The Sovereign System.

After choking down some unappetizing dry rations, Luke managed a few hours of desperately needed rest. As the sun peeked over the horizon, the camp began to stir to life.

Luke rubbed his bleary eyes and slowly rose, letting out a long yawn. This was his fourth night in a row sleeping under the stars—and his fourth day without a bath. Ignoring the pungent smell coming from his robe, he sent a quick kick at Kayson, who was still sleeping soundly, jolting him awake.

"Rise and shine, young master. General Hart will be waiting for us," Luke said, his voice drained of energy. Gathering his gear, he decided to check on his trusty mare, who had served him so well in the campaign.

On his way, Luke spotted Lieutenant Commander Stoddard organizing the men. He inwardly cursed when Stoddard noticed him and jogged over.

"Commander Drakon, we'll be ready to move out shortly," Stoddard announced.

"Yes, yes. Very good," Luke replied, waving him off.

The man's eye twitched, and his jaw tightened as though he wanted to say more. Luke grinned at the reaction. For some reason, ordering Stoddard around and irritating him was a pleasure Luke had come to enjoy—one he doubted would last much longer.

Though neither spoke of it, Luke suspected that once his temporary command ended, the long-faced lieutenant commander would find a way to settle the score.

'Well, it's not like he can touch me while I'm at the Academy,' he mused, pushing the thought aside. 'I might not get a chance to act this carefree again, so I'll make the most of it.'

With that, Luke made his way over to his mare, greeting her softly. It surprised him how fond he had grown of the beast, given he had no riding experience before this campaign.

"I'll have to take you home when this siege is over," he said, stroking her head affectionately.

The mare nudged him away, almost knocking him off balance. "Playing hard to get, are we?" he teased, letting out a chuckle.

"Luke, time to head out," Kayson called from behind him.

"Right," Luke answered without turning around. He double-checked the saddle before vaulting onto the mare's back. The horse whinnied as she trotted forward at his command.

At the front of the camp, Luke found the unit already mounted and waiting for his orders. The sun had yet to fully crest the horizon, painting the clouds overhead with an eerie red glow.

From a distance, it looked as if the sky itself were drenched in blood. Luke glanced upward and let out a dry chuckle.

'How apt,' he thought. 'This day will also be filled with blood…'

As someone from Earth, the mere thought of a battlefield was enough to rattle his nerves. Yet here he was—a commander on the brink of leading his troops into a fight where, inevitably, some of them would die.

He couldn't deny how terrifying it was. Their lives depended on him. One order could send them to their doom—or ensure their salvation. Such was the power of a commander.

'I can't afford to be afraid. It's not just my life at stake.'

Luke dropped his gaze to five hundred pairs of eyes fixed upon him. Every one of these soldiers had a family awaiting their safe return. It was up to him to make that happen.

"Soldiers!" he shouted. "We'll ride south and link up with the main army. On my signal, the first unit will break east. Once we spot the retreating enemy force, we'll use hit-and-run tactics. Nobody's to get stuck in a slog and risk being surrounded."

"ARE YOU WITH ME?!"

"YEAHHHH!"

"Good! Let's ride!" He wheeled his mare around, leading the charge. The thunder of hooves and the rush of wind filled his ears.

They rode south for two hours before Luke's keen vision picked out distant figures. His pulse hammered when he spotted the Qin Empire's banners atop their flagpoles.

Raising his left hand high, Luke bellowed, "INTO FORMATION!"

He glimpsed half the unit veer southwest, while he angled his mare southeast, the rest of the cavalry close behind.

In the distance, he saw the Marxx Kingdom's forces hounding the Qin Empire's rear guard. The larger enemy force was retreating toward them, numbering around five thousand.

Luke licked his dry lips, anxiety clawing at him. His enhanced sight allowed him to glimpse the soldiers' faces—pale with fear at the sudden appearance of cavalry.

A man wearing a plumed helmet and fancier armor than the others barked orders, prompting the men around him to stop retreating and form ranks, turning to face the incoming cavalry.

'That must be their commander,' Luke thought.

He reached for the recurved bow slung over his shoulder, clicking his tongue in frustration. He regretted not practicing mounted archery—if he could eliminate their leader, the rest of the fight would come easier.

"Charge!" he roared, instead drawing his single-edged sword and thrusting it into the air. His gaze locked onto the closest enemy soldier, whose features were twisted in fear.

Luke crashed into the edges of the forming army, bringing his blade down in a powerful slash with his left hand. The momentum of his charge, combined with the sword's weight, proved devastating.

A ragged cry rang out as Luke's blade tore into the soldier's neck, nearly decapitating him. Hot blood spurted from the wound, and Luke almost lost his grip on the sword in the process.

He managed to hang on and urged his mare forward, righting himself in the saddle. There was no time for relief, however, as a sudden sense of danger flared from his front.

A spear lunged toward him, forcing him to jerk his body to the right in a desperate dodge. His mare angled away, giving them some distance from the line of enemy troops, all braced to strike.

Glancing back, Luke saw only carnage. The shrieks of the dying and the arterial sprays of blood assaulted his senses, leaving him momentarily disoriented.

[Activating Steady Heart]

"Follow me! Don't get stuck in a pitched fight!" he shouted, shaking off his initial daze.

His attention shifted to the rear guard, which was now embroiled with the Kingdom's army. Farther away, Hayden sat astride his own horse, surveying the battlefield with a cold smile.

Luke pushed the image from his mind, steering his mare toward the rear guard. Their lines were stretched thin, so a single charge might push them to the brink of collapse.

He charged toward them, delivering a more controlled slash this time—cleanly severing a soldier's neck before the man could even scream, sending him from the realm of the living.

Once more, Luke veered away, keeping his cavalry in constant motion to avoid a full-scale melee. Ignoring the blood and the dying cries around him, he focused on the enemy commander.

The man barked orders and rallied his soldiers into a tight defense against the unrelenting assaults from Luke's second cavalry unit. Despite their worsening predicament, he showed remarkable tactical sense, precisely timing their counterattacks.

'This one's a nuisance,' Luke thought, calmly studying the commander's maneuvers.

He glanced to his side to see Kayson and Lieutenant Commander Stoddard closing in on him.

"Lead the charge!" Luke shouted, pointing to the enemy's right flank. He hadn't identified a specific weakness; he simply needed time to plan.

"CAVALRY, ON ME!" Stoddard roared, his voice echoing across the field.

Luke guided his mare away from the cavalry charge and reined her in about two hundred feet from the enemy line, glancing back at their main army.

The enemy rear guard was now overwhelmed, and it wouldn't be long before the main army of twenty-five thousand bore down on the stationary enemy force. Luke's hit-and-run tactics were effective in wearing down the flanks, but the clustered formation around their general remained troublesome.

"Now's the time," he muttered, pulling the recurved bow off his shoulder. He fit an arrow to the string and squeezed his thighs around the saddle for stability.

"Stay nice and steady, girl," Luke murmured to his mare, narrowing his eyes in concentration.

With practiced ease, Luke drew back the bowstring, fixing his aim on the commander amid the mass of soldiers. The man was in constant motion, swiveling his head to bark orders.

Luke took a slow, measured breath. His muscles protested from the strain of the draw, and he knew the next cavalry charge would soon block his line of sight. Still, he refused to hurry.

Time seemed to crawl. The steady thump of his heart drowned out the battlefield's clamor, beating like a drum in his ears—calm, unyielding. His eagle eyes tracked the commander, awaiting the perfect moment.

Almost as if sensing Luke's lethal intent, the commander turned.

Luke exhaled the breath he'd been holding and released the bowstring. The snapping twang jolted his senses back to the present, and with it came the noise of the fighting all around him.

He watched the arrow soar, untouched by the chaos. It reminded him of an eagle diving on its prey, so ruthlessly beautiful that one couldn't help but marvel.

As though recognizing death at the last second, the commander's eyes widened in horror when they locked with Luke's. The arrow struck home, burying itself in the commander's neck all the way to the fletching.

Luke breathed a soft sigh of relief, noticing only now the pins-and-needles sensation in his fingers.

Panic erupted in the wake of the commander's fall. The once-cohesive enemy force—nearly five thousand men—shattered into disarray, fleeing the field.

Luke was about to urge his mare forward to order another cavalry push, but Lieutenant Commander Stoddard moved first. He led the charge himself, slicing through the panicked ranks of the retreating soldiers and claiming countless lives.

Gradually, the effects of Steady Heart ebbed away, replaced by exhaustion and a wave of nausea. Luke felt his shoulders droop, his energy spent.

"It's over…" he muttered.

Friendly troops rushed past, startling Luke's mare. He soothed her with a few gentle words, then noticed a familiar silhouette at the edge of his vision.

Luke's head jerked toward it, his eyes wide in surprise.

"Sebastian?!"

His butler stood with the main army's front line, clad in shabby armor and armed with a sword and round shield—looking far different from how Luke remembered, his white hair now streaked with blood.

He suddenly recalled Hayden's mention of hiring five thousand mercenaries for the siege. It made sense Sebastian would be here, given his background as a mercenary.

The old man glanced his way, and their eyes met briefly. No words were exchanged, but Luke caught a small smile on Sebastian's face before he charged ahead.

A gentle warmth stirred in Luke's chest as he watched Sebastian disappear into the fray. Then he noticed a hulking figure chasing after his butler, and he blinked in disbelief.

'Is that Hilda?'