Novel Full Chapter 300 - 300: The Last March
The Vanguard army carved a path through the jagged eastern mountain ranges over three freezing weeks. Snow piled against their iron boots while cutting winds howled across the narrow cliff faces, yet the infantry pushed forward without a single murmur of dissent.
When a transport beetle lost its footing on a slick patch of black ice, a dozen soldiers silently broke formation to brace the sliding wagon with their shoulders.
They strained against the crushing weight until the beast found its traction on the stone, and then they seamlessly filtered back into their marching lines.
Kronos trudged through the knee-deep snow alongside Krug, pulling his thick woolen cloak tightly around his shoulders to ward off the biting chill. He watched a frontline scout casually snap an icicle off his iron visor without breaking stride.
'Voranthar never stood a chance against this,' Kronos thought. He exhaled a cloud of white mist into the freezing air and adjusted his grip on the hilt of his broadsword. 'He thought he was fighting an army of men, but they forged an unfeeling machine.'
"The Morval kings expected the terrain to break this army," Kronos said, speaking loud enough to cut through the howling wind. "They thought the snow and the elevation would bleed you dry before you ever reached their borders."
Krug didn't look back, keeping his eyes fixed on the winding path ahead. "We do not bleed from the cold."
Kronos nodded slowly, letting the rhythmic crunch of thousands of boots soothe his lingering doubts. His decision to surrender Gildreath felt more logical with every mile they crossed.
The crimson-robed rulers of the Morval Dynasty had severely underestimated the logistical endurance of Rubedo's military, relying on natural barriers that meant nothing to an army devoid of fear or fatigue.
The peaks finally leveled out into a steep, rocky decline on the twenty-first day of the march. Krug raised his fist to instantly halt the column at the edge of a sweeping ridge. He stepped up to the precipice and looked down into the lowlands.
A bruised layer of crimson fog filled the deep valleys below. The mist swirled unnaturally against the rocky boundaries, pulsing with a sickening light that obscured the forests completely.
Krug unhooked his greataxe and planted the iron haft into the frozen dirt. He turned to face his engineering corps, pointing toward the precipice.
"Bring the artillery forward," Krug ordered, his voice carrying effortlessly over the wind. "Anchor the siege cannons along this ridge and dig the stabilizing claws deep into the bedrock. Point every barrel straight down into that mist."
Heavy iron wheels ground against the stone as the soldiers dragged the cannons to the edge of the cliff. Engineers rushed forward with heavy mallets to drive the anchoring spikes into the frost-covered ground, preparing to execute the first phase of the bombardment.
Down in the valley, the bruised fog began to churn. The mist parted and folded over itself, rising high into the air to coalesce into the translucent figures of three men draped in deep red robes.
Their faces remained obscured by shadowy hoods, but their glowing eyes fixed entirely on Kronos.
"Kronos," a triad of overlapping voices echoed from the mist. The sickening resonance made the air taste like copper. "You trade your crown to become a dog for foreign invaders. You march against your own allies."
Kronos stepped closer to the precipice and looked down at the towering projections. "Voranthar slaughtered our people for his own vanity. I chose survival over a madman's pyre."
The three kings sneered in unison. "Then die like a rabid beast."
A concentrated spike of psychic energy shot from the projection directly into Kronos's mind. The freezing mountain wind vanished instantly.
Kronos's vision warped, tinting the entire world in the color of decaying meat. Hissing whispers echoed inside his skull, peeling back his rational thoughts to expose a raw, blinding fury.
His right arm twitched. His gauntlet moved without his permission to wrap tightly around the hilt of his star-iron broadsword.
He drew the heavy blade from its scabbard, the metal scraping loudly against the leather, and pivoted toward Krug. He raised the sword high to aim squarely at the back of Krug's unprotected neck.
Krug did not turn around. He simply stood at the edge of the cliff to watch the fog.
Kronos gritted his teeth until his jaw popped. He squeezed his eyes shut and focused entirely on the star-iron plating covering his chest. He channeled his own aura inward, dropping a crushing weight directly onto his own neural pathways.
The intense aura pressure squeezed the invasive psychic whispers until they snapped like brittle twigs.
The crimson tint shattered from his vision. Kronos gasped for air and drove the tip of his broadsword into the frozen dirt to steady himself. Sweat beaded on his forehead, freezing quickly in the cold wind. He leaned heavily on the hilt, taking deep breaths to clear the lingering headache.
The misty projections of the three kings dissolved back into the swirling fog, leaving the valley floor obscured once again.
Krug finally glanced over his shoulder and eyed the broadsword planted in the dirt. "Is that the best trick they have?"
Kronos ripped his sword from the earth and slid it back into its scabbard with a sharp metallic clack. "Their reach is long, but their grip is weak."
"Good." Krug turned his attention back to the engineering corps. "Load the alchemical incendiary shells. Let us see how their minds handle the fire."
Krug raised his hand as the engineers finished locking the firing mechanisms. He waited a fraction of a second to ensure every barrel was aligned properly. "Fire," he commanded, dropping his arm.
The ridgeline erupted in a deafening chorus of thunder. Hundreds of siege cannons recoiled against their anchoring spikes, spitting smoke and iron.
Alchemical shells arced high over the precipice to leave trails of dark soot against the pale sky before plummeting directly into the shrouded valley.
"How many days do you reckon will take to end this war?" Kronos asked curiously.
"Days?" Krug smirked. "I will end it in hours. I wouldn't dare to bore my Lord."
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N/N- With this, we have reached 300 chapters. The Fourth Continent arc will end in a few chapters with a mind blowing twist.
Thank you for your support!