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The sky is filled with living battleships, and hellfire is pouring down like hail.

The outskirts of the forest are already engulfed in flames. The sacred magic can no longer provide an absolute shield. Even the northern canyon cannot serve as a barrier against the enemies.

The enemies soar through the sky, crossing the canyon, delivering flames of death towards the living forest. The true masters of this world, who have set their camp in that forest, do not flee before the oncoming disaster; instead, they resolutely nock their arrows.

“Prepare the entire army! Fire!”

Dragons are not creatures that fly low. However, the elves’ arrows can soar high enough to strike the belly of a dragon. Thousands of arrows shooting skyward. The magic arrows shot like tracer bullets left clear trajectories in the sky and struck the dragons’ bellies.

Even if someone with modern technology from Earth were to press the launch button for a Tomahawk missile to burn this forest, it would be difficult for even significant missiles to penetrate the elves’ air defense. Their shooting is powerful, precise, and astonishing. One dragon, weakened by the forest’s magic, could not withstand the fairies’ net and began to plummet to the ground, bleeding from its belly.

A massive flying lizard, 50 meters long, staggered as it fell toward the forest. The elven commander at the scene confirmed that the fallen dragon was undoubtedly dead and cheered.

“The dragon is dead! Listen up, everyone! Your arrows just pierced the dragon’s heart. The enemy is powerful, but there aren’t many of them. Load again—And fire!”

Shooting down a dragon in one volley is a commendable achievement. However, inflicting a loss of 1/10 on the dragon battalion is a grave cost. They had detected the elven archers, but the remaining nine dragons, unaware of their location due to the forest’s concealment, had pinpointed the elves’ positions thanks to just that one volley.

In an instant, nine blasts of breath accurately struck the elven formation, turning the Eramenia forces’ stronghold into chaos. The elven fortress commander barely survived the initial attack, being flung outside the fortress, but realizing that none among the 3,000 fairies present would be able to retreat alive.

“Scatter! Disperse! If there are any soldiers who survived the last attack, don’t maintain your formation any longer! Flee into the forest and find your own paths to survival!”

The commander, holding onto his golden helmet, yelled desperately for as many followers as possible to survive. An elven subordinate who barely escaped death drew his sword and, after mercifully ending the suffering of a fellow elf engulfed in flames, rushed to the commander.

“General! Get up! The second breath is about to descend! You can’t regroup the remaining forces here, nor can you exact vengeance on those bastards!”

“Of course, I want to! I’m only 752 years old. I don’t think this is my time to die as an elf. But can I complain? Among those who just burned to death, there are plenty who aren’t even two hundred years old. If my leg just had to break at this moment, so be it; that’s the will of the heavens. Run! I’ll leave the regrouping of the remaining forces to you!”

Feeling the commander push himself with all his might, the subordinate glanced up at the sky and started to dash toward the remaining trees of the forest.

There was no time to argue or bid a final farewell. If the commander was destined to die here, it was the subordinate’s duty to rally the remaining fairies and lead them to the next retreat line. The dragons were preparing their second attack, and the elven general, still clutching his helmet tightly, glared up at the sky.

Seeing all nine dragons preparing to unleash flames towards him, the general shouted.

“Long live Eramenia! My legion and I might be set aflame, but this kingdom shall not burn!”

The final flames intended to destroy the fortress descended. With this, the first retreat line of the Eramenia army, which had already abandoned the outer defenses of the forest, collapsed.

The second retreat line was none other than the royal fortress of the Kingdom of Eramenia, where King Richard reigns.

The duty of fortifying the royal capital and preparing for the enemy’s advance fell to Princess Margaret. With a neutral expression and posture, she was setting up large crossbows to capture the dragons, when a colossal pillar of flame rose up from tens of kilometers away.

Considering the distance to the dragons, tens of kilometers is not far at all. No, it’s more appropriate to say it’s right in front of us.

The Eramenia army had failed to establish any military defenses between the destroyed fortress and the royal capital, leaving them with a weak defense that would inevitably allow the enemy’s entry into the royal capital as soon as the first barrier was breached.

Thus far, this had been a logical response. This forest is a living fortress in itself. If someone unauthorized enters the forest, whether they be thousands, tens of thousands, or even hundreds of thousands of orcs, the fairies have the power to annihilate them with just one arrow.

Even against a dragon or a wyvern, this was still valid. Just as the fairy legion succeeded in taking down one dragon against ten, if just one dragon were lazily wandering into the forest, it would have been turned into a pincushion before it could even breathe fire.

The situation would not be significantly different even with two or three dragons. But with ten? That is an unreasonable number. About half of all dragon entities existing on the continent have been sent solely to burn this forest. The world clearly knows how reluctant the Dragon Lord is to send dragons into battle!

The elves felt no need to prepare contingency measures against such a deranged scenario. A failure that results in the loss of an entire military force would halve the population of their race. Who could imagine that the Dragon Lord, preparing for military clashes with the Demon King, would engage in such a mad act? Not to mention the Dragon Lord who just recently lost two dragons!

Two dragons would already amount to serious damage, nearly 10% of their population. After the recent downing of one, certainly, at least about 13% of those dragons, which take over a hundred years to mature, have died in just the past three years. Perhaps dragons are a race suffering from a death rate incomparably higher than orcs or humans due to the aftermath of war.

However, knowing this does not allow any room for sympathy toward the dragons. The blazing column of flame is getting closer, and as most of the kingdom’s forest is on the brink of being burned away, there’s no way they can afford to feel concern for the dragons’ predicament.

No matter how nonsensical it might be, once it happens, it’s reality. No matter how irrational the strategy of the opponent is, if they’ve struck first, a counterattack must be made.

Tsunamis of hellfire rush in like waves. An overwhelming sight akin to a fleet of jet-engine pelagic airships converging.

Jeongjae, helping Margaret load arrows into the large crossbow, momentarily lost his senses while watching the march of the dragons.

“Is this… what the end of the world looks like?”

The Grand Mage mumbled unintelligible words he didn’t even realize he was saying. But this couldn’t be just his thought alone. For most elves, the concept of ‘the world’ is limited to within the Eramenia forest. Few fairies truly comprehend that events happening outside their woodlands could affect their security and prosperity.

The sight of the cradle of elves, which hasn’t faced an attack for thousands of years, burning away is nothing short of the end of the world for many elves. At Jeongjae’s words, the fairy lord, who had momentarily sunk into thought, shook his head.

“I cannot tell. You may be right. If the end of the world exists, perhaps it might look just like this. But the blood in my veins is boiling, and the thoughts in my head are extending rather than shrinking. Mage, does this look like the end to you?”

“Eramenia is… burning. Of course, the royal capital hasn’t been attacked yet…”

“Then if our royal capital burns, if that luxurious Golden Palace melts away and our splendid city turns to ash, would that not look like the end?”

“Yes… it might look that way.”

Jeongjae shivered at the horrific scene Margaret presented. But Margaret, the very one most affected by this, smiled faintly as she shifted her steps toward another large crossbow.

“Is that so? Are you looking at the end? Yes, perhaps that is the essence of your humanity. You see the end in destruction, pain from the flames. I feel it too. Even my smile feels stiff enough to be an expression of grief.”

As Margaret spoke, the corner of her mouth, which seemed to naturally curl into a smile, trembled oddly like a patient suffering from facial paralysis.

She tried to force a smile to steady her heart, but there was no way she could calmly laugh at this scene, having lived in this forest for hundreds of years and fought for the people of Eramenia.

“Margaret, then what are you looking at over there?”

“Awakening. I see the awakening of Eramenia, the slumbering giant. I witness the elves, once curled up, picking up their weapons, aflame with anger. Once we ignite, the flames of the dragons will seem trivial. Once we ignite, the breath of hellfire will merely be a flickering flame.”

All the crossbows finished loading. The dragons slowly flew toward the royal capital. Margaret, bow and arrow in hand, looked directly up at the dragons flying in the sky and spoke.

“Come now, hounds of the Demon King. I will personally show you with these hands what happens when you tread where you shouldn’t tread.”

And Walter Hellhound awoke.

“Uwaah! Huh… Huh… Huuuh….”

It was a terrifying dream. Eramenia is burning, and the elves are turning to ash in the flames. The fairies enter a battle facing death, while the dragons, unafraid of dying, soar above the forest.

Walter quickly fumbled beside his bed to gather his thoughts and search for his glasses, but he noticed that the usual spot where his glasses are kept was filled with ominous messages instead.

“Where the heck are my glasses…”

At that moment, his hand, still feeling his own face, accidentally brushed against the glasses he had dozed off wearing. Sleeping with glasses is very uncomfortable, but since staying up all night is a common occurrence for tired Walter, there are times he forgets to take them off before sleeping.

Slowly, taking the glasses off, the warrior stood up, pulling the covers off with a pale face.

Having experience sleeping with his glasses on, he knows very well what such dreams symbolize.

A vivid prophetic dream clearer than anything else in the world. This was different from his usual nightmares. Typical nightmares are close to a vision created by Walter’s anxiety, excitement, apprehension, and restlessness.

However, the nightmare of a night spent with glasses is much closer to reality. A reality that may occur very soon. A future that cannot change. A future that cannot be stopped.

Walter Holmes Hellhound cannot help Eramenia.

The rising sun began to appear in the eyes of the warrior who staggeringly stepped outside the barracks. Night watchmen were finally returning to their posts to sleep, while other soldiers busily began their day’s work.

At such an hour, Walter Hellhound walked out of the tent in his pajamas and crossed paths with Jenis Harker, who was heading somewhere accompanied by mages.

“Oh, Hero!”

Jenis bowed her head slightly in greeting upon spotting Walter. Realizing that dawn had already passed, Walter tilted his head in confusion.

“It’s already late, yet no one woke me up.”

“It was Princess Rose’s orders. Walter Hellhound doesn’t tend to wake up late at night, so unless it’s urgent, don’t wake him up even if the sun rises. I assumed you’d sleep longer, but you came out early.”

“Rose is something…”

Walter rubbed his tired eyes and managed a slight smile. Seeing the signs of fatigue on Walter’s face, Jenis tilted her head.

“You still look quite tired under your eyes. Wouldn’t it be better to sleep a little more?”

“No, the timing is just right. No, it’s already a little late.”

Walter straightened his back and looked around. Jenis stood patiently in place, as if waiting for orders, and the mages from the Magic Tower stood quietly beside her, awaiting the hero’s words to break the silence.

With a flash in his eyes, Walter gave instructions.

“Tell them to pack up. We’ve rested long enough here. It’s time to march again. Today is going to be a busy day.”

“Understood, Hero.”

Jenis bowed her head as if she had been merely waiting for that command and moved back. The third battlefield is opening. But all the hero can do now is to give his all in the first battle.

 

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