Chapter 78: The Magician (3)

Is this what you would call fanaticism?

Milton frowned as he watched the Republics foolhardy charge.

How frightening. And beyond that its simply unpleasant.

People who gave their lives for an ideal were considered noble. But if that ideology was nothing more than a lie, the sacrifice would be in vain for what amounted to a farce.

Utopia? Have a load of these guys.

Whether it was Republicanism or Royalism, or even the democracy that Milton experienced in his previous life

In the world of humans, one well thought-out idea was not going to materialize as a utopia.

An idea was just that: an idea. Complications were bound to arise if it was applied to reality.

To that end, it irritated and unsettled Milton to watch these men give their lives in the name of a utopia that would never exist. It was becoming difficult to watch if he was to be honest.

Jerome.

Yes, my lord.

Take the knights and make a sortie. Smash straight through the enemys center.

Yes, understood.

Jerome prepared the knights order at once. All the knights of the South gathered, having already garnered many remarkable contributions on the battlefield in this war.

The Southern knights now consisted of not only Milton and Jeromes knights, but the additional knights sent by the nobles of the Southern region. With Princess Leilas knights also added for support, this current rendition of the knight order was Miltons trump card for frontal matches.

Are we ready?

You only need to give us the word.

Milton tightly put on and secured his helmet.

Charge!!

And so the knights charge began.

For the Repub- GAH!

Stop stop them!

They were reminiscent of a wild shark gnashing through a great wave. With Milton personally at the forefront, they cut through the Republican soldiers with their terrifying momentum. Though they were fanatics that were marching forth with no regard for their own lives, there was a difference in strength which could not be overcome through morale alone.

Including Milton and Jerome, the knights order of the Southern army had over ten Experts alone. As they wreaked havoc amongst the enemy line using their aura, forty knights who were yet to be Experts but were certainly not lacking followed up from behind.

It was a force that simply could not be handled by run-of-the-mill soldiers.

The battle lines collapsed, and the knights did not find the disorganized troops to be threatening no matter how high their morale was.

Our lord has created a golden opportunity for us. Fire!

Right on cue, Trike commanded his archer unit with a bellow. There was no need to be sparing with their arrows. This was the time to pile it on to maximize their results.

AAAAGH!

KAAAH!

Even these troops who had been advancing relentlessly like zombies could only be daunted by the arrows showering upon them.

This battle was already as good as decided.

Though there stood a chance for the Republican armys peculiar and frantic charge to cause some serious damage, the knights charge and Trikes rear support nullified it.

There was only one thing left now: to take the head of the enemy commander.

Where is Milton Forrest!?

Alfred thundered as he fought in the fray. One knight answered his call and rushed to him.

I shall be your opponent!

Alfred narrowed his eyes at the knight who approached him with a pompous shout.

Are you Milton Forrest?

Why should our lord meddle with the likes of you? I am Rick Storie. Remember it well when I send you on your way to the next world.

It was one of Miltons close men, Rick. Alfreds eyebrow twitched.

How dare he

With the battle already lost, he was braced to fight until his death. Despite this resolve, a man much below his rank was coming at him, seeing him as easy pickings.

There were few conditions more apt for pissing someone off on the battlefield.

This brat!!

Alfred imbued his sword with a healthy amount of aura and swung.

KLANG!!

Urgh

For the first time in his life, Rick Storie experienced the attack of an Expert with a sincere intent to kill. Of course, he had been bent over backwards countless times when sparring with Jerome and Milton, but actual combat was different from practice.

At the least, his training experience allowed him to avoid being cut clean by this single blow but his resultant state was unsightly nonetheless.

With merely a single blow, Rick was knocked off his horse, his sword broken and his armor cut open.

He barely managed to keep down the blood that was forcing its way through his esophagus and stood back up, albeit with trembling legs.

Despite his sorry state, Alfreds merciless swing came flying once more.

Die!

Rick figured this was where he would meet his end.

A thought rushed through his head questioning whether this was really how he was going to die, after having lived his whole life witho