The weather is clear. The wind was blowing freely and the sun was shining as brightly as ever. It was just like that. In the Sarnio Plains, the heraldic army and the great holy church army both showed their fangs at each other.

　On the battlefield, a series of sounds that could not be called barbaric or strange screamed. No one could grasp the true nature of the sounds.

　Axes dragging out intestines and spilling blood, spear beds gouging flesh with the smell of iron. The life and death of the soldiers mingled together, creating an abnormal place called a battlefield. I wonder if my comrades-in-arms are still alive and wielding their swords. Oh, I wonder if I am still alive.

　Swords, spears, shields. Swords, spears, shields... They gnash their teeth together and begin to play the music of the battlefield, overlapping each other.

　Everyone bared their eyes and greedily devoured the enemy soldiers as their fighting instincts desired. The place where life has the cheapest price tag exists here and now.

　Heraldry and the Great Saints both deployed their forces to the fullest extent within the plain. The soldiers, who numbered 30,000 in all, were playing battlefield music and singing.

　If God had dared to implant a fighting instinct in the creation of man, it must have been for the purpose of listening to this music.

Not looking good, huh? I guess that's to be expected. I'm not happy about it, but I don't have a choice.

　The Philos Urban Corps was thrust into the forefront. In the midst of it all, Philos-Treit muttered a complaint. In the midst of them, Philos-Treit muttered as if to complain. Underneath his spectacles, his white eyes gleamed in the sunlight.

　The enemy soldiers, the heraldic soldiers, are wielding their spears as hard as they can, in the face of inferior odds, trying to pinpoint the slightest chance of victory with their fingers. And they are led by the witch Mattia and the villainous Lugis. It is said that they have the power to roll people over with their tongues and make them believe blindly.

　Perhaps it was because they were led by such people. The enemy soldiers rushed towards the Philos soldiers like a muddy stream, as if they were enchanted by something. On the other hand, there is no way that the Philos Urban Corps has the same vigor or spirit. They just hold their shields and spears up as ordered, and somehow endure to keep from being pushed in.

　If you are only talking about the posture of trying to break the neck of the opponent, the heraldry might be superior to the soldiers of Philos, or even the soldiers of the Great Holy Church if they are not good enough.

　Without thinking, Philos clicked his tongue in his mouth. That's why, Philos thought, the wily old general had taken such a bold step in forcing the spearhead. It was abominable.

　The raging shouts of the soldiers bit into Philos' skin. It was the first time that Philos had ever felt his core threatened by a human voice. A human voice could be so powerful.

Philos, please give me some more time. If you're just going to stand there, I'd prefer it if you'd move back to the Archbishop's camp. You'll die.

　said the captain leading the city soldiers in a voice with a slight accent. His brow wrinkled, he stabbed Philos lightly with the poison in his tongue.

　As usual, Philos raised his eyebrows at the man who didn't know how to keep his mouth shut with discretion and care.

　But I guess this is no longer something that can be cured. After all, this man had behaved like this even when he was appointed as the captain and commander of the city soldiers. Perhaps he is a creature who will die if he doesn't say what he thinks out loud.

　Well, it's a lot easier than having poison in your stomach. Philos replies, his lips pursed.

You can't do that. I'm the commander of this unit. I sent them into battle to die, so I can't just sit around in my room. An ideal commander, I'd say.

　The captain responded to Philos' pretentious words with a sniff. The captain snorted in response. Philos was very jealous of his freedom to do as he pleased.

　The ruler of a city is farther away from freedom than one might think. He wished he could tell his old self that.

　It's not a good thing. No matter how hard you pursue it, there is no salvation in its place.

They're holding out for now. The center will be overtaken. Well, I guess that's what the enemy army will have to aim for.

　The captain muttered, occasionally shouting in anger as he took command. There was no sense of crisis or frustration in his voice, but rather a sense of mastery. He seemed to be saying, "What will be, will be. Philos doesn't know much about battlefields, but for this captain, maybe that's what battlefields are all about.

　He looks into his white eyes and sees the waving of the flag.

　Indeed, if you look closely, you will see that the center of the enemy's flag is waving a lot, just as the captain said. On the other hand, the left and right flanks are just holding up their spears as if to endure. The left and right flanks, on the other hand, are just standing on their spears as if to endure. I only felt that way because the captain told me to.

　In other words, since the enemy is small in number, they are concentrating their forces in the center of the city and are trying to extend their fangs toward the main camp of the Daishonikyo by crushing us. On the other hand, if we can prevent them and the armies on both sides swallow them up, we will be victorious.

　This is what the heavy infantry of the Philos Urban Corps is best at. Defend, defend, defend against, and own the victory. The problem is that even though it's a job they're good at, Philos doesn't have enough troops to hold off an enemy army that's gaining momentum right now.

　This is something that can't be helped. The maximum number of soldiers that can be sent to the city without causing any damage and still make an impression on the Great Church is less than a thousand.

　First of all, even if we win this battle, Philos has nothing to gain. It would not be easy to gain access to the interests of Garou Amalia. How could he devote a large part of his city's forces to such a battle? Even so, food is becoming scarce due to the extremely cold cold season.



　Philos wet his lips and cleared his throat amidst the barbaric shouts.

"Be moderate, so your men don't die too much. Give the Archbishop enough strength to make an excuse and then fall back.

　He said in a shaky voice that no one but the captain could hear. What Philos needed was not to win, but to spread the damage as thin as possible. Besides, there were 20,000 unharmed Daishonin troops behind them. Even if we were to fall apart a little early, it would not affect our victory or defeat.

　Even the old general of the Great Patriarchate must have factored that much into his decision. Then, let me do what I have to do.

　In response to Philos's words, the captain turned his back and faced forward, and said.

I'll do that if I can .......

　This is the first time I've heard the captain's voice sound nervous. The tone of voice itself did not change much. The only difference was that the slight inflection had disappeared from his voice. Philos gazed at the battlefield through the large back in front of him.

　A horse is galloping across the battlefield. It was as if they were tearing through cloth.

　It was like a unit. It looks like a unit of the enemy army foolishly jumping out from the front line.

　Normally, such a unit would be chewed up by enemy forces in an instant. To be alone on the battlefield is to be dead. Everyone knows that, so they move forward as a mass, as an army.

　But that small unit is not going to disappear, no matter how much time passes. In fact, they seem to be getting closer and closer to us. In fact, the rest of the enemy soldiers began to move forward to follow them.

"Master Philos, there they are, coming here. They're so reckless. Master Philos is in the way, so turn your ass around and run so you don't die.

　The captain says, annoyed, but with sweat dripping down his neck. Then he slowly pulled out the sword he carried at his waist.

　Perhaps because of their agitation, Philos saw the soldiers around him take a few steps backward while they shouted and held their shields.

　In his white eyes, Philos could see the creeping threat.

　The man in the green uniform, moving forward, crushing the heads of his soldiers with his horseshoe. I remember hearing it. I remember seeing him in my mind's eye. I remember seeing the words that spoke of him.

　--Eyes filled with malice itself and godless immorality.

　Yes, there can be no mistake. There can be no mistake. The eyes that can trample a man to death without moving an eyebrow, the tyrannical behavior that does not show even a hint of fear on the battlefield.

　The white eyes of Philos caught that person clearly.

　--That's the villain. Lugis, hero of the heraldry.