At that moment, the entire formation moved as one. Every knight's fighting spirit merged into a single flow, converging through the network of resonating energies and gathering upon Uller, who led the charge.

The whip-blade at his waist had already shifted from sword form into its full whip configuration. Fighting spirit coiled around the weapon, hardening into a tangible edge as he lashed it outward toward the enemies before and around him.

A piercing hiss rang out—the shrill friction of matter being sliced apart at incredible speed. The fearsome whipblade of solidified fighting spirit lashed out in a wide arc, carving through the frost giants and the massive ice scorpions erupting from beneath the snow.

With Heart of the Wild and Path of Glory both active, the attack, imbued with the combined strength of the entire squadron, was magnified to a staggering degree. With a single sweep, half the frost giants were cleaved cleanly in two, their bisected remains collapsing helplessly into the snowdrifts below.

The survivors struck back immediately.

Though uniform in form and armor, the frost giants were far from equal in strength. Those cut down in one blow had been the weakest among them; the rest, who merely lost chunks of ice crystal from their shoulders or torsos, formed the mid-rank core of the enemy force.

Several of the strongest frost giants drew massive greatswords of solid ice from their backs. A surge of frigid power burst forth as they swung up to parry Uller's strike. The clash of fighting spirit and frost left them staggering back several paces, but they managed to hold their ground.

The hovering ice blades orbiting the giants suddenly shot forth together, hurled toward the advancing knights who still charged fearlessly down the Path of Glory. The winds of the blizzard accelerated the blades, coating them in fresh layers of ice that hardened their edges.

Mid-sprint, the knights shifted formation. Lacking the burden of warhorses, they were faster and more agile, able to reshape their formation at will.

Fighting spirit flowed to one flank, pouring into several knights whose shields flashed as they drew them from their backs. Their potentials activated simultaneously.

These shield-bearing knights, each gifted with defensive potentials, stepped forward as the first line of defense. Their duty was clear: to withstand the blizzard of blades.

Massed knight combat was completely different from single duels. Within the legion, individuality was deliberately erased, each knight's unique potential subsumed into the greater whole.

Every member played their role precisely, unleashing their power at the right moment to solve the problem before the unit as a whole.

It was, paradoxically, by surrendering their individuality that the knights achieved perfection. After all, geniuses who could carve their names into history were rare beyond measure. But in the legion, even ordinary knights could wield power far beyond their own limits by drawing from the pool of shared fighting spirit to amplify their abilities.

A translucent wall of fighting spirit materialized before the formation. Layer upon layer of defensive potentials combined to form a single bastion: the cooperative legion-based technique Iron Citadel.

Every blade that struck the wall shattered. No matter how heavy or how many, the ice projectiles could not so much as cause the barrier to tremble. But the cost of raising the Iron Citadel was a halt in forward momentum.

The frost giants, whose ranks had been thrown into disarray by the Lionheart Legion's first strike, advanced again. Ice blades fell like rain ahead of them as they charged forward, greatswords raised high.

Each colossal step sent frozen spikes erupting from the snowfield, lancing toward the knights' shield wall. The spikes themselves lacked the force to break through. They left no mark upon the Iron Citadel.

Yet they clung where they struck, spreading outward in sheets of ice that paved the ground ahead. In moments, the frost helmed giants were charging along these newly frozen paths, their advance accelerating dramatically.

"Prepare—fire!"

The Grand Duke of the North gave the order without hesitation. Knights across the formation dropped to one knee, making way for their comrades behind them, who raised precision-crafted magitech crossbows.

The moment the line cleared, the marksmen unleashed their volleys. Fighting spirit wrapped each bolt as they fired, magitech mechanisms and fighting spirit working in tandem to hurl them forth at blinding speed. White trails streaked through the air as each bolt embedded deep into icy armor.

Alchemical propellants within the bolts detonated a split second later. Explosions tore through the frost giants' ranks. The vanguard of the enemy formation was thrown into chaos, their massive bodies crumpling beneath the blasts.

And the Lionheart Knights were not the only ones to fire. From atop the city walls, the defenders seized the opportunity to unleash a rain of invisible strikes through the shadowed veil cast by the Lady of the Night's power. Their bombardment joined the knights' volley, hammering the frost giants from above.

The snowfield erupted in chaos. Ice shards burst skyward, snow flew like smoke, and craters gouged the ground. The air itself grew opaque with drifting frost and shattered ice, so thick that only the keenest senses could still make out the battlefield.

The onslaught took its toll. The enemy's charge faltered, their formation fractured.

But among them, the strongest of the frost giants pressed on undeterred—roughly one-fifth of their total number, each rivaling a grand knight in strength. Unscathed by the bombardment, they closed the distance. Their towering swords rose as one, gathering terrifying energy before they struck downward together.

Could the Lionheart Knights' barrier withstand such a blow? Perhaps not. But a legion's might was never the mere sum of its knights.

When fighting as one, even ordinary men could awaken the power to shake the frozen earth.

"Squads, prepare for melee combat!"

Grand Duke Leon Leonardo's steady command cut through the chaos. In the next instant, the barrier of fighting spirit that had been shielding the Lionheart Knights detonated outward. The explosion blasted a violent shockwave straight into the enemy ranks, shaking the very ground beneath them.

The sudden burst of force caught the frost giants completely off guard. Their footing slipped. The trajectory of their greatswords faltered by a fraction, and their momentum staggered for just a heartbeat—

But that single heartbeat was all the Lionheart Knights needed. Their formation broke apart like a living storm, their pool of shared fighting spirit splitting and reforming into smaller clusters, each one a tightly coordinated strike squad moving with lethal precision.

The frost giants' blades slammed down, tearing massive furrows through the snowfield and sending frozen shards whirling. The sweeping arcs of ice were meant to obliterate the entire regiment in a single blow, but the knights' sudden dispersion left the strikes cutting only air and frost.

By the time the frost giants lifted their blades again, they found themselves surrounded.

A freezing gale burst from their armored frames, lashing out in every direction to clear the space around them. The shockwave was so cold it froze even energy in place. Fighting spirit, snow, and steel were all encased in crystalline frost.

The Lionheart Knights couldn't meet that attack head-on. They stepped back, deflecting the impact while channeling fighting spirit outward to keep the frost from sealing their limbs. The frost giants lunged forward again, some swinging their icy greatswords, others simply slamming their massive bodies into the circle of knights.

Metal clashed against ice. Shields rang out against blades. The knights blocked and countered where they could, but each frost giant's strength dwarfed their own. Even through the blessing of the Path of Glory, many knights were knocked sprawling, their armor dented, their breath ragged. Without that potential, their bones would already have broken.

"Die..."

The words came from the maw of one frost giant in a tongue long dead. Its blade descended, aiming to cleave the fallen knight beneath it—

Before the strike could land, a massive greatsword swept toward it from behind, shearing the frost giant in half. Its upper body exploded into a spray of icy fragments.

The helm of the creature rolled to the snow with a hollow clang. Through the slits of its broken visor, it glimpsed the carnage. Half its brethren had already fallen within moments, all cut down by a single man: Duke Leon Leonardo, Lion of the North, legendary knight.

For ordinary Lionheart Knights, these frost giants were monsters. For Leon, they were little more than targets, each of which he could kill with a single, measured swing. The knights' tactical encirclements had given him the perfect killing ground.

Uller's whip-blade lashed out, its serrated coils wrapping around another frost giant's legs. He braced, channeled fighting spirit, and pulled. The blade shredded the creature's greaves to shards of ice. Before it could recover, Uller's armored boot came down, crushing its helm to pieces.

"Your Grace!" he shouted. "There's something big coming, a massive ice elemental. It's headed straight for us!"

The ground trembled. Snow split open. A colossal silhouette surged through the blizzard: a hulking form wrapped in a cyclone of frozen wind, barreling toward the Lionheart Knights like an avalanche come to life.

Its shape was blurred by the storm, but the jagged ice-spines along its shell, the slab-like plates of glacial armor, and the mountain-like hump on its back made its nature clear: an icy behemoth, an enormous alligator-turtle.

The storm itself seemed to scream as the creature drew breath. Its titanic jaws opened wide, pulling the blizzard into its maw. Power gathered within, dense and blindingly cold, until its entire body pulsed with violent blue light. Its head turned to track the Lionheart Knights.

"A legendary beast," murmured Leon, narrowing his eyes. "Adjust formation. Keep its attack away from Winterhold. On my mark."

His tone was calm, almost casual, but every knight felt the weight of the command. They moved instantly, repositioning with military precision until the creature's line of fire pointed well clear of the fortress walls.

Then, they waited.

A deep, guttural roar tore through the air as the beast's gathered energy reached critical mass. Its maw erupted in a beam of pure ice-blue annihilation, so wide and bright it carved the sky itself. Anything below legendary rank would be obliterated; even their earlier barriers of fighting spirit would have shattered like glass.

"Charge!"

Leon's command rang out, wild and fearless. The Lionheart Knights charged straight into the beam.

Their black standard, the Phantasmal Knights' Banner, flared to life in the storm. The curio's magic enveloped all one hundred knights, rendering their bodies intangible, untouched by the world's laws.

Through the roaring torrent of frozen death, unstoppable and unbowed, the Lionheart Knights advanced. A surge of phantasmal warriors rode against the tide of oblivion.