A Deep-Seated Hatred

The situation on the battlefield changed in an instant. Reiner had no intention of giving up the best opportunity before him. Once he won, no one would be able to stop him from ruling this vast empire.

A country with such strategic depth and abundant resources, if its full potential were awakened, could unleash a power beyond anyone's imagination.

The former empire had merely developed this land's potential to a limited extent, yet it had already possessed the power to stand alone against the nations of Rosar World, even beating them so thoroughly that they had not dared to offend the east in the slightest.

Besides that, it had continued sweeping through the eastern grasslands. The former royal family had wielded such power without fully developing the land and while making extensive use of serfdom. How could Reiner, with his more advanced system, possibly be weaker?

A man's pursuit of power was endless. The position of emperor was the highest achievement everyone strove for, and once there, they would do anything necessary to consolidate their power.

Now, the chance to firmly become the supreme emperor lay right before him. How could Reiner possibly let the duck already in his grasp fly away?

The Red-backed Golden Crown Lion Banner representing Reiner fluttered loudly in the wind. He stood atop a small platform, gazing into the distance, his heart surging with excitement.

Just then, the knights of the Bazhalan Kingdom, along with everyone who owned a warhorse—including attendants, mercenaries, and some young nobles—rode their horses and gathered around Mekasha, as long as they were capable of fighting.

Mekasha wore an elegant outfit with tightened cuffs, or rather, a splendid military tunic. Over it, she wore a half-length chainmail shirt that protected her upper body.

As a woman, even though her physical abilities