CHAPTER 51: THE GENERAL FALLS, THE EMPIRE RISES

Back on the other side of the battlefield, another decisive fight was unfolding here.

I stood still, my boots buried in the red snow, my breath steady despite the distant screams and the clash of weapons. Before me, two figures circled one another like predators ready to pounce: Kaelira and General Garlan.

I knew exactly what I was watching. On one side, a veteran clad in clear steel, his movements precise, his gaze unyielding. His shoulders carried the assurance of hundreds of battles, and in his hands shone a legendary sword whose edge could cleave even abyssium. Every flick of his wrist breathed mastery, the discipline of a life entirely devoted to the art of killing.

Facing him, Kaelira. Her silhouette was less restrained, more raw. Her abyssium armor clung to her curves like a second skin of shadow, the plates almost pulsing with the energy I had infused into her. Her muscles quivered with power, her yellow eyes burned with a predatory gleam. She did not have a general’s experience, nor the rigor of a swordmaster... but she had something else: my mark. Her stats swelled by my bond, her strength boosted by my buffs, her body shielded by that living metal that laughed at ordinary blades.

One had technique. The other had power. An uncertain, taut duel, one that could tip either way.

I kept my arms crossed over my chest, watching in silence, my thoughts as cold as the snow beneath my feet. I had no intention of being softened by notions of "dueling honor." If Kaelira faltered, I would intervene without the slightest hesitation. It would be ridiculous to lose such a precious asset for a whim of personal glory. No matter if she wanted to prove her worth, no matter her pride: in my Empire, a useful warrior is worth more than a heroic corpse.

My gaze shifted from Garlan to Kaelira. Their breaths collided, forming white clouds in the frozen air. Their steps cracked on the blood-stained snow, already drawing an invisible circle, an improvised arena whose every spectator knew the stakes. Around them, the chaos of battle seemed frozen. Even my own soldiers held their breath, aware that here lay the heart of victory.

I barely smiled. If she won, Kaelira would become the very image of terror for our enemies: a savage demoness, reinforced by my power, capable of felling their greatest champion. And if she lost... then it would fall to me to strike the final blow.

In either case, the conclusion would be the same: the East would kneel.

They circled each other, like wolves who knew only one would walk away from this dance. Snow crunched beneath their steps, mingled with dried blood that darkened the ground in blotches. Their breaths formed white clouds in the icy air, clashing with every exhalation as if even the air itself wished to fight.

Garlan lifted his chin slightly, a frozen smile tugging at his lips.

— Insolent little demon... your arrogance will be your grave.

Kaelira burst out in a harsh, raw laugh that sent a shiver through even my soldiers.

— Keep talking, old man... let’s see if your words cut as sharp as your sword.

She clicked her tongue against her fangs, her yellow eyes burning with feverish excitement. Her sword trembled as if eager to hurl itself at the opposing steel, and every swing of her tail made the air hiss.

Around them, the battlefield had stilled. Even screams and clashing steel seemed muted. All — my soldiers, theirs, even the dying in the snow — fixed their eyes on that invisible circle, that suspended clash. The tension was so dense a single misstep could shatter it.

I did not move, arms crossed, eyes locked on them. Let the stronger prevail... but if she faltered, I would intervene. I was not here to offer heroic duels, only to collect victories.

Kaelira licked her lips, her teeth glistening with blood already spilled. Garlan tightened his grip on his sword’s hilt, frost cracking beneath his boots. Two predators poised to strike.

The whole world seemed to hold its breath.

The explosion came without warning. A sharp, brutal crack as Garlan’s legendary steel met Kaelira’s abyssium. The impact made the very air vibrate. Snow erupted in a white geyser, the echo thundering across the battlefield.

I saw the difference immediately. Garlan was not merely strong: each movement of his arm was terrifyingly pure. His strikes followed with surgical precision, fluidity born of a life wielding the blade. His sword cut arcs through the air, perfect, economical, merciless. Every angle calculated to kill, every motion to carve open a weakness.

Kaelira was the opposite. Brutal. Wild. Her strength far outstripped a human’s, and her abyssium drank every blow like a ravenous beast. But her style lacked refinement: wide, violent swings, sometimes overly exposed. She made up for it with her fury, and with a weapon Garlan did not possess: her abyssium-clad tail.

Time and again, when her guard was nearly shattered beneath the speed of his blows, the tail lashed out like a third arm. It swept the ground, flung snow and mud, forced Garlan back. It coiled around his ankle, smacked his blade, sought the tiniest opening. Each time, the old general dodged with a sharp motion, his boots tracing precise half-circles in the snow.

The two collided like storms. The legendary steel spat sparks against the abyssium, and the clashes reverberated through my chest. The ground itself shook. I saw demons in the rear press their hands to their ears, unable to withstand the brutal force of the duel.

Kaelira roared with every blow, her fangs glinting, her breasts straining with effort beneath her dark armor. Her whole body vibrated, muscles swollen by the boost I had given her. Blood already stained her arm where a slash had pierced her guard, yet she smiled, red tongue gliding over her lips.

Garlan, in contrast, was chilling. His face showed nothing. No anger, no haste. Only the ruthless efficiency of a master. Every strike aimed at a vital. Every dodge left Kaelira crushed beneath her own savagery.

Yet despite his technical superiority, he did not dominate. For every moment he thought he had her, the abyssium tail lashed, diverted, or forced him back. And in his gray eyes, I glimpsed something he had not foreseen: discomfort. The realization that this duel, which he thought he could end in a breath, would cost him more than expected.

Their blades clashed again, so violently the snow around them burst apart. Sparks, frost, blood: the melee became spectacle.

A flash of metal tore through the air. Garlan’s legendary blade whistled so fast even my eyes struggled to follow. Kaelira, too reckless in her momentum, had exposed her neck. The strike was perfect, clean, unstoppable. A decapitation in the making.

But her abyssium tail shot forth in the last fraction of a second. It cracked like a whip, interposed itself in the trajectory, and struck the blade with a piercing shriek. The clash diverted the steel just enough to save her head. The force flung her to the ground, one knee sinking into the bloody snow.

Garlan wasted no time. His mastery was relentless. He followed through immediately, sword raised, pivoting with a master’s precision. Kaelira lifted her blade, but he feinted, slid to the side, and drove his weapon into her flank.

The sound was hideous: sacred steel cutting through abyssium, flesh, and bone at once, as if my black creation were nothing but paper skin.

— Ghhhaaahhh...!

Kaelira’s scream twisted into laughter. Her teeth gleamed, red with blood spilling from her lips. Her yellow eyes blazed with feral madness. She spat a crimson spray into the general’s face and chuckled, a guttural laugh that made even my soldiers shiver.

— Aaahhh...! That’s it...! More...!

Her chest heaved, blood steaming on the frozen ground. Yet she still gripped her sword, knuckles bone-white.

I frowned. My body had already tensed, ready to leap. It would take but a step to hurl myself into the fray, to cut down this general before he finished off my asset. A voice inside screamed that losing Kaelira to this duel would be wasteful.

A hand pressed against my arm.

Sae.

Her silver eyes burned in the chaos, fixed on me with icy intensity. Her lips parted, but her voice held firm despite the uproar:

— Let her.

I clenched my teeth. She was holding me back. She dared restrain me.

— If you intervene now, she whispered, she will remain your shadow. She must prove... she can kill him.

Kaelira, gasping, spat blood into the snow and rose again, her tail snapping behind her like a living blade. She still smiled, fangs red, belly torn open but gaze burning hotter than ever.

I stood motionless. My fist trembled, but I stepped back half a pace. Very well, Kaelira. Show me. Or die.

Kaelira staggered briefly, hand pressed against her open flank. Blood streamed in hot waves, staining the abyssium crimson. She could have retreated, could have defended. But I saw her eyes narrow, her lips curl, and in that barbed smile there was only one promise: kill or be killed.

She gripped her weapon with both hands, muscles taut to breaking, and let out a roar of rage that shook the entire plain. An animal howl, raw, that coursed through the ranks like a shiver. Then she charged.

Garlan did not flinch. On the contrary, he wore that cold smile of veterans who believe they already see their opponent’s end. His blade flashed, swift and merciless, piercing her side through and through.

— Hhhhhaaahhh...!

Her scream became laughter. Bloodied, crimson laughter that splattered her teeth. For at the very moment sacred steel pierced her flesh, her abyssium tail lashed like a serpent. It coiled around the general’s throat, tightening until vertebrae cracked.

And her sword, in the same motion, carved a furious arc.

The blade howled through the frozen air.

A heartbeat of silence. Then Garlan’s head snapped free, severed in a thick geyser of blood. It spun, tumbled, eyes still wide with disbelief, before crashing into the snow and rolling like a grotesque trophy.

His massive body remained standing for a second, sword buried in Kaelira’s belly, before collapsing heavily, torn by a posthumous rattle.

Kaelira, impaled, staggered. Blood gushed from her wound, yet her lips still curled into a predatory grin. She spat a mix of saliva and blood, her fangs glistening in torchlight.

— Aaahhh... told you, old dog...

Then she too collapsed, her knees sinking into the snow, her sword slipping from her hands. She was still laughing, throat drowning in blood, yellow eyes blazing with a victory wrested from death.

Sae was the first to move. She dropped to her knees, her slender fingers pressing against the gaping wound. Her lips whispered incantations, and already silver light spread over Kaelira’s belly. Snow crackled beneath the heat, the scent of cauterized flesh rising in acrid smoke. Kaelira moaned, arched her back, yet never ceased laughing, her bloodied teeth bared like a raging wolf.

I wasted no time watching them. My focus turned to the still-steaming head of the general. I seized it by the hair, his gaping mouth sputtering grotesquely. His glazed eyes still stared at me, incredulous, as if even death had not sufficed to make him understand what had just happened.

I found a fallen spear among the corpses and impaled the head with a swift thrust. The iron pierced the jaw with a crack of bone, and I raised the trophy high above the melee.

— THE GENERAL IS DEAD!

My voice boomed, deep, carried by the icy wind across the entire plain.

— THE WAR IS OVER!

The cry rolled like thunder. Around me, my demons howled in answer, a savage clamor that made the snow quake beneath our feet. Across the lines, the enemy froze. Men raised their eyes to the dripping head, and I saw them falter, their shields wavering. Some dropped their weapons outright, others collapsed to their knees, too broken to fight on.

The rumor swelled, a wave that crushed all cohesion. They understood. Their general lay decapitated, their Saint had vanished, and nothing remained of their so-called sacred order. Swords fell one by one into the snow, white banners cast to the ground. Survivors surrendered unconditionally, hands raised, eyes vacant.

I stood still, holding the spear high, Garlan’s head dripping onto my gauntlets. Blood dribbled in thick streams, merging with the snow. A solemn silence filled my camp, as if all held their breath. Then my soldiers, as one, roared my name.

— SORA!

The uproar burst forth, bestial, triumphant. Ten thousand voices thundered my victory, drowning out the prisoners’ laments and the dying’s rattles. The Eastern war shattered beneath my feet.

And in this tumult, I smiled. For now nothing remained to contest it: this Empire was mine, and every drop of blood spilled today was proof of it.

The roar of my troops had not yet faded when I raised my hand, commanding silence. The icy wind howled for a second, then the battlefield hushed, as if even the storm held its breath. The surviving enemies, kneeling in the snow, stared at me with empty eyes.

I swept my gaze across the plain. Hundreds of weapons littered the ground, white banners soaked in mud. A single word would suffice to unleash my demons upon them, to flay them, trample them to the last. But I did not want sterile slaughter.

— Imprison them, I ordered, voice clear and cutting. No needless massacre.

A murmur of surprise rippled through the ranks. Some growled, frustrated at being denied their prey. I lifted the spear higher, Garlan’s head swaying, blood still pouring from the shattered jaw.

— They will serve us better alive than as corpses.

My voice cracked through the icy air, and no one dared protest further. The survivors lowered their heads, broken, knowing their fate was no longer their own.

I then stepped forward, snow crunching beneath my boots. Every soldier in my army, every red or golden gaze, fixed upon me. The moment had come to carve this victory into their flesh as much as their memory.

— Look around you.

I pointed at the blood-soaked field, the piled corpses, the shattered weapons.

— None of this is mine alone. Every victory was born of your hands, your blood, your screams. It is your rage that broke their wall, your bodies that held the line, your fangs that gutted their faith.

A growl rumbled through the ranks, fists lifted, ragged breaths rising.

— Today, the East kneels. Today, the Empire stretches further, greater, darker, stronger. This battle seals our expansion, and it shall be but the first stone of a reign that will cover the world.

I raised the spear high, the general’s head towering above me, grotesque trophy dripping blood.

— The blood of your enemies has laid another stone in our Empire!

The answering roar shook the earth. Ten thousand throats screamed my name, chanting, praying, roaring as one beast. Torches flickered in the night, black banners cracked in the wind.

And I, dark silhouette in the heart of this clamor, Garlan’s head mounted on my spear, smiled. For all this tumult, all this blood, all this silence broken by their screams... was only the prelude.

The Empire had just been born in snow and blood, and it would never stop again.