I mulled over the prediction once more.

[It depends on the will of the heavens.]

I had seen this prediction before.

It didn’t literally mean that fate rested in divine hands.@@novelbin@@

Rather, it was an indication that the outcome of the battle hinged not on pure probability, but on my actions.

But… what did it mean for the fate of a war to rest on my choices?

My intelligence was high, but my combat ability was abysmal. My leadership skills were probably low as well—those were qualities of a general, not a tactician.

Sure, a strategist guiding a battle to victory through sheer tactical genius wasn’t unheard of.

But in my case, the title of tactician was little more than a formality.

I was utterly incompetent in the art of war.

And yet, the result of this battle would depend on me?

To make things even stranger, retreating was somewhat close to the correct answer?

Two predictions—both infallible—yet seemingly contradictory.

I was caught in the middle, unable to find the connection between them.

That was when—

"Swen?"

Epinnel’s voice called me back to reality.

She had no way of knowing I was lost in thought.

She was simply waiting for an answer.

I quickly composed myself and replied in a steady voice.

"Ah… yes, Lady Epinnel. I believe your assessment is correct."

There was a slight delay, but I had managed to avoid any suspicion.

"Everyone, listen up!" Epinnel declared. "We are holding the fortress. Prepare for battle. Musel, Jayden, and Airen—I have high expectations for the three of you."

""Understood!""

And just like that, the decision was made.

Rather than following Jinor’s suggestion to retreat, the army would fight under Epinnel’s command.

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