SUPREME ARCH-MAGUS-Chapter 703: The Ploy Of WAR

Early Morning at 'Stick Nation…'

The cold morning dew covered the capital city of Stick Nation as an unnatural silence loomed over its streets. Inside the palace, Princess Sony Stick sat on her intricately carved wooden throne, her mind calculating the next move. The servant entered in a hurry, breathless and pale.

"Your Highness, the sworn wizards have arrived!" the servant announced with trembling hands. "The Supreme Sword Magus Elarin and Staff Magus Ruchi are leading the assault themselves. They are… unstoppable!"

The princess's lips curled into a faint smirk. She stood gracefully and adjusted her ornate battle robes, adorned with emeralds and golden embroidery. Her eyes, cold and calculating, gave no hint of fear.

"Prepare to leave," she ordered curtly, turning to her minister, who stood frozen in confusion.

"Princess? Did you say 'TO LEAVE?'"

"Yes, send word to the remaining generals to hold the city as long as they can. We're surrendering the Stick Nation." Sony declared directly.

The minister's eyes widened in shock. "Surrender? Without a fight? Your Highness, this city is our home. It is the heart of Stick Nation! Why would you—"

"Silence!" Sony's voice was sharp, like the blade of a dagger. She took a step closer to the minister, her tone now measured and full of disdain.

"It's not about holding the city, Minister. It's about the bigger picture. This is a war of strategy, not sentiment. Because of your foolish words, my father stood and fought like a hero, and where did that get him? Dead on the battlefield! Remember this, Minister: in war, ploys win battles, not blind bravery."

The minister, still stunned, stuttered, "But what of our people and soldiers, Princess? They're fighting and dying even as we speak."

Princess Sony rolled her eyes. "Fate, Minister. They are pawns in a larger game. Sacrifices are necessary to win wars. Once we reclaim Stick Nation in the future, there will always be new people, new soldiers, and new servants. Don't waste your tears on pawns."

She gave one final glance at her ministers and servants before mounting her swift, white griffin, its wings flaring wide. "Ensure the city's surrender goes smoothly. I'll handle the rest from outside."

After giving orders She escaped the Stick nation without any worry.

Outside the capital, Sword Magus Elarin descended like a tyrant. Elarin, tall and imposing figure with a sharp jawline, held his sword high. The blade shimmered with a silvery brilliance, radiating power that caused the air to hum.

Beside him, Staff Magus Ruchi stood with her staff glowing a faint green, her calm demeanor belying the destruction she was unleashed.

"Take no prisoners," Elarin commanded, his voice cold and devoid of mercy. "Burn through their defenses. Stick Nation must be brought to its knees for what they did to Zoran."

With a single swing of Elarin's sword, a wave of light shot forward, slicing through the Stick army's defenses like they were paper. Soldiers screamed as barriers shattered, and the ground trembled under the immense power of his strikes. The Stick army, though valiant, was no match for the sheer might of the sworn wizards.

Staff Magus Ruchi raised her emerald-tipped staff, chanting an ancient incantation. The skies above darkened as glowing green symbols appeared in the air. Spears of earth erupted from the ground, killing entire squads of soldiers. "This is for Zoran," Ruchi muttered under her breath, her eyes burning with vengeance.

Meanwhile, in the skies above, Princess Sony watched the carnage unfold from her griffin. Her lips remained firm, but her eyes betrayed a glimmer of unease as the capital's defenses fell one by one.

A minister riding beside her on a smaller wyvern looked at her with fear. "Princess, this is madness! They're annihilating our people. Why are we running instead of fighting?"

Sony turned her cold gaze on him. "Madness is what my father did—standing his ground and dying for misplaced ideals. I don't care how many die today. This is a distraction, Minister.

Elarin and Ruchi are too consumed by their need for revenge to see the bigger picture. Our task is to keep them occupied here while the real battle unfolds in the Frost Nation."

"But—"

"No buts," she interrupted sharply. "Elarin is their most fearsome warrior. Without him, Madam Clark will hesitate to engage in the main battle. By the time they realize they've fallen for the trap, it will be too late."

Below them, explosions rocked the city as magical light illuminated the battlefield. Elarin's sword gleamed with an intensity that forced even the bravest soldiers to flee.

He jumped down from his mount and moved through the battlefield with lethal precision, his sword carving arcs of devastation. The gates of the inner city crumbled under his assault.

Staff Magus Ruchi followed closely behind, her spells weaving destruction through the chaos. "Princess Sony will pay for her treachery," she murmured. "Elarin, let me have the final blow."

Elarin gave her a quick glance. "Do as you wish."

-

Meanwhile, far from Stick Nation, a hovering chariot flew close to Frost nation. Jason Mama, head of the 9 Realms Association, sat with Emperor Ryon Lionheart, who was casually sipping wine from a golden goblet.

"Why are we targeting Frost Nation instead of Doom Nation?" Jason asked, eyeing Ryon curiously.

Ryon set his goblet down, his expression darkening. "My brother Ragnar backstabbed me by joining hands with that wretched Clark woman. And don't forget—it was my brother who brought Kent to my realm in the first place. He must pay for his sins. Let the Frost Nation burn."

Jason leaned back, a sinister smile forming on his lips. "You're more vindictive than I thought, Ryon. But I like it. As long as we crush their forces, I couldn't care less which nation burns first."

"Good," Ryon growled, gulping down the last of his wine. "Let's make sure that backstabbing brother of mine learns the price of betrayal."

As the chariot soared through the skies, both men wore confident expressions, oblivious to the deeper schemes unfolding on the battlefield ahead.

-

Tq

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