Chapter 323: Battle of Okgaral (V)
Andrea lunged forward in a sudden charge, slashing with a swift cut.
Clang!
The sharp ring of metal on metal echoed across the battlefield. Trelshka’s arm trembled slightly as he parried, his voice heavy with disbelief:
“How can you, Duke’s beloved son, betray him? Even if you seek to reshape the Northern Regions—this is no way to do it!”
Andrea forced his blade aside with a powerful clash, then closed the distance in a flash, moving with the grace of a storm wind—fluid, relentless, and precise.
"Trelshka,"
He struck again, the blade snapping against Trelshka’s guard with a sharp crack, then rose high in a commanding arc.
"Do you not see it?"
Andrea roared, his voice cutting through the frozen air.
"The Northern Regions is rotten from head to toe! It’s beyond saving!"
The clash of steel rang out again and again—Andrea’s sword lashed like a hurricane, hammering against Trelshka’s armor, forcing the count into a desperate defense. Crimson streaks marred his body, deep wounds blooming across his limbs and chest.
"But not like this!" Trelshka gritted his teeth, barely holding his ground against the onslaught, his voice rising in protest.
Andrea said nothing. He only tightened his grip on his left hand.
Then—
A sacred aura flared around him.
The air shimmered with divine power as multiple blessings descended upon him:
Ox’s Strength, Cat’s Elegance, Bear’s Resilience—each amplifying his body, his strength, his reflexes, his very will.
He swung his longsword again—this time with merciless force.
Clang!
Trelshka raised his blade to block—but the impact sent a jolt through his arm. His grip trembled. The strength behind the strike was beyond anything he’d expected. He was thrown backward, crashing to the ground. His sword flew from his hand, spinning through the air before embedding itself in the blood-stained snow, glinting under the sunlight like a shard of fallen star.
"No!"
Trelshka scrambled to his feet, crawling toward his weapon. He knew—no knight survived without his sword. To lose it meant death.
But Andrea wasn’t about to let him recover. In just a few strides, he stood in Trelshka’s path, blade raised.
Then—
A storm of blades descended.
Where before Trelshka had merely been overwhelmed, now he was fleeing for his life. His body moved on instinct, his reflexes honed by years of war, dodging death with inches to spare. One moment of hesitation—and it would be over.
Andrea lifted his silver sword, swinging it in a brutal horizontal arc toward Trelshka’s neck.
Trelshka dropped low, barely avoiding the blow—the blade slicing through the air just above his scalp, grazing his skull with a whisper of pain.
It was pure muscle memory—too fast for thought.
But then—Andrea wrenched the blade mid-swing, twisting it from horizontal to vertical with raw strength.
A pulse of magical energy flared along his grip, surging through the blade—Magical Weaponry activated.
Slash!
The silver sword tore through Trelshka’s shoulder plate like paper, carving deep into his flesh. He collapsed to his knees, blood streaming down his arm, yet he forced himself to look up, voice raw with agony.
"Why, Andrea?"
He choked out, trembling.
"You’d rather serve an evil dragon than believe in your father… in the Bosk Duchy that raised you!"
His voice cracked, shifting from sorrow to fury—then to a soul-wrenching scream.
Andrea remained calm. His voice was quiet, almost gentle.
"Have you not realized yet, Trelshka?"
"The nobles of the Northern Regions—the very ones your father represents—are the greatest plague upon this land. They are leeches feeding on the people, clinging to every back, draining the life from the soil and the blood from the people."
"For thousands of years, they’ve sucked the life from the common folk, never stopping. As long as they exist, no reform, no progress can ever take root. Because who would ever oppose themselves? Deny their own existence?"
Andrea pressed down, widening the wound.
"And you?"
A cold, mocking laugh escaped him.
"Honorable Count Trelshka—the rising star of the Northern elite.
Do you even realize it? You’re no longer the young man you once were. You’ve become one of them—serving the system, clinging to your status, willing to destroy families, ruin homes, all to keep your place."
"Wasn’t this so-called Great Grain Collection Campaign your doing?"
"I’ve seen reports in the Kingdom Daily. Frankly, Father must have great faith in you—entrusting you with such a mission, one that drains the people’s souls to sustain the noble class."
"Compared to the rest of them, you’re not even different. You just cling to the illusion that progress and noble leadership can coexist.
But when reality shatters that dream—then you’re no better than the rest."
Trelshka shuddered under the pain, then spat blood onto the snow.
Spit!
"But what difference does the dragon make?
Are the nobles any less greedy?
Now you see only a mask. He’s pretending to be kind—just to steal the North!"
"If we’re gone, he’ll reveal his true face—his greed will consume everything. Even the people you claim to protect!"
Trelshka’s face was twisted in rage, his words soaked in blood.
Andrea pulled the glowing silver sword free.
Whoosh—
A gust of wind howled as the blade swept through the air—
And Trelshka’s head rolled from his body, tumbling across the snow.
The lifeless, broken form collapsed forward, its crimson face frozen in disbelief.
He never thought Andrea would kill him so easily.
So coldly.
So without hesitation.
Andrea looked down at the severed head, its eyes still open, unblinking.
"Trelshka," he murmured, voice low.
"I don’t know what kind of dragon he is. But at least he’s a better leader than the nobles."
He gripped the silver sword tighter.
"If, in some future day, he truly reveals his monstrous face—I’ll cut off his head myself."
His words were final. His gaze unwavering. No doubt. No hesitation.
Far away, Tian Sheng Zhan Kuang rubbed his bald head, face twisted in frustration.
"Damn it! Is there any justice left? I spent extra experience points on Rapid Resurrection—only to have a non-player character steal my kill credit!"
"This is a disaster. I have to make it up—otherwise, I’ll be screwed!"
With that, he turned, his eyes scanning the allied soldiers and officers with predatory intensity—like a wolf eyeing a herd of gold and contribution points.
The soldiers froze. A chill ran down their spines—like prey caught in the gaze of a beast.
Roar—
“Aaaah! Monsters!”
“Damn it, what is that thing?!”
“Don’t come any closer!”
Barbarians screamed in frenzy.
Allied troops shrieked in terror.
Flesh and bone shattered beneath crushing force.
A new, bloody chapter began—written in blood and screams.
(End of Chapter)
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