The history of weapons was not linear.

People often mistook evolution for something that transformed into a better being, but such a notion was merely an illusion confined to the creatures in their pockets.

Evolution was that which survived.

It did not matter whether it was due to sharp teeth, immense reproductive power, or swift legs. Extinction did not show mercy to the weak, nor did it delay for the strong. Humans survived thanks to their cooperative nature and collective intelligence, not because individuals were exceptionally skilled.

The same held true for war and weapons.

No single type of weapon could hold the title of the strongest for long. Humanitys malevolence was always ready to dethrone the mightiest to kill and slaughter the enemy more easily.

The cavalry of the Olkan Code, which once plunged the continent into terror and could have brought about ruin again, faced the same fate.

Isaac, who had already grasped the strategies against the strongest, had prepared countermeasures.

Pull!

What the cavalry that had just ascended the stone hill discovered were stakes that suddenly sprung from the rubble below.

Crash! The horses that collided with the sharp-tipped stakes were impaled alongside their riders, meeting a gruesome end.

The wall, which had collapsed to a nearly flat state, became an obstacle that obstructed the cavalrys view. Horses fell pathetically upon similar obstacles strewn all around. Realizing belatedly that the cavalrys charge had been thwarted, the centurions swiftly commanded.

There are stakes behind the walls! Shoot your arrows!

Instead of recklessly crossing the hill, the cavalry fired arrows while bypassing the obstacles. The orc light cavalry were not only skilled in swordsmanship but were also excellent archers.

This was a given, considering they had accumulated countless experiences through reincarnation.

However, even they could not shoot accurately without a clear view. No screams were heard from beyond the hill, prompting the centurions to send scouts to verify.

There is no one here!

Damn it

The enemies had fled right after setting up the stakes. The centurions, who had expected the enemies to either fight along the wall or at least near the stakes, were dumbfounded.

Something was off about these enemies.

Something feels wrong. Lets split into three groups.

Another centurion agreed, so they proceeded without further objection, entering through the main gate, the south gate, and the collapsed wall. Regardless, the collapse made no significant difference. The light cavalry who entered Seor were once again taken aback by the situation within the city.

The city had been devastated by bombardment, limiting the available paths.

No matter how skilled in horseback riding, there were limits to overcoming obstacles.

Damn it couldnt they have smashed it less?

Normally, after such destruction, the enemy would have surrendered or been trembling in fear. However, these enemies were waiting for them with intense murderous intent. The orc cavalry had to recall their unfamiliar experiences of urban warfare.

There are many spots suitable for ambushes. Be cautious.

At that moment, as if waiting for those words, a group of archers appeared atop a ruined building and shot arrows at the orc cavalry.

Thwack! Despite the sudden attack, the damage was minimal. The arrows could not penetrate the tough hide of the orcs deeply, merely startling the horses.

Instead, the orcs scoffed, swiftly riding towards the archers and shooting back, taking down a few of them.

Chase them!

The archers, who had been lying in ambush, began to flee urgently. The centurion, seeing their poor armament and skill, assumed they were at best militia.

Hence, he did not anticipate the sniper shot at all.

Thunk. The centurions head was impaled by a crossbow bolt, pinning it to the opposite wall. The force broke his neck, causing his body to dangle like a puppet. The centurion, who died instantly, could only see his death in his soul state.

There is a formidable sniper! Break through quickly!

Though the cavalry were alarmed by the loss of their centurion, another took command immediately. Sniping was not a novel concept for these marksmen. Arrows blessed by their ancestors protection could penetrate even mountains.

But now, they couldnt even determine where the shots were coming from.

The only way to avoid being sniped was to eliminate the sniper. If that wasnt possible, they had to leave the area as quickly as possible.

The orc cavalry pursued the archers while simultaneously dealing with the bizarre notion of evading archers, sprinting at full speed.

It was not easy to chase in the bombardment-ravaged streets while avoiding debris, but they soon caught up with the fleeing soldiers.

Flee all you want, youll just show us where theyre hiding

They anticipated an ambush.

These seasoned veteran warriors welcomed close-quarters combat.

Hence, when they saw the soldiers and barricades lined up at the end of the alley, they sneered. Such obstacles had long been overcome.

The leading orc cavalry swiftly shot arrows at the waiting soldiers behind the barricades. The arrows were blocked by large square shields, but in the meantime, the second row of orcs hooked chains onto the barricades and pulled them down in one go. Barricades were strong against impact but not built to withstand prolonged pressure. The hastily constructed walls crumbled easily.

Seeing the soldiers panicked faces, the orcs smiled cruelly.

They charged through the alley to slaughter the fleeing soldiers, storming into the square.

However, what they encountered was another group of orcs charging in from the opposite side.

What? You were supposed to come from the south gate

Whats going on? Why are you here?

Regroup, regroup!

The square turned into chaos as numerous cavalry units from different commands and leaders got entangled, disrupting communication and reporting. Meanwhile, more guards flooded in, further congesting the square.

The thought that crossed the centurions minds was singular.

Trap.

The ruins and intricate alleys of Seor were designed to funnel them into one place. The occasional ambushes and delaying tactics were also meant to herd them at the right time.

Is this even a trap?

They had anticipated ambushes in this location and charged in anyway.

They intended to swiftly crush and defeat the enemies, even at the cost of some losses, to secure the area.

Thus, their congregation in one place only meant their victory would be more certain.

However, the centurion smelled something foul beneath the pervasive scent of burning Loracus in the air.

Alcohol.

A flaming arrow shot by someone ignited the high-proof alcohol scattered on the ground. The vaporized alcohol burst into flames in an instant. Gunpowder collected by the remaining forces of Seor exploded with a deafening sound. The already chaotic square was thrown into further disarray by the shockwaves and flames.

Its a small explosion! The bastards are playing tricks! Calm the horses!

The centurions desperately tried to control their troops. Indeed, there wasnt enough fuel in Seor to incinerate thousands at once.

But the purpose of this trap wasnt that.

Isaac had instructed Jacquette and Gebel, who were in charge of Seors defense, to induce confusion.

To mix everything into utter chaos.

Paladins!

On one side of the square, the Paladin Order appeared, their armor gleaming. The Briant Paladins began chanting hymns in unison. As if responding to their song, the flames burning across the square blazed even brighter.

Though experienced orcs might remain calm, their horses could not. Covered in fur and unable to reincarnate, the horses went berserk, spreading panic to the other horses.

Alongside the Paladin Order, soldiers marched out in formation from the direction of the city hall. Armed with long scythes and axes, the soldiers charged at the disoriented cavalry.

A soldier wielding a long scythe struck an orc from behind, pulling him down, while another with an axe split the orcs head. The series of actions proceeded methodically. Some soldiers fell to the desperate counterattacks of the orcs. However, in the chaotic situation, the orcs, crammed into a narrow space, couldnt mount an organized counterattack.

The shouts of the centurions trying to pull back and the soldiers floundering in confusion were all mixed up, creating a complete mess.

Dismount! Get off your horses and fight! They are mere conscripts, not even half as strong as us! Kill them!

Meanwhile, the centurions quickly assessed the soldiers level and equipment. Aside from the paladins, they were nothing special. One centurion, as if to prove this, swiftly charged at an old man in shabby attire standing at the forefront.

However, in the next moment, the mans eyes gleamed.

As Gebel slashed his sword from top to bottom, the centurion and his horse were instantly cleaved in two.

The shocking sight made even the soldiers about to charge hesitate.

The centurion was losing his mind.

The enemy was supposedly insignificant, and they outnumbered them in numbers, quality, and morale. Yet, he couldnt understand why he felt like they were losing. As he took out his horn to order another charge, he coughed up blood instead of breath, feeling a sharp pain in his neck.

It was the red arrow he had seen earlier.

Only then did he realize he was the last remaining centurion. The enemies had been systematically removing the heads of the Olkan Code forces.

From the beginning, their reason was simple.

To draw in more orcs.

At that moment, a shout marking the end of the battle echoed.

Shaman General Kirmas has been defeated! The shamans have been killed in the enemys ambush!

And that was it.

The centurions last consciousness was trampled under the fleeing orcs feet in horror. His soul might wander in search of the shaman, but it was uncertain whether he would arrive in time.

***

When the opponent is superior, there is only one way to win.

Make them less competent than they are. Blind them, deafen them, bind their hands, and restrain their feet.

Isaacs forces systematically achieved this.

They neutralized the cannons, captured the commander, killed the shamans, lured them into narrow alleys, disrupted the command structure, and made them abandon their horses and weapons. In the history of the Olkan Code, they had never been so incompetent, but it was Isaacs strategy that led to this incompetence.

And this was his final operation.

Isaac knew this method would not work again. The shamans would be more thoroughly protected, gunpowder wouldnt be wasted, and they wouldnt charge into an unfamiliar city on horseback again until Isaac found another way to render them incompetent.

The opponent in front of him, Atlan, was far from incompetent.

The hero of the Olkan Code the right hand of Khan.

The saying that he was Khans proclaimed son was a sort of joke. The Olkan Code did not value their offspring highly. It would be difficult for even the most motherly woman to see an old mans soul inside a baby as her son.

But Atlan was truly special.

Because he was the fruit of love between Khan and his beloved steed.

Therefore, no one could call Atlan Khans child. All the Kesik were infertile, and that was a fact.

The two observed each other in silence for a while, recognizing each other as formidable opponents. Isaac thought that if Atlan had been a follower of Elil, he might have become a swordmaster long ago.

How long are you going to keep staring, Paladin

As soon as Atlans lips parted, Isaacs eyes flashed, and he lunged.

As expected, Atlan barely managed to block Isaacs sword.

A slight tremor flickered across his lips.

Isaac immediately activated Drowned Hand, shaking Atlans body. Just when it seemed his balance would collapse, Atlan instead stomped hard, charging at Isaac. When he raised his scimitar as if to slash down, Isaacs gaze was drawn upwards.

In that moment, Atlans front hoof struck Isaacs chest with a powerful blow.

Isaac felt as if he had been hit by a battering ram and staggered backward.

Atlan did not miss this opening and continued his barrage of attacks. Isaac felt a sense of injustice. Atlan moved his four legs nimbly, maintained his balance, and had more mass. With each clash of swords, it was Isaac who was repelled.

Atlan surpassed him in speed and stamina.

If only I were born as robust as that! No, come to think of it, I am a Paladin, right? Then I should use a miracle.

There was no reason to fight honorably, especially since it wasnt a duel with Elil.

He hadnt held back on miracles even in his duel with Elil.

Isaac gripped his sword with both hands and swung it while scattering the Color Beyond towards Atlans head. However, Atlan, as if expecting this, took a deep breath and blew away the color with his tremendous lung capacity.

But Isaacs aim was elsewhere. He twisted his left hand slightly, summoning the Clutch of the Abyss from within the dissipated Color Beyond.

Crash! A tentacle, almost as large as Atlans horse body, sprang forth, wrapping around him and slamming him into a massive tree. Atlans body writhed, bleeding profusely from beneath the tentacle.