"Argh! Who are these guys?" "Gather up! Quickly, gather!" "Where did they come from?!" The barbarians, who had been joyfully looting, were caught off guard and thrown into chaos by the sudden assault of knights. Thinking the main forces were still tied up by the Northern Fortress’s troops, they had lowered their guard completely. Their focus on pillaging had left them defenseless, caught entirely off-guard. Knights appeared from every direction. The barbarians tried to respond but quickly realized their opponents were far too strong. Every knight wielded mana, shattering axes and sending heads flying even with attempts at blocking. Barbarian warriors were undoubtedly formidable, each one able to take on at least three regular soldiers. But even a group of ten regular soldiers couldn't hold off a single knight. “Damn you!” One barbarian warrior, panicking, took up his axe and raised it, aiming to decapitate the hostage he’d been holding in a moment of cruel rage. Crash! But before he could swing his axe, a spear flew from somewhere and struck his head, smashing it to pieces. Drawing his sword from his waist, Ghislain shouted, “Don’t let a single one of them live!” “Yes, sir!” The loudest response came from Lucas, who leapt off his horse and charged toward the barbarians with lightning speed. Crash! Crash! "Ugh!" With every thrust of Lucas’s spear, the helmets and skulls of the barbarians shattered. Each step he took meant another barbarian warrior lay dead. "Stop bullying the weak and come fight me!" Lucas's booming voice rang through the flames rising around him. Under Ghislain's guidance, Lucas’s skills had grown at a frightening speed. He was truly proving himself as a master with the spear, living up to the talent he’d displayed in his previous life. “What... what is this bastard?! Why is he so strong?!” The barbarians were dumbfounded by Lucas’s prowess. His spear was so fast that it pierced their bodies before they could even attempt to block with their axes. Lucas, who loved to show off, wasn’t about to miss this opportunity. He threw himself into the fight, going all out to save the villagers. Other knights also scattered through the village, swiftly dealing with the barbarians. Driven by a sense of urgency, they used their mana without holding back; too many lives had already been lost. The barbarians, despite their desperate struggle for survival, couldn’t withstand the surprise attack of over a hundred knights. "Aaargh!" "We curse you!" "Our comrades will avenge us!" The barbarians fell one by one with desperate cries. Since the raiding party wasn’t particularly large, it didn’t take long to wipe them out entirely. Yet, even after defeating the barbarians, the knights couldn’t feel any joy. The village lay in a scene of utter devastation. "Waaaah! Mom!" "Honey, honey! Open your eyes, please!" "No! This can’t be happening! Please, no!" The survivors clutched the bodies of the fallen, weeping in sorrow. Flames rose from various parts of the village, robbing them of even their home. Those left would have to rebuild over a long period or seek refuge in another village, living on the margins. This was the grim reality of the North. Besides the harsh climate, they faced constant threats from both monsters and barbarian raiders. The Ferdium forces were able to hold off most attacks, but even a single hand cannot hold back ten. When the barbarians united or slipped past their surveillance, it was inevitable that some villages would suffer, just as they had now. Ghislain looked around at the surroundings with a bitter expression. ‘If they’ve come this far south, they must be desperate for food as well.’ The villages had already moved further south compared to earlier times. Zwalter had implemented relocation policies to reduce the risk of raids long ago. The villages hit by this raid had barely escaped the recent relocation efforts. Moving an entire village was costly, and finding suitable land in the harsh North was no easy task. Poor territories couldn’t provide much support, and Ferdium had only recently begun to stabilize financially. It wasn’t a simple matter to abandon a place that provided their livelihood. And even if they did, there was nowhere else to go. Neighboring estates also threatened by the barbarians were too impoverished to offer any real help. ‘I’ll have to send more laborers for support.’ Fenris was moving isolated villages close to the fortresses for future defense against not only wars but also any other calamities. Ferdium was aiming to adopt a similar approach, gradually constructing roads and facilities in key locations. There was much to prepare, but with so many villages affected by this raid, Ghislain decided to expand support efforts. "Let’s head back. Bring the survivors to the fortress." Leaving them here would mean they couldn’t survive. Their immediate future looked bleak. They would need to shelter at the fortress for a time, with provisions sent to help them settle in a new village. Just as Ghislain was about to leave on horseback, a boy stepped in front of him. It was the boy Ghislain had saved earlier. Ghislain looked at the boy and asked, “Is there something you wish to say?” “You said... you would protect us, right?” "Yes. Though today was tragic, I promise that things like this won’t happen again." After a brief hesitation, the boy spoke, “You don’t have to protect me.” “What do you mean?” “I... I want to fight alongside you.” “How old are you?” “I’m fifteen.” Ghislain looked at the boy thoughtfully. He was close to adulthood but malnourished and looked smaller than his age. “It’s too soon for you. I’ll provide enough food so that you can grow, and then you can enlist as a soldier in Ferdium...” Ghislain’s words trailed off as he looked into the boy’s eyes. Those eyes held something familiar. Though the boy trembled, his tearful eyes conveyed a hidden emotion that Ghislain recognized all too well. The guilt of being powerless. The helplessness of having no strength. The regret of being unable to protect loved ones. And... the burning desire for revenge. "What do you want?" "Revenge." "Revenge against whom?" "Against every last one of the barbarians." Ghislain understood. He knew that look, that emotion. A killing intent driven by sheer determination to annihilate the enemy. A hatred so consuming that it would burn everything in its path, ultimately even himself. This boy bore the same look Ghislain himself had once held when he watched his land fall to ruin. Drip. A single tear fell from the boy’s fierce eyes. But the boy never closed his eyes, staring only at Ghislain, as if he knew that only this man could make his vengeance a reality. Drip. Another tear fell. Ghislain silently observed him. Even when facing similar events, everyone reacted differently. People coped in their own ways, finding unique paths to healing or resolving their grief. Most people would accept the inevitability and find ways to carry on. But this boy’s resolve mirrored Ghislain’s own. If he lost his way, he’d become a murderer of legend. But if he found his path... he’d be a terror no enemy could escape. This boy's obsession meant one side would have to disappear—the boy himself or his target for revenge. This child would never stray from the path of blood, even if Ghislain refused to help him. He’d already chosen his fate. “When we return to the territory, I’ll take you with me. I’ll train you myself.” "Thank you!" “You may wish you were dead before it’s over.” "I don’t care. If I can’t endure that much, then death is better.” Ghislain grinned, as if looking at a mirror of his past self. "What's your name?" “Arrel.” Ghislain’s eyes widened in surprise before a faint smile crossed his face. Arrel. A name as familiar as that fierce gaze. Thanks to the efforts of many, they had tracked down and exterminated the entire barbarian raiding party. Ferdium’s soldiers had tried to pursue the tribes that lost warriors in the raid, but they had already fled. Back at the fortress, Zwalter slumped into his chair, visibly worn out. "Though we suffered losses, at least it didn’t get worse." Despite his words, his expression was anything but relieved. For years, they had managed to keep the northern villages mostly safe, with minimal losses thanks to the rapid response of the Ferdium forces. But this time was different. The scale of death weighed heavily on Zwalter’s heart. "Thanks to you, it ended here. I’m grateful.” Seeing his father’s face, haggard and worn in just a few days, Ghislain felt a pang of complex emotions. Even at the cost of his own life, his father took on his responsibilities with unwavering dedication, bound by a duty that caused him pain but couldn’t be cast aside. A son’s heart couldn’t remain at ease, seeing his father bearing such a burden. "Equipment production in the territory is increasing, so we’ll send extra supplies. We’ll also send resources and workers to rebuild the villages that fell." Many refugees from the destroyed villages had gathered at the fortress. Plans were underway to build a new village to help them settle. “Thank you. You’re a great help to the land.” Zwalter, exhausted, no longer showed the same enthusiasm, his expression instead marred by fatigue. The old wolf, with fur falling and teeth dulled, grew weary under the burden of decades-long duties. After collecting his thoughts, Zwalter asked, “Did you say you came to secure horses? We gained quite a few in this battle, so there should be plenty. Take them all.” Since it was thanks to Ghislain that they achieved victory, it was only fair for him to claim the spoils. Zwalter, unselfish as always, had no desire to keep any for himself; he had already received far more from Ghislain than he could ever repay. Additionally, Ferdium’s forces, though fewer in number, still had enough horses for the time being. Standing nearby, Claude spoke up, “We’ve secured over two thousand horses. That should be more than enough for immediate needs. This wrapped up faster than expected.” Two thousand horses would be difficult to gather across the entire Rutania Kingdom. Such a vast amount of loot was no doubt the result of the six tribes uniting. Without the alliance, acquiring this much would’ve been impossible. Of course, it was their victory that made it all possible. Zwalter nodded, agreeing with Claude. “The allied tribes were from relatively close to the fortress. With them gone, we should be safe for a while. We’ll also have time to regroup and strengthen our forces.” Though Rutania often referred to them all as "barbarians," they were actually composed of numerous distinct tribes. Often, conflicts erupted between tribes over territorial claims. Now, with six tribes eliminated, others would likely clash over their former territories. Attacks on the fortress would be rare until a new tribe established itself nearby. Thanks to this victory, the Northern Fortress finally had some time to regroup. But Ghislain still had matters to attend to. "I don’t plan to return just yet," Ghislain announced. “Why? Is there something else you need to do?” Zwalter asked. “Yes, there’s still work to be done. It’s nothing major.” With the main battle concluded, Zwalter merely nodded at Ghislain’s words, assuming it wasn’t too serious. "Are you staying to help with fortification? Or perhaps rebuilding the villages? Whatever it is, your forces’ support would be invaluable.” Ghislain shook his head. “No. Before they regroup and strike again... we must strike first.”