Chapter 312: Battle of Afton (II)
A wave of stunned murmurs swept through the military formation. Eyes wide with disbelief, soldiers exchanged frantic whispers, their voices rising in a chaotic chorus.
“He’s the Red Dragon? The so-called King of the Burnt?”
“How could this be possible?”
“This… this isn’t an Evil Dragon. He looks like a nobleman of refined bearing!”
“Could Duke Leo have lied to us?”
Kai Xiusu’s Supernatural Charisma was reality-warping in its power—so potent that even dragons, unconsciously, fell under its sway. Thus, even in the form of a mere Image Projection, he was more than enough to overwhelm these unworldly mortals, ensnaring them in a trance of awe.
Before tens of thousands of soldiers, Kai Xiusu began his Watch speech:
“I know you must have some misunderstandings about me. After all, in the propaganda of the Northern Nobles, I am a bloodthirsty Evil Dragon—someone who devours men without swallowing a bone, a demon who violates women, and a destroyer of peace and order.”
“But the truth is, every single time—every single time—it was the Northern Nobles who provoked war. Whether it was the Allied Forces of the Tiriel campaign, or the so-called Anti-Red Dragon Alliance—they could not tolerate a kingdom that threatened their foundation of power. A kingdom that abolished serfdom, dismantled hereditary nobility—the Kingdom of Ashen.”
Kai Xiusu paused. His tone softened, laced with quiet curiosity. His expression carried an unsettling sincerity.
“Soldiers… I truly want to ask you—what are you fighting for?”
“Do you actually believe that nonsense about Scandian unity and shared honor? The Northern Regions are not your homeland. They are the Nobles’ paradise. They see you as gray livestock, disposable assets—cheap, replaceable, beneath them.”
“Think back on your lives in the North. When have you ever received recognition from a Noble—with dignity?”
“The kingdom’s scholars claim that social class is the only true measure of society. To the eyes of the Northern Nobles, you are not even of the same species. So how could you ever be comrades?”
“When they whip your serfs, abuse your children, take pleasure in killing slaves, or perpetuate generations of oppression—did they ever remember that you were their comrades?”
Kai Xiusu spoke with no passion. His voice remained calm, even detached. But that very quietness carried a weight that pierced through the minds of countless soldiers.
For the first time, many of them paused—reflected. Doubt flickered in their eyes. Some already believed.
“Is… is it really like that?”
“He’s making a strange kind of sense.”
“Yeah… those noble lords never shared their wealth with us.”
“My daughter was taken by some lord.”
Kai Xiusu continued, his voice low and steady:
“In truth, you have no reason to fight for them. No reason to die for them. And simply not turning your blades against them is already an act of mercy and forgiveness.”
“But I, as King—King of the Burnt, Kai Xiusu—swear before you: when the Kingdom of Ashen takes full leadership of this land, you will reclaim your basic dignity.”
“Hereditary serfdom will be abolished. Freedom and equality will become the rhythm of society. Anyone, through hard work, can rise and grow wealthy. Even strive to become a Noble. This is not a dream—it is what has already happened in Northwind Keep these past years.”
Under the influence of his Supernatural Charisma, his words rang with such raw sincerity in the ears of the soldiers. Yet, mindful of the officers present, they could only murmur among themselves, offering their raw, unfiltered assessments.
“Could someone like us… really become Nobles?”
“Sounds… not bad.”
“So why are we even fighting?”
“This is far more generous than those stingy lords.”
As the murmurs grew louder, Lord Loren Bosk finally realized the enemy’s intent—he was trying to demoralize the army.
And what chilled him most was that even he, despite his noble blood, had unconsciously fallen under the spell of those words. He found himself, against his will, nodding in agreement.
But even Kai Xiusu’s influence could not alter one’s inherent status. As a Noble, Loren perceived the danger—these words were poison, a trap.
“This is the devil’s whisper!”
“How dare they listen to such heresy!”
“If not for the guidance of our ancestors, these beasts would have no place in this world!”
Loren glared at the soldiers whose faces now showed doubt, his jaw clenched in fury. His eyes burned with hatred.
“Enough of this!”
He spurred his horse forward, crashing through the ranks, his face twisted in rage. With a thunderous swing, he raised his longsword and severed the head of a common soldier—still speaking excitedly of a future filled with hope.
He lifted the lifeless head high, blood dripping from the blade.
“Soldiers! You have been corrupted by the Evil Dragon!”
“And this is the fate of rebels!”
“Do you all see it?!”
Riding slowly through the formation, he held the head aloft, crimson droplets splattering onto the ground.
The once-hushed whispers died instantly. Soldiers flinched, shrinking back, their necks craning in fear. But even as terror gripped them, their eyes held something else—something strange, unspoken.
Yes… they had not yet reached that ideal nation. They were still under the rule of the Northern Nobles.
Loren seemed to be losing his mind. He tossed the head aside, his blood-stained sword now pointing toward the phantom image in the sky, his voice cracking with a raw, rasping fury.
“Evil Dragon! Do you see this?!”
“We Scandian are invincible! We never surrender!”
“The glory of Rosel Bosk will shine eternally across the Northern Regions! We will lead here—for a thousand years, ten thousand!”
But the figure in the image remained unchanged. Calm. Unmoved. As if Loren’s rage was nothing more than a passing wind—ignored, even forgotten.
Kai Xiusu looked down upon the vast army, his tone direct, unyielding:
“Regrettably, you stand in the way of the kingdom’s unification. But I have always been a peace-loving dragon who dislikes killing.”
“Take three hours. Leave now, if you wish to live.”
“Time is short.”
The formation erupted once more—this time with chaos.
These were tens of thousands of men, most of them peasants or civilians by birth, only a fraction—less than ten thousand—were elite Noble guards. And now, with the authority of the Nobles shattered, the collapse was inevitable.
They didn’t understand every word Kai Xiusu spoke. But they knew the lash of a whip. They knew the weight of oppression. They knew what it felt like to be treated like dirt. And above all—they wanted to live.
“I want to live.”
“Let’s go. Leave this place.”
“I’ve had enough of those Noble lords!”
“How could we possibly win against such an enemy?”
Soldiers began fleeing in all directions. Officers lost control.
And the army of the Kingdom of Ashen—true to their word—did not pursue. Even as men ran toward them, the troops held back their urge to kill. This was the Red Dragon’s personal command. No one dared defy it.
Loren screamed, his voice hoarse with fury, chasing after the retreating soldiers.
“Come back! You filthy beasts!”
“The debt to our ancestors can never be repaid!”
His eyes were red. He killed one escapee after another—but the tide was too strong. A rout of tens of thousands could not be stopped by a single man.
“Is this… really how I will fail?”
“Ending before the battle even begins?”
“Damn beasts! Swine! All of you deserve to burn in hell!”
He was too merciful.”
Panting heavily, Loren sat astride his horse, his face twisted in bloodstained agony—not his own, not the enemy’s.
“Sir… sir, please stop. We still need to reassemble the remaining forces,” his adjutant pleaded, grabbing his arm, whispering urgently.
(End of Chapter)
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