Chapter 55
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Chapter 55: Final Confrontation at Elvin
After a night attack, the Crimson Flame Legion’s pursuing forces dropped sharply from seven thousand to just under six thousand.
Yet days later, Midi faced a renewed pursuit of seven thousand five hundred soldiers.
The enemy’s numbers had grown because General Red Fox had called for reinforcements.
He would never ask the Sais family for aid—attacking a small count’s territory with ten thousand troops, losing an allied territory, then begging for help? Such failure would cost him his command.
Instead, he drew troops from York County.
Half of the three thousand stationed there were taken, leaving Quinn Joseph’s battered thousand-man unit and five hundred injured remnants behind.
Now bolstered, General Red Fox resumed his aggressive chase.
No tricks this time—just relentless flanking and frontal assaults, leveraging sheer numbers and disciplined coordination to shrink the Elves’ battlefield. Even when winning, he avoided risks, wary of Midi’s cunning tactics that could reverse the situation.
Midi, too, refrained from ambushes against the Legion’s iron defense. Retreating further was futile, as skirmishes during pursuit only drained his smaller force with equal casualties.
The Elven army pushed onward, reaching Elvin Town five days after the night raid.
Long abandoned, the town’s empty buildings and tangled streets formed a maze—ideal for evening the odds against a larger army.
Timing their arrival at sunset to avoid night combat, the Elves rested while hunters set traps under elder guidance. As Midi fortified defenses, the seven thousand five hundred-strong Crimson Flame Legion marched toward Elvin.
A day later, they loomed southwest of the town.
At dawn, Midi atop his Blood Fang Panther peered through wooden barricades. The rising sun cast a golden glow over the land, driving away shadows.
A distant horn’s wail echoed like a call from hell.
Midi’s sharp gaze caught the crimson flame banner rising over southwestern hills, flapping fiercely in the cold wind. Beneath it, a forest of blades and spears gleamed under pale light, their tips piercing the sky.
The Elven warriors around him tensed, breaths shallow. Even steady Klasty tightened his grip on his Spinning Blade, a chill in his heart.
No night to hide them.
No clever tactics to tilt the scales.
Only a brutal, direct clash where survival demanded blood. Fear was natural—none truly welcomed death.
Then Midi’s calm voice cut through the silence.
“Before we fight, I apologize. Though our fates are tied, this is my war, yet you spill your blood for it,” he said. “Thank you. Without Alice and your sacrifices, the Asreks family would have fallen long ago.”
The Elven captains exchanged glances. They’d expected a rousing speech, not this raw honesty—admitting they fought for a near-stranger. Yet his sincerity struck deeper than empty words.
Klasty studied the black-haired boy—half his age, yet unwavering—and smiled.
“We fight for ourselves,” he corrected. “Our tribe clings to the forest while danger grows. This is our chance to step onto the world’s stage. Just lead us to fertile lands after victory, human.”
Other Elves nodded. Though the Forest of Gran still stood, they’d felt creeping dread, a need to act. Midi offered that chance.
“Thank you,” Midi said. Then his eyes blazed with conviction. “Now—fight with everything!”
“Fight to the end!” they roared, resolve hardening. Since joining Midi, they’d never lost. Why fear now?
“Victory!”
The cry erupted like thunder, spreading through ranks. Their eyes fixed on Midi’s back—always leading, always calm—and courage surged.
The roar shook the earth, unsettling the advancing Crimson Flame Legion.
Beneath the flaming banner, General Red Fox in crimson armor glared, torn between anger and smugness.
“Midi Asreks! What can two thousand do against me?” he sneered. “Lose once, and you’re finished. Today, you die!”
His longsword slashed downward.
The blood-red banner lurched forward. War drums boomed, driving the Legion like a flood toward Elvin Town.
