Mist Valley – Central Zone. Midday – The Duel of Giants.
A heavy, suffocating silence descended over the battlefield, leaving only the mournful whistle of the wind carrying the metallic tang of iron and the acrid stench of gunpowder.
Thousands of Valerius soldiers stood frozen, their breath hitching in their throats. From the crevices of the cliffs, the remaining Sudrath forces watched with thumping hearts. The entire world's attention seemed focused on a single point in the center of the clearing—a patch of earth now scarred by impact craters and soot.
Two figures stood in stark, jarring contrast.
General Kael, the "Human Tank," towered over the field atop his massive warhorse. Opposite him, Duke Lucian Sudrath stood on foot. Physically, he seemed small, but his shadow appeared to stretch, swallowing the midday sun's light.
"Sudrath..." Kael's voice was a deep, resonating rumble, muffled behind a steel helm shaped like a bull's skull. "I heard you had become a soft, fragile old man. Dismounting is the final mistake you'll ever live to regret."
Kael spun his fifty-kilogram warhammer with a single hand as if it were nothing more than a dry twig. Whoosh... whoosh... "I'll grind every bone in your body to dust."
Lucian didn't respond. He simply closed his eyes for a moment, letting his consciousness dive into his body's original muscle memory. He reached for the Mana Core pulsating in his chest—an anomaly that never existed in Pak Sanusi's body back in Bandung.
Thump-thump.
His heart beat slowly, yet each pulse felt remarkably powerful. When Lucian opened his eyes, his dark irises had transformed into glowing sapphire orbs.
"Soft, you say?" Lucian murmured.
VWUUUNG!
The air around Lucian suddenly exploded outward, creating a pressure wave that swept the dust clean. A translucent blue aura shrouded his body, thickening until it formed the silhouette of a three-meter-tall wolf that snarled behind his back. Pebbles nearby began to float, as if the laws of gravity had ceased to apply to him.
Rianor, peering from behind a boulder, gasped. He had to adjust his spectacles, which were sliding down his nose from cold sweat.
"What... what kind of phenomenon is that? Did he just go Super Saiyan?" Rianor whispered in disbelief.
Riven, standing beside him, trembled as well. Not from fear, but because his knightly instincts were reacting to the sheer density of a peak predator's aura. "That's Aura Manifestation, Rianor. Master Tier. I... I can't even touch that level yet."
Kael's warhorse suddenly let out a terrified whinny. The beast skittered backward in agitation despite the General's harsh spurs. An animal's instinct was always more sensitive to the presence of an apex predator.
"Silence!" Kael barked at his mount. He began to channel a dense, blood-red aura into his massive hammer. "DIE!"
Kael spurred his horse into a full charge. THUD THUD THUD. The ground groaned beneath the weight of that steel-clad juggernaut. He swung his hammer over his head in a vertical strike capable of shattering the gates of any fortress.
Lucian didn't budge. He hoisted his greatsword with both hands, dropping into a low, unshakable stance.
"Sudrath Family Technique: Fang of The North."
As the massive hammer plummeted, Lucian swung his blade upward in an explosive, rising slash.
CLANG!
The collision of metal produced a sound so deafening it felt physical, followed by a shockwave that blasted dust and dirt in a ten-meter radius.
The result defied logic. Kael's massive hammer was violently repelled. His warhorse was forced to a dead stop as if it had slammed into an invisible mountain. And at the center of the impact, Lucian's aura-clad sword had split the head of Kael's iron hammer into two perfect halves.
"Wh-what?!" Kael's eyes widened behind his helm. His legendary weapon had been destroyed in a single clash.
Lucian gave his opponent no time to process. He leapt—not a human jump, but a projectile-like burst that brought him level with Kael's head in the saddle. Lucian's left hand, reinforced by a steel gauntlet and blue aura, clamped onto Kael's throat with crushing force.
"Get down," Lucian commanded coldly.
Lucian slammed the hundred-and-twenty-kilogram General—heavy plate armor and all—directly into the unyielding earth.
BOOM!
The ground cracked, forming a shallow crater from the impact. Kael coughed blood inside his helm, his ribs shattering instantly. Lucian landed gracefully beside the writhing body and pressed the tip of his sword against the gap in Kael's neck armor.
"You called me old?" Lucian asked flatly. His aura slowly dimmed, but the killing intent radiating from him only grew denser and more suffocating.
Kael tried to rise, but his body was paralyzed by pure, primal terror. He looked into Lucian's eyes and realized they weren't the eyes of a common man. They were the eyes of a forest king staring down helpless prey.
"M-mercy..." Kael whispered, his towering pride shattered into a thousand pieces.
Lucian raised his head, staring at the three thousand Valerius soldiers who were watching the scene with trembling knees.
"Your General has fallen!" Lucian's voice, amplified by his remaining aura, echoed through the valley. "You have two choices!"
Lucian pointed toward the valley exit with the tip of his sword.
"One: Turn around, crawl back to your pigsties this instant, and never dare set foot in Northreach again."
Lucian thrust his greatsword into the ground beside Kael's head, the blade vibrating with power.
"Two: Take one more step, and I will ensure your corpses become fertilizer for this soil!"
A heavy silence followed. The wind blew softly, carrying the faint scent of blood.
Clang.
A Valerius soldier at the front line dropped his spear. He turned and began to run with everything he had. That single act triggered a massive domino effect.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
Hundreds of weapons were abandoned. The enemy's morale was utterly annihilated. They might not have been cowards, but fighting a monster like Lucian and the lethal strategies of Rianor was nothing short of idiocy.
"RUN! SAVE YOURSELVES!"
The thousands-strong army turned as one, pushing and shoving to escape Mist Valley as fast as humanly possible. They fled in a panic, leaving their general, their honor, and their ambitions behind in the shadow of House Sudrath.
Total victory had been achieved.
Behind the Defensive Rocks.
Rianor collapsed to the ground, his legs feeling as limp as boneless jelly. "Insane..." he muttered, wiping cold sweat from his brow. "My strategy... my bombs... it turns out it was all just a warm-up for Father."
Riven let out a boisterous laugh, a roar of pride that shook the air. He slapped Rianor's back hard. "That's why he's the Duke, Rianor. Strategy is vital, but absolute power... that is the true law of nature."
Roland and Rhea descended from the cliffs, joining their brothers. Their faces were smeared with soot and their bodies were exhausted, but their eyes shone with the glow of victory. They approached Lucian, who still stood tall in the middle of the ruined battlefield.
Lucian looked at his children. His blue aura had vanished, and he had returned to the father they knew. He offered a thin smile, but then his body swayed slightly to the side.
"Father!" Riven was quick to steady him.
"Are you hurt?" Roland asked, panicked.
"Just... a bit of a back cramp," Lucian winced, clutching his lower back. "This body doesn't seem used to outputting that much power. The Mana in Lembang was never this demanding on the joints."
Laughter erupted instantly—a laugh of pure relief that finally shattered the remnants of the deathly tension. But Rianor didn't laugh for long. He glanced toward General Kael, who lay dying in the mud.
"What should we do with him, Father? Finish him off?" Rianor asked seriously.
Lucian shook his head slowly, returning to his calculated leadership mode. "If we kill him now, Varkas will turn him into a martyr to stoke his army's thirst for revenge. No, not now."
Lucian looked at Roland. "Sir Roland. We have the most valuable hostage here. General Kael is worth at least twenty thousand gold in ransom... or perhaps a territorial concession."
Roland's eyes practically sparkled as if gold coins were spinning inside them. "I like the way you think, Father. We'll bleed Varkas until he has nothing left."
That day, Mist Valley stood as a silent witness. The Lion of the North hadn't just woken up. He had let out his first roar, and the entire kingdom would soon tremble at the sound.