Chapter 563 – The 71st: Frost Giant Suburbs of Isdalia
A line of steam trains, massive and imposing, stood idling beside the platform, their carriages crammed with rifles, ammunition, and other logistical supplies. The locomotives themselves were colossal—especially the engine heads, which bore grotesque statues of dragon-beasts, their twisted features carved in a way that was both terrifying and clumsily grand. As a result, the locals mockingly referred to them as the “Giant Skull.”
Yet for all their ugly presence, their power was undeniable. Each engine could haul up to 2,200 tons of cargo in a single run—making them the ultimate Imperial Cart Driver, indispensable for moving massive quantities of goods across the empire.
“Hurry up! Don’t slack off!”
“This shipment’s for the frontline! If it’s late, the higher-ups will have your heads!”
Ogres, Great Goblins, and half-giants—tough, muscular, and favored by the empire—milled about, heaving heavy cargo containers between the ammunition depot and the steam engines.
Crack!
A whip snapped through the air.
“Useless trash! King Kai Xiusu has shown you mercy, and yet you dare to slack?!”
The voice belonged to a giant ogre overseer, furious and red-faced, his rage boiling over. The whip cracked again, slicing through the air with a sound like a thunderclap, striking the backs of the Frost Giant slaves.
“Grrr…”
A young Frost Giant grimaced, biting down on a cry of pain. No whimper escaped him—only a low, stifled groan. But the scars on his back deepened, fresh welts blooming beneath the lash.
Still, he bent forward, slipping the old wooden yoke over his shoulders, and resumed dragging the heavy load of containers. The steel shackles on his ankles clinked with every step—clink-clank, clink-clank—a sound as familiar as breath. He ignored it.
His breathing was heavy, labored, each step a battle. He had barely rested—just a moment’s pause—when the overseer’s whip came down without mercy. But he was used to it. Used to the numbness. Used to the life of a beast.
“Damn beasts!” the overseer roared, veins bulging in his temples. “You’d do well to remember—your lives are gifts from King Kai Xiusu! You’re nothing but His Majesty’s private property!”
The whip lashed again, a blur of motion, tearing into flesh, leaving deep, weeping wounds.
It was said the overseer’s son had died in the infamous Glacier Annihilation War—a conflict so well-known throughout the empire that even children whispered of it. The boy had been strangled to death by a warrior from the Youshuang tribe, his neck snapped like a dry branch.
Since then, the Great Goblin had volunteered for duty as overseer of a Frost Giant slave unit—finding joy in the pain he inflicted.
Officially, the empire forbade slavery. But Frost Giants were an exception.
Everyone knew what had happened years ago: the great King Kai Xiusu had flown north, personally annihilated the Youshuang tribe’s Frost Giants, and ended the millennia-long Frost Disaster that had plagued Anzeta.
But blood debts spanning generations—millions dead—could not be erased with a mere apology.
As a beloved monarch, Kai Xiusu would never allow such a thing. After careful deliberation, His Majesty granted imperial permission to enslave all captured Frost Giants—to make them pay for the suffering they’d caused.
This was not punishment. It was atonement.
So, in every grand project—the construction of Isdalia City, the laying of the Imperial Railways, the building of the Imperial Wall Defense Line—Frost Giant slaves toiled under the whip, their backs bent, their spirits broken.
They were not citizens. They had no rights. No dignity.
They were treated like livestock. Or worse—like machines.
When work was needed, they were dragged from their cells and forced to labor through the night. When idle, they were locked in dark, windowless dungeons, fed only the cheapest gruel, surviving on scraps.
This was their life.
And in the empire’s underbelly, rumors spread:
“Beneath the railway sleep the corpses of a hundred Frost Giants. Their restless spirits linger, causing the trains to shake and shudder.”
Scholars denounced it—calling it a violation of imperial ideals, worse than the atrocities of the Northern Nobles. Even Olivia, a respected member of parliament, spoke out against it.
But the common people, the soldiers—many of whom still remembered the bloodshed of the past—fought back.
“We can enslave these damned Frost Giants,” they argued, “but can they resurrect our dead family? Our ancestors?”
Debates raged in citizen assemblies. But no resolution came. The system remained unchanged.
Now, thanks to breeding programs and abundant food supplies, the number of Frost Giant slaves had grown—reaching four hundred. Nearly matching the peak population of the Youshuang tribe before its fall.
Crack!
Another whip strike.
“Lazy wretches! Get up! Don’t you want freedom? If you don’t finish your work, you’ll rot in the dungeon for life!”
The overseer screamed, his whip nearly striking a small, frail Frost Giant to the ground.
But the promise of “freedom” he offered wasn’t real.
It was a new imperial strategy.
Frost Giant slaves who completed their tasks—especially those who exceeded expectations—were rewarded with Redemption Coupons.
Collect enough, and you might be granted release from the dungeon, a chance at freedom.
But it was a hollow promise. A trick to give the beasts a last, desperate hope.
Internal estimates revealed that most slaves would die before ever earning enough coupons. And even if they did, the system was riddled with corruption—backdoor deals, rigged checks, hidden barriers.
Yet the slaves didn’t know this.
Hearing the overseer’s words, they surged with energy, scrambling to shoulder their yokes and drag the cargo once more. Their breaths grew heavier, their groans deeper—some even howled as they pushed themselves to the limit.
But not the young Frost Giant.
He moved slowly, just fast enough to avoid the whip.
In his pale blue eyes, hidden beneath the surface, flickered a cold, deep hatred—so subtle, so well-hidden, even the overseer failed to notice.
His name was Alygon Youshuang.
Son of Baya, the former patrol leader of the Frost Giant hunting unit. He had survived only because he was too young to be targeted.
The overseer stepped away to drink water.
Another Frost Giant—this one a female, slightly shorter, with sparse white beard—slipped beside him, whispering urgently:
“Alygon, hurry up! Don’t you want your Redemption Coupon?”
“Kaya,” he replied coldly, “you’re naïve.”
“Redemption Coupons? That’s just a joke. Do you really think the empire will ever let us go?”
He leaned in, his voice a low growl. “I’ll tell you the truth—that damned Red Dragon wants us to work until we die.”
The moment he said “Red Dragon,” Kaya flinched. A conditioned reflex from years of abuse. Her body trembled. Her face twisted in fear.
Her throat quivered, but she forced herself to speak. “Alygon… you’re mad! How dare you speak of Him?”
But Alygon’s gaze was unwavering. He stared into her pale blue eyes—eyes that, to him, held the same strength, the same fire.
“Kaya… do you trust me?”
She hesitated. Fear filled her face. But after a long silence, she nodded.
Alygon leaned close, his voice barely audible.
“Years ago, the Elder placed a hidden power within me. I’ve been hiding the strength of our ancestral totem.”
He reached out, gripping her massive hands.
“Believe me, Kaya. I’ll get us out of here. The son of the clan leader—Koman, the one with the ancestral blood—lives in the southern Anstica Mountains. I’m going to find him. We’ll rebuild the Youshuang tribe. We’ll destroy the Ashen Empire. We’ll liberate every Frost Giant slave. And we’ll slaughter these little monsters—”
CRACK!
A whip cracked across Alygon’s back, ripping open fresh wounds.
“Damn beasts! Are you in heat? Get to the breeding pasture in the dungeon—now! Who gave you permission to talk while working?!”
The overseer screamed, spittle flying from his mouth as he stared at the two Frost Giants, still clinging to each other.
He raised the whip again, swinging it with brutal force—crack-crack-crack!—aiming to break the young Frost Giant’s spirit.
But this time, Alygon didn’t flinch.
He caught the whip mid-swing.
His face twisted—no longer the mask of a submissive slave, but a predator’s snarl. His eyes burned with hatred.
“Great Goblin… you’re asking for death.”
For the first time, he tore off the mask.
The true nature of the Frost Giant—cold, cruel, relentless—finally revealed.
He had never submitted.
The overseer, a battle-hardened veteran, didn’t even blink.
“Damn. They’ve rebelled. Perfect. Time to wipe them all out.”
He dropped the whip, pulled a small device from his pocket, and slammed his thumb down on the button.
Instantly, blinding lightning erupted from every chain on the Frost Giants’ wrists. The electric arcs crackled around them, searing flesh, burning bone.
In seconds, a dozen Frost Giants collapsed—lifeless, twitching.
Alygon’s body erupted in icy energy. The intricate blue tattoos on his skin flared to life, his muscles bulged, veins standing out like steel cables.
“ROOOOOOAAARRRR!”
He roared to the sky. The metal shackles on his feet cracked, frozen solid, then shattered.
The overseer bellowed, enraged: “By Kai Xiusu’s name—Youshuang scum! They weren’t cleansed well enough!”
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The overseer drew his pistol, firing wildly as he retreated. He also activated the chest-mounted communicator, screaming into it:
“Urgent! Frost Giant slaves have revolted! Repeat—Frost Giant slaves have revolted!”
Alygon snatched a massive monolith from the ground, smashed the shackles off Kaya’s ankles, then fixed his eyes on the fleeing overseer.
“Great Goblin… Crawler’s spawn! You’ll pay for every lash. Every death. I’ll return it tenfold!”
“My empire will fall. The name of Youshuang will echo across Anzeta again—your nightmare. Your end.”
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The overseer fired again and again, emptying his magazine. But the bullets struck ice-hard armor formed from his Frost Giant strength—each one freezing mid-air, encased in crystal.
The surrounding Great Goblins and ogres drew their weapons, forming a ring around him.
They opened fire—raking the area with a storm of rifle fire.
“Empire’s fall begins with you!”
Alygon stood firm.
He raised the monolith, bracing himself. He would charge. He would crush the overseer into pulp.
But then—
“ROOOOOOAAARRRRR!”
A dragon’s roar tore through the air.
The sheer, overwhelming aura of terror froze the Frost Giant in place. His limbs trembled. His thoughts scattered.
Was it… the Red Dragon Emperor?
The overseer laughed. “Hah! It’s the Crimson Scale Conqueror. Your rebellion ends here.”
The monolith slipped from Alygon’s grip. He looked up—
A wyvern dove from the sky, wings spread wide, jaws gaping. On its back sat a knight in heavy armor, long spear in hand.
The Dragon Roar Charge—the signature attack of the Crimson Scale Conquerors.
Alygon gritted his teeth.
They can’t harm me. I have the protection of my ancestors’ totem. I am the last hope of the Youshuang tribe!
His muscles tensed. His mind focused. He was ready to crush the dragon and rider in one blow.
But then—
A second, even greater force descended.
It slammed down on his shoulders like a mountain.
The blue tattoos on his body dimmed instantly. His ice armor shattered, reduced to ash.
His eyes widened in disbelief.
“No… no… that’s impossible. That’s ancestral strength…”
“Spines—!”
Without protection, the long spear pierced through his blue hide, tearing through his chest. The rifle’s tip emerged from his back, crimson blood spraying.
A figure leapt from the two-headed dragon’s back.
Stuffed Bun—his heavy helm removed, HUD data scrolling across his vision—landed with a thud.
His eyes sparkled with surprise.
“Whoa… this guy’s a minor boss? CR almost 10! In normal circumstances, we’d need a full team to take him down! Damn, this [Dragonblood Viscount - Sealing] is insane—just wiped all his buffs. Shame we can only use it here.”
The Frost Giant—once the self-proclaimed last hope of the Youshuang tribe, the man who vowed to overthrow the Ashen Empire—collapsed at his feet.
No dignity. No glory.
Just a dead beast.
And in the future—countless more Frost Giants would die, their lives sacrificed to the empire’s grand blueprint, their life force used to pay for sins they never truly committed.
(End of Chapter)
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