The Extra Wants To Live

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"You son of a—!"

The warrior drew his sword belatedly, but the wizard had already run far away. Fighting alone against the rushing enemy, he was brutally killed, unable to last even five seconds.

"Surrender! Surrender! I'm a wizard! No, I'm a wizard! I'm a wizard!"

The wizard, kneeling and begging for his life, was beaten to death. Hardion's knights prepared for any eventuality, stripping the wizard naked, wrapping him in cloth, and carrying him back to Hardion's formation. They stripped him to prevent any hidden magical tools from being used.

"Just hold on a little longer! The special forces are attacking from behind!"

Jihan's troops, blinded by the fire magic from the south of Hardion's formation, believed the operation was working well. Because of the torches spread across the dark night, they couldn't see what was happening beyond the formation.

"We destroyed their special force and captured the wizard."

"Good. Let's hold the line like this and kill as many enemies as possible."

After receiving the knight's report, Goban rode his horse behind the safe formation and leisurely looked down at the battlefield.

The magic pouring down to the south of the formation caused considerable damage, and losses were gradually accumulating on the front line.

However, Tumaris, who rushed out of the castle and launched an attack, suffered much greater damage than Hardion, who had built a stronghold.

All they had to do was hold the front line like this, take the attacks, and gradually reduce the number of enemies. Goban, as a commander, ruthlessly counted the deaths of his soldiers.

"Philane, my son. This is war. This is what we must see."

Goban made it clear to his son, who was about to engage in a proper battle for the first time. From the safest place, from the highest point, everything is calmly weighed and measured.

"Don't even dare think about jumping in there. You don't have the skills to do it."

"… … ."

Goban told his son, who was shaking his fist as if he were about to jump into the front line, the harsh reality.

"The moment you jump in there, from that moment on, you are just one of many. Your death will be nothing more than a loss."

"… But, Father. His Highness the Grand Duke has always fought ahead of everyone else. He is more noble than any of us… ."

"Do you intend to follow that madness? Do you really want to jump into that hell? So what can you do?"

"… … ."

Philaine didn't dare to object.

"That is possible because it is Carl Feld Hardion, and it is an act that has meaning because it is Carl Feld Hardion. If you go there, you will only die in vain, and the death of Baron Semilla, the son of Marquis Davron, will lower morale."

Goban spoke softly, looking at the soldiers fighting against the backdrop of the castle walls where the lights were spreading.

"Honor, merit, glory. Those who shed blood for such things are those below. We can command an army with a word, a gesture, and obtain it all without shedding blood. That is our fight."

After speaking in a chillingly cold manner, Goban looked at his son with a slightly relaxed expression.

"I'm telling you to value your life. The enemy will soon realize that the operation has failed and will retreat, so prepare to take control of the battlefield."

"… Yes, Father."

Philaine pursed his lips, looked at his father, then answered in a suppressed voice and rode away.

Philaine knew his father was right. But looking at the soldiers fighting fiercely in front of him, dancing with death, he felt depressed and uncomfortable.

But he guessed he would have to get used to it. If he really jumped in there and died fighting, who would continue the Davron name to defend that land?

Jihan's troops soon realized that the situation was going wrong and hastily retreated.

Hardion did not risk pursuing the fleeing enemy.

They simply stayed in their position, busy organizing the battlefield. The reckless attack caused enormous losses to the Jihan Castle forces, while Hardion suffered only minor losses within the castle.

The battle was an undisputed victory, but the piled corpses and the groans of those gasping for breath remained like an indelible brand.

***

While the battle was raging in Jihan, Carl was leading his troops through the wilderness and had barely reached his destination.

He had no idea about the battle that had taken place in Jihan because he had no way of finding out the information.

However, since Goban would never do something foolish like retreating after trying to attack the castle too forcefully, they trusted him and ran vigorously with the goal of reaching a place about half a day's distance east of Jihan.

It was a well-known tactic to rest during the day in the desert and move during the night. Carl did so, and his enemies would certainly do the same.

Carl decided on the battlefield by drawing a map based on the information he had heard from Camilla during the day. Timing was everything.

Having traveled a distance that would normally take three to four days in just two days, Carl's Laurel Legion was physically exhausted.

So, they had to absolutely avoid meeting the enemy directly at a distance. In a situation where the enemy was not expecting a surprise attack, they needed to either run hard and strike their flank or arrive first, rest, and then attack them secretly.

Even for Carl or Camilla, it was very difficult to get the timing right. How could they march at the right speed and meet at the right point in this vast desert?

The method Carl chose, of course, was the latter.

Carl wanted to deploy his troops slightly further west than originally planned.

Naturally, the distance traveled was shortened, arrival times were reduced, and the units had time to rest.

However, they could not advance too far west because then the enemy would move while keeping a tight defense, wary of the Goban forces surrounding Jihan. Then, the surprise attack might fail.

"The water is almost gone."

Despite the grim report, Carl didn't even blink. One of the water wizards was working hard to create water, but it was not enough to feed all three thousand troops.

"Water can be obtained by capturing enemy supplies after a victory."

"But how do you know when they will come? If water runs out in this desert, even for a moment, we won't be able to control the soldiers' anxiety."

"I'll be there soon."

Carl spoke confidently and calmed everyone down. In fact, now that Camilla had left, Carl couldn't give a definitive answer to that question. But Carl was confident.

"Prepare for battle. Organize and deploy the troops as previously discussed, rest, and wait for the signal."

Carl's confidence and charisma in giving firm orders left even the most renowned nobles, knights, and experienced veterans unable to dare contradict him.

They deployed their troops as if possessed, following Carl's orders. Only after they had moved away from Carl did their faces return to looking anxious and worried.

It suddenly occurred to them that this was the first time the young Archduke Carl, who was writing the legend of the Laurel Legion, had commanded a large army in a war of this scale.

But the moment they stood in front of him, any urge to refute him faded, and they followed suit, thinking, "Yes, yes," like fools.

No, when you listened to Carl, it really seemed like everything would turn out as he said.

"I guess I'll turn back."

And another thing that drove them crazy was the fact that, to their horror, His Royal Highness Archduke Carl Feld Hardion decided not to lead the infantry from the rear but to personally lead the cavalry to attack the enemy's rear.

What if he got seriously injured or died?

"Take Master Jaren with you…!"

Even Jaren wasn't taken. Jaren remained with the infantry, as per Carl's discretion.

And to those who were telling him to go protect His Highness even now, Jaren's answer was truly shocking.

"His Majesty will take care of it. And if you are going to disobey, why don't you do it yourself? Why are you ordering me to do it?"

This guy was crazy too!

Do whatever you want, do whatever you want!

Even though they thought so, not a single one of them dared to disobey Carl's orders.

And, to their horror, it wasn't long before word arrived that reinforcements from the Tumari rebels were indeed approaching.

Now, everyone could feel the desert night wind mixed with the scent of blood.

The battle was imminent.

The desert night was eerily silent, save for the distant hum of the wind blowing across the barren plains.

Carl, perched on his horse at the head of his cavalry, gazed toward the horizon. His men were tense, their breaths quickened as they waited for the enemy to appear. The air was heavy with anticipation. Even the most seasoned soldiers, who had seen countless battles, couldn't shake the unease that crept up their spines.

Carl, however, remained unshaken.

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