The melee began.
The initial strike had been a resounding success.
It had pierced the shaken Dragonian defensive line, and from that point of impact, the breach fanned out toward both wings. The Arcadians had managed to turn a dire disadvantage into a balanced, chaotic brawl.
Nevertheless, the soil of the battlefield still drank its fill of blood.
"Laphroaig-san!"
"Leo!! You brat! Where the hell did you go?! I was worried sick!"
Leo rejoined his squad, which had been reduced to four members in his absence. As of yet, no one realized the decisive role he had played in the breakthrough.
"That was you just now, wasn't it?" Flare asked. "You're far too reckless."
"It was a pretty grim situation. I didn't have much of a choice."
"I suppose I agree. If you hadn't gone, I would have had to do it myself."
Flare offered a small smile and pressed her back against Leo’s.
It was a chaotic free-for-all, yet the reason the squad had remained unharmed until now became immediately apparent.
"Wa-waaaah! Help meee!!"
"Laphroaig-san, could you try a bit harder?"
Flare was the reason. Even now, she instantly cut down an enemy soldier who had been lunging at Laphroaig, saving the man in a heartbeat.
The red-haired female knight sprinted through the fray where Laphroaig and the other two veterans were struggling. Her movements were so sharp that one could easily believe she was a One-Star Knight Commander.
"What the hell is with you and Flare?! Honestly!! Kids these days are way too damn talented!!"
Blubbering and shouting, Laphroaig led the squad as they stabilized their position and began to distinguish themselves in the heat of the melee. Amidst the carnage, however, Leo noticed something unsettling about the Dragonian movements.
"Laphroaig-san. How’s the overall battle looking?"
"Hah? How should I know? I can't even tell friend from foe anymore!"
"I see... You're right. It’s hard to notice from down here."
Leo narrowed his eyes at the Dragonian ranks. He had the sense they were... gradually falling back.
To be honest, the retreat was so subtle it shouldn't have been noticeable during a melee, but Leo’s senses picked up on the shift. It was pure intuition—and it told him something was very wrong.
"Sorry, I’m borrowing your shoulder for a second."
"Hah? Ow!?"
To get a better view of the field, Leo used Laphroaig's shoulder as a springboard and vaulted high into the air. From his vantage point above the fray, he scanned the surrounding plains.
His blood ran cold.
"...This is bad."
Carried away by the melee, they had pushed much deeper into the plains than they had realized. The Dragonians had been retreating skillfully, luring them in. Now, Dragonian detached forces had appeared on both the left and right flanks.
Only the soldiers on the outer perimeter would have noticed. The knights caught in the thick of the melee were completely oblivious. In this chaos, Leo doubted any orders would be able to reach them.
Regardless of the timing, this was a maneuver that had been pre-planned and communicated to every enemy soldier from the start. They had predicted everything.
Which meant...
"—It’s all a trap."
He didn't know where the plan had originated, but every step leading to this formation had been meticulously prepared. They had anticipated that the Arcadians would charge at maximum speed. They were being ensnared like flies in a spider's web.
Leo opened his mouth to scream for a retreat, but the words died in his throat. It was already too late. Dragonian knights had appeared behind them as well.
The Arcadian regulars who had been held in reserve were already engaged. The infantry was being swallowed from both flanks. Deep in the melee, no one had realized they were being surrounded, and no voice would be heard over the din of clashing steel.
In terms of raw numbers, the two sides were still roughly equal. However, being caught in a pincer from the flanks and rear was fatal. You couldn't focus on the enemy in front, and even if you tried, you would be cut down from the side or behind.
Infantry formed the backbone of this battle. No matter how much individual martial prowess a knight possessed, they would eventually succumb if surrounded and overwhelmed by common soldiers.
The moment this formation was completed, the outcome was decided.
"This is... seriously bad. We’re going to be wiped out."
The Third Army's defeat was sealed. And that meant the defeat of the entire Arcadian campaign.
Emerald Castle, the Lord’s Chamber.
A massive table occupied the center of the room, a map of the plains spread across its surface. The man moving the pieces was the Dragon King, Valzak Dragonia.
Valzak was no armchair general; he had taken to the field himself to ensure his commands were executed to perfection. Beside him, a soldier with headphones pressed to his ears sat before a communication device.
A series of sharp clicks filled the room. It was Morse Code. Without relay points, long-distance communication was impossible, but with the points established beforehand, information could be transmitted instantaneously.
The soldier translated the signals and looked up.
"Report! The charge on the Arcadian right wing was successful! Casualties are higher than anticipated!"
"Ho... So they showed some backbone after all."
Valzak was mildly impressed. The charge could have failed entirely, resulting in a one-sided slaughter, but the Arcadians had shown enough spirit to force a breakthrough and drag the fight into a melee.
Valzak closed his eyes for a moment, visualizing the entire battlefield in his mind. Then, he spoke.
"The conditions have been met. Initiate the encirclement."
The order was relayed through the lines. The knights on the front responded with lightning speed.
"Encirclement complete! The enemy knight orders leading the infantry are occupied with the melee and remain unaware. We have also successfully stalled Iricobert’s knight orders in the rear by engaging them with our regular forces!"
"Now then... I wonder how Arcadia will respond. They will be whittled down from here, and by the time they realize the truth, it will be over. There is only one choice left to them."
One of the generals stepped forward. It was Gregori, a Three-Star Knight of Dragonia. He was the Commander-in-Chief of this theater and the king's most veteran subordinate.
Gregori reached out and moved a piece.
"A melee... involving infantry who know nothing of real war. Those leading them are mere One-Stars... In this situation, they won't even comprehend what is happening around them."
He moved the piece representing the group Leo was in—the heart of the trap.
"The only path remaining... even if there were a knight capable of viewing the field with a bird's-eye view, and even if they noticed the trap... it would be impossible to escape without overwhelming martial might and the charisma to lead the masses. In that melee, there are only infantry and, at most, One-Stars. It is impossible."
Gregori then moved Iricobert’s piece as well. Valzak watched him and grinned.
"The left wing is already dead. If the Arcadian right wing falls as well, they will be sandwiched, and we can take the hill with ease. Will it all be decided here? Have I overestimated this man, Gaia?"
"At this rate, undoubtedly. However, if I may be so bold, Your Majesty, do not let your guard down. A battlefield is not a game board. Irregulars can manifest on any field, after all."
"Is that mere conjecture?"
"No," Gregori replied. "It is experience."
The old general bowed and turned to leave.
"The Five Star Swords, the Four Dragons... the knights who define eras bloom upon the battlefield. Human evolution... that is the only factor with the potential to derail Your Majesty’s perfect strategy. Now, I shall take my leave."
Gregori summoned an Emblem Horse and leapt from the castle balcony. The Emerald Plains, where the slaughter was about to begin, were only a short distance away.
"Human evolution... is it?"
Valzak whispered the words to himself, his gaze returning to the board. There was a possibility—a slim chance for a turnaround. But it required an anomaly. An irregular event.
His mind drifted back four years.
Something had happened then. No, someone had made it happen. An impossible situation. An irregular.
"Are you out there? Somewhere in that mess... an irregular?"
He moved a piece, his thoughts consumed by the image of that nameless boy from years ago.