The Sword of Arad

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Chapter 48: Clash in the Birch Forest

Upon spotting Midi’s forces, General Red Fox immediately ordered pursuit.

The Crimson Flame Legion pushed through the sparse woodland, soldiers maintaining formation despite tricky terrain. They moved in ten-man squads that could quickly reinforce each other, advancing at steady pace.

Veteran centurions and commanders directed larger maneuvers without using revealing horns or flags. Instead, high-level knights used magic for communication – the legion had plentiful magicians now spread through hundred-man units as messengers.

This might look wasteful at first glance.

But only amateurs see magicians as mere artillery. Any real commander knows magic isn’t just about big explosions.

General Red Fox’s mastery showed in how seamlessly the legion moved through challenging terrain – streams, thickets, and towering trees limiting visibility. Though spread out, they maintained perfect formation, pressing forward like multiple sword thrusts piercing the woods at identical angles and speeds, leaving no gaps.

Even Midi acknowledged the Crimson Flame Legion as Belmar Duchy’s elite force, the Sais family’s sharpest weapon.

Yet their opponents were forest-wise elves and the unpredictable Mist Sorceress Alice.

Mist began creeping through the trees.

Not thick enough to blind, just dampening uniforms. But this thin fog let the Fog Demon’s "Feast of Night" blanket enormous territory.

Alice monitored the legion’s every move – encirclements, flanking attempts, forced marches – feeding all to Midi. Multiple vulnerabilities appeared, but Midi held back. Harassing Red Fox wouldn’t cause real damage here, and revealing their surveillance advantage risked counterattacks.

Instead, Midi retreated.

The elf Wind Guardian’s power let them outpace human pursuers. But this retreat hid calculated strikes – not against main forces, but against scattered scouts.

Scouts were the army’s eyes. More dead scouts meant slower reactions. Numbers favored neither side here – though Crimson Flame had many scouts, they worked alone or in six-man teams.

As Alice chanted cello-deep spells, the Fog Demon activated its second power: Enhancement.

Elves already surpassed humans in forest combat. Now boosted by subtle speed, stamina, and recovery boosts, their edge became decisive.

The hunt began.

A Crimson Flame scout crouched in treetops, green armor blending with foliage. A whisper of wind carried an arrow through his left eye. He died confused in the leaves.

"Bright green clothes in dark green canopy?" An elf scout scoffed, slinging his longbow. To elves, "green" meant fifty shades – jade, moss, olive, peacock, crystal…

Another Crimson Flame scout crept toward a bush where he’d spotted a hidden elf, aiming to eliminate this rival. Once a forest hunter familiar with elves, he felt certain of his stealth.

Yet the elf’s hearing proved extraordinary. As the scout drew his dagger, the elf lunged first. Their poisoned blades flashed in a lethal dance until the scout thought, baffled, *A lower-level assassin… how?* before a blade pierced his heart.

Victorious but wounded, the elf gasped as mist seeped into his injuries, neutralizing poison and sealing wounds visibly. Renewed, he vanished into the trees, leaving his foe’s wide-eyed corpse behind.

Such skirmishes erupted endlessly across Birch Forest. Though elves suffered losses, bloodshed only hardened their resolve. As scouts clashed more fiercely, the armies kept their distance—until General Red Fox, focused on pursuit, noticed his scouts’ staggering casualties.

"That runt’s waging guerrilla warfare!" Fenrir spat. "Recall the scouts!"

General Red Fox shook his head. "The forest isn’t endless. Press harder—no retreats."

Ignoring losses, the Crimson Flame Legion pursued like rabid hounds. At dusk, both forces emerged onto open plains where moonlight revealed all. "Nowhere left to run," the general growled. "Night attack tonight—keep scouts vigilant."

He knew the elves would be prepared. His exhausted troops might take heavy losses storming their camp. But with seven thousand against two thousand, relentless assaults would break them.

"Sir Fenrir," he addressed the blonde boy, "guard the camp tonight. Rest for tomorrow’s command."

"Porter!" Fenrir’s face darkened until the general added, "You’ll lead the main assault."

Joy replaced anger—commanding the Legion, even briefly, thrilled him.

"Tonight’s raid is critical," Red Fox continued. "I’ll spearhead it myself." His level 40 swordsman prowess would inspire the troops.

Campfires glowed across two distant highlands that night. Under darkness, 2,500 Crimson Flame soldiers flowed toward the elven camp. "Time to teach you real tactics, Midi Asreks," Red Fox muttered.

Ten minutes later, ghostly green eyes ignited in the abandoned Birch Forest—Nightblade Panthers on the move.