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Chapter 304: The Magul Incident (Part Two)
Chapter 304: The Magul Incident (Part Two)
On the carriage, Misha trembled with fear, but she summoned her courage, quietly lifting the curtain to glimpse the outside.
On the chaotic battlefield, acrid smoke filled the air, soldiers from both nations slaughtering and grappling with each other, lives vanishing like worthless weeds.
And then, the scene she dreaded most unfolded before her eyes.
Old John stood trembling, clutching a spear, having never faced such terrifying combat.
Behind him loomed soldiers with blood-streaked faces, eyes red with fury.
“Old John—”
Misha anxiously stuck her head out, trying to warn Old John, but it was already too late.
“Slash—”
A blood-soaked spear pierced through his chest, crimson blood gushing out in streams.
In his final moment, Old John did not look at the enemy who had ended him. Instead, he slowly turned toward the carriage where Misha hid, using his last strength to press his finger against his lips, gesturing for silence.
“No…”
Misha couldn’t stop herself from crying out, her eyes reddening.
But she quickly realized the danger of revealing herself. She clamped a hand over her mouth, curling up trembling in the carriage as tears streamed uncontrollably down her cheeks.
Yet Old John’s death was but a trivial footnote on this battlefield, insignificant to both sides.
The battle had already turned grim. Surrounded by thousands of armored cavalry, fewer and fewer goblin soldiers remained standing. Without a cohesive force, they could no longer withstand the relentless charges.
Outnumbered nearly ten to one, even their superior equipment and soldierly discipline could not save the Kingdom’s guards.
Hart’s personal guards lay dead around him, leaving the count surrounded by a hundred soldiers.
Drenched in blood, he roared with unrelenting fury, like a beast cornered by hunters.
“All of you, die!”
“You filthy humans!”
“I am a noble of dragon blood, a Count of the Ember Kingdom!”
Hart’s crimson eyes flared, the scales on his face twitching as white smoke billowed from his body.
“You wretched dragon lackey! Attack! Avenge our comrades!”
The knight commander shouted furiously.
Several soldiers hesitated, stabbing their lances forward. Yet the strikes glanced off Hart’s hardened scales as though they struck steel.
“Hahahaha, useless!”
“This is the power His Majesty bestowed upon me!”
Laughing manically, he tore through a soldier with his claws, then bit off another’s arm, spraying blood across the ground.
Like a killing machine, Hart mercilessly reaped the soldiers’ lives.
“Roar—”
With a thunderous dragon’s roar, Hart trembled violently.
His face twisted grotesquely as he unleashed blazing fire, transforming the surroundings into an inferno. Even the bravest soldiers staggered back in terror, desperate to avoid the searing flames.
Hart single-handedly killed over a hundred elite soldiers. By now, all the goblin soldiers had perished, leaving him alone to face the enemy.
The knight commander, eyes bloodshot, cried out, “Kill him! Avenge our brothers!”
Finally, several robed mages extended their staffs. A strange, icy wind descended, slowing Hart’s movements as frost crept across his face.
Seizing the moment, dozens of soldiers swarmed forward, their spears plunging into Hart’s still-warm chest.
And so, Count Hart, a noble of the Ember Kingdom and leader of the Free Trade Caravan, fell in battle, his death marking the end of this brutal confrontation and the destruction of the mighty caravan.
Atop the hill.
Grand Duke Leo sat astride a towering black warhorse, overlooking the smoke-filled battlefield littered with corpses. His expression remained devoid of triumph.
“Your Grace, the enemy has been annihilated. Two hundred seventy-five confirmed dead.”
The knight commander rode up, breathless from the front lines, to report.
Grand Duke Leo frowned slightly. “And our casualties?”
The knight commander hesitated before lowering his head. “We suffered… one thousand two hundred thirty-four casualties.”
Grand Duke Leo’s face grew somber, and he sighed heavily. “That was merely a caravan’s guard force, not even the Ember Kingdom’s regular army. Caught unprepared and surrounded, they still inflicted such heavy losses on us…”
“What a terrifying army.”
Beside him, Trelishka added, “And they are growing stronger still. Now is our best chance to act.”
“If we give them another ten years, the consequences will be unimaginable.”
Grand Duke Leo replied calmly, “There is no turning back. This marks the beginning of full-scale war between the North and the Ember Kingdom. Justice and evil must reach their conclusion, and we—we will be the victors.”
Trelishka gazed at the sky, his eyes clouded with uncertainty. Yet he still said:
“We will, Your Grace. We surely will.”
The caravan’s wagons burned fiercely. During the chaos, Hart had ordered the goods set aflame, refusing to let the enemy claim a single piece. But the mages of Bosk were already working to extinguish the fires.
No one noticed a small, frail figure crawling through the piles of corpses, quietly escaping the battlefield’s hellish chaos.
“Old John…”
Hidden among the rocks, Misha wiped her tears away, gritting her teeth as hatred burned in her eyes.
She clutched the worn leather whip in her hand—the last memento she had taken from Old John’s body, his final gift. Everything else had been reduced to ash by Bosk’s soldiers.
“I will avenge you.”
That thought burned fiercely in her mind.
Days later, news of the Bosk Duchy’s attack on the Free Trade Caravan spread across the North, sending shockwaves through the region. Fear gripped the hearts of the people, but events soon took an unexpected turn.
The Bosk Duchy officially named the incident the “Battle of Magul” and celebrated the victory as the dawn of evil’s demise.
Shortly afterward, the Bosk Duchy, alongside the Carter Duchy, Fano Duchy, and other Northern nations, issued the “Strafburg Accord,” officially announcing the formation of the “Anti-Red Dragon Alliance” and declaring war on the Ember Kingdom.
The news shook Anzeta to its core, and tensions across the land grew taut as a drawn bowstring.
Nearly everyone understood—
The skies over the Anzeta Wasteland were about to change.
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