A Single Arrow of Merit Decides the Battle

『Valzen Ducal Calendar Year 10, June 13th. Dark clouds suddenly gather.』

【Glen's POV: Low-ranking soldier】

Heat haze shimmered, distorting the landscape beyond the hills.

The horizon was filled by the enemy: a massive force led by Marquis Caledon. Countless military flags, raised as if to pierce the heavens, writhed like a forest possessed by a will of its own.

They numbered approximately twenty thousand—a Coalition Army composed of many different nobles.

By contrast, our Valzen Ducal Army numbered only four thousand. To any observer, this battle at the Helden Hills was destined to end in an overwhelming defeat for Duke Valzen. The desperate disparity in numbers drained the color from the soldiers' faces.

Yet, in the midst of that turmoil, our lord alone wore a fearless smile.

"Look. The heavens are on our side."

As if on cue, the sky suddenly clouded over, and large, heavy droplets of rain began to fall. The Duke's smile was not that of a man driven mad by terror; it was the face of a prophet, one who believed in something unshakeable.

Before long, a mud-caked scout appeared, galloping on horseback.

"My Lord! The enemy has halted their advance due to the heavy rain! Their formations are in disarray in the depression just before the hills!"

Struggling to take our entrenched position, the enemy had stalled in the worst possible terrain. A slight murmur spread among the men.

I gripped my spear tightly and swallowed hard. At my feet, the pouring rain turned the ground into a quagmire, and mud clung heavily to my iron greaves.

(I've gotta pull off a feat and land myself a beautiful wife!)

Four thousand men was a small force. However, every one of them was a soldier driven by some kind of ambition.

Yet, no one spoke those inner thoughts aloud.

Standing tall amidst the torrential rain, the Duke's back looked like that of a god of war himself.

"Move out! Show those cowardly pigs the meaning of the wolf's fang!"

The command resonated from the very depths of his gut.

Without even looking back, Duke Valzen whipped his black cloak around and spurred his horse down the hill. Following his lead, we also began our charge with a great roar.

"WAAAAAAAGH!"

The battlefield suddenly erupted into chaos.

I kicked up mud as I plunged into the heart of the enemy's confusion.

The enemy soldiers' faces, twisted in shock, were right before my eyes.

I had only one target: the banner emblazoned with the Golden Dragon, held by the enemy commander, Marquis Caledon.

The main camp was still far off, but this surprise attack had already paralyzed the enemy's chain of command.

(Just a little more... just a little more and I'll see the enemy general's face!)

I had joined this reckless battle for a single purpose: to win glory and rise through the ranks.

My body moved faster than my thoughts. I thrust my long spear into the mire to ditch it and grabbed an old bow instead.

In the distance, I spotted a flash of golden armor that must belong to the enemy general.

I notched an arrow and drew the rain-soaked string back with all my strength.

I held my breath, forcing my ragged breathing to steady.

(The wind is... from the southwest. Strong. Distance, roughly four hundred meters. Can it reach...? No, it's impossible.)

Common sense told me it was impossible.

Even so, my fingers released the string on their own, as if guided by some unseen force.

The arrow sliced through the air with a low hum.

The fletching deflected the raindrops, trailing a streak of white light in its wake.

A moment later—

From the enemy main camp far ahead, a piercing scream erupted toward the heavens.

Amidst the clouds of dust and spray, the Golden Dragon flag began to tilt slowly.

But not yet! The arrow hit, but it might not have been a fatal wound!

I threw the bow aside, snatched up my spear, and charged into the enemy lines once more.

"UOOOOOOOH!"

Fear was gone, replaced by a singular drive for glory.

I shoved through the confused enemy soldiers, using my shoulder to clear a path as I pushed relentlessly ahead.

I saw him. A man on horseback, his face contorted in agony with an arrow buried in his shoulder. The luxurious golden armor: there was no mistake, it was the enemy general, Marquis Caledon.

Leaping like a beast, I thrust my spear into the gap in his armor, aiming straight for his neck.

"Gu... ah!?"

A dull sensation of piercing flesh. Through the shaft of the spear, I could feel his life fading away.

But this wasn't enough. I wouldn't let anyone steal this glory from me.

I straddled the fallen Marquis Caledon, drew the dagger from my waist, and slit his throat without a moment's hesitation.

With my face drenched in blood, I held the head high.

"The enemy general! Marquis Caledon! I have slain him—!"

My scream rang out across the battlefield.

At the sound of my voice, the enemy, our own men, and even Duke Valzen turned to look at me all at once.

The battle was over.

Having lost their commander, the Caledon army crumbled as easily as a child's toy.

After the battle, the head was presented to Duke Valzen for inspection.

I knelt in the mud, my body trembling as I bowed my head.

"A fine head. However, in the midst of this raid, can you say for certain that this was your achievement alone?"

The Duke's aide cast a suspicious eye toward me.

At that moment, another soldier respectfully presented a single arrow.

"My Lord, please look at this. It was driven deep into Marquis Caledon's shoulder."

Duke Valzen took the arrow in his hand, his expression turning puzzled.

Just near the arrowhead on the shaft, some strange mark had been carved. It was a doodle I had carved to pass the time, an illegible scribble that belonged to me alone.

The Duke looked back and forth between the arrow and my face, and that manic grin of his transformed into one of pure jubilation.

—Magnificent! You, soldier! What is your name?! I shall reward you!

Feeling my heart leap in my chest, I desperately squeezed the words out of my throat.

"G-Glen!"

(This was the beginning.)

The moment my life truly began to move.

The battle that would later be called the 'Miracle of Helden' by historians began with a single arrow, loosed by a nameless, low-ranking soldier.