Chapter 22: Civil War Part 5 (Alexius vs Sir Gideon)

Chapter 22: Civil War Part 5 (Alexius vs Sir Gideon)

The roar of the First Legion, a single, unified sound of triumph and renewed ferocity, rolled across the valley. Inspired by Captain Gregor's feat, the Royal Army surged forward, crashing into the wavering rebel lines. The tide of the greater battle had turned decisively. But the war is far from over.

The chaos of the main battle seemed to fade into a muffled, distant backdrop, only two figures stand out. Alexius, his untamed cerulean Aura flaring around him like a captured storm, sat panting slightly on his warhorse. Before him, his path completely blocked was Sir Gideon.

The veteran Templar's Aura was a steady, compressed white light, a calm, contained power that spoke of decades of experience and absolute control. He had dismounted, his footing sure on the slick ground, his sword held in a classic, impeccable guard. He was not routed. He was not afraid despite his superior Sir Kael of First Order. His mission had just been simplified to the man standing before him or to maintain the dignity of a holy knight. He couldn't run away. He will die honorably in this battle.

"Your Majesty," Sir Gideon said respectfully, "A king's place is not on the front lines. You should have remained on your hill."

Alexius dismounted himself from his horse, his boots sinking into the blood-soaked earth. He met the Templar's gaze, "A knight's place is not in a traitor's army, Sir Gideon. You should have remained in your cloister."

Gideon's expression did not change, but a flicker of something—regret, perhaps, or merely resolve—passed through his eyes. "The Church is my kingdom. The Bishop is my commander. I have served God for my entire life. This must be the will of our God, Almighty Theus. Then, I simply cannot oppose the will of God. Whether I lose or you lose will also be God's will. Try your best little prince."

He did not wait for a reply. He attacked immediately.

Unlike Sir Kael's fanatical, wild charge, Gideon's assault was a terrifying display of pure, pragmatic efficiency. He closed the distance with three swift, perfectly measured steps, his sword a blur aimed at Alexius' sword hand in a bid to disarm him immediately.

Alexius's mind screamed. The System flashed with warnings, a burst of red light in his vision.

[!!! WARNING: Expert-level Threat Engaged !!!] [Opponent Style Analyzed: Pragmatic, Efficient, Counter-focused.] [Threat Vector: Disarmament Strike. Probability of Success: 85%.] [Recommended Action: Immediate Evasion!]

There was no time to think, only to react. Alexius threw himself backward, his movements unnaturally fast, his System-honed reflexes the only thing saving him. Gideon's blade hissed through the air where his hand had been a microsecond before, the force of it leaving a visible distortion in the air.

The veteran Templar gave him no time to recover. He flowed into his next attack, a relentless series of thrusts and slashes, each one perfectly executed, designed to press Alexius, to force an error. It was a masterclass in swordsmanship. Alexius found himself completely on the defensive, his wilder, more powerful Aura being systematically penned in by Gideon's superior control and experience. He was parrying, dodging, his blade a frantic blue blur against Gideon's steady white light, but he was losing ground with every exchange. He was fighting Gideon's fight, and it was a fight he could not win.

He's better than me, the thought came, cold and stark. Technique, experience, control… he's superior in every way. This is the first time he face such a strong opponenet in his entire life after arriving in this world.

[Parry Angle Insufficient! Guard stability at 62%!] [Stamina Depletion Rate: High!] [Combat Analysis: Sustained defensive action will lead to defeat in 94 seconds.]

The System's cold logic confirmed his gut feeling. He couldn't win by playing the traditional swordsman's game. Gideon had spent a lifetime mastering it. Alexius had only had a few months. He had to change the game entirely. He had to stop fighting like a swordsman and start fighting like what he was: a strategist with a supercomputer in his head.

Gregor's words… 'a hollow vessel'… 'no weight'… He's right. I've been letting the System fight for me, following its perfect forms. But Gideon isn't fighting the forms. He's fighting me.

A new resolve hardened in his chest. He would stop reacting. He would force the veteran to react to him.

In the middle of a parry, Alexius did something no trained swordsman would ever do. He deliberately over-committed, leaving his left side brutally exposed. It was a clumsy, amateurish-looking mistake.

Sir Gideon's eyes, for the first time, widened slightly. The opening was too perfect to be anything but a trap. But his experience screamed at him to take it. He could end the fight with a single thrust. He couldn't resist. He shifted his weight, disengaging from their locked blades to drive his sword into the massive gap in Alexius's defense.

And that was the moment Alexius had paid for.

The instant Gideon committed, Alexius's wild blue Aura exploded, using a burst of pure energy to propel himself inside Gideon's attack radius. The Templar's sword, aiming for his heart, instead scraped across his armored pauldron, the force of it tearing through the steel and gouging a deep, fiery line of pain across his shoulder and arm.

[!!! WARNING: Bodily Harm Sustained! Left Arm Integrity at 55%! Initiating Minor Pain Suppression!]

The agony was immense, a white-hot shock that stole his breath. But in that fire, a strange clarity was born. The pain focused him. It gave his Aura the 'weight' Gregor had spoken of—the weight of survival.

He was now too close for Gideon to bring his longsword back to bear. For that one, single, solitary instant, the veteran master was exposed.

Alexius's sword, no longer flailing in defense, drove forward in a single, cold, perfectly logical thrust. It wasn't a move of anger or desperation. It was a line of code being executed, a System-calculated trajectory aimed at the small, almost imperceptible gap where the gorget protecting Gideon's neck met his breastplate.

There was a soft, wet crunch.

Sir Gideon froze. The steady, controlled white light of his Aura flickered, sputtered, and died. He looked down at the blade protruding from the base of his throat, then up at the face of the boy-king who had bested him. He saw no triumph in Alexius's eyes. He saw no rage. He saw only a cold, grim finality. The look of a sovereign.

A single word, a bubble of blood and air, escaped his lips. "Clever…"

And then he collapsed, his masterwork armor clattering on the blood-soaked ground, his life's expertise undone not by superior skill, but by superior, ruthless cunning.

Alexius stood over him, swaying on his feet, his left arm a searing river of pain. The world spun for a moment before steadying.

[Hostile Swordsman-class unit neutralized.] [Experience Points Gained: +12,500 XP] [LEVEL UP!] [Current Level: 2 -> 3] [Status Points Gained: +5] [New Skill Unlocked: [Battlefield Command (Minor)] – Passive buff to nearby allied unit morale and discipline.]

He barely registered the notifications. He just stared at the dead man at his feet, the reality of what he'd done settling in. This one had made him bleed. This one had made him earn it.

With the death of Sir Gideon, following the terrifying spectacle of Gregor annihilating Sir Kael, the last vestiges of the Templars' will to fight evaporated. They retreated. Their retreat turned into a full-blown rout, and with them, the entire rebel army dissolved.

General Varrus, seeing his chance, roared the order for a general advance. The First Legion, their morale now sky-high, surged forward. The battle was over. The slaughter had begun.

A Royal Guard medic rushed to Alexius's side, frantically applying field dressings to his bleeding arm. Alexius waved him away, his gaze sweeping over the valley of carnage. He had won. He had survived. But the cost was written in the blood of thousands of Leonese soldiers, staining the ground red.

A scout, one of Cilia's rangers, galloped up, leaping from her horse. "Your Majesty! We have eyes on the rebel command! Marquess Dynan and the Bishop, they've fled! They're riding east, hard, towards Dynan's lands!"

Alexius gritted his teeth against the pain in his arm, his mind already moving past the victory and onto the next objective. The heads of the snakes were still there.

He turned to the waiting Captain Gregor, his voice hoarse but filled with iron. "Do not celebrate the victory yet. General Varrus will secure this field. Captain Gregor will take the Royal Guard. Cilia you will assist Captain Gregor You will pursue Marquess and Bishop. I want them Alive. Do not kill them." He looked west, towards the lands of the traitors, a cold fire in his eyes.

"This ends now." "As you command, Your Majesty". Cilia Gregor and Varrus with a respectful bow, immediately execute their respective command. (Continue....)