The Immortal Genius Spearman

Chapter 154

The gravity of the situation called for an emergency meeting in the Baroque Kingdom.

Though both kingdoms would send royal hostages as part of the agreement, the matter was undeniably sensitive.

“Send him,” declared Venzerden III of Baroque, king of the realm.

“May I ask whom Your Majesty has in mind?” Matheurs Jankoff, the chancellor, inquired cautiously.

Venzerden III paused for a moment as though weighing his options, then spoke.

“My second son.”

“...?!”

The court officials exchanged stunned glances.

The king’s second son, Plytz Baroque, was young but exceptionally gifted.

A prodigy in multiple fields, Plytz excelled not only in the arts and literature but also in swordsmanship and even magic.

He was a figure of almost limitless potential, someone who could have easily been crowned heir if not for the constraints of being the second prince.

And now, the king was proposing to send such a talent as a hostage to Artian?

"Could it be...?"

Matheurs' eyes trembled slightly. Perhaps there was a deeper reason behind the king’s decision.

He turned his gaze toward Venzerden.

The king, silent and composed, seemed to be awaiting confirmation of his choice.

Matheurs finally broke the silence.

“…As you wish, Your Majesty.”

“Do you have any objections?” Venzerden asked, directing his question at Matheurs.

Shaking his head, Matheurs replied, “I would not presume to question Your Majesty’s judgment. You always make wise decisions.”

“Good. Then I assume that all of you are in agreement?”

Though the king’s question carried a subtle edge, its meaning was unmistakable.

"He’s seeking affirmation for the future."

It was a subtle but powerful move to ensure that Plytz’s standing as a potential future king would be uncontested.

“Yes, Your Majesty. We all support your decision and express our utmost respect,” Matheurs began, prompting the other officials to follow suit.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“We are in agreement.”

Their unanimous response brought a faint smile to Venzerden’s lips.

“Then it is decided. Plytz Baroque will be sent to Artian.”

With the Baroque Kingdom sending their prince, Artian was expected to reciprocate by sending a royal of equivalent status.

This would solidify the alliance between the two kingdoms, allowing Artian’s forces to pass through Baroque territory on their way to the Empire.

News of the decision quickly spread across the continent.

In Valphate, the northernmost outpost, the announcement reached Leonhark and his unit swiftly.

As an independent division directly under the 6th Corps, they were among the first to receive sensitive updates regarding the war.

Leonhark immediately summoned Damian to his office.

“What’s the situation?” Damian asked upon entering.

“It seems the alliance between the Baroque and Artian Kingdoms is all but confirmed. Everything should be finalized within one or two weeks.”

“And after that… we march on the Empire?”

“Exactly.”

The frontlines had maintained a watchful eye on the Empire, wary of potential attacks. But now, the situation has shifted.

“This time, it seems we’ll be on the offensive.”

Damian’s eyes glinted sharply at the news.

At last, an opportunity to step into the Empire—a chance to turn the tables and show them that war could touch their lands as well.

“From now on, we’ll lower the intensity of training,” Leonhark continued. “You’re all already in prime condition. Maintaining your current state will suffice to make a significant impact on the battlefield.”

“Understood.”

“I’ll inform you if any further updates arrive.”

“Thank you,” Damian said with a nod before heading back to the barracks.

When Damian returned to the barracks, the soldiers immediately swarmed him with questions.

“Is it finally time to deploy?”

“Are we going out soon?”

They were well aware of the escalating tension. After more than a month of relentless training and the recent influx of messengers, the signs were unmistakable.

Damian nodded.

“It seems so. Focus on keeping yourselves ready.”

“Hah… Finally, the world will witness the might of the great Max!”

“Pfft, the might of Max? Don’t make me laugh, you blockhead.”

“What did you say?!”

“Don’t get cocky, idiot. Just stay behind me and let me handle everything.”

“You wanna settle this right now?”

“Oh, you’re on!”

Excitement over the impending deployment quickly turned the barracks into a lively mess.

Damian chuckled at the chaos before stepping outside.

As he walked out, Dianal followed him, a determined look on his face.

“Is it true? Are we really marching on the Empire?” Dianal asked.

Damian glanced at him. Among all his subordinates, Dianal had changed the most in the short time since joining the unit.

"This guy..."

Dianal had long since surpassed his former self. His swordsmanship was now razor-sharp and unrelenting. No longer was he a man who would meet a meaningless death—

"Now, he’s someone who’ll tear through those bastards and thrive."

And Damian would be right there beside him.

“Yes, it’s true,” Damian confirmed.

Hearing this, Dianal clenched his fist tightly.

Damian noticed the gesture and asked, “Why are you so fixated on the Empire? Do you have a reason?”

“Do you, Damian? Do you have a reason for your fixation?” Dianal replied.

“……”

“My goal is simply to follow your path, Damian, and to stand by your side. That alone is enough for me,” Dianal said.

And for that purpose, he would remove anything that stood in the way—even if it was the Empire itself.

Though simple, Dianal’s answer was resolute, and Damian nodded at his determination.

“This decision might come sooner than we think. Make sure to keep yourself in top condition,” Damian instructed.

“Yes, sir.”

To be ready to give everything on the battlefield.

Damian returned to his office and cast his gaze upon the long pole hanging on the wall.

The weapon was crafted for him by Torrel.

He pressed the button in the middle of the staff, infusing it with mana.

Clang!

With a sharp metallic sound, the staff extended on both ends, revealing a long spearhead on one side.

It was impeccably maintained, free of even a speck of dust. As Damian looked at the weapon, he closed his eyes.

"Finally…"

Though he hadn’t let it show in front of his subordinates, Damian’s heart raced the most at the prospect of this march into the Empire.

Because there, he might finally meet—

"Calon Xanthos."

The monster who had slaughtered his comrades and trampled his kingdom in the past.

“Just wait a little longer,” Damian muttered.

Could he defeat Calon if they crossed paths? He had only recently learned to wield Aura, and even then, he could only use it sparingly.

But Damian shook his head.

It didn’t matter.

There was still time before their meeting.

For now, he focused on one thing:

“I’ll concentrate on what I can do today.”

So that tomorrow, he could be stronger than he was today.

Gripping his spear tightly, Damian walked alone to the training grounds.

***

The alliance between the Baroque and Artian Kingdoms was officially established.

Each kingdom sent a prince as a royal hostage to the other.

Although the arrangement was framed as an opportunity to learn and understand each other’s cultures, everyone knew the truth—it was a hostage exchange.

“Plytz Baroque? The second prince of the Baroque Kingdom is coming here?”

“Yes, General,” answered the man before her with a polite bow.

Celestine Favela, Artian Kingdom’s second Aura Master and the continent’s only female Aura Master, nodded thoughtfully.

“What about Henry? Will he be joining them?”

“There’s a strong likelihood, given His Majesty’s fury toward the Empire after the last invasion,” replied her adjutant, Richel.

The Artian king’s anger was palpable after the Empire’s assault had pushed Kalen Diego to the brink of death, though it had ultimately resulted in the Empire’s forces being repelled.

“That’s why the alliance was expedited,” Celestine muttered.

With Kalen injured, she would now lead the army.

However, her deployment left the kingdom without an active Aura Master to defend it.

If the Empire launched a counteroffensive with their own Aura Master, the Artian Kingdom could suffer irreparable damage.

To mitigate this risk, dozens of reconnaissance ships patrolled the nearby waters, maintaining constant vigilance.

If the Empire attempted a naval assault, the kingdom would have advance warning.

And in the worst-case scenario, they could always request aid from the Baroque Kingdom.

Standing before a mirror, Celestine straightened the collar of her uniform and adjusted her sleeves.

After meeting with the king, she would depart for the frontlines.

“This will be a major battle,” she said quietly.

It might even be a war that would echo through history. At the forefront of that battlefield, her name—Celestine Favela—would be remembered forever.

“Let’s go.”

“Yes, General,” Richel replied, falling in step as Celestine headed toward the royal palace, her stride filled with determination.

***

“Has the decision been made?”

“Yes,” came Edmund’s reply as Kiaran rose from her seat.

Her immaculate uniform seemed to reflect the gravity of her resolve.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Since the allied commander hasn’t been appointed yet, our exact position is unclear. But it’s likely we’ll move east,” Edmund speculated.

“We’ll join forces with the Iren and Tirkan Kingdoms?”

“Given the state of our forces, that seems most likely.”

Kiaran nodded. While consolidating their troops into one massive force was an option, it was unlikely they would begin their campaign in such a manner.

"The key is to divide our forces and advance quickly…"

Their first major objective would be Everblade, a city located in the central region of the Empire.

Everblade was a strategic chokepoint. If they failed to seize it, their march on the Imperial capital, Jutermel, would be severely hindered.

“Securing Everblade quickly is essential.”

The 6th Corps, known for their extensive experience against the Empire and familiarity with the terrain, was already included in the plans.

Kiaran turned to Edmund and issued her orders.

“Inform them that they’re to move toward the Spanian Kingdom immediately.”

“You mean the Caion Unit, ma’am?”

“Yes.”

That finely honed blade was ready to strike. Now, it was time to direct it at the Empire’s heart.

As she mulled over the unfolding strategy, Kiaran moved purposefully toward her next destination.