Overwhelming Firepower

Chapter 300: The end of the Styrhord

Once the shadow monster died, the effect it had on the people ended. After recovering their minds, a few soldiers were knocked out cold, and others felt their heads aching.

There were also those who were crying, wanting to see those loved ones again. Then the worst were those who were broken from what they had witnessed.

Some of the men stared at the snow as if expecting it to part and reveal the faces they had just seen.

Others clutched at empty air, whispering apologies to people who had been dead for years. A few soldiers trembled violently, their weapons slipping from numb fingers as the weight of false hope collapsed into cruel reality.

The battlefield no longer rang with steel and thunder. It was filled instead with uneven breathing, muffled sobs, and the distant crackle of frost settling over shattered ground.

Even the battle-hardened people of the north could not escape the bewitchment of the shadow monster.

They had faced blizzards that stripped flesh from bone. They had stood against monster waves that swallowed entire valleys.

They had buried comrades without tears and marched the next morning. Yet none of those trials had prepared them for an enemy that attacked not the body, but the heart.

Steel could block claws, and shields could stop fangs. Medicine and blessing could heal one's wounds. But nothing they carried could defend against the resurrection of regret.

A veteran with a scar running across his cheek sank to his knees, staring at his calloused hands as if they belonged to someone else.

A dwarf who had laughed loudly a day ago now sat in silence, helmet removed, eyes hollow. The younger soldiers fared the worst; some looked around in confusion, as though the world itself had betrayed them.

The barbarians, on the other hand, roared in anger. They were angry at the monster that tricked them, but most of all, they were angry at themselves for being so weak-willed to be fooled.

As everyone was dealing with the aftermath of the battle in their own ways, Lucen, who had used up almost everything he had, was lying on the ground panting.

'Is this how it's going to be after every major battle? Me being unable to move at all? Am I going to be like that guy who keeps on screaming such misfortune?'

It was at that moment that Lucen could finally feel the backlash from using RELEASE.

First came the trembling in his fingers. Then the dull, crawling ache beneath his skin, as though something inside him had been stretched too far and was now trying to recoil into place.

His vision blurred at the edges, and the sky above him seemed far too bright against the white snow.

The pain that came was so much worse than before. It was at this moment that he wished he had a skill like pain resistance or something.

'Damn, it f*cking hurts!'

Lucen's body started to tremble; his consciousness was slowly fading. He saw Harlik shouting something, and his Father rushing towards his side.

'Oh right, we were in the middle of the Styrhord... Whatever... Father will handle that... I just want to rest...'

Lucen closed his eyes, and despite all the noise everyone was making, he went to sleep.

***

After Lucen went to sleep, what happened next was something even he would never expected.

Duke Vardon was able to somehow get the men to stop wallowing for a moment since the Styrhord was still ongoing.

He then sent a few scouts to look for Marquis Valeire and his army, and what was reported back actually shocked even the stoic Iron Duke.

The scouts found the body of Marquis Valeire and other knights. Based on the wounds they had, it would seem that they had killed each other.

Despite them being so far away, the corruption and the madness had reached them. It was a rather anticlimactic end for the Styrhord.

Still, seeing how many bodies fell here, the scouts knew that a majority of the Marquis's army had fled.

The Styrhord had ended, and it was not the way anyone else expected it to end.

There had been no final clash between banners. No decisive duel between commanders beneath a storm-dark sky. No triumphant horn announcing a hard-fought victory.

Instead, it ended in silence; it ended in madness. In men turning their blades upon one another because something unseen had whispered too deeply into their hearts.

The wind swept across the battlefield, carrying with it the smell of blood and scorched frost. Snow began to fall again, soft and indifferent, as though the North itself wished to erase the memory of what had transpired.

***

It didn't take a full day before everyone in Norvaegard knew about the Thorneharts' victory. Many people had not expected that the Thorneharts would win.

The difference in the sizes of their army was too large, no matter how high the quality of the knights under Duke Vardon were it was hard to imagine them winning.

What was even more shocking than the victory was how they won. A monster wave that was able to induce madness, which resulted in Marquis Valeire's knights killing him instead of Duke Vardon's side.

The tale spread faster than any official proclamation.

Merchants carried it between towns. Refugees whispered it in taverns. Couriers rode through snow-laden roads with letters sealed in wax, each version slightly different, each more exaggerated than the last.

Some said the Iron Duke had slain the monster himself with a single strike that split the heavens.

Others claimed that the Marquis had been cursed long before the battle began, and that the North merely delivered divine judgment.

But the version that unsettled the nobles most was the quiet one. The one that spoke of a monster capable of reaching into a man's heart.

A few dared not imagine what would have happened if the Iron Duke had not defeated the monster.

There were also a few who thought that this was another trick done by the Iron Duke's son, Lucen Thornehart. Either way, the only thing everyone was sure of was that the Thorneharts won the Styrhord.

Now, everything that was of the Valeire family was the Thorneharts' property.

***

In the Runescar estate, they were having a party celebrating the Thorneharts' victory. Kaelvar Runescar had drunk a ton of ale because of his joy, his wife Medea smiling happily beside him, and his daughter Elyra eating quietly at the side.

"Hahaha! I knew it! I knew that my rival and best friend would never lose to a mere twenty-thousand army! That was just a warm-up for him; he even had to deal with a monster wave while he was at it!"

Kaelvar was so happy that he continued drinking more than usual. "I also want to do something similar! Why don't those fools who wish to oppose the ducal houses challenge us?!"

While Kaelvar started complaining, a faint smile appeared on Elyra's lips as she mumbled to herself. "I guess, your nickname rings true."

***

Under the beautiful blue sky, Lysette Crowlorne was sitting in her garden drinking her favorite tea. She was in a rather good mood today.

She had read the many reports about Lucen's victory; they had won against overwhelming odds.

She set the porcelain cup down gently on its saucer, the faint clink barely audible beneath the rustle of leaves.

The reports lay neatly stacked on the small table beside her. She had already read them all twice.

A monster wave, the madness. Valeire was killed by his own men's blades.

Lysette traced a gloved finger along the edge of one parchment, her gaze thoughtful rather than surprised.

"To think, even in such a situation, you can still grasp victory in your hands." She murmured softly to herself as she smiled ever so brightly.

A light breeze stirred the roses in her garden. Sunlight filtered through the vines, casting dappled shadows across her pale features. To an outsider, she appeared calm, elegant, perfectly composed.

Yet deep inside, there was burning excitement like no other. Lucen continues to go beyond any of her expectations.

Lysette leaned back slightly in her chair, eyes lifting toward the cloudless sky. Her fingers tapped lightly against the porcelain saucer in a slow rhythm.

The Styrhord had just ended, but there was a bigger fight about to happen. One that force alone cannot solve.

Now that Marquis Valeire and his family were gone, there was a space that needed to be filled.

Despite the Thorneharts getting their properties, there was no open position. The king will have to raise the rank of a few nobles. There was also going to be a fight over who would lead, Marquis Valeire's alliance.

'If they don't huddle together to wait for the storm to pass, they will be swept away by the violent winds of change.' Lysette mused to herself.

The storm had only begun; while swords rested, ambition sharpened quietly beneath smiles and silk-covered daggers.