Chapter 117: War (Twelve)
Seeing the blazing fire wall and the enemy forces scattering in panic, Dolo let out a snort of white smoke from his nostrils, hefted his axe, and lunged forward, eager to charge into the enemy line.
But he was stopped by Lanpu.
"It's time to retreat, Dolo Commander."
Dolo turned, his red eyes blazing with fury. "Lanpu, you want me to retreat in this situation? Have you been bribed by those Humans with gold coins?"
Lanpu remained calm. "This is Master's Command. Are you truly willing to defy it?"
Dolo spat on the ground, glaring. "Don’t get too confident, Lanpu. I’ll report your inaction during this War to the Master."
"Hmph. Let’s go."
With that, the Earth Giant Commander gathered his troops and prepared to retreat north of the Pass.
Dolo wasn’t completely unhinged—he still had enough sense to know that Lanpu wouldn’t speak so firmly without reason.
Without another glance at the furious Troll Chieftain, Lanpu reached into his Dimensional Sack and pulled out a special Blue-Footed Serpent Horn, its surface etched with ancient magical runes. With ease, he activated it.
A voice—recorded by magic, the Sovereign Voice of the Red Dragon—boomed across the battlefield like thunder.
"Followers of Ashen Hollow—"
"Obey the command. All forces, retreat!"
Lanpu echoed the order, his voice rising above the chaos:
"This is the Master’s Command! The Will of the Great Red Dragon!"
The Ogre, still lifting its mangled body from the carnage, paused mid-strike. The Chimera, its three heads turning in confusion, halted as it twisted its spear through an enemy chest. The Lizardfolk pulled its bloodied bone spear free. The Two-Headed Dragon, having just unleashed a torrent of fire, spread its wings and began to climb into the sky.
Though the followers of Ashen Hollow didn’t understand why they were retreating, they knew—there was no defiance against the Red Dragon’s voice.
Even as they were still locked in the heat of battle, they reluctantly obeyed, abandoning the battlefield with heavy hearts. The Ogre and Great Goblin sprinted forward. The Earth-Crawling Dragon inched its way slowly. The Two-Headed Dragon and Chimera soared into the air. All fled toward the favored camp north of Tiriel Throat.
Soon, only bloodstained corpses—of Humans, Monsters, and fallen allies—remained, along with smoldering embers still burning on the ground.
"...Am I dreaming?"
"They... left?"
"Thank the gods, those Monsters have retreated!"
"I... I actually survived..."
"Oh my gods..."
The Allied Forces soldiers stood frozen, dazed and battered. Most were covered in bloodstains, their minds numb, whispering to themselves as if still trapped in a nightmare.
This sudden, inexplicable "victory" brought no cheers, no celebration. Only a trembling sense of relief—survival, after the storm.
A Staff Officer galloped up, panting. "Sir! Sir! All of Ashen Hollow’s forces have withdrawn!"
Robert wiped sweat from his brow and exhaled deeply. At least he no longer feared being overrun.
Yet, confusion lingered. "They had the advantage. Why retreat?"
"Gray Hawk" Slaud, who had already pulled back from the frontlines, stepped forward and pondered a moment before speaking quietly. "Red Dragons are greedy, stingy monsters. They don’t give favors without cost. Perhaps the strength they wield wasn’t granted—it was taken. And every power has a price."
"In other words... they might be burning their own lives."
Robert frowned. "So you’re saying..."
"Ashen Hollow fears a long war?"
Slaud’s voice was hoarse. "Just a reasonable guess."
"I can only say... perhaps."
Robert stepped out of the Command Tent and stared up at the Two-Headed Dragon circling high above. After a long silence, he clenched his jaw.
"Then we pursue."
"This is our last chance."
"We can’t let them recover."
The clarion call of Charge rang out, sharp and clear. Under Robert’s command, the Allied Forces pushed forward, reclaiming their former positions—but their advance was slow.
The soldiers trudged forward, weary and listless. Even the horses whinnied in exhaustion.
"Soldiers! Victory is within reach!"
"These Monsters won’t last much longer!"
"You will become heroes of the Northern Regions!"
The officer’s voice rang with fire, but the men barely listened.
"Victory? What a joke."
"Has he seen the fangs of a Two-Headed Dragon?"
"Has he been smashed by an Ogre’s club?"
Murmurs of discontent spread through the ranks.
These soldiers, hardened by bloodshed, were already weary of war. They weren’t deserters only because survival demanded it. Though officers repeated again and again that the Monsters had retreated, the troops moved forward at a sluggish pace—afraid, in fact, of moving too fast.
They used this passive resistance to avoid fighting. And even the officers couldn’t punish them under military law.
...
North of Tiriel Throat.
Lanpu stood atop a hillside, surveying the distant Allied Forces slowly advancing. A crooked smile curled across his grotesque face.
"Northern Regions scum..."
"You’ve finally come to die..."
Around him, the remnants of the battle—Ogres, Great Goblins, Goblinoids, Lizardfolk—surged with restless energy, their bloodlust not yet fully quenched. Even the captured Nobles had been brought here, chained and trembling.
They roared, shouted, laughed—voices of frenzy still raw.
"I crushed twelve Humans with my hammer!"
"Hah! I crushed them alive!"
"Damn, I still want more blood..."
"Hey, look—there’s more right here."
Their hungry eyes flickered toward the bound Nobles.
Viscount Luton trembled, clutching at the Tiefling beside him. "M-Master... what are you doing bringing us here? Please... protect us!"
Meizhuolashi said nothing. He only smiled.
"I was just getting started! Why pull back now?"
"Yeah, I only earned six hundred Contribution Points!"
"Is the War over?"
"Is there a final cutscene?"
The Players, following the quest markers, had gathered on the hillside, watching the spectacle unfold.
As the Allied Forces drew near, Lanpu raised his staff.
【Stone Wall Spell】
The ground groaned.
A massive stone wall rose from the earth, sealing off the last remaining exit at Tiriel Throat—trapping the remnants of the Allied Forces, nearly ten thousand strong, deep within the Tiriel Valley.
"This is what the Master called the 'Catch in a Jar,'" Lanpu murmured, watching the chaos below.
(End of Chapter)
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