target was confirmed in the sky, they could promptly deploy massive staffs to cast low-level spells like fireballs and ice arrows. Even low-level spells fired from giant staffs were devastating—one regiment could not withstand two such strikes. Ten giant staffs firing simultaneously would result in instant regiment annihilation, according to the directing committee.

The Red Army’s attempts to retaliate with giant staffs were nearly impossible. The moment they tried to set one up, the Blue aerial forces would spot and destroy it before completion.

Orson could only urge desperately, “Spread out! Spread out! Stay hidden!”

Yet, a regiment could not disperse too much or they would lose communication. This exercise was designed to train troops and involved many inexperienced recruits who were confused and unsure of their roles. Furthermore, the Red Army’s logistics were in disarray; frontline soldiers' rations had run out, and more than half of the support personnel were casualties.

The exact number of Red Army survivors was now difficult to calculate. Many were missing and their fate unknown—some squadrons lost contact during flight, and subsequent reconnaissance found no trace of them. It was unclear if they had abandoned their posts for food or were so scattered that even their own comrades couldn’t find them.

According to the original plan, the Red Army’s counterattack hinged on weather conditions—waiting for thunderstorms, which would ground the opponent’s air force, to launch a desperate assault. But the weather remained clear, causing mounting anxiety. Once frontline troops ran out of rations, they would be declared starved to death.

“Honestly, the directing committee is overreacting,” someone complained in headquarters. “What war has forbidden spells tossed around so casually? If this keeps up, humanity will be wiped out.”

“I feel the committee is biased,” another said bluntly. “Everyone knows the Thunder Knights’ commander and the Flame Knights’ commander don’t see eye to eye—they’re practically two factions. And this time, the Flame Knights acted as the third-party arbitrator, so…”

“Don’t talk nonsense.” Orson, now the supreme commander, had to calm the troops. “The third party isn’t just the Flame Knights.”

Some merely smiled, understanding Orson was just trying to stabilize morale, and said no more.

“Report!” A communications mage burst in. “The 386th Regiment was annihilated by someone claiming to be the ‘Creator God.’”

Everyone was speechless.

“Report!” Another mage followed. “The 645th Regiment encountered a self-proclaimed otherworlder named ‘Rex,’ who swung his arm once and declared it the ‘Good Day Heaven Fist.’ Our regiment has been declared wiped out by the directing committee.”

“Ha! Now they’re throwing in Creator Gods and otherworlders? How much more ridiculous can the committee get?” someone laughed.

“Who’s Rex?” someone else asked.

“I know him—a typical mainstream protagonist archetype, the kind who easily beats the great-grandfather of the Creator God,” came a disdainful reply.

“If the committee really plays like this, we might as well surrender now,” someone sneered.

“Don’t be so defeatist,” Orson forcefully quelled the mood. “Where did these two regiments fall?”

“Report, sir—the 645th Regiment fell at the northernmost point of the Central Line River,” one answered.

“Report, sir—the 386th Regiment fell at the southernmost point of the Central Line River,” another added.

The commanders exchanged glances and turned to the battle map. These two points were exactly at opposite edges of the map, north and south.

“Could it be that these two regiments crossed the exercise boundaries?” Orson reacted swiftly. “So the committee just sent the Creator God to wipe them out?”

“Why not just draw a line or send someone to bring them back? Why kill them outright?” someone grumbled. “And even if they did kill them, at least explain it clearly.”

“Maybe it’s the committee’s sense of humor,” someone laughed.

“That’s enough,” Orson cut off the topic and ordered the communications mages, “Notify all units to stay within their designated areas. Crossing the boundary will result in immediate disqualification.”

“Wait!” someone urgently interrupted. “Don’t tell the troops yet! We’re short on food and morale is low. If they learn people are dying just for crossing the map boundary, what if someone deliberately slacks off and leads their troops out? What then?”

“Is our army’s willpower really that fragile?” a commander sneered. “Or is that your own unit?”

“Hmph. After so long at peace, how many troops have actually experienced real combat?” another retorted sharply. “Even if you brag that your regiment is tough, who can guarantee that every regiment here has that level of resolve? From a big-picture perspective, if someone wants out, suicide is hard to justify, but pretending not to know the boundary and wandering out is a good excuse. Isn’t it?”

“Speaking of which, are we sure these two regiments didn’t just accidentally cross the boundary?” conspiratorial whispers arose.

The two communications mages lingered, watching the debate, hoping for a conclusion.

Orson waved his hand. “Remind the entire army: if anyone really wants to die, there’s nothing we can do.”

The mages left as ordered. Moments later, they returned. “Report, sir. The Thunder Knights’ trebuchet commander reports he has lost contact with his unit and requests instructions from headquarters.”

“Trebuchet commander?” a commander rolled his eyes. “I thought the Thunder Knights only had one trebuchet, and it was broken.”

“That’s last year’s news,” Orson replied. “As far as I know, the trebuchet is operational now. The commander is someone named Kevin.”

Orson still remembered Kevin well—a new officer who joined last June, once assigned to the Venomous Forest mission that caused a major incident, had to discipline a bunch of mercenaries, and later soundly defeated Sain during recruit drills. How could one forget?

Others paid little attention. “He’s just a junior officer; just help him reconnect with the Thunder Knights’ third battalion.”

“But,” the communications mage hesitated, “the third battalion cannot be contacted at all.”

“Then have him stand by,” someone waved dismissively, clearly annoyed by minor troubles.

“Wait.” Orson had a different view. “How did one man with a massive trebuchet survive this long? Find out his current situation.”

The mage immediately contacted a nearby parrot. After a report, the commanders learned Kevin had seized two rings and made significant gains. They exchanged surprised looks.

“Tell him about nearby tunnels and have him pass through the ice zone. Assign him a parrot for communication!” Orson ordered promptly. “Answer any questions he has.”

“Is that really necessary?” someone objected. “His authority is weak; every order from him faces pushback. We barely have enough parrots, why give him one? Is he a Sword Sage?”

Orson waved dismissively. “He’s alone, making it harder to attract enemy attention, and his trebuchet has excellent long-range precision. He’s already taken out ten enemies, including commanders. We should make good use of him.”

Silence fell. The actual combat record spoke for itself; no one could argue. Thus, Kevin was finally given his due.

With this information, judgment became much easier. Night gradually fell, and there was no moonlight. Guided by the parrot, Kevin slipped into the tunnels dug by their own forces, moving through the ice zone. Originally, his trebuchet could never have fit, but now it was dismantled and stored within his spatial ring—a non-issue.

The tunnels were large enough for three donkeys to pass. While listening to the parrot’s battle updates, Kevin pondered what he could do next.

Enemy troops were not entirely undetectable; with so many parrots scouring the area, it was impossible for the enemy to guard everywhere. But the Red Army had no means of counterattack during the day. Once discovered, chasing the enemy would only expose themselves first. They could only stage nighttime raids.

Yet night marches were slow and torches could not be lit, making efficiency low. Both sides excelled at night fighting and knew each other’s tactics too well.

After hearing all the updates, Kevin thought for a moment and suggested to headquarters, “Under cover of darkness, all our air units should take off and engage decisively. The enemy’s Sword Sage is ‘dead,’ so they can’t be entirely defenseless.”

“The Red Army’s gryphon units are almost completely pinned down. Gryphons, unlike pegasi, cannot fight well on the ground; they’re just oversized colorful chickens, worse than infantry. During thunderstorms, neither side can launch air units, so our air forces are wasted. If that’s the case, why not risk it and engage them?” Kevin questioned.

The parrot replied bluntly, “You don’t know anything. Mind your own business.”

Kevin sighed; headquarters clearly had no intention of engaging him in conversation. Perhaps they had other plans. Humble as ever, Kevin was merely suggesting.

Suddenly, a fluttering sound passed by. Kevin crouched quickly, trying to identify the bird in the darkness, unable to tell which side it belonged to.

“Which of you can track it?” he quietly asked the two birds.

The parrot and crow exchanged glances. The parrot sighed, “Alright, but if I don’t come back, consider me dead.”

With that, it spread its wings and gave chase. Kevin then turned to the crow. “Go with it.”

The crow took off silently, almost invisible in the night. Kevin waited patiently. Soon, the crow returned and perched quietly on his shoulder. Just as Kevin was about to ask what happened, the parrot followed closely.

“That’s a regiment over there. Nearly half their soldiers are on guard. It’s very dangerous,” the parrot reported.

Kevin sighed, “If we could deploy a giant staff there, even if the entire regiment is on guard, they’d be doomed.”

The parrot replied, “I’ve reported to headquarters. Nearby regiments are moving this way, but the earliest they’ll arrive is dawn.”

“Then why bother coming at all?” Kevin frowned. “Even if they attack at dawn, the enemy will know our position. One fireball from a giant staff, and it’s mutual destruction. No matter how many come, they all die together.”

“We have the numbers advantage; mutual destruction is to our benefit,” the parrot relayed headquarters’ message.

“Do we really have the numbers advantage?” Kevin countered. “Isn’t it said many are missing and unaccounted for?”

“Shut up and mind your own business,” came the curt reply from headquarters.

“Fine, I understand,” Kevin nodded. “Tell me their exact deployment. I want to request permission to strike early.”

The news back at headquarters stirred discontent among the commanders. “Who is this guy? Why doesn’t he follow orders? Who’s his father?”

Orson defended, “He was with our regiment during recruit days; almost everyone knows him. He’s not insubordinate, just problematic.”

“Keep him put!” a commander shouted, spitting at the communications mage. The poor mage was the first to bear the commanders’ wrath.

“Wait. Let him try,” Orson disagreed. Remembering Kevin’s past performance, he suspected there was more to the young officer.

The report reached Kevin, and he was surprised. Though he requested early action, he hadn’t expected approval. (To be continued.)