Hero's Fall Part I

Rain traced thin rivers down the tall stained-glass windows of Brickvia’s war chamber. The air inside was heavier than the storm outside. Maps were unrolled. Inkpots stilled. Voices waited. And at the head of the long stone table, King Hikusa sat in stillness—his fingers laced, his eyes fixed on a single point: Likeland, the trade jewel of the west, now a broken shadow of its former self.

General Yamada Masahiro stood. “The Likeland operation was executed with calculated precision. Flooding was contained beyond the outer gate. Colonel Kanbe attempted to burn the main keep, but Hiryuu defeated him before he could ignite more than the upper floors.”

Councilor Toru Saneji sneered. “Yet the merchant ward is gone. Roads and bridges lost. We won the shell of a city.”

Lt. General Futaba Watari leaned forward. “Had we engaged in direct siege, the castle would be ashes and Kanbe long fled. We cut him off, neutralized the threat, and preserved what we could.”

Saneji slammed his palm down. “You preserved ruin. Forty-two percent of trade passed through Likeland’s western route. That’s not strategy—that’s economic amputation!”

The room tensed. Only King Hikusa remained motionless, his jaw tightening. When he finally spoke, his voice was firm and even—but under the surface, like a coiled blade.

“Ozaki,” he said. “Status.”

Minister Ozaki rose. “The flood damaged roads, stone bridges, and several storehouses. Early estimates indicate a 42% drop in trade throughput from the west. Recovery will be slow—even with immediate engineering efforts.”

The words landed like stones. King Hikusa’s gaze didn’t shift, but his hand slowly pressed against the map table, knuckles white. He was silent for several breaths. Then—

“Brickvia cannot—will not—be strangled by the loss of one port,” he said. “We will restore what we must, and expand where we must.”

Queen Kurenai rose gracefully, her voice steady and deliberate. “Then allow me, Your Majesty, to present three strategic alternatives—designed specifically to compensate for the commerce lost in Likeland.”

The room turned toward her as she moved to the map, opening her fan with a soft snap.

“First,” she gestured northwest, “the Airaseu Continent. Cold, yes. Rugged. But their advancements in technology and shipping logistics could create powerful new trade lanes. If we brave the waters, we access precision-driven exports that few other kingdoms enjoy.”

“Second,” she turned her fan eastward, “the Tenban Kingdom, closest to us, directly east. Their trade routes are stable. Their roads are in excellent condition. A stronger pact here offers rapid recovery and minimal logistical strain.”

“And third,” she tapped farther east, across the sea, “the Yuwesei Continent—east of Tenban, across ocean waters. Rich in untapped resources: fertile land, rare minerals, timber. A longer voyage, yes—but the potential is unmatched for diversifying our economy.”

Masahiro folded his arms. “Tenban offers the most immediate solution. We already have minor agreements. Deepening them would cost us little, politically or economically.”

Ozaki nodded. “Airaseu and Yuwesei are worthy goals—but Tenban is the most viable short-term recovery route.”

King Hikusa looked from face to face. His voice dropped lower, steady but firm.

“Then Tenban is our first priority. I will send my eldest son, Captain Kazamatsuri Daichi of the Logistic Division, as our envoy to lead the delegation. He understands the stakes.”

He tapped the map at Tenban’s position.

“And I want Generals Harada Waruyama and Futaba Watari present at council tomorrow morning to prepare our military posture accordingly.”

He rose, voice hardening like forged steel.

“Brickvia does not shrink. We compensate. We endure. And we surge forward.”

Outside, the rain showed no sign of letting up. But inside, the gears of a kingdom already turned.

Far from heated debate, another quiter moment unfolded. The barracks were quiet, save for the faint rustle of fabric and the soft creaking of wood settling in the cool evening air. Outside the window, a gentle breeze slipped through the cracked frame, causing Ren's sky-blue scarf to flutter like a fragile banner of memory. The scarf, once wrapped around the neck of his mother, now hung loosely on a worn hook, catching the last light of the fading day.

Ren sat on the edge of his bunk, his eyes fixed on the delicate fabric. His fingers itched to reach out, but he hesitated, afraid to break the fragile connection to a past that was already slipping away. His thoughts drifted back—endless, swirling images of Likeland’s flood, the dam gate swinging open, water crashing in, drowning the streets beyond the outer gate.

The weight of that moment bore down on him more heavily with each passing day. It was not just the physical destruction—it was the sound of desperate cries, the sight of shattered livelihoods, the faces of those caught in the floodwaters. He had not given the order, only obeyed, yet the burden pressed relentlessly on his heart.

A soft knock broke the silence, tentative but firm. The door creaked open, and Nishiyama stepped inside, his eyes searching the dim room with unmistakable concern.

“Ren,” Nishiyama said quietly as he closed the door behind him, his voice carrying a gentleness that contrasted with the harshness of the day’s events. “How are you holding up? I know the council meeting has stirred unrest—there’s much blame being cast. But… how are you, truly?”

Ren did not answer immediately. He swallowed hard, the tightness in his chest making it difficult to speak. His gaze lingered on the scarf, catching the way it trembled with each breath of wind, as if alive with whispered memories.

“I’m… haunted,” Ren finally admitted, voice low and rough. “I didn’t make the call. I was only following orders to open the dam gate. But the flood—it was worse than I imagined. The destruction beyond the outer gate… the people—so many lost homes, businesses… Their faces keep coming back to me. The cries I heard echo in my mind every night.”

Nishiyama stepped closer, his brow furrowed deeply. “It’s a heavy burden to bear. Masahiro and Watari stand firm in their defense—they say it was the lesser evil. That if the floodgate had not been opened, the main castle might have been lost, or even more lives destroyed. But the council is split. Nearly half our trade routes through Likeland are crippled now, and the economic blow is severe.”

Ren’s eyes didn’t leave the scarf. “The flood was limited to the area outside the gate,” he murmured, “but it feels like the damage spread everywhere… in my mind. We won the battle, but the cost feels unbearable. I keep wondering—was there another way? Could I have stopped it? Should I have… refused?”

Nishiyama’s expression softened, and he laid a firm, reassuring hand on Ren’s shoulder. “War forces us into impossible decisions—choices that no one should have to make. You did what you were ordered to do. You followed commands in a time of chaos. We all carry these scars. But those scars are also reminders—reminders of what we fight to protect.”

The scarf fluttered more strongly now, as if stirred by the weight of their shared sorrow. The faint sounds of the camp outside—the distant murmur of soldiers, the crackle of a dying fire—seemed to echo the unspoken pain inside the room.

Nishiyama’s voice was steady but kind. “This is just one battle in a long war, Ren. The road ahead is uncertain, but you’re not alone. We will carry these burdens together, and we will find a way forward. For those who depend on us. For those we’ve lost.”

Ren finally looked up, meeting Nishiyama’s eyes. There was weariness there, but also a flicker of resolve. The scarf, his mother’s last gift, still fluttered—fragile but unbroken—in the evening breeze.

Beyond the western plains of Brickvia, across the dense pine valleys and mist-veiled ridges, the black-tiled rooftops of Kuchiwara Castle glinted beneath a sullen sky. Here, within the war chamber, the air simmered with unease.

King Kensuke Arakumo sat beneath the hanging crest of House Arakumo. He was a man of quiet menace, his voice seldom raised, his fury rarely shown. Yet his silence carried weight, and in this chamber, it was louder than thunder.

Around him, members of the royal court shifted restlessly. Scrolls lay unfurled, maps marked with blood-red ink. At last, Lord Tokunaga Shimei broke the silence, slamming his palm on the war table.

“Why was no aid sent to Colonel Seijuurou Kanbe?” he demanded. “The flames of Likeland reached the sky. Had we dispatched even a battalion, we might have held it—or at least preserved our name.”

Others muttered in agreement. Whispers of incompetence, betrayal, and dishonor crept like shadows across the floor. The defeat at Likeland had cut deep. Not just militarily, but politically—and economically.

King Arakumo finally raised his eyes, dark as a storm cloud gathering strength.

“Kanbe,” he said slowly, “was never meant to win.”

The chamber fell to stunned silence.

The king leaned forward, his fingers steepled. “You ask why I withheld reinforcements. It was not failure—it was strategy. Likeland was a burning outpost by the time our spies reported the Brickvian flood operation. They sacrificed their own commerce hub. That alone tells me how desperate they’ve become.”

Lord Tokunaga bristled. “So we abandoned Kanbe to die, for appearance’s sake?”

Arakumo didn’t flinch. “Kanbe’s death creates the justification we need. Brickvia is now vulnerable. With Likeland ruined, their economy hobbled, their council divided—they are primed for collapse. We will strike not in defense, but in vengeance. And the world will side with us.”

Another councilor, Lord Ichimaru, narrowed his eyes. “So this was a provocation all along?”

“Everything has been preparation,” Arakumo said. “Now, we move. But not alone.”

He gestured, and a side door opened. A messenger entered, bowed deeply, and presented a lacquered scroll bearing a Suragato crest.

“The Suragato Kingdom has agreed,” Arakumo announced. “King Torimada sees the same opportunity we do. The alliance is now sealed.”

The room erupted in murmur and disbelief. Two rival kingdoms—one mountain-born, the other storm-born—now marching under the same banner. It was unthinkable a season ago. But war had changed the shape of alliances.

“General Kazan Shigure,” Arakumo continued, turning to the man clad in silent steel armor, “you will lead our vanguard. The Suragato forces, under General Arakawa, will take the northern flank. Together, we march east and crush Brickvia’s outer defenses before they can regroup.”

General Shigure gave a deep, wordless bow. His eyes glinted with anticipation. “It will be done.”

King Arakumo stood, his cloak sweeping behind him like a storm rolling over the land.

“We are no longer playing for castles or colonies,” he said. “We aim for Brickvia’s heart. The crippled lion has roared for the last time. Let us show them the weight of the raven’s wings.”

As the war council broke into swift preparation, shadows lengthened across the war map. The west had awakened—and soon, Brickvia would feel the fury of both fire and storm.

The winds shifted across the borderlands.

At the base of Mount Surume, where the cliffs plunged into a thundering ravine, a tent of black and crimson stood surrounded by armored encampments. Torches flickered under the high canopy as two kings—Kensuke Arakumo of Kuchiwara and Torimada of Suragato—stood face-to-face, surrounded by guards who didn’t trust one another, and generals who trusted even less.

Despite the tension, both monarchs wore the faintest ghost of a smile.

“It seems,” King Torimada growled, “you’ve lured Brickvia into crippling their own stronghold. I’d toast to your ruthlessness, Arakumo, if I weren’t already half in awe of it.”

Arakumo bowed slightly. “And I would toast to your timing, Torimada. You always arrive at the turning of the tide.”

Between them lay a battle map, freshly inked. Red markers shaped like talons encircled Brickvia’s western outskirts. Black raven pieces moved in from the northwestern hills. Together, they formed a chokehold.

King Torimada turned to his iron-clad war chief. “General Arakawa, the time has come. Assemble every rider, archer, and thunder-carriage we can spare. I want them across the river and positioned as soon as possible.”

The grizzled general bowed low. “The eastern edge of their border is poorly fortified. If we strike at dawn, they won’t have time to fall back.”

From the other side of the tent, General Kazan Shigure of Kuchiwara stepped forward—silent, composed, yet humming with restrained ferocity.

“Our vanguard will be ready in no time. I will personally lead the front. If we sever the Brickvian middle line before they react, their central garrison will collapse like wet rice paper.”

Torimada smirked. “You speak like a man already polishing his victory poem.”

“I only write poems after the enemy is buried,” Shigure replied coldly.

Between the two kings, the air shifted from diplomacy to finality. The pact was no longer ink and word—it was steel and blood.

“This alliance,” King Arakumo said at last, “Marks the beginning of our reclamation. No more hesitation. No more waiting behind borders.”

Torimada nodded. “Let the eastern court see what happens when they burn one of ours.”

With a final clasp of hands—short, firm, and without warmth—the two monarchs sealed their alliance.

Outside, the drums began. Low, steady, relentless.

The war beasts of Kuchiwara were moving. The thunder wagons of Suragato rolled forward.

And at the far end of the east—Brickvia stood unaware that the tide had already turned.

The morning sun had not yet fully risen when the inner bell of Brickvia Castle rang—a dull, resonant clang reserved only for royal summons.

Inside the council chamber, the air was still heavy from yesterday’s debate. King Hikusa sat on the throne, fingers steepled beneath his chin, flanked by Queen Kurenai and the ever-composed Minister Ozaki. The mood was taut—not with anger, but with the gravity of decisions that would shape their survival.

A pair of footsteps echoed down the marble corridor.

“Captain Kazamatsuri Daichi of the Army Logistics Division, reporting as ordered,” the young officer announced, kneeling with practiced formality.

He bore the calm eyes of a man trained for order, discipline, and precision—but those who looked deeper could detect the steel that came from being raised in a royal household burdened with legacy.

Behind him, another man entered—older, broader, his stride heavy with pragmatic weariness.

“Lt. General Waruyama,” he said with a brief bow. “Commander of Brickvia Logistics Division.”

Hikusa looked from son to soldier.

“I will speak plainly,” the king began. “We must act swiftly. The loss at Likeland leaves us exposed—and our enemies will not wait for us to rebuild at leisure.”

He paused, then turned his gaze to Daichi.

“Captain. I am assigning you to lead the diplomatic delegation to the Tenban Kingdom. As my eldest son, your presence will signal how seriously Brickvia regards this pact. Tenban respects strength—and lineage.”

Daichi’s expression barely shifted, but a subtle flicker in his eyes acknowledged the weight of the task.

“As you command, Your Majesty.”

Hikusa nodded, then turned toward the older officer.

“Lt. General Waruyama. As Daichi is under your command, I want you to be briefed in person. Not merely for protocol—but because your next task lies beyond diplomacy.”

Waruyama gave a slight incline of his head. “Preparations for the next campaign, Your Majesty?”

“Precisely,” Hikusa said. “Intelligence suggests Kuchiwara is mobilizing. Should conflict ignited again, we must be ready. You are to oversee all military supply chains—rations, medical crates, field reinforcement timetables. I want every division provisioned and mobile within days, not weeks.”

“I’ll begin redistribution at once. The stockpile at Ridgepoint can reinforce the western flank.”

“Good. We may not get a second chance to act cleanly.”

Queen Kurenai leaned forward slightly. “Daichi, this delegation is not merely formality. The Tenban court may waver if they sense hesitation. Your conduct there must reflect absolute unity within Brickvia.”

“I understand, Your Highness,” Daichi said. “I’ll ensure they see that Brickvia still stands strong.”

King Hikusa studied his son a moment longer, then dismissed them with a single word.

“Go.”

As Daichi and Waruyama exited the chamber, King Hikusa summoned his generals for an urgent briefing.

“The time for stealth and cunning is over,” Hikusa declared, his voice steady but resolute. “Our enemies have shown no hesitation in attacking our lands outright. To avoid further damage to Brickvia’s infrastructure, we will engage them directly in open field combat.”

The room was thick with tension. A clear directive to fight openly, without the usual traps and ambushes, went against much of the army’s traditional tactics. But Hikusa’s mind was fixed: every bridge, road, and warehouse destroyed would prolong the kingdom’s suffering.

Chief War Strategist Yamada Masahiro unfurled a large map on the table, tracing the coastline and hills surrounding Brickvia. He pointed sharply.

“Here is the proposed formation, Your Majesty,” Masahiro said. “No traps or ambushes—we will rely on disciplined frontline strength and fire support.”

He gestured at the front line.

“General Hiryuu will take the frontmost position, leading the charge. Directly behind him is Colonel Koizumi Kotaro with his engineering division, ready to provide immediate support and fortify the line if necessary. Behind Koizumi stands Brigadier General Natoe.”

The king nodded slowly.

“And the middle line?”

Masahiro tapped the map on the cliffs overlooking the shoreline.

“Major General Tabrizu holds the cliffside, providing a vantage point for ranged units and signaling. Along the line are Lieutenant General Ryusuke Suzuki, Lieutenant General Futaba Watari, Lieutenant General Harada Kurosuke, and Lieutenant General Inoue Kobayashi.”

Hikusa’s gaze was sharp.

“No traps?”

“None, Your Majesty,” Masahiro confirmed. “The enemy scouts will detect any deceit. We cannot risk alerting them or causing them to strike infrastructure again.”

“And the rear?”

Lieutenant General Harada Waruyama commands the reserve forces. Positioned safely to deploy reinforcements or plug breaches.”

Queen Kurenai added, “Admiral Hayate will support from the sea with long-range fire—flaming arrows and heavy crossbows—to harass enemy formations near the coast.”

Hikusa folded his hands, voice low but firm.

“This is our defense. Hold the lines, protect our homes, and let no further destruction fall upon Brickvia.”

The generals exchanged determined looks.

Masahiro’s finger traced the defensive perimeter once more.

“The enemy expects stealth and subterfuge. They will be unprepared for this open engagement. If we fight as one, we will force them to pay dearly.”

The king rose, the council chamber silent but for the echo of his final command.

“Prepare immediately. The fate of Brickvia rests on the strength of this line.”

The next day, the sun had barely risen over the castle walls when Ren was approached by Nishiyama near the supply corridor. His expression was tense, his lips pressed into a thin line as he walked with purpose toward his fellow engineering unit comrade.

“Ren,” he began without delay, “I just received the finalized battle orders. Colonel Koizumi’s entire engineering division is being deployed to the front line. That includes you. And me.”

Ren stiffened. “The whole division?”

Nishiyama nodded. “We’ll be placed directly behind General Hiryuu in the frontmost formation. There’s no trap setting this time. Just open field combat.”

A heavy silence fell between them.

Ren had expected to assist from the flanks or perhaps handle support roles like he had during the Likeland operation. But the front line? This would be his first true experience in an open-field war, without stealth, without cover—just formation and raw chaos.

“This… this isn’t what I trained for,” Ren muttered, more to himself than to Nishiyama.

Nishiyama’s voice softened. “None of us trained for this kind of exposure, not like the frontline infantry did. But Colonel Koizumi trusts us to hold the line, and the army is stretched thin. It’s not just you anymore. We’re all going out there together.”

Ren nodded weakly, but anxiety lingered at the edges of his confidence.

Later that afternoon, needing space to breathe, Ren wandered to a quiet corner of the castle park, where the wind rustled through the high trees and the stone benches sat cold under the shade. His mind raced with doubts.

How could he fight like this?

Out in the open, every mistake would be seen. Every misstep could mean death. He wasn’t trained for mass confrontation—his footwork, his stealth, his instincts were all rooted in evasion, in subtlety.

“Ren,” came a calm, familiar voice.

He turned to see Kawasumi Mai approaching. She stopped a few paces from him, her sharp eyes reading him like an open book.

“Mai-sensei,” Ren said, straightening out of reflex.

“You look like you’re carrying the weight of the whole battle on your back,” she said plainly.

Ren exhaled slowly. “It’s my first open battle. I’m not used to this… no shadows to move through, no silence to cover me. I don’t know if I’m ready.”

Mai-sensei studied him quietly. “You’re not supposed to be ready. That’s the point of standing with an army. War isn’t a one-man show. You don’t win by being alone.”

Ren looked down, her words striking directly into his chest.

She continued, stepping closer. “You’ve trained hard. You’ve learned discipline, control, and speed—those things matter just as much on an open field as they do in a narrow alley. Don’t try to fight like someone you’re not. But don’t retreat into yourself either.”

“I just… I don’t want to be the reason someone else gets hurt,” Ren said.

Mai-sensei gave a rare, small smile. “Then stay alert. Trust your team. Trust your training. And most importantly, trust yourself.”

Ren felt a glimmer of clarity pass through the storm in his thoughts.

“I’ll try,” he said quietly.

“You won’t be alone out there,” Mai-sensei said, already turning to leave. “And I expect you to come back in one piece.”

As she walked away, the wind carried her last words to him like a final lesson. Ren stood still, letting them settle in his heart. He wasn’t fearless—but he wasn’t alone.

And that made all the difference.

The day had come. The smell of dry grass and dust filled the morning air as both sides arrived at the wide field west of Brickvia. A vast stretch of open land, touched only by wind and time, now stood as the stage for war.

Across the plain, the banners of the Suragato and Kuchiwara kingdoms fluttered in the breeze. Their troops stood in massive blocks, stretching far into the distance. At the center, the steel-armored infantry of General Arakawa waited in silence. On the flanks, General Kazan Shigure’s Kuchiwara lancers positioned themselves with sharp discipline, ready for swift movements once the clash began.

On the Brickvian side, formations had been set with precision under the command of Yamada Masahiro, who observed from a high command platform near the middle line. His expression remained calm as he studied the enemy lines.

The frontline was arranged as follows:

General Hiryuu stood at the frontmost position, atop a black warhorse, his armor glinting in the morning light.

Colonel Koizumi, leading the engineering division, was directly behind Hiryuu. His units—Ren, Nishiyama, Takeda Aoi, Maeda Mizuhara, and Shiori—were all outfitted in light armor, prepared not for stealth or traps, but for direct field support.

Brigadier General Natoe held the third layer of the front line, steady and prepared to reinforce the forward push when needed.

The middle line was held by experienced leaders:

Major General Tabrizu, commanding archers from the cliff overlooking the shoreline, his formation ready to rain arrows upon the battlefield.

Lt. Generals Ryusuke Suzuki, Futaba Watari, Harada Kurosuke, and Inoue Kobayashi each managed critical segments of the defensive core, anchoring the center of the army.

In the backline, Lt. General Harada Waruyama managed mobile reserve forces and oversaw logistics, ready to provide support if the lines broke or if supplies needed rerouting.

To the sideline, the navy led by Rear Admiral Shinomori Hayate waited behind a coastal cliff, hidden from the enemy’s line of sight. The fleet was positioned to provide supporting arrow and crossbow fire from ships if the enemy tried to flank along the shoreline.

Masahiro gave a quiet nod and turned to a nearby officer. “Sergeant Major Shirosawa Akira.”

Shirosawa stepped forward, holding a rolled crimson banner with a golden crescent symbol.

“Signal General Hiryuu. Crescent formation only. We hold our line.”

Shirosawa gave a sharp salute, then climbed a nearby hill and waved the banner in a precise, steady motion. The signal was clear: prepare the crescent, but do not advance.

From the front, General Hiryuu saw the signal. With calm confidence, he raised his blade and motioned to both flanks. His troops began spreading into the crescent formation—an arc meant to embrace and overwhelm—but they held position, waiting for the enemy’s move.

Koizumi turned to his engineering team. “Stay ready. No shield wall. We’re not moving unless ordered.”

Ren tightened the straps on his armor. Beside him, Nishiyama adjusted his gauntlets, glancing at the enemy ahead. Takeda Aoi, calm and focused, stood tall. Mizuhara muttered a quiet prayer, while Shiori checked the placement of her tools one last time.

There were no traps. No tunnels. No rooftops to leap from.

This was the open battlefield—where every breath, every movement, could be seen under the watchful eye of the enemy.

And the silence before the storm was almost deafening.

On the far side of the battlefield, General Kazan Shigure of the Kuchiwara lancers narrowed his eyes through the thin veil of dust drifting across the field. His gaze fixed on the Brickvian formation—specifically, the strange positioning of one unit.

“They’ve put an engineering division just behind the frontline commander,” he muttered, eyes on the group behind General Hiryuu. “That man in the lighter armor… Koizumi, wasn’t it? The engineer commander at Likeland.”

Standing beside him, General Arakawa of the Suragato Kingdom grunted thoughtfully. “That is Koizumi. And yes, it’s an odd placement. But it makes sense if you think like Masahiro.”

Shigure turned his head. “You think this is a trap?”

Arakawa nodded. “A calculated bait.”

He pointed his finger across the field. “Masahiro put Hiryuu in the very front. That man’s presence alone will stir the blood of our men—especially those from Kuchiwara. He’s the one who led the offensive that brought down Colonel Kanbe at Likeland. He knows we’d take that personally.”

Shigure’s brows furrowed. “So the crescent formation isn’t for offense... it’s for provocation.”

“Exactly,” Arakawa said. “And right behind Hiryuu is Colonel Koizumi, the engineer commander. That suggests something more. Masahiro wants us to think Hiryuu is luring us in—to a kill zone prepared by Koizumi’s engineering traps.”

“And once our troops are stuck…” Shigure murmured.

“Hiryuu flanks from one side, and Brigadier General Natoe from the rear,” Arakawa finished. “Classic pincer maneuver.”

Shigure’s expression darkened. “So what do we do?”

Arakawa raised his arm and pointed toward the cliffs along the shoreline. “We flank instead. Masahiro never changes—he’s likely put Major General Tabrizu and his archers up there. That’s his habit: never leave archers in a purely defensive role. He always wants them above the field, directly engaging from elevation.”

Shigure followed Arakawa’s gesture, nodding slowly. “If we sweep from the shoreline, we can bypass the trap and crush their flank. Tabrizu’s archers will be exposed.”

“Exactly. We avoid the supposed bait and hit where they least expect,” Arakawa said, signaling to his aides. “Prepare to shift the second and third lances. We’ll lead the sweep toward the cliff—hug the coastline.”

Trumpet signals blared from the Suragato–Kuchiwara side as formations began to adjust, the bulk of the army subtly shifting westward, toward the cliffs. Dust rose as the cavalry prepared to ride.

What they didn’t know—what neither Arakawa nor Shigure could ever guess—was that Masahiro had set no trap at all.

The engineering division was there not as a bait. But in war, perception could be as deadly as steel.

From atop a watchtower built hastily along the Brickvian rear line, Strategist Yamada Masahiro observed the battlefield through a long scope. The dust from the enemy’s approach had begun to shift—not in a straightforward charge, but angling westward, toward the coastline and cliffs.

“They're flanking,” Masahiro muttered, his tone calm, almost impressed. “They’ve seen through what they think is our trap.”

Beside him, Sergeant Major Shirosawa Akira stiffened. “What are your orders, sir?”

Masahiro didn’t look away. “Order General Hiryuu, Colonel Koizumi, and Brigadier General Natoe to hold their position. No advance. No pursuit.”

Shirosawa raised his signal flags and snapped out the command.

At the front line, General Hiryuu narrowed his eyes as he watched the enemy veer away.

“They’re not coming straight at us,” he said quietly.

Moments later, the flag signal reached him. Hiryuu glanced at the flags and grunted. “Hold position,” he muttered, sheathing his blade. “Masahiro saw it.”

Behind him, Colonel Koizumi Kotarou, clad in light armor and surrounded by engineers, frowned. “They’re heading toward the cliff,” he said to no one in particular. “Are they… trying to flank?”

Private Second Class Ren Karibata, standing beside Nishiyama, shifted uncomfortably. The tension in his legs told him to move, to run or act—but the signal was clear. Hold.

Koizumi noticed and spoke to his engineers, “Stay calm. Stay alert. They may change direction at any moment.”

A few steps back, Brigadier General Natoe folded his arms. “Clever.” he muttered. “They think we’ve dug in traps and are trying to sidestep the whole line. Typical Suragato arrogance.”

He turned to his adjutant. “Ready my second wave. If Masahiro gives the word, we’ll pincer them the moment they overcommit.”

Hiryuu gave a low chuckle. “Let them move. They’re walking toward cliffs manned by Tabrizu’s archers and within range of Admiral Hayate’s bolts.”

Koizumi nodded faintly but didn’t smile. “Still, I don’t like this. We’re too exposed… and we’re not even hiding anything.”

Soon after, the Kuchiwara–Suragato alliance troops arrived at the rocky base of the shoreline cliff. Wind swept in from the sea, carrying the scent of salt and distant sails. The terrain sloped unevenly, with jagged stone outcrops and dry grass—a precarious path upward, but not impossible for determined soldiers.

General Arakawa scanned the ridgeline above. A faint glint caught his eye—just for a moment.

From the Brickvian side, Yamada Masahiro lowered his spyglass.

“Shirosawa,” he said calmly, “signal Tabrizu to open fire.”

Sergeant Major Shirosawa Akira raised the flags without hesitation, his hands moving in precise, practiced patterns.

Moments later—

Thud. Thud. Thud.

A storm of arrows rained down from above, darkening the sky for a heartbeat before they struck shield, flesh, and earth. Cries erupted among the troops as they scrambled for cover, shields raised too late or aimed too low.

Arakawa ducked, a feathered shaft grazing the edge of his shoulder armor. His tone was calm, even impressed. “That’s it. Just as I said—Tabrizu’s up there.”

Beside him, General Shigure shouted, “Ascend the cliff! Push forward, don’t scatter!”

He raised his blade high, signaling the climbing units. Infantry squads broke formation, scrambling upward with shields strapped to their backs, gripping roots and stone.

Masahiro turned again to Shirosawa. “Now deploy Hayate!"

Just beyond the cliffs, hidden by rocky outcrops, Rear Admiral Shinomori Hayate’s fleet received the signal.

“Prepare all long-range units,” Hayate commanded. “Loose arrows and bolts. Support from the sea.”

Sails lifted just enough to allow clear targeting—but not to fully reveal the ships.

Hayate raised his arm, then dropped it with precision.

“Fire!”

A wave of arrows and crossbow bolts surged into the air, arching high above the waves before crashing down upon the enemy flank from the sea.

From below the cliff, the Suragato–Kuchiwara forces were now caught in a two-sided barrage—arrows raining down from the cliff above and from the fleet at the sea to their left.

“Keep going!” General Shigure roared. “Climb! Don’t stop!”

But the slope had turned red and slippery, and the path only grew steeper.

The battlefield was chaos.

Shigure’s troops, determined to climb the cliffs, fell one after another. Arrows from Major General Tabrizu’s position rained down relentlessly, while Rear Admiral Hayate’s crossbowmen struck from the sea. Each attempt to scale the slope ended with more bodies tubling back to the base of the cliff.

General Shigure, shield raised, gritted his teeth as another volley fell. “Damn it! Pull back!”

Beside him, General Arakawa calmly analyzed the situation. “We’ll move inland. Away from the sea barrage.”

He turned to his adjutant. “Send word to the counter-trap unit—advance toward the middle line and neutralize any traps you find.”

Minutes passed as the unit carefully moved forward, checking the exposed field for signs of pits, wires, or hidden mechanisms. They returned sooner than expected.

“No traps, General,” one soldier reported. “None at all. The terrain’s too open. If they had laid anything, our scouts would’ve spotted it earlier.”

Shigure’s face twisted in frustration. He clenched his fists and muttered, “That damn Masahiro… he trapped us without using any trap!”

Arakawa narrowed his eyes, the corners of his mouth twitching in reluctant admiration. “A clever move, Masahiro. You used your own reputation… the fame of being a trap strategist, just to trick us into overthinking.”

He looked out at the still-standing crescent formation of Hiryuu, Koizumi, and Natoe in the distance.

“We expected snares, pits, and collapsing terrain,” Arakawa continued. “But the trap was our own assumption. That’s your game, isn’t it?”

Shigure snarled, “Then let’s see how long they hold once we press the real fight.”

Now certain there were no traps, General Shigure slammed his fist into his palm. “Enough circling. All units, prepare to charge the middle line!”

General Arakawa signaled the flanking columns. “Converge toward the center. Their engineering unit and crescent line can't hold forever.”

The Suragato–Kuchiwara forces shifted direction, abandoning the battered coastline. Infantry regrouped, cavalry units adjusted formation, and archers reloaded. The frontline was reforming, driven by frustration and the need to regain momentum.

From the Brickvia side, atop a raised command post in the center rear, Strategist Yamada Masahiro watched them with calculating eyes.

“They’re taking the bait,” he said under his breath. “All units, brace. Let the line hold—do not engage first.”

He turned to Shirosawa Akira, his signaling officer. “No flags yet. Let them step in fully.”

The Brickvia formation stood unmoving like a wall forged by discipline and purpose.

General Hiryuu, front and center, rested his blade across his shoulder, eyes locked on the charging enemy.

Behind him, Colonel Koizumi, leading the engineering troops—including Ren, Nishiyama, Takeda Aoi, Maeda Mizuhara, and Shiori—readied his voice for the first command.

Ren’s breath tightened. His hands grew damp inside his gloves. “This is it…”

Nishiyama murmured beside him, “They’re heading straight for us.”

Koizumi’s voice cut through, calm and clear, “Steady… on my mark.”

Brigadier General Natoe, positioned just behind Koizumi, stood firm and called to his division, “Brace yourselves. Await Hiryuu’s charge!”

Meanwhile, on the middle line, Lt. Generals Futaba Watari, Inoue Kobayashi, Harada Kurosuke, and Ryusuke Suzuki tightened their formations and prepared for imminent engagement. Each general commanded their troops with sharp eyes and firm posture, ready to move as soon as the signal was given.

On the high cliff above the shoreline, Major General Tabrizu’s archers kept their bows drawn, awaiting orders.

At sea, hidden just behind the coastal cliff, Admiral Hayate’s fleet remained concealed, the archers aboard prepared for a sudden barrage.

Masahiro narrowed his eyes. “Let the real battle begin.”