Chapter 267: The Unforgiving Sentence

"Kill them," commanded Kellar.

The directive was issued in a whisper that severed the night air.

Instantly, hundreds of tribal soldiers opened fire in a volley. Upon witnessing the flashes of fire erupting from the weapons, the Valorian mercenaries let out laughter and raised their metal shields to take cover, confident in their equipment’s durability. Yet the moment the barrage slammed into their defenses, the laughter died in their throats.

The bullets were no iron scraps. The impact punched through timber and steel as if through parchment, warping the shields and tearing through the flesh behind them. They burned like hellfire. Despite all the warnings their spy had delivered to their nobility, the Valorian delegation had underestimated the destructive force of the ammunition.

"Ready the Garnis cannons!" Kellar’s voice boomed above the gunfire.

Upon hearing that word, the Valorian mercenaries trembled with dread. Desperate for survival, they seized the two dying tribal soldiers and the remaining maidens, using them as human shields before the cannons’ sights.

"Do you dare fire your weapon into your own men?!" screamed the Valorian captain with a grimace, crouching behind the captives. "Come on, show us what you’re capable of, Great Shaman!"

The mercenary troops began hurling taunts, while the delegation from Aethelgard watched from the sidelines, scrambling backward in terror to avoid the line of fire.

The two tribal soldiers lying bloodied on the stone exchanged a glance. Both stood at death’s door from the beating they had endured, yet their eyes retained the glare of Overlord warriors.

With their remaining strength, both men raised their voices and roared toward the military formation:

"Do not worry about us! KILL THEM!!"

The mercenaries holding them attempted to gag them to shut them up, yet before they could react, both soldiers and the captive maidens drew daggers tucked within their garments. Without a second’s hesitation, they drove the blades into their own throats, dropping lifeless to the ground to strip the enemy of their bargaining chips.

Upon seeing their human shields collapse dead, the Valorian soldiers cursed in panic.

Kellar observed the scene in silence. He closed his eyes for a moment, offered a nod, and raised his right hand.

"Let their sacrifice not be in vain... FIRE!"

Ten Garnis cannons thundered in unison, tracing an arc of luminous projectiles across the clearing.

The barrage struck dead center into the Valorian formation. The soldiers and knights of Aethelgard threw themselves sideways in a scramble, seeking to put distance between themselves and the point of impact.

The explosions obliterated dozens of mercenaries within a fraction of a second. Those with reflexes or magic-reinforced armor managed to leap clear of the blast’s epicenter, yet the weaker men perished instantly, their internal organs shattered by the shockwave of the detonation.

"Reload!" commanded Brak with a voice that pierced through the ringing explosions.

The soldiers realigned their weapon barrels, cycling the mechanisms in a coordinated movement.

"Fire!"

A second volley of bullets began annihilating them all. Due to the initial detonations from the Garnis cannons, the foreign troops had lost their military structure and tactical cohesion, stripping away any defensive advantage. Unlike the Golden Rose legions, which had marched with a fully equipped army supported by tanks, heavy shields, and siege armor, the northern delegation was merely a diplomatic party; they lacked the combat power and equipment required to endure an ambush of such scale.

Count Evander Ellington, witnessing the slaughter, began screaming desperately amidst the smoke:

"I demand diplomacy! This is a dreadful misunderstanding! Cease fire!"

Yet his pleas fell upon deaf ears. The tribe’s strongest commanders—Brak, Grok, and Thorin—surged onto the front lines wielding their magical weaponry, slicing through the Valorian mercenaries with flame-engulfed axes and wind-infused swords.

Realizing that all diplomacy had gone straight to hell and that the Overlord tribe had no intention of leaving survivors, the Count set his jaw and made a call.

"Charge!!" bellowed Evander Ellington with all his remaining breath.

The Black Wolf Knights of Aethelgard mounted their warhorses. The Count and his advisor scrambled to take shelter directly behind the cavalry line. Within seconds, a dense trail of pitch-black aura enveloped the troop, transforming them from a scattered group of soldiers into a single spiritual entity.

"Cavalry Charge: Black Wolf Form!!" declared the Count.

The lieutenants in charge of defenses reacted. The Garnis cannons thundered once more, hitting the formation head-on, yet to everyone’s shock, the shadow of the black wolf absorbed and resisted the blasts. It was as if the momentum of the charge had neutralized the impact of the projectiles.

Kellar, watching from the dais, was impressed. Collective battle formations capable of intertwining the life force of dozens of riders were considered legends in ancient texts. Yet there it stood, directly before his eyes: a mass of knights moving as a single organism, crushing everything in its path toward his position.

Seeing the spectral charge veering for him to take his head, Kellar raised his hand and unleashed his shamanic power:

[Wall of Fire]

[Wall of Wind]

[Wall of Rock]

[Wall of Water]

Four consecutive elemental barriers rose from the paved ground to block the advance. Yet the cavalry’s charge possessed such raw momentum that it smashed through and shattered the magical walls one after another, turning them into stone splinters and scattering steam.

"Once the cavalry advances, it cannot be stopped!" shouted the Count with euphoria. "Charge!!"

The Black Wolf silhouette swerved sharply to collide straight into Kellar, but at that exact moment, a whirlwind descended from above. Little Green interceded in their trajectory, deploying slicing gusts from its blades and disrupting the aura’s flow; simultaneously, Ignis pounced from the flank with gaping jaws, unleashing a breath of fire that scorched the formation’s side, while Fenrir managed to snag the rearmost member of the charge, tearing out his throat in a single bite and severing the technique’s spiritual link.

Seeing his men suffer such damage and surrounded by the mythical beasts, Count Evander Ellington redirected the charge in terror, seeking to escape along the lake’s edge.

Upon witnessing the cavalry’s retreat toward the north, Brak and Thorin made to give chase with their weapons raised high.

"Do not pursue them!" commanded Kellar, halting them with a motion of his hand.

The shaman fixed his gaze upon the tree line’s shadows, where Freyja lay resting under the guard of several soldiers. The white cat remained weak following the previous engagement in which she nearly lost her life, and Kellar was unwilling to risk his beasts or his men on a hunt beyond the defensive perimeter. Allowing them to flee into the forest in terror served his exact purpose of sowing dread.

Kellar turned on his heel and walked across the courtyard’s rubble toward the center of the clearing.

There, encircled by a ring of rifles and magical axes, knelt the diplomatic leaders representing the Kingdom of Valoria. Unlike the fallen mercenaries and soldiers whose heavy armor lay shattered, these men wore silk robes embroidered with silver thread and cloaks. They were easily recognizable amid the slaughter, which served as the sole reason Kellar’s soldiers had not severed their heads on the spot, keeping the tips of their weapons pressed firmly against their necks as they remained on their knees.

The Valorian ambassador—the very man who minutes prior had strutted about with arrogance over the "savage dogs"—trembled upon the stone. His garments were smeared with mud and blood, and his face reflected nothing short of raw terror as he watched Kellar’s silhouette approach.

Kellar came to a halt a couple of paces from the Valorian ambassador, resting his club onto the stone with a thud that echoed across the clearing’s silence.

"We opened the gates of our home to you," spoke Kellar in a low tone. "We placed our trust in your word as diplomats. We welcomed you with a feast, a worthy roof, and respect. And you responded by shedding my people’s blood in our very own house. Do you truly believe you will leave this forest alive?"

The Valorian diplomat, his lip split and his silk robe smeared with the blood of his own bodyguards, looked up. The arrogance from minutes prior had evaporated, replaced by cold sweat, though deep within his eyes still flickered the desperate defiance of nobility.

"L-Listen to me, Shaman!" pleaded the man, swallowing hard as a soldier’s bayonet pressed firmer against his neck. "This was an unwanted excess! The soldiers acted without my direct consent... We can still save this agreement!"

Kellar remained motionless, keeping his gaze locked upon him.

"Allow me to dispatch a messenger to our kingdom!" continued the ambassador, raising his hands. "We shall pay a monumental ransom for our lives! Gold, gems, territory, magical artifacts... whatever you demand! My life and my delegation’s are worth more than this settlement’s weight in coin! Name your price and Valoria will pay it without hesitation!"

Observing Kellar remain unbothered, the diplomat attempted to play his final card, weaving desperate pleas with a threat:

"Think this through, Shaman... Should you execute us here, you will not merely face the Golden Rose Realm on your northern border. The Kingdom of Valoria will march its full legions to avenge our deaths! You cannot survive a two-front war against two continental superpowers. Accept the ransom and keep Valoria as a potential ally, or sign the total destruction of your people!"

Grok took a step forward, clenching his fists intending to crush the noble’s head right then and there, yet Kellar raised his right hand, bringing his personal guard to an immediate halt.