SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant-Chapter 387: The Fall of the Thal’zar [I]

Trafalgar stood at the front of the formation, facing the three hundred soldiers under his command. They were already in position, armor secured, weapons checked, posture straight and eyes forward, every one of them silent in a way that spoke of experience rather than fear. These were not fresh faces or untested recruits, but men who had trained, bled, and survived long enough to still be standing here.

Arthur stepped out from the front line and approached him, stopping a few paces away. His expression was firm, professional, carrying the weight of responsibility without hesitation.

"My lord," he said, inclining his head slightly. "I left all the new blood behind. I only brought the Morgain core squad, the ones who have already seen real combat."

Trafalgar looked past Arthur for a moment, his gaze moving across the formation again, taking in the steady hands, the controlled breathing, the absence of nervous movement.

"That’s the right call," he said. "This isn’t a place for people who still hesitate. I won’t waste lives just to fill numbers."

Arthur nodded immediately, without offense or doubt.

"I thought the same," he replied. "Sending unprepared soldiers here would only slow us down and get them killed."

For a brief moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them felt heavy, charged with the understanding that this was not a drill, nor a show of strength meant to intimidate from afar. This was a battlefield assignment with a clear purpose and an equally clear cost.

Trafalgar straightened slightly.

"We hold our ground," he said. "We survive, and we make sure everyone behind us can do their job."

Arthur placed a fist over his chest.

"Yes, my lord."

Beyond the Morgain formation, the allied forces stretched across the field in disciplined clusters, each carrying a different presence, a different weight.

To one side stood the Sylvanel elves, their armor light and refined, bows and blades held with practiced ease. Nearby were the human summoners of House Rosenthal, gathered around their focus arrays, Aubrelle among them, calm and composed despite the scale of what lay ahead. Further along, the Watercaller mages prepared in silence, the air around them faintly heavy with moisture and restrained magic. The Moonweave elves held their own formation, cloaked in muted tones, observant and patient. At the rear, the Stoneheart dwarves worked with methodical precision, adjusting gear, reinforcing supplies, and preparing the tools that would keep the front from collapsing once the fighting began.

This was no single army.

It was a coalition moving with one purpose.

Karon au Sylvanel approached while Arthur was still beside Trafalgar. His expression was serious, his presence sharp, already carrying the weight of the role he was about to play.

"Everything is in place," Karon said. "You and I will be holding the front together."

He gestured toward the terrain ahead.

"This route is one of the Thal’zar escape paths. While the main force raids the castle and the tunnels beneath it, our task is simple in theory and brutal in practice. We clear it. We secure it. No one gets through."

Trafalgar nodded once.

"I understand," he said. "We coordinate closely and keep losses to a minimum. I don’t want unnecessary deaths."

Karon’s gaze hardened slightly.

"Good," he replied. "Last time, hesitation cost us more than we were willing to admit. I don’t intend to repeat that mistake."

Trafalgar turned slightly and gestured toward Arthur.

"This is Arthur," he said. "Captain of my unit. He’ll handle organization and battlefield coordination while I fight at the front."

Arthur immediately dropped to one knee, bowing his head in respect.

"It’s an honor to meet the fourth heir of House Sylvanel."

Karon raised a hand, stopping the gesture before it could settle.

"There’s no need for that," he said evenly. "In a few moments, we’ll be standing on the same battlefield as allies. Titles won’t keep us alive."

Arthur rose at once, accepting the words without offense.

Karon stepped back, his focus already shifting forward. He turned, mounted his horse with a smooth motion, and took his place among the Sylvanel ranks.

As Karon rode back into position, Trafalgar lifted his gaze.

Only then did the full scale of the war truly settle into view.

Flying ships hovered in the distance. Wyverns circled above them in slow, predatory arcs, their shadows passing over the ground like omens. Mounted units formed ranks below, banners snapping in the wind, while siege engines were dragged into place with a weight that made the earth groan beneath them. Magical tools hummed softly across the field, wards locking into place, spells being prepared and restrained rather than released.

Elves, humans, dwarves—multiple races, multiple houses—moving at once toward the same objective.

Trafalgar had read about wars like this.

But seeing it unfold in front of him was something else entirely.

For a brief moment, the sheer magnitude of it threatened to pull his attention outward, to overwhelm him with everything that could go wrong, everything that could be felt but not controlled.

He did not allow it.

He forced his focus back down, back to what mattered.

Survival.

Keeping his people alive.

Nothing beyond that deserved space in his mind right now.

Aubrelle stood beside him, quiet, her presence steady. The memory of the night they had shared lingered faintly at the edge of his thoughts, soft and private, almost fragile compared to the battlefield stretching out before them.

Before Arthur could turn away to organize the formation, he paused and looked back at Trafalgar.

"My lord," he said quietly. "There’s one more thing. Someone followed our unit all the way here. She insisted on seeing you. Said it was urgent."

Trafalgar glanced at him, surprised.

"...Don’t tell me you brought Mayla to a battlefield," he said flatly.

Arthur shook his head at once.

"No. I wouldn’t dare," he replied quickly. "It’s someone else."

He stepped aside.

From behind the Morgain formation, a figure moved forward.

At first glance she looked human, her build lean and relaxed, her stride confident despite the tension in the air. Then the details became impossible to miss—black wolf ears rising through dark hair, a matching tail swaying slowly behind her.

Trafalgar froze.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he asked bluntly.

Garrika stopped a few steps away from him and met his gaze without hesitation.

"I came to help," she said simply. "I wasn’t going to sit around doing nothing while you walked into a war."

Aubrelle turned her head slightly toward them.

"...Who is she?" she asked.

Trafalgar exhaled once and answered without avoiding the question.

"This is Garrika," he said. "A friend. She works for me."

Aubrelle inclined her head politely, her gaze not coming directly from her own eyes but through Pipin’s shared sight.

"Aubrelle au Rosenthal," she said calmly. "Nice to meet you."

Garrika’s green eyes flicked over her openly, lingering for a moment longer than strictly polite.

"...You’re pretty," she said with an easy honesty. "Didn’t expect Trafalgar to have this kind of taste too."

She glanced back at him with a faint smirk.

"Looks like we’ll be seeing a lot of each other," she added. "Hope we get along."

Trafalgar was called away before either of them could say more.

Valttair’s voice cut through the noise of the gathering forces, and Trafalgar turned immediately, giving Aubrelle a short look before moving toward him. Within seconds, he was gone, swallowed by commanders and banners.

That left the two of them alone.

Aubrelle did not move at first. She remained where she was, posture straight, expression calm, but her attention was fully on Garrika now.

"...What is your relationship with Trafalgar?" she asked directly.

There was no accusation in her voice. Only caution.

Garrika blinked once, then let out a small breath.

"I figured you’d ask," she said. "I know you’re his fiancée. And Mayla too is close to being one too it seems like."

Aubrelle listened in silence.

Through Pipin’s shared sight, she watched Garrika carefully, not just her words, but her posture, her breathing, the absence of tension that would have signaled hostility. There was none.

Only honesty.

"...I see," Aubrelle said after a moment.

Garrika tilted her head slightly.

"That’s it?"

Aubrelle nodded once.

"I’m not the one who decides who falls in love with whom," she replied calmly. "It’s not something we choose."

She paused, then added more softly,

"I’ve been in your position before. So... I understand."

The words hung between them, quiet but heavy.

Garrika studied her for a second longer, then gave a small, almost thoughtful smile.

Before anything else could be said, footsteps approached.

Trafalgar returned, his expression already set, focus sharpened.

"It’s time," he said.

Orders spread through the formations like a ripple. Soldiers moved. Lines shifted. Banners rose.

The ground began to tremble with motion.

The march started.

And with it, the war.