The Narrows Run Red
“Aaaaaaargh!”
Screams tore through the narrow pass as the Imperial main force’s defensive line twisted and buckled under the assault. Formations shuddered; shields were driven back in a cascading chain reaction.
“Hold the line! If the formation breaks, we’re finished!”
Officers farther down the pass bellowed until their throats raw. They had expected an attack, yet the sheer numbers and ferocity of the enemy far exceeded anything they had prepared for.
“Thousands of them… waiting in ambush in terrain like this.”
“Those bastards…! They planned this from the start.”
That so many warriors could lie in wait without detection meant only one thing: the ambush had not been set up in a matter of days. It had been prepared long in advance. The dirt caking their bodies said as much.
They dug into the earth and buried themselves…?
Madmen. They could not have eaten or drunk properly for days, yet they had done it anyway.
There was no time left for such thoughts.
“Here they come! Block them!”
At the commander’s shout the soldiers raised their shields and braced for the Kar warriors’ charge. But—
“Foolish Imperials.”
Turole, leading the ambush force, flashed the eyes of a predatory beast and lifted his axe.
“Their line is already shaking. Punch straight through and slaughter every last one of them!”
The gorge was narrow; numbers meant little. Kill the vanguard and withdraw—that was all that mattered. Turole’s main force slammed forward like a pack of beasts closing on prey. The pressure was so crushing it became hard to breathe. Front-rank Imperial soldiers were shoved back one after another until they toppled onto the floor of the pass.
Thud!
Slash!
An axe slipped through a gap in the shields and sheared a soldier’s neck in half; a spear followed, punching clean through a belly.
“Aaaaaaargh!”
“Fe—Felcol!”
Men crumpled amid the screams. The floor of the pass was already turning into a mire of blood and mud. Turole looked down on the carnage and bared his teeth.
“Now! Keep driving them! Until their formation completely collapses!”
“Uwaaaaaaah!”
The Kar warriors roared and drove deeper. Then—
“Aaaaargh!”
“……?”
An unexpected scream rose from the upper slope. Turole whipped his head around.
Whoosh—thud! Thump! Clatter-rattle-rattle!
Something black came flying, struck the slanted hillside, and tumbled downward. The Kar warriors’ faces hardened. It was one of their own.
“W-what is this……?”
Turole’s pupils shook. A moment later he understood.
“All units—charge the enemy striking our main force.”
A low command, and the ridgeline above—hidden until now by fog and darkness—began to seethe.
Pabababababababat!
Black silhouettes poured down like a landslide. Completely unprepared for the sudden assault, Turole shouted in panic.
“Ab-above! Enemies attacking from above! Stop them!”
Too late, the Kar warriors spun toward the slope and struck at the Silent Spear unit led by Arteon. There was never any chance of stopping them.
Suaaaaaak!
Spear points, weighted with the full force of their descent, punched through shoulders and skulls.
Crash!
Thud!
Slash!
The Silent Spear soldiers hurtling downward delivered not mere attacks but executions. Kar warriors were crushed and felled before they could even counter.
“Damn it……!”
Turole ground his teeth. A little more pressure and they could have inflicted heavy losses and withdrawn. The sudden reversal of momentum sent the lower ranks into turmoil as well.
“They’re ours! We attack too!”
“Crush them!”
“Tear them apart from above and below!”
Imperial soldiers, spirits rekindled, roared and slammed into the Kar ranks. Turole’s face drained of color. In a single heartbeat the battle had flipped.
This is… encirclement.
And it was not finished.
“Uwaaaaaaah!”
“Kill every last Kar!”
A fresh war cry erupted from the opposite side of the pass. Another Imperial force under Tailren came storming down the far slope. In an instant the Kar warriors found themselves crushed from both flanks, with every avenue of retreat sealed.
Turole bellowed.
“Retreat to the far side of the pass! All units, withdraw!”
To keep fighting here would mean nothing but a dog’s death. They had to force a path open along whatever road remained and flee.
At that very moment—
“Do you think you can escape?”
A voice like scraping iron, bone-chillingly cold. Turole spun and slashed.
Whoosh!
He cut only empty air.
I-I was sure…?
The voice had seemed right beside him. His eyes trembled as though he had met a ghost.
Then—
Thud!
“……!”
A dull impact rocked Turole’s body. His gaze slowly dropped.
“Ah…….”
A hole the size of a fist had been punched clean through his left chest. The cold northern wind whistled through the gaping wound; red blood dripped steadily. Even he wondered how an ordinary spear could inflict such an injury.
But—
Thud.
He never received an answer. He collapsed to the ground and died.
Bereft of their commander, the Kar warriors milled in confusion, then scattered in disorder and fled. Of course no one intended to let them go.
“Cut off their retreat and encircle them completely! Teach them that this place is their grave!”
Velkain, who had endured the crisis in silence until now, flashed predatory eyes. His roar of a command sent the soldiers’ morale surging in an instant.
“Kill them all!”
“Uwaaaaaaah!”
Caught in the Imperial net, the Kar warriors shoved one another aside and sprinted desperately for the far end of the pass. Tangled together, many even discarding their weapons, they no longer looked like warriors at all.
And then—
Slash! Thrust! Crunch!
The narrow path became an execution ground in the blink of an eye.
At its heart—
Slash!
Arteon’s spear carved through the darkness, butchering Kar after Kar.
When the fighting ended, fewer than five hundred of the three thousand Kar warriors who had entered the pass escaped with their lives.
Velkain looked down on the blood- and corpse-choked gorge and gave a curt order.
“Push the bodies to both sides and strengthen the watch immediately. Remaining troops are to rest.”
“Clear the corpses and tighten the perimeter!”
The command raced through the ranks. Soldiers hastily shoved bodies aside, clearing a path for movement once the sun rose. In the pitch-black gorge where even the ground a few paces ahead vanished without torchlight, the first battle had ended in Imperial victory.
Only after sunrise did the true horror of the dawn battle become clear. Seeing the thousands of Kar corpses heaped along both walls of the pass, some soldiers retched involuntarily. The stench of blood that had hung through the night had grown almost familiar, yet facing so many dead at once was still almost too much to bear.
“……Those bastards were no joke.”
“There will be stronger ones ahead. And… this kind of war of attrition won’t happen again.”
Arteon answered Kairon’s remark in a low voice. The enemy had staged an impressive ambush, but they would have already realized it was useless. That meant—
“Next time a truly strong one will appear. Now that they understand this is a contest of power… they’ll play their real cards.”
What those cards might be, however, remained unknown. Caution and vigilance were essential. Kairon nodded. The weight and exhaustion of the battlefield had proven heavier than he expected. Even in a fight that seemed almost routine, the enemy’s killing intent and raw will to survive pressed down on his shoulders like lead.
Seeing that look in Kairon’s eyes, Arteon gave his shoulder a light clap.
“Rest while you still can.”
Then, without another word, Arteon simply stared toward the direction of the Kar main force.
The freezing northern night air settled heavily between the tents, pressing down like a weight. The wind cut sharp enough to slice flesh; a chill laced with snowflakes licked across the ground.
In the basin that held the Kar main camp—
Whoosh!
A tent flap was flung roughly aside and a man strode out. He narrowed his eyes, focusing on the distant screams and clash of steel rising beyond the mountains.
“This… aura…….”
His voice was low and sunken. Even without seeing it, he could feel it. The fierce presence that had erupted for a single moment—how could he ever forget it? It was the very same force that had once driven him to the brink of death.
The man’s fist trembled. Through the half-open front of his tunic, a hideous scar stood out starkly across the right side of his chest. He ground his molars until they grated.
The man who had once ruled Belikezel.
Krelmuk.
“K-Krelmuk-nim! What’s wrong?”
Kortzan came running late, gasping for breath. Krelmuk’s sudden emergence from the tent looked nothing like his usual self. Yet Krelmuk did not even glance back; his gaze remained locked on the mountains beyond.
“……It’s him.”
“What?”
The voice was soft, yet chillingly clear. At Kortzan’s question Krelmuk spoke again.
“He’s here.”
“By ‘him’… you mean that one?”
Kortzan’s face hardened. There was only one person who could drive Krelmuk to such open fury. Krelmuk simply stared in silence toward the distant battlefield.
When word had first arrived that the Imperial army was invading, a strange expectation had stirred in a corner of Krelmuk’s heart. What if—just what if—he might face that man again? He had never imagined it would happen so soon. And he had never expected the man to flaunt his aura so blatantly.
Kortzan asked carefully,
“……Are you certain it’s him?”
“I could never forget.”
Krelmuk tapped the scar on his right chest. Beneath the hardened flesh, the pain, the defeat, and the humiliation of that day still lived, vivid and raw.
“His aura… is something I can never mistake.”
Kortzan’s throat bobbed dryly.
“Then we should report to the Taman at once…….”
“I will go myself.”
Krelmuk turned without listening further. The first operation had already failed. No matter what schemes Barg had prepared, nothing would matter in the face of overwhelming power.
And—
“Killing him must be my right alone.”
As Krelmuk strode toward Supreme Taman Barg, his eyes glittered with a killing intent denser than ever before.