A Flat-Chest Believer Reincarnated in a World Where Women with Small Breasts Aren't Treated as Women ~ I Ended Up with a Flat-Chested Harem. - Chapter 20

Through the soft light filtering through the curtains, Risty woke up. Turning to her side, she saw Folca still asleep.

Just moments ago, Risty had been dreaming. A dream of the past—of the war against the Kingdom of Pomeis.

She stared intently at Folca’s sleeping face. It was a beautiful face. He had grown, becoming even more handsome than he had been back then.

As she basked in happiness, memories resurfaced.

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During the war with the Kingdom of Pomeis, the Rolique Kingdom’s army had set up a base in a rural village a few kilometers behind the frontlines at the mines. Risty was stationed there, treating the wounded.

While casting healing magic on a severely injured soldier who had been transported to the makeshift hospital tent, a cry of “Enemy attack!” rang out.

The royal guards immediately gathered around Risty, and Pierre, the leader of her escort unit, barked the order: “Confirm the situation, quickly!” Amidst the chaos, Risty could only stand there, flustered.

When she stepped outside the tent with the royal guards, a battered and bloodied soldier came running toward them, his face filled with desperation.

“Report! The patrol unit is engaged in combat! The ratio of enemy mages is high—stopping them is impossible! Lord Bannat has been identified!”

Hearing those words, Risty felt the blood drain from her face. She knew Lord Bannat’s name. He was one of the enemy’s main forces, with attribute combinations of Earth 9 and Dark 7, capable of “Full Execution Filpel,” and possessing more than 1,000 mana, earning him the title of “Saunthanta.” Only a grandmaster-level mage could stand against him. Risty’s twelve royal guards were elite, but none of them were at that level. The general soldiers at the base numbered about fifty. The enemy’s main force targeting a rear base like this was entirely unexpected. The situation called for retreat.

Even the royal guard began showing signs of panic.

“What’s the enemy’s position and strength?”

“They’re to the northwest, upstream along the river! Estimated at about 200 men!”

A small river flowed to the northeast of the base, while a forest lay to the southwest. The main battlefield at the mines was to the southeast.

If they crossed the river and headed northeast, a Rolique fortress city awaited. Logically, that was the direction to escape. There was even a nearby bridge that made crossing the river easy.

However, a loud explosion suddenly echoed from the northeast. Smoke rose in the distance. Though unclear, it was likely that a Rolique patrol unit had engaged the enemy. If so, the enemy had a separate detachment.

“Damn it! Find an escape route! Hurry and scout!”

Pierre, the royal guard leader, shouted. Although they needed to escape immediately, they couldn’t move blindly without knowing the enemy’s positioning. If they walked into an ambush, it would be disastrous. About a dozen soldiers obeyed the guards’ orders and ran off in all directions.

Then, from the northwest, the sound of many footsteps approached. It was the sound of a large group running. It had to be Lord Bannat’s unit.

“Your Highness, do not worry. We will protect you at all costs. Even against a grandmaster, we can at least hold them off.”

Pierre seemed to have resigned himself to dying here. Risty didn’t want to lose such loyal retainers. Was there a grandmaster mage on their side? There was, technically—Risty herself. However, all her training had been in healing magic. On top of that, she had been treating severely injured patients nonstop and had very little mana left. Risty knew full well that she wouldn’t be of much use.

“Half of us will engage the enemy. The rest will escort Her Highness southeast toward the frontlines.”

“No, our house will handle the engagement. The royal guards should focus solely on protecting Her Highness.”

The voice was young but composed. It was Folca Gustique. With a sword at his waist and nine mage retainers following behind him, he calmly walked toward the northwest.

“Barrius, move in a circular formation and attack the enemy’s flank from the forest in 8 dates (4 minutes). Make it as flashy as possible. Go!”

One of the Gustique retainers responded with a quick “Understood!” and sprinted off.

The enemy came into view, advancing across the narrow grassy plain between the river and the forest.

“The rest of you, form a horizontal line and support me.”

The Gustique retainers obeyed without a word of protest, forming a horizontal line. Folca stood three steps ahead of them.

It was an extraordinary sight. Under normal circumstances, the retainers would have acted to protect Folca. Yet they followed his orders without question, allowing the heir of the Gustique family to stand at the forefront.

Folca conjured a massive sphere of water, as tall as an adult.

He hurled the water sphere toward the approaching enemy. As expected, the enemy, with a high proportion of mages, deployed numerous defensive spells. About 30% of the enemy appeared to be combat-level mages.

The water sphere flew straight toward the enemy but lost momentum midway, scattering like water from a bucket. It spread across the ground in front of the enemy—

And erupted into massive flames.

The water sphere had been enchanted with fire magic.

The rising flames halted the enemy’s advance.

Folca had already prepared a second water sphere. It was launched and landed just in front of the enemy, expanding the wall of flames. By the time it hit, Folca was already forming a third sphere.

This time, however, the water sphere changed shape mid-flight, splitting into multiple water spears that accelerated toward the enemy’s front line.

Perhaps because the first two attacks had targeted the ground, some of the enemy let their guard down. Their defensive magic was too slow.

Flames and screams erupted.

Folca advanced toward the enemy, taking about ten steps forward. The Gustique retainers moved with him.

Closing the distance, Folca fired a Holy-attribute arrow of light at the enemy. The Gustique retainers followed with their own attack spells. The barrage targeted the disoriented enemy, cutting down those in the front line one after another.

But the enemy’s numbers were overwhelming. Counterattacking spells flew from the enemy ranks. Folca, however, conjured water from the ground and wielded it like a whip or tentacle, striking down every attack spell aimed at him.

The Gustique retainers continued their barrage, suppressing the enemy’s movements and intercepting any attacks Folca couldn’t handle. Their coordination was flawless.

From an observer’s perspective, Folca, wielding water whips, looked like a child playing in a fountain.

“He’s clearly stronger than Lord Bannat…”

Pierre muttered in astonishment. Despite the enemy’s overwhelming numbers, Folca remained unscathed. It was evident who was superior.

The battle reached a fierce stalemate, neither side able to land a decisive blow. At that moment, a shout rang out, followed by an attack from the forest. It was the flank assault Folca had ordered at the start.

The attack was minor, even for a mage. Yet for a moment, the Pomeis soldiers’ attention shifted. They quickly dismissed the threat and returned their focus—everyone except Lord Bannat, who kept his eyes on Folca.

In that instant, it became a one-on-one duel between Folca and Lord Bannat. Folca had already dispelled his water whips. He unleashed a single water spear, likely infused with all his mana, aimed directly at Lord Bannat. Recognizing the impossibility of dodging, Lord Bannat deployed defensive magic. Using high-tier Earth magic, he summoned a thick steel wall from the ground, reinforced with a Dark-attribute barrier.

From a distance, Risty thought she saw Folca smirk slightly.

The water spear collided with Lord Bannat’s defenses. The Holy attribute mana canceled out the Dark barrier, and the spear pierced the steel wall.

A thunderous noise echoed, followed by flames erupting from the other side of the wall. Folca’s attack had penetrated Lord Bannat’s defenses.

Normally, water wouldn’t stand a chance against steel. However, when manipulated with magical precision, water could behave as a quasi-solid within its magical strength limits. Folca’s focused attack exerted enough pressure to breach the steel’s elastic threshold, creating a tiny hole.

Through that hole, the water, still enchanted with fire magic, gushed out. The resulting heat, generated by Fire attribute magic of level 8, was enough to melt steel. A direct hit on a human would be instantly fatal.

The steel wall created by Lord Bannat crumbled like sand.

Lord Bannat was dead—a tremendous victory.

Yet the fight wasn’t over. Around 150 enemy soldiers remained. It wasn’t a situation they could call a win just yet. Folca began preparing his next spell.

“Storm.”

Folca uttered the word. It appeared to be the name of his spell.

Countless white, glowing “raindrops” materialized around Folca. With a howling wind, they were hurled like a torrential sideways rain toward the Pomeis forces.

The raindrops, enchanted with both Holy and Fire attributes, struck the enemy. The enemy mages managed to deploy defensive spells in time, but the regular soldiers had no such means. They were engulfed in flames.

Short screams pierced the air.

The mages who successfully defended themselves found no respite. Folca’s attack persisted, pouring down on the Pomeis forces like an endless storm. The Holy attribute within the attacks, known for its interference with other magic, steadily eroded their defenses. Those with lower mana reserves saw their barriers break, succumbing to the flames. The Gustique retainers took advantage of this, launching follow-up attacks that pierced through weakened defenses.

One by one, the enemy mages fell.

“How can a spell like this last so long…”

Pierre muttered in disbelief. The magic Folca was using clearly consumed a tremendous amount of mana per second. Folca’s mana reserves were evidently far beyond 1,000.

With a small, final scream, the last of the enemy mages collapsed. Folca ceased his magic.

The area where the Pomeis forces had stood was now painted in shades of gray and black.

The regular soldiers had been reduced to ash, while the mages who had defended themselves lay as charred corpses. While some may have escaped into the forest, the enemy was effectively annihilated.

Folca approached Risty and her group, placing his hand on his chest and bowing gracefully in proper etiquette.

“Princess Risty, are you unharmed?”

“Y-Yes.”

“That’s a relief. Royal guards, the enemy’s whereabouts remain unclear. Let us retreat.”

“Lord Folca Gustique… Thank you for saving us. Let’s head southeast to rejoin the main army. We’ll take the lead from here.”

No further combat ensued, and Risty and her group safely reunited with the main force.

◇◇ ◆ ◇◇

“Good morning.”

As Risty reminisced, Folca woke up.

“Good morning, Folca. Today’s the day we set off for Gustique territory.”

Risty leaned in and kissed Folca. Since their marriage, this morning kiss had become a daily ritual. As she tried to pull away after three seconds, Folca caught her and held her in place. Apparently, he wanted it to last longer.