Chapter 49

To unravel the tangled threads of the army, neither elegant tactics nor superior strategies would suffice. The decisive factor was sheer brute force, the pure violence of tearing a single thread, which was Yogim's belief as he led the squad on the Orzerica Hill.

"Don't back down, if you retreat here, you'll die anyway!!"

That familiar voice resonated well even in the chaos. His bulging biceps kicked off the ground, and his pulsating biceps pushed forward his fists. His golden hair, following his agile movements, rippled and shimmered even in the gruesome battlefield. His narrowed, sharp eyes pierced the enemy provocatively. Many aimed for his beautiful wife, and it was his duty as a husband to remove the unsavory ones. Yogim, who had inserted himself, caught the tip of the spear aimed at Deborah's left side with the spine of his sword, and with a flick of his wrist, he slashed the enemy's throat.

"You!! You can handle that much!!"

Deborah, who had bluntly said this, struck the new enemy with her hammer spear. The raised round shield was shattered like candy, scattering the reinforcing wooden pieces. The enemy soldier thrust with his remaining arm, but the magic barrier, which had been sublimated to the skill "Vajra," deflected the weak sword like a twig. A blow to the temple sent the foot soldier sprawling unconscious.

Keeping his wife in his line of sight, Yogim changed the direction of the clashing swords and slid his blade. The high-pitched sound of steel being shaved off rang out as the blade cut through the inner wrist. The Felius soldier, who had dropped his weapon, instinctively protected his vulnerable neck. It was a reasonable decision to protect the neck, but he had raised his elbow too high. Stabbing the exposed armpit with his longsword, the enemy soldier collapsed in agony. If he had kept his guard up, he could have gained one or two more moves. Yogim, with his long experience as an adventurer, knew that such a moment could be fatal in a melee.

"There's no end to this, huh?"

Contrary to her earlier words, the shy wife shifted her half-body and leaned her back completely. Yogim was not so unsophisticated as to comment on it. They swung their weapons at a distance that did not hinder each other's movements. Those who tried to separate the couple with death were toyed with by their feints and left their corpses exposed.

Even desperate throws were deflected by Deborah's magic barrier and knocked down by Yogim's sword. "Intuition" was a prediction based on countless experiences. Compared to her physical skills like "Great Strength" and "Vajra," it was a modest ability, but it was useful for matching the initial movement before the cut.

Lowering his knees and leaning forward, Yogim stepped in without any preparatory motion. The soles of his boots, deeply embedded in the ground, converted the kick into pure propulsion. The Felius soldiers, who had been in step with the couple, twisted their faces in shock at the husband's sudden attack. Some raised their swords, and others still held their short spears. No great force was needed. He flicked his wrist up and down as if casting a fishing rod. The two men writhed as if they had stepped on a nail, pressing their throats to stop the gushing blood.

"K-kill them!!"

Yogim, pierced by the killing intent of the remaining enemies, took a step or two back. Countless blades were closing in. One more step and he would be ensnared by the blades. Still, he was not anxious. The reliable wind pressure and shadow he felt from behind gave him that much peace of mind.

"Back off!!"

The densely packed Felius soldiers were swept away by the mace. The armor of those hit directly was crushed as if run over by a wild boar, and those who received the shock were thrown to the ground. Yogim cut down the staggering soldiers from above. The blood that clung to his sword drew crimson streaks as he swiped through the air.

"You've never changed, always rushing in suddenly!!"

"Haha, you'll follow me no matter what."

"Don't be ridiculous!!"

Words were unnecessary in the battlefield, and Yogim felt a deep satisfaction in the seamless exchange of movements, akin to a silent understanding. He laughed off the scolding from his wife, and a sense of nostalgia welled up.

"Doing this makes me remember the old days."

"At a time like this, what are you talking about!!"

It was not a situation for light-hearted banter. The earthworks were about to be breached, and the battle had turned into a chaotic melee of friend and foe. The reliable imperial knights were locked in combat with the enemy's fierce general, and in front of the couple stood the Rehazen Knights, including the notorious deputy commander, Silas. The rumors of the reckless actions taken to reduce the demon territory and incorporate the old Felius forces had reached the land of Selta. They were truly in a dire situation.

Still, the shouts exchanged to confirm each other's presence brought back the fading youth. It was too bloody to reminisce about their past relationship, but it was the time they had lived. They would not have remembered it in a peaceful world, no matter how they tried to cover it up.

"Especially in times like this."

"You've always been more reckless than me."

The blood spilled on the battlefield was grim and without redemption. He had no intention of getting drunk on the bloodshed. Still, there was a charm in his wife that could only be experienced there, and an excitement that could only be achieved there. The spears piercing their backs, the arrows grazing them, and the roars of anger awakened the dormant fighting spirit. They complemented each other's strengths and negated each other's weaknesses. It was more exhilarating than any other joint effort.

"We can't show this to our son."

Yogim, baring his fangs in a fierce grin, mocked himself. Though he was often criticized for his unreliable demeanor and behavior, he was acutely aware that he and his wife were very similar in the heat of battle. This commonality was a secret joy for him.

"Ah, no, Worm will say we're overprotective."

Deborah said this with a sigh. Even without saying it, he knew. Mois was their child, and he had been reformed by one of the finest knights of the Haiselk Empire. It was time for him to leave their hands and mature. A hint of loneliness welled up in Yogim, but there was no time to indulge in sentimentality.

"Don't talk about your lovey-dovey stuff on the battlefield!!"

An out-of-place, angry voice echoed through the family time. It was Silas, the deputy commander of the Rehazen Knights, directing the general attack on the pass. In such a confined melee, the commander's role was limited, and he had come out to eliminate the direct threat. Attractive women like Deborah always had admirers. Yogim was used to escorting her and dealing with the interlopers.

"This is a battle that will decide the fate of the nation!? I won't let it be reduced to a joke for a couple!!"

Yogim deflected the halberd, which shimmered with magic, and parried the thrust during the retraction with the spine of his sword. He had intended to take a finger, but there was no opening in the straightforward spear handling.

"You're different from the men who only talked big before."

"What, do you want me so much?"

To the passionate declaration, Deborah pulled back and asked with a sidelong glance.

"Unrequited love is not in fashion."

His wife, who tempted the man's sadistic desires, was a problem. Yogim gently put her in her place. What he lacked now was deep love. The power of love was always great.

"Sh-shameless fools!! Show me your guts!!"

With bloodshot eyes and a voice that seemed to tear his throat, Silas roared. The opponents were the deputy commander of the Rehazen Knights and his retinue, the ultimate obstacles in the couple's life.