Chapter 237 – The War
Nikolaus Wolves:
"It can't be the heir," said Baron Franklin as we walked side by side. My mind was racing with disbelief and chaotic thoughts.
"If it is the heir, all we need to do is capture him, and the war is over. With him as a hostage, the Evenharts will do whatever we demand. We could even insist they bring Chloe Evenhart to us and sign an agreement ensuring she bears your child, granting you control of the duchy," added Count Laurence.
I could barely believe what my subordinates had just reported. Nathan Evenhart, the heir to the duchy himself, had appeared alone before my army. The news was so absurd that my mind refused to process it immediately. Yet, the details were clear: one of my commanders recognized him on sight and escorted him closer to the fortress.
Disbelief clouded my thoughts as I paced, trying to comprehend the situation.
Nathan Evenhart. Alone. Here.
It was incomprehensible. My first instinct was suspicion—this had to be some kind of strategy or trap. Yet, the possibility of capturing him, of using him as a bargaining chip, made my mind race with schemes. My men had confirmed there was only one person—there was no way a single individual could spring a trap. I had to see this for myself.
If it was true—if he was truly here—I had won this war before it even began. Nathan's presence, alone and vulnerable, was a gift I never expected to receive.
"This feels too good to be true. If it really is Nathan Evenhart, he'll be our prisoner, and the war will end. The Duchess Margaery and I will negotiate peace terms. I'll even promise not to kill the boy or her once I become duke," I said, a mix of anxiety and anticipation creeping into my voice.
I stopped, trying to analyze the situation. Something wasn't adding up.
"It can't be the boy. I doubt it," I declared, skeptical. "I need to see this with my own eyes!"
"Are you sure you want to go, sir?" a servant asked me.
"I'm surrounded by an army. What can a brat do?" I retorted.
What if it's a powerful mage pretending to be him? My men confirmed it's the boy, but I can't wrap my head around the logic of him coming here, offering himself up like a lamb to the slaughter. It's so absurd, I can hardly believe it.
Beside me, the Ten Fingers—our most powerful mages—walked in silence.
"He's demanding a duel with me…" I murmured, still struggling to process the absurdity of the situation.
"One of our men considered capturing or attacking him, but we confirmed his identity with the photo you provided. It's him. We let him pass, and now he's sitting on the ground, surrounded by our entire army in front of the gates," a soldier explained.
As I approached the main gate of the wall, a wave of anxiety nearly overwhelmed me. The imposing structure loomed ahead, its intimidating presence enhanced by its meticulous defensive design. The massive gate, reinforced with layers of enchanted metal, seemed impenetrable—a testament to the military and strategic might of this fortress.
Atop the walls, hundreds of mages and archers held their positions, as alert as hungry predators. Shooter Mages, stationed on strategically placed platforms, gripped their staffs tightly, their eyes locked onto every movement.
Every detail of the fortress screamed readiness. The tension in the air was nearly tangible, and my heart pounded as I walked toward my objective. Even from a distance, I could feel the eyes watching me, scrutinizing my every move, ready to act at the slightest hint of danger.
"Only the Ten Fingers and I will go," I declared. "The rest of you stay here!" I added, turning to the nobles accompanying us.
The Ten Fingers are your men as well. If we all go, their attention will be split
The massive gate groaned loudly, its deep metallic sound echoing across the camp. Dozens of men stood near the mechanism, their hands gripping large levers and cogwheels, straining in synchronized effort. Sweat ran down their faces, each coordinated motion inching the gigantic gate open.
Mages appeared amidst the activity, their wands and staffs glowing faintly with mana. They lined the newly revealed opening, forming an unyielding defensive wall, their gazes fixed beyond the fortress. Even with an army stationed outside, the golden rule of this structure's defense remained: caution above all else.
The gate finally opened fully, revealing the vast world beyond, framed by the towering walls. The tension in the air was stifling, as if the very ground was bracing itself.
We marched forward, stepping beyond the threshold that divided the fortress's safety from the uncertainty outside.
I have an army at my side and the most powerful mages I know serving as my guards. Even if that boy wields the power of thunder, I'm protected by all these soldiers. Every one of my men is ready to raise an elemental barrier at the slightest hint of danger, and I have my own earth magic as a defense.
As I moved through the camp, muted footsteps and hushed murmurs filled the atmosphere. Soldiers sat in their tents, focused on sharpening their blades, while others huddled around steaming pots of soup that seemed as bland as the heavy mood. Farther ahead, men trudged with quivers and shields slung over their shoulders, appearing burdened not only by their equipment but also by the growing tension.
My eyes scanned every detail, but my thoughts were elsewhere, restless. Some soldiers greeted me with formal nods or quick salutes, but I didn't respond—not out of disdain, but because of the relentless anxiety gnawing at me.
I continued walking, weaving through tents and campfires, until I finally saw him.
There he was. Sitting calmly, exuding an aura of confidence and resolve. For a moment, time seemed to freeze. As he noticed us, he rose slowly, deliberately, as if completely unaffected by the palpable tension around him. His presence was both magnetic and threatening.
Immediately, my men drew their swords, the sharp sound of steel ringing through the air. Mages instinctively began channeling mana into their hands, their faces tightening with focus and unease. Every move felt like a spark teetering on the edge of igniting an explosion. The air grew heavier, laden with anticipation and fear.
"Nathan Evenhart?" I asked, still struggling to believe what I was seeing.
It's really him! Damn it! The same boy from the photo I'd been given. Even though he was just 10 in that image, this face is unmistakable.
"That's me," he replied coldly, his voice devoid of any emotion. "And you must be Nikolaus Wolves."
"I am," I confirmed, casting a cautious glance at my men while weighing my options.
Should I order them to kill him? If my mages and I attack simultaneously, he'll be obliterated before he has the chance to react.
The thought crossed my mind.
Behind me, the gate remained open. Even if, by some miracle, he managed to cause damage, I could easily retreat and seal the gate, leaving my men to deal with him.
But… he's my trump card.
I needed him alive.
"You chased me and my mother when I was just five years old," he began, his tone calm yet razor-sharp. "I didn't forget. I showed mercy—I chose not to hold a grudge. But then you came back and tried again. You tried to kill me and tear me away from my family. And then, because of your incompetence, an assassin came after my cousin. You've managed to become the first person in this world I hold a genuine hatred for."
As if in response to his words, a bolt of lightning split the sky, followed by a torrential downpour that grew fiercer with each passing second.
I stared at him, mulling over his words.
"So, from what I've heard, you're challenging me to a duel?" I asked, a mix of surprise and disdain coloring my tone.
"Yes. I promise that if it's just you, many lives will be spared. I'm holding back a fury inside me that you can't begin to fathom. But if it's just the two of us, fighting as warriors to the end, that rage will subside," he replied, his voice steady and unnervingly calm.
I snapped my fingers, signaling to my men. Instantly, swords and weapons were pointed at him, while the mages began charging their mana, ready to strike.
"Seize the boy!" I ordered.
The soldiers advanced, their weapons drawn.
"If you try anything, you'll die," one of the Ten Fingers said, pressing a blade against Nathan's neck.
Nathan Evenhart didn't resist. He simply looked at me with a calmness that was more unsettling than any threat he could have made.
"I thought you would accept my challenge," he said.
I laughed, mocking him. "Take him away! This idiot is just a fool playing the hero."
As he was dragged toward the gate, he muttered, "What about the duel?"
"I'll duel you... after you get through this entire army," I retorted, my voice dripping with irony, satisfied with my own provocation.
"Then you've made your choice..." he whispered, almost to himself.
"You're coming with us, Nathan Evenhart," I declared as my men dragged him along. He remained silent but wore that same look—the one that unsettled me more than any threat he could voice.
I can't believe this! I've won! It must be the world conspiring in my favor. Now the Evenharts won't be able to attack me.
We marched quickly through the camp, the muffled sound of boots and tense murmurs filling the air around us. Dozens of soldiers surrounded us, forming a barrier of steel and shields. At the center of it all was the boy—Nathan Evenhart.
Mages and warriors enclosed him completely, holding him as if he were an animal being led to slaughter. He seemed small and defenseless in that moment, but I knew that even the slightest mistake could change everything.
Inside me, a tingling sense of victory grew, almost like restrained euphoria. The thought of having the heir to the Evenhart family in my grasp was a stroke of luck beyond belief. Still, I knew better than to lower my guard.
"Move faster!" I barked, my voice cutting through the tension.
The men obeyed immediately, quickening their pace toward the fortress. Each step closer to the grand gate brought a mix of anxiety and anticipation. I glanced back occasionally, ensuring he remained restrained, dragged along by the soldiers gripping his arms. Beside me, several mages maintained active wind barriers, forming an extra layer of protection around me. I wasn't about to take any unnecessary risks.
When we finally reached the fortress entrance, I exhaled, allowing myself a fleeting moment of relief. The sight of the massive gate, its magical seals faintly glowing, filled me with a sense of triumph.
"Close the gate!" I commanded as the men took their positions around the mechanism. The seals began to glow brighter as mana flowed into them. Slowly, the heavy gate creaked into motion, its gears groaning under the strain.
"Close it faster!" I shouted. "Seal the fortress gate!"
The iron gate shut with a resounding clang, the sound reverberating like a final proclamation—there was no way out. The barrier formed by the gate reinforced the sense of security, a wall between us and any external threats. For a brief moment, I felt tangible relief.
Nathan Evenhart was encircled by soldiers and mages, every one of them on high alert, ready to crush any sign of resistance.
He entered without a word, his eyes meticulously analyzing every detail around him. His gaze lingered on the massive wall, adorned with glowing runes and seals emitting a faint, pulsating light. The magical devices embedded within the structure—artifacts capable of generating barriers—were impossible to ignore. He also took in the sight of the towers, where armed mages stood poised, their staffs brimming with concentrated mana, ready to unleash devastating spells at a moment's notice.
Nathan Evenhart appeared to take in the gravity of his situation. Surrounded by an army within the fortress walls, his expression remained unshaken, though it was clear he grasped the severity of the moment. Nearby, hundreds of soldiers stood at the ready, weapons drawn, their eyes fixed on him. The tension in the air thickened as the mages began to channel spells, their hands glowing with magic.
The power and dominance of the fortress were undeniable, and the silence that followed was nearly deafening. He was, unquestionably, engulfed by a sea of hostility.
"If you even think about using magic, we'll break your hands and feet," one of the soldiers threatened, the blade of his sword pressed firmly against the boy's neck.
Everything seemed under control until a soldier murmured, almost to himself, "Weird... it's snowing…" He caught a delicate flake, watching it melt in his palm with a mix of curiosity and apprehension.
My fleeting sense of relief was quickly interrupted by the unnerving shift in the atmosphere. The locked gate no longer felt like a barrier of safety but a threshold to something ominous. I turned to Nathan Evenhart, determined to crush whatever resolve he had left.
"After I beat the living hell out of you for all the trouble you've caused me these past years, I'll sit down with your aunt and negotiate exactly how I'll screw your cousin," I spat venomously.
And then the heavens responded.
A deafening crack of thunder roared through the sky as a massive bolt of lightning split the clouds. The wind howled with ferocity, sending trees and leaves into a chaotic frenzy.
Nathan Evenhart locked eyes with me, and his voice cut through the storm like a blade through silence.
"I accept your challenge, Nikolaus. After I've dealt with this army, I'll come for you, and you won't like what's coming."
I let out a mocking laugh, the sound cutting through the tense silence around us, quickly echoed by the men at my side. We all laughed as if his words were nothing more than the absurd bravado of a foolish boy.
"You're just one man. What can a single soldier possibly do against an army?" I taunted, a sneer plastered across my face.
"The real question is: what can you do?" he replied, his voice calm and icy, carrying a weight that sent an unseen but oppressive force into the air. It was as if the world around us had suddenly contracted, becoming suffocating.
I glanced around and immediately noticed something was off. The men near him looked... different. Their faces reddened, veins bulging, and their expressions twisted with pain and confusion. It was as though something had struck them all at once. The soldiers holding the boy instinctively released him, staggering back with disordered steps.
"What the hell are you doing, idiots?" I barked, irritated by their apparent hesitation.
But there was no response. Not a word, not a sound. Only the echo of an oppressive silence that seemed to choke the battlefield. Then, a singular and sinister sound broke through—it was the synchronized, audible gulp of every man standing near the boy. Their weapons trembled in their hands, some slipping and clattering to the ground.
"I'm not just a man," Nathan Evenhart said, his voice sharp and cutting like a blade. In that moment, something awful stirred in the pit of my stomach. A chill ran down my spine, and the air seemed to vanish from my lungs. Against my will, the sneer fell from my face.
He stepped forward, and as if moved by an unseen force, every soldier around him recoiled in unison.
"I'm not a soldier either," he continued, advancing another step. Again, the group around him shuffled back, their retreat dictated by sheer terror. The clatter of more weapons hitting the ground echoed like a funeral bell.
"I am something far beyond what you can comprehend," he declared. His voice, heavy with an otherworldly authority, reverberated through the air.
I scanned the faces of the soldiers around me. Pale as ghosts, their expressions bore only one emotion—unrestrained fear.
"I am my own army. I am a General! You wanted war? It's here. I AM WAR!" His voice roared through the battlefield, shaking the heavens themselves. Thunder tore across the sky, illuminating the scene in blinding flashes of light.
KABOOM!
A deafening explosion of white light split the sky. In an instant, everything was gone. The world was swallowed by a blinding brilliance. There were no shadows, no colors—only an all-consuming radiance that obliterated reality itself. The explosion unleashed a devastating force, a wave of energy that struck us like a hurricane. We were hurled into the air, scattered like leaves in a storm, utterly powerless. The impact was catastrophic, and the deafening roar drowned out everything, tearing apart the very fabric of the world.
As my body was hurled through the chaos, the clattering of debris around me was drowned out by something far more profound—something not of this world. A presence, vast and primal, reached into the core of my being.
It wasn't just fear. It was sheer, unrelenting terror.
I felt as though I were trapped in a cage, but I wasn't alone. Something enormous, unseen yet oppressively real, shared the space with me. Its presence was suffocating, its wrath palpable. A primal force of destruction radiated from it, and I knew, with chilling clarity, that it would not stop until every last trace of life was obliterated.
I couldn't see it, but I felt its weight, its fury. It was an inevitability—a force beyond control or comprehension. And in that moment, I realized with horrifying certainty that we were powerless against it.
The fear that gripped me wasn't just for myself—it was for the fortress, the army, and the very existence of everything around us.
We were nothing but specks of dust before the storm.