Chapter 189: The Fall of Glacier (Final)
“By Amnata above.”
“That was… a Cataclysm.”
Inside the makeshift camp of the Kingdom of Ashen, Count Trelshka stood frozen in disbelief.
“The Youshuang Tribe… just like that. Eradicated. From now on, there will be no more Frost Disaster.”
His voice trembled as he whispered, eyes fixed on the horizon—where a vast, churning storm cloud blotted out the sun, shrouding nearly half of the Wahala Glacier in darkness. The distant roar of Thunderbolt echoed through the air, its power so intense it seemed to shake the very ground beneath their feet.
Boom!
Another thunderclap split the sky. Though over thirty kilometers away, the force of the Revenge Storm still sent waves of arcane energy rippling through the air—crackling against their faces like invisible lashes.
Old Scholar Moor fumbled for his handkerchief, wiping cold sweat from his brow. His voice was barely audible.
“Still… this is a good thing.”
“We thought this Frost Disaster would cost thousands of lives. Now? The Dragon Sovereign of the Kingdom of Ashen has wiped out the root of it all. No more bloodshed.”
Yelina, pale-faced, wiped her trembling cheek.
“Yes… the Frost Disaster is over. With the help of that Red Dragon, our Bosk Duchy didn’t even need to spend a single soldier or coin. A perfect outcome.”
But Trelshka remained silent, staring at the sky. His face was shadowed with dread. After a long pause, he spoke—his voice heavy with gravity.
“Nine-Ring Spell.”
“At least a Nine-Ring Spell. Possibly higher.”
He turned sharply to Moor, his expression solemn.
“Moor… do you understand what this means?”
“No… I don’t.” Moor’s forehead broke into a fresh sheen of sweat.
Trelshka’s tone grew darker, more urgent.
“It means that Red Dragon could wipe out our cities. Our entire nation. Just like that. A Nine-Ring Spell—it’s not just power. It’s annihilation.”
He swallowed hard.
“I once witnessed the Legendary Court Mage of the Kingdom of Faedran cast a Nine-Ring Spell. Stars fell from the sky. In just a few breaths, a rebellion of tens of thousands was crushed. And that Red Dragon… its unknown spell—its power… it was even more terrifying.”
His voice cracked at the end.
Trelshka exhaled slowly, lowering his gaze. But the image of the storm—of the sky splitting open, of the world trembling beneath the storm’s fury—refused to fade. It haunted him.
Duke Leo had sent him here not to fight, but to observe, to maneuver, to ensure the Bosk Duchy gained the greatest advantage from this war.
In the best-case scenario, the Kingdom of Ashen and the Youshuang Tribe would wear each other down—locked in a stalemate. Then, as allies, the Bosk Duchy could weaken both powers, strike when the time was right, and eliminate the two monstrous threats at once—preserving the fragile order of the Northern Regions.
Even if that failed, at least the Kingdom of Ashen would be crippled—too weakened to threaten the south.
But neither Trelshka nor Duke Leo had foreseen the true might of the Red Dragon.
They never imagined this war would end in mere days. That the Red Dragon would not only destroy the Youshuang Tribe—the ancient scourge of the North—but chase them to their very lair, the Wahala Glacier, and erase them from existence.
The initiative was gone.
The Kingdom of Ashen had become an unstoppable force—beyond their reach, beyond their control.
“We must report this to Lord Duke at once. The Bosk Duchy can’t afford to lose. Not now.”
“Unless some outside power intervenes, we can only wait… while the Red Dragon devours the entire Northern Regions.”
A bitter taste rose in Trelshka’s throat. He wanted to speak, but no words came.
“Military advisors,” a new voice cut through his thoughts. “The war is over. What is your assessment?”
All eyes turned. It was Meizhuolashi—the Tiefling commander of the Kingdom of Ashen.
A man infamous across the Northern Regions, labeled an Oath-Breaker Holy Knight. Known for his ability to control the undead, he was feared as the “Hand of the Fiend,” a legend said to sacrifice hundreds of living souls each day to fuel his dark arts.
But Trelshka had seen him up close. The rumors were exaggerated. The man was polite, composed—certainly not the raving demon of the folktales. Only those deep, obsidian eyes unsettled him.
Trelshka bowed slightly.
“King Kai Xiusu’s power is truly awe-inspiring. A complete, crushing victory. What could we lesser men possibly say?”
He forced a respectful smile.
“I can only offer this—congratulations to the Kingdom of Ashen. The Frost Disaster that plagued the North for nearly a millennium has been ended. The entire Anzeta will rejoice. And on behalf of Lord Duke, I offer you our highest respect.”
Meizhuolashi shook his head, smiling.
“You know, Master doesn’t want empty praise.”
Trelshka’s smile faltered. A faint, helpless grimace crossed his face.
“I will report everything to Lord Duke. From this moment forward, we will halt all covert operations against your kingdom. We accept your terms. We only ask… for peace.”
Meizhuolashi listened, then gave a slow, satisfied nod.
Then, with a smile that chilled the air, he spoke again.
“My Master shares the same view. We seek understanding. We do not desire pointless conflict.”
He paused, his black eyes gleaming.
“We are not a nation of plunderers, nor one that ignores production. For now, at least, we have no intention of starting a full-scale war. Not until we’ve fully absorbed the legacies of the Lakanman and Norton Duchies.”
A pause. The silence stretched. Then, with a hint of warning in his voice:
“Of course… if any nation dares test us, we won’t mind… expanding our appetite.”
Trelshka exhaled, his face pale but managing a weak smile. He extended his hand.
“Of course. Peace is the foundation of any lawful realm. The Bosk Duchy stands with you.”
Their hands met—two men, two worlds, one fragile agreement.
…
“The Frost Disaster meant nothing before the true Cataclysm. The Eternal Winter, which had endured for ten thousand years, did not even trouble Him. That day, the vengeful Storm swept across the entire Wahala Glacier, obliterating the thousand-year-old civilization of the Frost Giants. The survivors were enslaved, turned into tools of empire.”
“He once again revealed His Cataclysmic Might to all of Anzeta. With the effortless fall of the Youshuang Tribe, the Frost Disaster vanished. In its place… came something far worse: the Dragon Plague. The entire Northern Regions trembled beneath His wings.”
“Some scholars argue that the Fall of the Eternal Winter was, objectively, a positive act—ending a millennia-long scourge. But I maintain: one should not glorify a villain for a rare act of kindness. It disrespects the countless heroes who gave their lives in defense of justice.”
“Yes, the Frost Disaster brought suffering. But the leadership of the Evil Dragon shattered the sacred order of the North. It crushed Anzeta’s justice without mercy. That… is a far deeper, far more devastating catastrophe.”
—Chronicles of Anzeta: The Fall of the Eternal Winter
Duke Luton
(End of Chapter)
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