Chapter 170: The Battlefield That Can No Longer Be Late (Part 1)
“I’ll stay and hold her off. You can go.”
The words dropped from the female hunter as casually as if she were commenting on the weather. She turned towards the corner of the room, grabbed a triangular hat hanging on a wooden rack, and deftly tied up her silver hair before placing the hat atop her head.
All the while, Duke Skarlij was watching her, his expression unreadable but his smile growing more pronounced.
“I knew you would say that…” After a pause, he sighed.
Boom—
Outside, a dull and violent explosion erupted again, closer this time than the last. It sounded like it came from the town square, and the terrifying noise made the dust in the room tumble down as the shouts of hunters outside grew frantic. The man could clearly sense that if he wanted to escape, this was his last chance.
“So, do you really think I can just leave you here and run away on my own?”
He asked with a steady gaze at the calm woman in front of him, his smile slowly fading.
She stepped back in front of him, tilting her head slightly to meet his eyes.
Their gazes locked.
Suddenly, the woman named Bella reached out, gently stroking Skarlij’s strong jawline, her icy palm pressed against his warm cheek.
“Listen to me, okay?”
Her tone held no room for debate, yet it didn’t come off as harsh. In this moment, the Duke felt an unexpected warmth in her usually unwavering gaze that flickered with genuine emotion.
“You know deep down, Shanter Castle can do without me… but it can’t do without you.”
“Bella—”
“Duke Skarlij.”
As he tried to speak, Bella softly called his name, standing on her tiptoes to plant a quick kiss on his lips, effectively sealing any words he might have said.
“Do you remember the year you rescued me from the snow bandits?”
The female hunter gently wrapped her arms around the Duke’s waist, resting her cheek against his muscular chest. She was tender, almost uncharacteristically so, as she remembered the past—carefully avoiding any movement that might aggravate his wounds.
“You brought a barely conscious me back to Shanter Castle. It was the first time I got to stay in such a nice castle. You taught me how to use a kn*fe and fork, how to practice swordplay. You told me I would never go hungry again, that no one would ever throw me in a cage or insult me at will… Duke Skarlij, from that year on, my life has belonged to you.”
Bella could hear the strong, steady beat of his heart.
After all these years, she still loved the sound of his heartbeat.
“All that I am, I dedicate to you, and I never expect anything in return. You are my entire reason for existence. I am your hunter, and always will be.”
She paused.
“And if one day the hunter becomes too weak and needs her master to protect her, then she has utterly lost the meaning of her existence.”
As she spoke, Bella slowly released her grip on the Duke and locked her determined gaze onto his. “So please, leave. Give me this chance.”
“Now it’s time for me to return this life to you.”
“Bella, you—”
“You’re gravely injured, so don’t force me to be strong.”
Boom—!!!
A violent explosion echoed again, seemingly closer to the little house now. A small beam above them crashed down, nearly hitting the two who were locked in their stares.
In the distance, they could faintly hear soldiers clashing and shouting.
Bella looked at Duke Skarlij, a slight grin curling her lips—it seemed like she wanted to laugh, though her expression was anything but cheerful.
In the next moment, she snatched up a peculiar weapon that had been leaning against the wooden table and turned to leave.
As she stepped briskly out of the little house, the wind carried ash toward her, lifting her tied-back silver hair. She glanced towards the center of the town, where flashes of gold and smoke were rising, the air thick with bl**d and tension. Bella paused, tightening her grip on her weapon.
She waited…
No footsteps were heard approaching from behind.
“Phew—”
She exhaled in relief.
At the same time, the hunters stationed at the door fell silent. Countless pairs of eyes suddenly turned to her, utterly still.
“…Lion Hunters, listen up.”
Two seconds later, Bella issued her order: “One squad remains. Escort the injured Duke safely out of the town and regroup with the Eastern Falcon Army as soon as possible, wagering your lives… The rest of you are with me. Let’s deal with those unsavory heretics.”
She paused for effect, her eyes glinting with murderous intent. She licked her lips, which still bore the warmth of the man, her voice dripping with bloodlust, cold as ice: “Do whatever it takes to survive a little longer. As long as you still breathe and swing your weapons, leave no enemy standing before you until they’re all dead.”
…………
Boom, boom, boom—!
A massive Holy Lance fell from the sky with a thundering crash, reducing countless houses to rubble in an instant, shattering into pieces like paper in the wind. Along with it, many hunters lay scattered, bloodied and broken.
The billowing dust surged like a sandstorm, quickly engulfing dozens of figures caught in chaotic combat. The sacred light howled, chain gears glinted viciously, and amidst the cacophony of roars, more fell one by one…
Sharp weapons pierced flesh, shredding hearts, armor clanked under heavy blows, and hot bl**d splattered on the icy ground. Cloaked figures clad in golden armor, their faces twisted in bloody snarls, wandered through the dust, eyes fixated only on enemies and comrades, and nothing else.
In this disarray, all organizational tactics and strategies had fallen by the wayside; the leaders of the Lion Hunting Army had been nearly wiped out by the unpredictable descent of the Holy Lances. The Church Knights showed little concern for whether the civilians had evacuated, delivering a devastating blow that turned the town’s defense into sheer chaos. The external lines crumbled like dry leaves, followed by a frenzy of melee that blurred the lines between friend and foe.
The Church’s vanguard stormed from the east of the town to the center in no time at all. The scattered hunters received no orders and were left to fend for themselves, with the rallying horn’s calls failing to gather more troops to defend the last remaining line in the west.
Among the enemy, that seemingly unstoppable old nun, like a demon drawn to bl**d, led hundreds of her vanguard knights charging forward.
Fortunately…
They hadn’t found the Duke just yet.
With a “clang,” an old hunter named Theo swung his sickle through the fray, drenched in bl**d, his immense strength sending the injured captain sprawling several meters away, lifeless on the ground. This sickle was a weapon specially crafted in the image of Pope Knight Silvya, the weapon of the master’s own lady, and he had already taken nearly a hundred lives with it, the blade now nicked and dulled.
Looking around, amidst the wreckage and desolation, more golden-armored knights, self-proclaimed paragons of justice from the Church, poured in like a relentless wave.
But among the hunters on their side, not many still stood.
