Chapter 125: The Beginning of the k*ll (Part 2)
“Up ahead, enemy sighted…”
“Two by the campfire, three in the cabin.”
“Everyone, take off any badges that represent your identities…”
“Listen up…”
“Over there, has Lord Caden already made his move…?”
“Tegus, take two guys and flank from the left. Babu, you take two more… go to the right path and set up an ambush. Remember… not a single one can escape.”
“Watch out for early warnings…”
“Kariyé will win!”
…………
Before long, flashes of blade and shadow danced in the heavy snowfall. Cries and muffled groans popped up for just a moment, then were quickly buried in the chilling air. The smell of burning fire mingled with the metallic scent of bl**d, creating an indescribable aroma, unique to the battlefield.
That scent quickly vanished into the raging snowstorm. The Kariyé cavalry appeared like shadows of the Grim Reaper, sneaking unnoticed behind the unprepared City Guard, striking like a flash—slicing necks, or thrusting blades straight into hearts…
Humans kept falling, drenched in spraying bl**d.
Victory seemed to come more easily than expected.
“This isn’t right…”
With a squelch, Captain Paul pulled his oddly curved kn*fe out from the chest of an enemy spewing bl**d and looking wide-eyed at him. He kicked the now limp body to the ground, frowning at the quickly chilling corpse in the bl**d puddle, murmuring, “They aren’t City Guards…”
“Watch out, Lord Paul!”
Suddenly, from the corner of his eye, another figure burst out from the snowstorm. As Paul heard his subordinate’s shout, he reacted just in time. Grabbing the wrist of the approaching enemy, he flipped the person over his shoulder, pinning them down in the snow. When Paul saw that face, pale with rage and fear, his reflexes took over, and his right hand swung down with the kn*fe.
Splat—
The curved blade cruelly sliced into the enemy’s face, shattering the bridge of the nose. With a crunching sound, the entire face split open, bl**d and flesh spilling out. In that moment, Paul was a bit dazed, recalling the light body, the golden hair spilling out from the helmet, and the thick fabric armor that seemed to curve at the chest…
“A woman…”
His heart skipped a beat.
“Are you okay, Captain?”
A subordinate slid down the snowbank, quickly rushing to Paul’s side, reaching out to help him up. Paul, still a bit dazed, saw the woman beginning to twitch and go limp. Suddenly, he noticed what seemed to be a necklace around her neck. He bent down and quickly yanked the necklace from her chest. The bl**d-stained golden pendant fell into his hand, and Paul held it up to his face…
It was a golden cross pendant, the emblem of the Church.
“Nun…”
Paul’s face turned as pale as the snow.
“We killed the wrong person…”
His lips trembled as he turned to his equally pale young subordinate, muttering, “It seems we killed the wrong person…”
Saying this, he quickly ran over to the enemy he had previously killed, knelt in the snow, and felt around until he pulled out another identical cross pendant from the dead body.
Looking at the two pendants in his hands, his body began to tremble uncontrollably.
“Stop…”
“Everyone, stop—!!”
Paul’s voice transformed into a hoarse yell. His eyes turned red, veins bulging from his neck as he shouted, but in the midst of this snowstorm and slaughter, who could hear his command now?
He shook himself, slowly rising, then lifted his head, ears catching the sounds of fighting and shouts from all around, mixed with the dying cries of men. The sounds buzzed, gradually becoming indistinct in his mind.
He opened his mouth, trying to yell again.
In the next moment, a subordinate suddenly rushed over, covering Paul’s mouth and whispering anxiously, “Captain, Captain! Please calm down—”
Paul turned to see the frantic face of his subordinate, whose eyes now shone with fierce determination, looking quite savage: “We can’t stop! If we stop, we’re all done for!! Stay calm! They’re not wearing the Church’s uniforms—!!”
But Paul couldn’t maintain his calm.
“Why are Church people here… d*mn it… we have to stop… or it’ll all be too late… How do I explain this to Lord Skarlij…?”
“It’s already too late, Captain! It’s too late—”
“…Where’s Caden? Where is he!?”
Captain Paul’s emotions spiraled near the brink of collapse as he shouted angrily at his subordinate: “Find him for me! That d*mn b*stard!! Bring him to me—!”
“Y-yes… I’ll go, I’ll go right away…”
The subordinate nervously responded, gazing at the now dazed commander with shifting eyes, turning and sprinting away.
In a daze, Paul watched his subordinate’s figure gradually disappear into the heavy snow, realizing with a panic that the direction the coward was running towards was actually the entrance they came from in this ruins.
“d*mn it!! You—”
His eyes widened as he couldn’t help but curse, instinctively tightening his grip on the curved kn*fe, preparing to chase after him. No matter what, the Kariyé army would never tolerate such a cowardice betrayal.
Boom—!!!
However, a loud, deep explosion shook him, nearly sending him to the ground.
Paul felt the whole sky suddenly light up.
Brilliant golden light, accompanied by that huge sound, illuminated the darkness behind him as if dispersing the snowstorm in an instant. Even the ground beneath shook.
He struggled to steady himself, staggered backward, and as he turned, the dazzling light rose from the ruins in the distance, accompanied by a continuous rumble, collapsing intricately carved stone walls. A mist of indistinguishable snow and dust swirled up, before he could even see what was happening, a chilling gust rushed over him, knocking him off his feet. His curved kn*fe slipped from his grip as he rolled a few times and landed hard in the deep snow.
A miracle…
A fleeting thought flashed through his dizzy brain.
Clergy…
It really is the Church…
We…
Walked into a trap…
“Ugh—”
“Ahhhh!!”
“Lord Paul—!!”
In his ears rang sharp buzzing sounds, amidst which he faintly heard the desperate cries of his men, echoing from all around, impossible to pinpoint their source. Sitting in the snow, he listened to those sounds, dazed for what felt like ages, and when his mind slowly cleared, he struggled to rise from the pile of snow.
Then, he shook his head, unsure of what he was about to do, only instinctively taking a step forward.
Suddenly, something whizzed past the wind and snow, landing not far from his feet, as darkness crept back in.
He looked down.
It was half a body.
A pale face, still frozen in a look of shocked surprise, eyes wide open, bl**d everywhere on their head and face. Even so, Paul recognized them—it was one of his subordinates, the bravest of his young cavalry, who had rambled endlessly in his ear before, always fearless.
He was dead.
Paul’s pupils constricted as he slowly approached the body.
One step, two steps…
Buzz!
A tremor accompanied the reappearing golden light as a figure abruptly appeared before him.
“The Shanter Army…”
It was a nun in white robes.
Amid the swirling snow, Paul couldn’t clearly see her face, only hearing her voice, strong and piercing like winter’s chill, slicing through the air.
“Coming from the Northern Region, stained with bl**d, with nothing but killing in your eyes, and no mercy, a group of vile beasts barely fit for the ground… Such audacity.”
“You…”
Paul tried to say something.
“d*e.”
But the next moment, he realized he couldn’t produce any sound.
Warm bl**d surged from his throat.
The man felt his body temperature, along with all his strength, and complicated feelings, slipping away at an irreversible speed.
He didn’t even know when he knelt before the nun. As his consciousness dimmed, everything in his sight faded to black. In the last moment, he saw her coldly looking down at him, ice-blue eyes, chilling as the frostbite of the extreme north.
“You and your master have brought suffering to this world. You… should all be swallowed by the Abyss… The Deity’s embrace will never open to accept you…”
“Sinful ones…”
“Fade away into that dark mire.”
As the harsh curse fell, Paul’s body collapsed.
