―― There’s a term called “War Cry.”

To put it simply, it’s just an exhilarating shout.

It’s a voice raised to inspire oneself, allies, and morale when challenging battles, matches, or any competition, a means to cut off retreat and grant the power to move forward.

Before a match, forming a circle and letting out shouts of battle cries before rushing onto the battlefield—a magical saying that binds everyone together; in this world, it truly is a “magical” phrase.

“…Can you believe it?”

Beatrice is left speechless at the destructive force of the amateur group, led by Natsuki Subaru, the “Pleiades Battalion,” as it rams into the enemy lines, shattering the heavily armed imperial soldiers.

With the ground trembling, a red whirlwind of a horse gallops, the reins held by a hapless bearded man called Idra, while Beatrice and Subaru take their awkward riding positions right in front of him. This group, rallying under that banner, was all under the fierce influence of Light Magic.

And the method that enables this was—

“—Magical Armor Excitation.”

Beatrice quietly mutters this, a phantom technique that’s existed as a word for centuries yet has never been prioritized or practically applied.

Even Echidna, who systematized all magic, declared it a technique too complex to be reproduced by any individual, merely labeling it as a “fantasy” and leaving it untouched.

“Magical Armor Excitation” essentially refers to the method that forcibly uses the mana circulating within the body for physical enhancement, triggering effects similar to Light Magic through an entirely different approach.

There’s a saying about “foolish strength during a fire,” referring to how in desperate situations, one’s physical limitations are lifted, unleashing powers that far exceed normalcy.

And in this world, it’s indeed recognized as a reality.

In both mentally and physically pressing situations, dormant gates within the body open, allowing one’s condition to mirror that of those who can wield “Flow Arts.”

Those who excel in abilities might learn to handle “Flow Arts” through personal experience, but for now, we’ll skip that explanation as it deviates from the main point.

The important part is that “Magical Armor Excitation” is a technique for forcefully lifting human limits, and that fact is currently activating for everyone in the Pleiades Battalion, which numbers over a thousand.

After all, the only time Echidna witnessed anything resembling “Magical Armor Excitation” was indeed on the battlefield, and the ones exhibiting such effects were a small tribe letting out their battle cries.

As a custom of theirs, they continued raising voices before battle, during, and after it.

The shout that inspires morale boasted effects similar to Light Magic, bolstering the strength of the entire tribe, resulting in remarkable achievements for a relatively small group.

However, even they could not resist numerical disadvantages and eventually faded into obscurity amid the chaos, with similar groups emerging, only to be crushed without a trace.

A randomly assembled group would yield no effects, and if the numbers grew too large, results would stabilize and individual prowess would fail to recreate anything. Hence, “Magical Armor Excitation” faded without ever seeing the light of day.

In the present, only individuals of rare skill are adept at utilizing “Flow Arts,” and the crux of shouting on the battlefield barely translates to a modest boost of courage.

However—

“‘Strongest! Strongest!! Strongest—!!’”

As they shout this, every member of the Pleiades Battalion surges forward alongside Subaru is ablaze with the lost radiance of “Magical Armor Excitation.”

Bound together by solid trust centering around Subaru, they take on the prowess of an army with no reckless wielder of Light Magic to throw their rhythm off—this was the epitome of an ideal environment.

The effects of “Magical Armor Excitation” activated by Light Magic hone their five senses, significantly enhance physical abilities, bolster their toughness, and drastically提升思考力和反应速度, creating a state of overpowered enhancements.

Each individual transforms into a warrior capable of defeating a thousand—caught completely off guard, the imperial soldiers are overwhelmed, and the front lines start to properly “melt away.”

Like ice meeting heated iron, the enemy’s formations begin to disintegrate from the front, while the amateur group surges through the heart of the enemy camp with tremendous momentum.

Even more surprising is—

“—Don’t kill them even if you knock them away! Make them think they can’t win even if they fight back!”

“““Oh—!!”””

““Got it, boss!””

“““Just like how you saved us!!”””

In a battlefield where so many risk their lives colliding, the declaration of non-lethal action comes from the frontline leader.

Those who know the battlefield might scoff at such an absurd statement, laughing it off as childish drivel, yet today they were breaking through with this destruction, and the amateur group, who know little about warfare, wholeheartedly accepts it.

The barrage of strikes and body slams send imperial soldiers flying one after another, yet the output leads not to a pile of corpses but to a mountain of wounded ones, spirit and body both crushed.

If left alive, the enemy soldiers would have to divide their attention to aid their fallen comrades—not strategic judgment, just plain old Natsuki Subaru lacking the courage to permit death.

That lack of courage on his part becomes a conduit for hope, fulfilled through this overwhelming strength.

“Subaru! How far ahead are you thinking?!”

“Huh? Oh, I’m sorry for everyone shouting at once! But having everyone join in shouting like this really pumps up the spirit!”

“Ugh, that’s absurd!”

Unintentionally voicing that conclusion upon witnessing the extraordinary scene on the battlefield, Beatrice finds herself saying the very same thing.

However, she cannot scold him. It’s only natural to feel that way.

With Subaru’s response, Beatrice quickly realizes—neither Subaru nor the others even know or understand the concept of “Magical Armor Excitation.”

They merely fight fueled by a nonsensical logic that if they shout at the top of their lungs, they’re strong—weaponizing a theory even the “Witch” has forsaken to replicate and fight.

And what Beatrice couldn’t know was that only Natsuki Subaru, with the ability of the “Little King,” could make that practical.

“Now that’s…”

“Yeah?”

“Now that’s how you act as Betty’s partner!”

In Natsuki Subaru’s arms, who does what no one else can, Beatrice affirms the moment she has long awaited, replenished with mana that had been depleted from their reunion.

In the almost incomprehensible current situation of the amateur Pleiades Battalion, where hardly anyone understands what’s going on and no one needs to, she puts her mind to work as Subaru’s partner.

How she can intervene in this once-in-a-lifetime, historical moment.

“If their momentum is disrupted, should I meddle with their recovery?”

With a stir, Beatrice directs her small palm toward the numerous imperial soldiers flung away.

Subaru’s hope, the Battalion’s fierceness, and the prevailing customs of the empire battling in this arena all become part of Beatrice’s considerations as she declares—

“—El Shamak!”

Using the excessively heightened power as a member of the Pleiades Battalion, Beatrice unleashes her strength.

Dark mists envelop the heads of the imperial soldiers defending the Fourth Pinnacle one after another, stifling their thoughts, extinguishing their fighting spirit, and robbing them of their opportunity for counterattacks.

In just a few minutes after the Pleiades Battalion joins the fray, the Fourth Pinnacle, which had suffered the least damage in this capital’s defense battle, collapses without a chance to resist.

△▼△▼△▼△

The relentless advance of the Pleiades Battalion reaches the ears of Abel at the command base instantaneously.

However, at that time, the name of the Pleiades Battalion didn’t reach him; it remained a report of a group appearing from the west colliding with imperial soldiers with overwhelming force, causing their defensive line to collapse.

Nonetheless—

“—Goodness, just when our trump card decides to show up, we’ve lost our stage, haven’t we? How thrilling.”

A brave voice resonates through the command base, and the beautiful face that enters is more than happy to take in the situation.

The figure that appears is a woman with flowing hair and a noble visage marked by white scars, clothed in a rough attire that contradicts her noble status—this valiant lady is Selena Dracloy.

In a high-ranking position among the upper nobles of the Volakia Empire, she stands as a traitor siding with this rebellious faction against the emperor, and was initially one of Abel’s trump cards.

In response to Selena’s visit, Abel stands with his arms crossed, gazing towards the distant battlefield.

“I was aware that the essence of your reinforcements was the Flying Dragon Corps.”

“Rest assured. The fact that my elite troops are the Flying Dragon Corps remains unchanged. However, the ones mesmerizing the battlefield right now are unexpected entities.”

“Are you saying they are not your forces?”

“I wouldn’t mind including them under my umbrella, but alas, it seems they’re all focused on just one person. They show no interest in us.”

As she responds, Selena walks next to Abel with her long legs.

She peers into Abel’s face with her narrow-eyed gaze, gazing at the masked visage still covered with a demonic mask.

“Are you saying you cannot ally with those who hide their face?”

“I have no intention of saying something so dull. There’s little difference between someone who hides their true self behind makeup and someone who conceals their identity behind a mask. If the reason for hiding is a scar, mine is far worse.”

“This mask is not due to a wound. It’s a necessity.”

“Of course. I could tell from your writing that you refuse to engage in unnecessary matters. Our exchange of words deepens that impression.”

With her hands on her hips, Selena smiles fiercely as she sizes up Abel.

No doubt, under his original identity as the Emperor, Abel and Selena would be acquainted. The effect of the demon mask’s “Recognition Obstruction” would subtly cover any discrepancies, yet Abel’s evaluation of Selena remains unchanged.

A fierce and progressive character who wouldn’t hesitate to bite the emperor if necessary—truly embodying the traits suggested by the title “The Blazing Duke.”

Were she not of such temperament, selecting her as one of the cards for this rebellion would have been utterly impossible.

“Am I to be seen as the only eccentric in your evaluation?”

“The consideration of how to prepare material to bring you in was necessary. However, the main reason I chose you was to improve our odds in this war.”

“You praise my Flying Dragon Corps, which has been fed cold rice from the Imperial Capital to that extent.”

Selena shrugs and gives a sardonic smile, yet beneath the content of her words and expression, it’s clear she’s boiling with anger over that fact.

The existence of the Flying Dragon Corps that belongs to the upper noble of Dracloy is the core reason the Dracloy Territory is revered and feared within the Volakia Empire—indeed, the source of pride that mustn’t be harmed.

Even if a Dracloy subject were to commit vile deeds—or even conspire to assassinate the emperor—there must never arise any doubt about their abilities.

That is why—

“You have accepted this invitation. Those Flying Dragons dominating the sky are set to follow the dragon-human Madelin Eshault, enabling us to seize air supremacy.”

“While the captivating proposal from you isn’t the only reason for my acceptance… fulfilling that role is, at present, crucial for me. Consider it done. —My Flying Dragon Corps.”

“—”

“Continuously having our stage snatched by those sudden reinforcements isn’t something I appreciate.”

Having taken on the role expected of her, Selena readdresses her gaze towards the western battleground. Invited again by her words, Abel’s eyes narrow behind the demon mask.

As Selena pointed out, that group is entirely outside his expectations. To be frank, he wouldn’t welcome any deviation from the path he’s constructed, even if the battle situation tilts favorably.

“That group has been the center of commotion in the west from the Imperial Capital. You’ve heard about them, haven’t you?”

“That I have. However, I judged their goals unreadable, and given their reported position, I determined they wouldn’t reach the decisive battle in time. Therefore, I didn’t factor them into our strength.”

“In that case, they’ve overturned your expectations. I heard they ran day and night to make it to this battlefield.”

“—While I understand the reasoning, such actions seem beyond belief. How much running must be done to achieve that? Even if they do arrive, their ranks would surely be filled with too many defectors to fight effectively.”

The more numbers a group has, the more tiring it becomes just to move them.

As time passes without routes for sustaining a large army, supplies, and issues unrelated to combat, the fervor diminishes, fatigue builds, and hearts drift away from the banners raised high.

Bringing those kinds of fighters to the battlefield isn’t an easy task, and if they do reach the battlefield, they are unlikely to perform meaningfully.

However—

“Then, Demon Mask Commander, do you see them as low-spirited combatants?”

When Selena poses this question, Abel must deny what his own eyes have seen.

From a distance, the manner in which they stir up dust and charge into the enemy ranks appears entirely extraordinary. Even if the full extent of their battle cries isn’t audible, the echoes surely reach the command base.

To call those actions low-spirited is the ignorance of those who cannot perceive reality.

“I hear the leader is one of the ‘Black-Haired Princes’ causing a stir across the lands. I thought it laughable that Vincent’s offspring were scattered around, but it seems one of them has indeed begun to stand out.”

“—So that’s it.”

“Hmm?”

Narrowing his eyes at the billowing dust, Abel’s thoughts click into place.

Selena would have spoken of something she knows, but she tilts her head in response to Abel’s words. Yet Abel pays no heed to her suspicions, merely shutting one eye at the realization that blossomed within him.

A group that has arrived on this battlefield with an impossible degree of morale and unity—capitalizing on a distance thought untraversable; its essence is finally coming into view.

In other words—

“—At last, you’ve chosen to use your power properly.”

If so, it makes sense for this unexpected group arriving from the west to command such presence. And surely, it would be unexpected for the false emperor sitting on the Imperial Capital’s throne.

That “Black-Haired Prince,” possessing the rumored skills—at the very least, if he has the capability to portray himself that way.

“There is no need for us to intervene in the western battlefield. However, the pressing target remains the Third Pinnacle. I won’t be easing my grip. —Upper Noble Dracloy.”

Upon hearing her name, Selena replies, “I understand.”

Then she glances at Abel’s line of sight, watching the flying dragons dominate the sky, and says,

“Let us demonstrate the stark contrast between wild dragons and trained Dragon Corps under the gaze of His Majesty the Emperor.”

With that, she carries the wild smile of a rough warrior, completely unaware that the real emperor is standing next to her.

△▼△▼△▼△

From the rear, overseeing the battlefield’s entirety and keeping an eye on the disturbances occurring throughout—

The reinforcements visiting are led by Madelin Eshault, one of the dragon-human, who stands opposed to Selena Dracloy and her Flying Dragon Corps.

The ferocious flying dragons, who do not readily bond with humans without special secret techniques, fully unleash their original ferocity and threat, running rampant as a significant menace even in the capital’s defensive battle.

While Madelin appears to ensure no allies in the imperial army suffer any harm, the rough explanation from her and the undistinguishable flying dragons results in a situation where indiscriminate damage such as that inflicted during the siege of Castle City Gwararu does not occur.

Still, the threat of the claws and fangs soaring through the sky becomes a reminder of the rebels’ peril, with stones occasionally falling like bombs upon the earth, inflicting considerable harm.

That said, the attacks performed by the dragons only occur against warriors focusing more on the collective rather than individuals, and they can never intrude upon battles of overwhelming prowess.

Faced with the “Nine Divine Generals” guarding each Pinnacle and the elite rebels clashing directly with them, dragons have no avenue to interfere.

Thus—

“—I, Mezoleia, shall heed the call of my beloved child and become the wind from the skies.”

“—Icicle Line!!”

With both hands raised, Emilia carves out a white line of ice in her designated world before leaping.

A moment later, the ground where Emilia had stood seconds prior is swiftly swept away by the swishing tail, stripping the ground bare and evaporating the snow in an instant.

This is the manifestation of the famed dragon Mezoleia, called by the dragon-human Madelin, descending onto the battlefield with a terrifying presence.

“Mezoleia…!”

Emilia bites down on her jaw as she recalls that within the realm of the Volakia Empire, there’s a city with the exact same name, steeling her heart against the overwhelming might of the attack she barely evades.

Following the line of ice drawn by her “Icicle Line,” an ice wall rises loudly from the ground. Though it doesn’t reach the height of the castle walls surrounding the capital, it’s built high enough to prevent Mezoleia from escaping into the sky.

“Can’t let you all go meet the others!”

The temperature is plummeting—no, Emilia is actively making the battlefield colder, declaring her resolve while breathing out white mist.

To be honest, when called upon by Madelin, Emilia was quite troubled.

Just facing Madelin alone was already proving intensely challenging, and adding Mezoleia into the mix meant things would become exponentially more difficult.

However, Emilia’s intuition warned her that it would be tough to get anyone else’s help.

“If only I had someone like Priscilla who could blend in…”

Emilia isn’t particularly good at coordinating with those around her in battle. She’s bad at thinking while fighting. So, she respects those who can think while battling and believes she could cooperate well with such individuals.

Yet, in the current situation of fighting against Madelin and the others, that’s difficult as well.

“It’s only getting colder and colder!”

The ice barrier crafted from the “Icicle Line” not only aims to keep Mezoleia from escaping, but it’s also to restrict the area in which Emilia lowers the temperature.

This was a suggestion from Petra, noting that most Earth Dragons are weak to cold. If Flying Dragons and Water Dragons share roots with Earth Dragons, they might be vulnerable to the cold as well.

In reality, unlike Earth Dragons, the resilience of Flying Dragons soaring through cooler skies or Water Dragons traversing cold waters varies greatly, yet if it becomes cold enough to surpass those misconceptions, it would be irrelevant.

Now, the relentless chill generated by Emilia has already far exceeded those limits.

“—Just like when Pack entered his activation phase.”

There was a time when Pack’s mana leakage caused nearly frozen Roswaal’s Mansion before it could ignite, and the current chilling state of the battlefield is comparable.

Ordinary humans would have their hands numb and be unable to wield weapons, and even the strong would be affected to some extent.

Since she chose to fight this way, Emilia must stand alone.

At least, for this time.

“—I, Mezoleia, shall heed the call of my beloved child and become the wind from the skies.”

A low and heavy voice thunders from the sky, as if the vast heavens themselves are speaking, causing Emilia’s violet eyes to quiver.

With that proclamation from a supernal existence, the next moment delivers a strike that transcends human comprehension.

A simple tail sweep strips the ground, claws slice through space, and a great breath carries the power to suffocate half the city, a true incomprehensible force.

That is the nature of dragons—legends with whom Emilia has encountered twice in just a short span of time.

“—”

Wings unfurl and the ice wall Emilia erected splinters with ease. While not as tough as iron, her efforts had made it considerably solid, yet it’s shattered with simplicity, and before feeling disappointed or shocked, Emilia hastily dodges the incoming ice projectiles.

The blown-off chunks are transformed into a hailstorm of ice descending from the sky. If she carelessly collided with a chunk the size of her head, it would completely nullify her mobility against a dragon.

That is a detrimental injury for a little existence trying to fight the formidable power of a dragon.

“Yah! Whoa! Gah! That’s dangerous!”

Thus, Emilia dances gracefully to avoid the hail while using the ice sword and shield she crafted in a hurry to strike them away.

At that moment, her experience from battling the “Divine Dragon” Volcanica at the Pleiades Watchtower plays a significant role as she maintains her focus on her opponent.

The power of a dragon far exceeds anything Emilia and her companions could imagine, for even tiny movements that appear harmless could easily bring a world of danger.

“During my encounter with Volcanica, I could have been blown away by a mere breath.”

Remembering that moment, Emilia reaffirms that she is grateful to be here.

Not knowing how to battle dragons could lead one to fall apart with the initial incident outright. However, Emilia’s reminiscing of the fight against Mezoleia goes beyond just that.

Called forth by Madelin, the “Cloud Dragon” Mezoleia that cuts through the sky—is undoubtedly daunting, but of course, highly challenging.

“Mezoleia! Please, hear me out! I don’t want to fight with Madelin…”

“—I, Mezoleia, shall heed the call of my beloved child and become the wind from the skies.”

“Ugh, I knew it…”

Emilia raises her voice high to make her plea, yet Mezoleia disregards her, shaking its long beard while looking down at the tiny Emilia on the ground.

Facing that gaze head-on, with her slender body overflowing with fierce determination, Emilia grits her teeth against the truth she wholeheartedly feels real.

That is—

“—I, Mezoleia, shall heed the call of my beloved child and become the wind from the skies.”

“Just like Volcanica, you’re too old and forgot everything!”

This is her second encounter with the supernatural dragon—leading to an insightful realization that, much like the “Divine Dragon” encountered at the tower, the “Cloud Dragon” Mezoleia seems to have grown senile in its old age.