In the east, the pursuers of the Fourteenth Regiment and the Atrox Seres awaited.
They can’t return there and attempt to turn the tide of the battle with the combined forces of the Thirteenth Regiment and the pitiful Fourteenth.
Not when over five thousand Fell Beasts and more than a hundred Fellkin Warriors were hot on their tail.
There seemed to be nowhere they could go, and staying in the Az Tunnel would be the safest move.
So, for now, Emmanuel, who turned out to be from Targon’s Boulder Guards, and Cedar and Rowan from the Zephyr Battalion, decided to brainstorm first.
...The sun wouldn’t reach the deeper parts of the tunnel, and only the torches dimly illuminated the surroundings.
It worked better to the Thirteenth Regiment’s favor, though, as the atmosphere and lighting were better suited for resting.
Inevitably, Hal woke up, stretching as he looked around.
There seemed to be a few others who had woken like him.
Ennya wasn’t one of them, but the physically stronger Rocky was. The guy was looking energetic.
Way too energetic for a mere six-hour rest.
In fact, Hal found it quite strange, as he, too, felt great.
It was as though they rested for more than eight hours, not six.
A distance away, a majority of the Zephyr Battalion was still out like a log, and a bit further, Hal spotted Cedar, Rowan, and a few faces he didn’t recognize.
The dark-skinned, middle-aged man with brown hair and mustache seemed to be a high-ranking officer.
However, Hal was certain that this was the first time he had ever seen the guy, and he got the urge to approach the group.
He was a Magna Prospect.
He could at least join them to listen in on the conversation, right? There was a high chance they were discussing what to do next, though Hal was more curious about the new face’s identity.
Perhaps the older man’s face simply evaded him all that time in the camp?
And so, he carefully stood up, settling Ennya’s head on the wall, observing her resting face for a few seconds before leaving.
Who would’ve thought that in just a little over a year, the two of them would be stuck on a battlefield, with doom waving at them from the horizon?
Hal’s heart ached a bit at the thought of the midget perishing.
But she was still alive now, and maybe joining Cedar and the others’ discussion would be fruitful.
He turned and walked over to the huddle of sitting men, arriving around three minutes later.
Those from the Zephyr Battalion had long sensed his approach, as they were sensitive to the shifts in the winds, so he had already been introduced to Emmanuel before he even arrived.
The dim lights of the torches illuminated his face.
"Chaos Prospect Hal Fennec, correct?" asked the acting leader of the Boulder Guards and the Fourteenth Regiment.
"Yes, sir," confirmed Hal, before asking: "May I join in?"
"Hahaha, what a respectful lad. Of course, Sir Hal. Perhaps a perspective from a youngster would help," chuckled Emmanuel.
Hal’s brows raised at the response.
It seemed that his status was higher than he expected, from the way the older, higher-ranked men addressed him.
Still, Hal had no intentions of acting all high and mighty.
He was simply happy to be given a chance to join the discussion and be treated seriously by the older men.
After all, compared to them, he was but a greenhorn.
What advice could he possibly offer them?
"Ah, right, allow me to introduce Sir Emmanuel," Cedar suddenly chimed in, undeniably pleased at Hal’s humble attitude, "He’s from the Fourteenth Regiment, a member of Lord Targon’s Boulder Guards."
Hal’s eyes widened at the small revelation.
The Fourteenth Regiment?!
How the hell did they suddenly make contact with the Fourteenth Regiment? Did the earth move while they were sleeping, or something?
His reaction amused the older men, but they couldn’t bring themselves to laugh, not when the reason why they met in this dark stretch was a depressing defeat in the eastern battlefield.
"I shall allow Sir Emmanuel to explain," declared Cedar, falling silent the next moment.
The tan-skinned old man recounted what happened in the east to Hal in detail, taking the young man as seriously as he could.
Emmanuel didn’t believe that someone so highly regarded by the empire was stupid, especially the humble yet seemingly confident young man in front of him.
Perhaps he could really give a few good suggestions as to what to do next.
The older man began with how the initial assault was going well, before traitors arose in their ranks, taking a lot of impactful individuals out, including Pierro Macario, which caused the battle to go south for the Fourteenth Regiment.
Pierro’s death made Hal’s heart sink.
But Felix Dargon, turning out to be a young Fellkin named Kurava, was what shocked him the most.
He fought the guy in the Arcana Primis Cup!
The matter was quite strange, however, as the Dargon Clan was a renowned and established aristocratic wizardry clan in the Imperium.
How could they be traitors harboring a youth of the fell race?
’Maybe the real Felix was somehow assassinated and his identity was assumed by the young fellkin named Kurava?’
That was the most plausible explanation, and the one believed by the older men beside him as well.
Was the Felix he fought Kurava? Or was the guy still the real Felix Dargon?
Hal had no way to know.
He could only shake his head and shift his focus back to the story of what happened in the east.
Basically, their morale plummeted with a series of losses, and the appearance of the Atrox Seres, a "Magna" of the fell race, further deteriorated the situation, as even the mighty Earth Magna, Targon, was apparently losing in the exchanges.
Perhaps the same would’ve happened to the Thirteenth Regiment, had Zephyron lost against Khatu.
It wasn’t wise to dwell much on the dark past, and Emmanuel knew this, so he immediately shifted the focus back to what they should do next.
Hal only listened, nodding occasionally at the plausible suggestions, though he couldn’t help but look at an older man’s face sometimes and think:
’Jeebus Bryce, how did you even think that plan would work?’