Lord Summoner's Freedom Philosophy: Grimoire of Love
Chapter 423: We’re Taking The First Blood

Chapter 423: We’re Taking The First Blood

The morning sun crept slowly over the horizon, its soft light illuminating the battlefield. The first rays of light touched the glinting armor and weapons of both armies, who stood ready for the first major clash of the war. Tension hung thick in the air, a palpable force that settled heavy in everyone’s chest. Lyan stood silently, taking in the sight of his troops preparing themselves. His elite forces, hardened by years of experience and bonded by a shared purpose, waited for his command. Wilhelmina and the Valkyries stood beside him, their expressions hard and determined, each knowing the gravity of the coming battle.

Across the field, Varzadian forces moved with practiced precision, their commanders shouting orders as they readied themselves for an advance. They were confident, eager to push deeper into Astellian territory, and Lyan could see the arrogance in the way they moved. They thought they had the upper hand, that this would be the first of many victories. Lyan was determined to prove them wrong.

Abraham emerged from the tree line, moving swiftly towards Lyan. His face was set in a grim expression, his eyes sharp as he approached. He moved with the grace of a predator, his steps silent, even on the uneven ground. There was a hardness to his eyes that spoke of urgency, a quiet resolve that Lyan knew all too well.

"Milord," he said, his voice low, "there’s something you need to know. There’s a group of Varzadian soldiers moving around our defenses. They’re trying to flank us."

Lyan’s brow furrowed as he processed the information. It wasn’t unexpected, but it complicated things. He turned to Wilhelmina and the Valkyries, his gaze steady. "We have an unknown force trying to flank us. Abraham, I want you to take a small group to intercept them. They could be bait, trying to draw our attention away from the main battle. Be cautious."

Abraham nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Understood. We’ll handle it." He turned and swiftly moved back towards the tree line, his form almost melting into the shadows as he gathered a small group of scouts and light infantry, quickly briefing them on their task.

Lyan watched as Abraham gathered his men, his heart pounding in his chest. He turned his focus back to the battlefield, his eyes narrowing as he watched the Varzadian troops shifting into position. The wind was still, the only sound the rustle of armor and the low murmur of orders being given. The tension grew with each passing second, a pressure that seemed to build until it was almost unbearable.

Wilhelmina stepped closer, her eyes meeting Lyan’s. "What’s the plan?" she asked, her voice calm but tinged with anticipation.

"We stick to the strategy," Lyan said, his gaze focused. "Our archers will target their front lines, and we hold our ground until they make a move. If they want to take these ridges, they’re going to have to pay dearly for it."

Wilhelmina nodded, her eyes narrowing as she looked out over the battlefield. "They’ll regret underestimating us," she said, her voice filled with determination. There was a fire in her eyes, a fierce resolve that made Lyan feel reassured.

The Astellian archers had already taken their positions along the elevated terrain, their bows drawn and ready. They waited, every muscle tense, their eyes focused on the advancing enemy. Lyan raised his hand, his fingers curling into a fist. He waited, watching the Varzadian forces as they moved closer, their formations tight and disciplined.

"Now," he said, his voice barely a whisper as he brought his hand down.

A volley of arrows shot into the air, the sound of the bowstrings snapping filling the silence. The arrows arced gracefully through the sky before descending upon the Varzadian lines. Cries of pain echoed across the battlefield as the arrows struck their marks, the first blood of the battle drawn. The Varzadian troops responded immediately, their commanders shouting orders, urging their men forward.

The Varzadian forces surged towards the ridges, their intent clear. They wanted to break through Astellia’s elevated defenses, to gain the high ground. Lyan watched as the enemy charged, his expression calm, his mind working quickly. "Light infantry, hold the line!" he shouted, his voice carrying over the chaos.

The Astellian light infantry moved into position, their shields raised as they braced themselves for impact. The Varzadian soldiers crashed into them, the sound of metal clashing against metal filling the air. The Astellians held their ground, their shields locked together, their spears thrusting forward, meeting the Varzadian charge head-on. The impact was intense, a brutal clash of strength and determination, neither side willing to give an inch.

On the ridges, boulders were rolled down towards the attacking Varzadians, crushing their ranks, breaking their momentum. Tar was poured over the edges, ignited by arrows, creating walls of flame that forced the enemy to break formation, to scatter. The heat of the flames, the acrid smoke rising into the air, added to the chaos of the battle, disorienting the Varzadian forces.

Lyan’s eyes narrowed as he noticed movement at the back of the Varzadian lines. His gaze sharpened, his breath catching slightly as he realized what he was seeing. Siege engines—massive structures rolling into view, their size dwarfing the soldiers around them. They had been hidden, kept out of sight until the right moment. The enemy intended to use brute force to break through their lines.

"Belle, Alina," Lyan called, his eyes not leaving the siege engines. "Focus your spells on those siege weapons. We can’t let them break our defenses."

Further back, Belle and Alina stood among the other mages, their eyes meeting Lyan’s. Belle gave a determined nod, her hands already moving as she began to cast her spell. The air around her shimmered, her magic weaving an illusion that disoriented the Varzadian soldiers, causing confusion and chaos among their ranks. She could feel the strain of the magic, her brow furrowing in concentration, but she pushed through it, her determination unwavering.

Alina, her dark eyes focused, added her own magic to the mix, her hands moving in intricate patterns as she summoned a poisonous swamp beneath the siege engines. The ground turned to a dark, bubbling mire that slowed their advance, the thick, viscous liquid pulling at the massive wheels of the siege weapons, making them grind to a halt. She could feel the power coursing through her, the dark magic responding to her command, and she poured everything she had into it, determined to protect their home.

The combined magic disrupted the enemy’s efforts, the siege engines grinding to a halt as the Varzadian soldiers struggled to free them from the thick, poisonous muck. It was a moment of reprieve, a chance for Astellia to regroup, to push back against the Varzadian advance. The enemy’s confidence began to wane, their momentum faltering as they struggled against the unexpected obstacles.

Lyan watched the battlefield, his mind racing. Something felt wrong. The Varzadian troops were disorganized, their movements sloppy, their attacks poorly coordinated. It felt deliberate, as if they were trying to draw Astellia’s attention to the wrong place. His instincts screamed at him, warning him that there was more at play here than what they could see.

Abraham’s group had moved swiftly to intercept the rogue force, their movements silent and efficient. They found the Varzadian soldiers just as they were attempting to move around Astellia’s defenses. The battle that ensued was fierce, but it quickly became clear that this force was not what they seemed. They were poorly equipped, their tactics clumsy. Abraham’s eyes narrowed as he realized the truth—this was a decoy.

"It’s a trap," Abraham muttered, his eyes scanning the surrounding forest. He could feel it, the presence of something more—something hidden. And then he saw them, moving through the trees with practiced stealth. A Varzadian elite unit, their armor dark and unmarked, slipping towards the undefended flank of Astellia’s main position.

Back at the main battlefield, Lyan’s eyes widened as he sensed the shift. His instincts screamed at him, the feeling that something was wrong growing stronger. He turned his gaze towards the forest, his eyes narrowing as he caught sight of movement. The elite unit, moving with purpose, their target clear.

He raised his hand, giving a hidden signal. Surena and Emilia, who had been lying in wait with their forces, received the command. Without hesitation, they moved, their soldiers emerging from their concealed positions, cutting off the Varzadian elite unit before they could reach their target.

The clash was immediate and brutal. The Varzadian elites were well-trained, their movements precise, their strikes deadly. But Surena and Emilia fought with a fierce determination, their blades flashing as they engaged the enemy. The Astellian soldiers moved with them, their attacks coordinated, their movements fluid as they fought to protect their home. The battle was fierce, the sounds of metal clashing against metal, the cries of pain, filling the air. It was a struggle of skill and will, neither side willing to back down.

Wilhelmina led the Valkyries into the heart of the Varzadian main force, her blade moving with lethal precision. She struck down key officers, her eyes focused, her movements swift. Each enemy that fell added to the confusion, the disarray spreading through the Varzadian ranks as their chain of command crumbled. The Valkyries fought with a unity that was almost terrifying, their presence a force of nature on the battlefield. They moved like a storm, sweeping through the enemy, leaving chaos in their wake.

Lyan moved with his vanguard, striking and retreating, never staying in one place for too long. They fought like ghosts, appearing and disappearing, giving the Varzadian troops no chance to regroup, no chance to catch their breath. The terrain was their ally, the ridges and forests providing cover, allowing them to strike and vanish before the enemy could respond. Lyan’s glaive moved with precision, each strike deliberate, each movement calculated. He could feel the weight of the battle, the tension that hung in the air, but he pushed through it, his focus unwavering.

The Varzadian commander, his face twisted in frustration, shouted orders, trying to rally his troops. He could see his forces faltering, the elite unit ambushed, the main force scattered. Desperation drove him, his eyes narrowing as he raised his sword, calling for one final push. The Varzadian soldiers, their morale low, hesitated, but they obeyed, their movements sluggish as they prepared for one last surge.

Lyan saw the opening—a gap in the enemy’s formation, a chance to deal a decisive blow. He turned to Wilhelmina, his eyes meeting hers, a silent understanding passing between them. This was their moment.

"With me!" Lyan shouted, his voice ringing out over the battlefield.

Wilhelmina and the Valkyries moved with him, their steps quick and sure as they pushed forward. They broke through the enemy lines, their blades cutting through the Varzadian defenses. The enemy commander, his eyes widening in shock, tried to rally his men, but it was too late. The Astellian forces had found their mark.

And then, suddenly, the Varzadian horns sounded—a call for retreat. The enemy began to pull back, their movements frantic as they tried to escape the Astellian assault. The first blood had been drawn, and it belonged to Astellia.

Lyan stood at the front of his troops, his breath heavy, his eyes focused on the retreating enemy. He raised his glaive, his voice filled with determination as he spoke.

"This is our chance! We’re taking the first blood!"