Path of the Unmentioned: The Missing Piece-Chapter 162: The Endgame [3]

Commander Halric arrived with a full battalion of Black Legion soldiers. Their armor catching the early morning sun.

The faint golden light gleamed off polished plates, casting sharp reflections across the field.

The soldiers marched in formation. A quiet force of discipline and strength.

Behind Halric came the captains. Veterans who had fought through years of brutal warfare.

Their steps were heavy, purposeful. There was no wasted movement. No panic. Only readiness.

Kyle stood near the edge of the Southern Cliffs, waiting.

He had sent the signal through the crystal minutes ago, just after confirming the Red Legion strike force had been decimated by the explosive runes.

It had worked exactly as planned.

Halric rode forward. The ground crunching beneath his warhorse's hooves.

He stopped beside Kyle, his sharp eyes scanning the cliffs and the fading smoke in the distance. His jaw was set.

He looked like a man who had seen the tide of death too many times and still chose to ride toward it.

"You're certain Rodrick will come himself?" Halric asked, his voice low and serious.

Kyle didn't hesitate. His expression was calm, but there was steel in his voice.

"Yes. He lost a high-ranking strike force. He'll want to finish it himself."

Halric gave a short nod, then turned to the captains at his side.

"Set the formation. Begin drawing the magic circles. We don't have much time."

The captains saluted and immediately got to work.

Soldiers moved fast. Spreading out across the rocky plateau and into the ravine below, setting defensive lines and stabilizing positions.

Meanwhile, the mages began drawing magic circles.

Dozens of magic circles began to take shape.

They were large, many etched directly into the stone with precision and care.

Others were layered in the air using threads of mana, shaped by practiced hands.

They glowed faintly. Pale blue, silver, and red light weaving together like strands in a web.

Magic circles weren't used often in battle.

Not because they lacked power. But because they were slow.

One wrong line, one misaligned node, and the whole thing could collapse.

Worse, it could explode, damaging allies instead of enemies.

They also required absolute concentration.

In the chaos of war, few mages could focus long enough to draw or maintain them.

But this wasn't a chaotic battle. Not this time.

This was a trap.

The atmosphere was tense. Quiet. Waiting.

Kyle looked to Captain Thalia, who had been scouting since dawn.

She returned at a sprint, armor clinking faintly with each step. Her breathing was heavy. But she didn't slow until she reached Halric and Kyle.

"He's coming," she said quickly.

"And not just with a few men. It's a full charge. Riders. Infantry. War beasts. He's bringing everyone."

Kyle's jaw tightened.

"Rodrick?"

"At the front."

Of course he was.

The Red Commander had led every charge he could. A man of pride and rage. Kyle knew the type.

And now, the man thought this was his moment to strike back.

"Positions," Halric ordered sharply. "Everyone ready. No one acts until the signal."

The soldiers shifted into place. Archers readied arrows behind the ridgeline.

Mages pressed their hands against the edge of the circles, focusing, their eyes glowing faintly as mana flowed from their bodies into the intricate lines of power.

The moments passed like stretched wire. The wind howled quietly over the cliffs.

The only sound was the hum of gathering magic and the occasional shout of confirmation from one of the captains.

Then—

A distant rumble.

The sound of boots and hooves striking the earth like a heartbeat.

From beyond the hills. The Red Legion came.

A red tide poured into view, surging like a living wave.

Dozens of armored soldiers, each bearing crimson banners and weapons coated in enchantments. freёwebnoѵel.com

Warhorses thundered down the slope. Their riders holding curved blades and long spears.

And at the front. Towering over them all, was Rodrick.

He rode a massive black warhorse. The beast's hooves kicking up chunks of rock and dust as it barreled forward.

His armor was trimmed in gold and marked with ancient red runes. His cape. Long, blood-red, and frayed at the edges. Snapped in the wind like a banner of death.

Rodrick's eyes glowed faintly, and his sword, longer than most greatswords, was wreathed in dancing flames.

He didn't slow. Didn't break formation.

He led the charge.

The Black Legion archers fired first. Arrows soaring through the air like falling stars.

Rodrick raised his sword and cleaved through three in a single stroke.

The Red Legion mages unleashed a counter volley. Blasts of fire, wind, and ice crashing against the cliffs. The rocks trembled.

Kyle didn't move.

He waited.

Rodrick kept coming, cutting down magical projectiles as if they were flies. His elite warriors. Those who had survived the earlier ambush. Raced at his side.

Closer.

Closer.

The first wave of Red Legion infantry crossed into the marked kill zone.

The air was humming now. Charged with magic and tension.

Rodrick raised his sword, preparing to unleash a devastating spell.

Kyle lifted his hand, eyes focused.

"Activate the magic circles!"

The command rang out like a spark to dry grass.

And the world exploded.

Flames burst from the first magic circle. Huge, spiraling tongues of fire roaring across the battlefield.

The front line of the Red Legion was swallowed in seconds. Men and horses screaming as the inferno surged over them.

From the second circle, a storm of wind erupted. But this wasn't a breeze.

It was a deadly gale, sharp as daggers. It howled through the Red ranks, slicing through armor and tearing banners to shreds. Blood sprayed into the air like mist.

Then came lightning.

Blue-white bolts slammed into the earth, crackling with raw, furious power.

They struck down charging soldiers mid-step, leaving smoking craters and twitching bodies behind. The air sizzled with electricity.

Ice rose next.

Great jagged spikes erupted from beneath the Red Legion's feet, impaling men and beasts alike.

Frozen mist curled in the air, and where the ice touched, limbs went stiff and brittle. Shattering on impact.

And then came light.

It was blinding. Pure, divine. A beam of light magic shot from the center circle.

Sweeping across the Red Legion like the judgment of the heavens.

BOOM.

The sound was deafening.

The pressure of all elements detonating at once sent a shockwave through the earth.

The ground cracked. Dust and debris flew in every direction.

And the air itself vibrated. Thick with magic and death.

Rodrick's horse reared violently, screaming in panic.

The beast had no chance. Fire and wind slammed into it, and it crumpled beneath him, crushed by the force.

But Rodrick was no ordinary man.

He hit the ground hard but rolled, landing on one knee. His Greatsword still in his hand.

His cloak was half-burned, his armor scorched, but his eyes, those cold, ancient eyes, were locked on one person.

Kyle.

They saw each other across the chaos.

Through fire.

Through smoke.

Through the screams of dying men.

And in that single, frozen second. Rodrick's expression changed.

Fury twisted his face.

Hatred burned in his glare.

The moment passed.

The next wave hit.

———

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