Return of the Class 8 Mage
49,2. Large grasslands (2)

"Is something wrong?"

The grand lord of the Pieric Province held his head. It had been ten days since the Archmage, Ian Page, had gone to the Great Grass Field. But he has not received any messages from her since.

'If he doesn't come back ....'

The ice wall that blocked the path of the valley started to melt. He told him earlier that it would last for ten days, so it would melt soon.

"I can't just wait for him either."

He had heard enough about Ian Page. He believed Ian's great strength would solve this problem, but it seemed like he was wrong.

"Adol."

"Okay, my lord."

Your great lord called 'Adol, ' who waited outside the barracks, his best soldier, and ordered him to prepare for battle.

"As we planned, form a formation. Focus every army and catapults we have in the province. Even bring a squad that guards the side of the mountain as well."

"As you command."

Adol's voice was respectful.

He's ready to die.

He immediately left the barracks.

"Mr Ian, I don't blame you."

You guys are telling the truth. It must have been too much for him to resolve this matter alone. He preferred to blame the nobles and the Ivory Tower, who refused to send supplies and troops, but only sent them himself.

'Instead, maybe it was a better option to ask him to fight together on our side.'

If so, he could continue blocking the way with the wall, so he could resend his request to the Empire and get time to let them come.

"It's too late to regret it."

You stand. Then he picked up a pair of axes placed in the barracks. It was the family heirloom battle axe, the 'Pieric executioner.'

"We will defend it, me and my army."

You guys are encouraging yourself.

Protecting the province and the people there, as the Empire's strongest shield.

With hundreds of times reminding himself, he left the barracks and faced his battlefield. He looked at the height of the ice wall, which was quite low, calmly.

"Huh, come to me, rotten creature."

In the Ice-covered Great Snake Valley, every strength was focused. The imperial troops he received as first reinforcements, two 3rd class magicians and a mage led by McGedie, and a catapult for the first attack.

"My lord."

"Hm."

After a few hours, they finished their preparations.

The ice wall that had melted to half its original size.

"Prepare the catapults."

The tacit orders of the large landlords in the watchtower were relayed to each catapult squad. It was quiet, and everyone was nervous. No words, or encouragement. It was a silence before the storm.

"Eee....."

The witch performed, Mcgedie shook her body.

He would rather be seduced by the supply army now.

Not only him, but most of the other soldiers as well. They remember the best moments of their lives or the better moments from now on. They all want to rewind their time.

"Hold."

But soon, on the orders of the great landlord dry, they woke up.

It's about to start.

The rate of melting of the ice walls increases.

It will melt in a few minutes, low enough to strike.

"A little more."

The landlord's right arm was raised with his battle axe. Axe blades reflected sunlight everywhere. Every time he put down his right arm, the catapult would start its attack.

"A little more."

When the opposite side of the ice wall gets revealed, everyone loses their focus quickly. The walls suddenly started to crack.

"What?"

"Is it cracked?"

"Why?"

20 Thousand soldiers began to whisper.

It was not an ideal atmosphere before the war.

The landlord should calm down and let them focus.

"Wi...!"

Just before the shooting order was given, the,

*Cr..... Crack.....!*

The cracks in the ice walls are getting bigger, faster than they think,

*Grrrrrrrrrr – !*

Soon it began to fall.

Thanks to that, each soldier could see his opponent's side clearly.

".......?"

There's nothing.

There was nothing in front of the ice wall, or above the horizon of the valley.

There was not even a single monster standing there.

Instead, there was a man alone.

"Is he....?"

It was Mcgedie who recognized him first.

Soon, others recognized him as well.

"Pa, pants! Phew......"

It was a young man wearing a robe, covered in dust.

The man was breathing violently, as his lungs cracked.

"S, Mr Ian?"

It was the tenth day since he left.

Today, he did not come with his flying spell, but with his bare feet.

"This staff ......"

Ian held the cane with his injured hand.

It was a staff with a fairly rare appearance.

"Never ..... Never touch me ......"

After barely warning them, Ian fainted.