This battle wasn't about annihilating anyone, but about displaying one's own strength. All three people present knew this. Of course, if an opportunity arose to cut down the opposing emperor, that wouldn't be out of the question either. After all, the conflict between the Huns and Rome had already reached a fever pitch. Taking out the enemy's supreme leader would naturally be the best possible outcome.
Simply put, only Aslan was relatively safe at the moment, and only relatively. After all, anything could happen in the course of a battle. But at least until they had a way to withstand a dragon's attack and pursuit, neither Lucius nor Attila would intentionally try to kill Aslan. Of course, for Lucius, he probably still wanted to ask Aslan about Estée Lauder's whereabouts. The Roman Emperor cared a great deal about the first "white moonlight" to ever capture his heart.
A gust of wind blew past, kicking up a cloud of dust. Almost at the same instant, all three sides charged forward.
The Sword of the War God in Attila's hand thrust forward! A seven-colored light shot out!
The Spear of Destiny in Aslan's hand spun rapidly, continuously rotating to form a shield-like defense. Coupled with a burst of magical energy, the attack fired from the Sword of the War God was quickly deflected. At the same time, Aslan pivoted and swung the spear down behind him. The silver spearhead clashed with Lucius's demonic sword.
Sparks flew from the impact of the weapons. In the sky above, Melusine intimidated the surrounding soldiers, ensuring the fairness of the battle between the three. If anyone dared to fire a sneak-shot arrow at this moment, she would make sure that side's entire army vanished from the face of the earth!
Lucius parried the spear strike from Aslan, then once again swung his sword to meet Attila's Sword of the War God. Don't be fooled by Attila's small stature; with the power granted by her innate physique and her natural sensitivity to battle and war, her titles as the King of the Steppes and the Scourge of God were absolutely well-deserved.
Although the battle was fierce, all three had a tacit understanding not to unleash the full power of their weapons. Putting aside the difficulty of controlling that power once released, the mere aftershocks of their full-power clashes would cause massive casualties among their troops.
The Holy Spear, the Sword of the War God, and the Demonic Sword. Powerful magical energies continuously bombarded each other. In terms of pure combat skill, Aslan was the weakest of the three at present. However, the regenerative ability granted by the Holy Spear allowed Aslan to maintain his stamina, and even the injuries caused by the magical clashes would heal rapidly in a short time. When it came to a battle of attrition, Aslan was the least afraid.
However, Lucius wore a special suit of armor that provided the Roman Emperor with extremely high resistance to magic. In terms of defense, the emperor was actually the strongest.
As for Attila, she was the epitome of offense.
The blade of light from the Sword of the War God forced Aslan to retreat a certain distance. He then blocked the sword with his Holy Spear. Seeing the eager Roman Emperor Lucius nearby, Aslan quickly wrote Faerie Letters on the ground with his hand. The ground rapidly transformed, and vine-like earth shot directly towards Lucius, restricting his charge.
After Aslan deflected the Sword of the War God, the three once again fell into a triangular standoff. Although Lucius didn't recognize what kind of script-based ability Aslan was using, it certainly served as a reminder that this Holy Knight was not as simple as they had imagined. In fact, simply by his status as a master of Faerie Letters, Aslan could qualify for the class container of a Caster. While not as effortless as a dedicated magus, he would have no problem being a second-rate one. Especially since Aslan was also a blacksmith, his Item Construction skill was definitely maxed out.
"Quite capable, aren't you? I didn't expect you to be hiding such an ability, little brother. Mage-warrior hybrids are truly rare."
Lucius watched Aslan while also keeping an eye on Attila's movements. He had some impression of this King of the Huns. It was just that in his memory, this king seemed to have been sent to Rome by her own people as a hostage. Lucius had only been emperor for a few years; he was naturally aware of Rome's situation before his reign. It seemed that the Rome of that time had, ironically, fostered the growth of this King of the Huns.
Attila showed no reaction or expression. At this time, she was not yet the Heroic Spirit who would reflect on whether she had been too fixated on her identity as a warrior in her past life. Right now, she was an existence who acted solely as a warrior.
Aslan relaxed his offensive stance. All three sides had now demonstrated that a victor could only be decided if they went all out without regard for the consequences. This current stalemate meant that there was still room for negotiation.
"I'm not asking you to stop fighting forever. One week! A maximum of one week. After that, you can do whatever you want."
Lucius, at this moment, was still unaware of the great disaster his Governor of Gaul had caused. A week's time was indeed nothing in the context of their war. He didn't mind. It all depended on whether the King of the Huns before him was willing to temporarily halt her advance.
"I don't mind. But what about the little lady over there? If she insists on continuing the attack, then I'll have no choice but to see it through to the end."
Melusine descended from the sky, landing directly behind Aslan. Aslan's light-blue eyes looked at the white-haired girl. "King of the Huns, Attila. If you insist on choosing to attack, then I will temporarily join Rome's side to block your advance, and even drive you back to the steppes for a time. Are you fine with that?"
Attila's calm eyes widened slightly. It wasn't because Aslan would help Rome, but simply because of the name "Attila." Everyone around her called her "Altera." The name "Altera" was like a representation of her warrior identity. "Attila," perhaps, represented a part of her self.
Gripping the Sword of the War God in her hand, the king from the eastern steppes gave Aslan a deep look. Finally, she turned, mounted her horse, and led her troops away to the east.
Watching the billowing dust, Lucius did not choose to withdraw. Instead, he returned to the encampment his soldiers had built. After all, they couldn't be sure if these warriors from the steppes would turn back. At the same time, he had to send out scouts in other directions to monitor their movements. It was only a week, not too long, but not too short either.
Lucius didn't know that in a week's time, he would wish he could strangle the Governor of Gaul to death. Oh, by that time, the Governor of Gaul would already be dead.