The battlefield was eerily quiet. The once ferocious clash of steel had been replaced by the sounds of the wounded and dying. Smoke rose from the wreckage of siege engines, and bodies—of both friend and foe—littered the blood-soaked ground. The air was heavy with the scent of iron and ash.
Padrino Penduko sheathed his sword, breathing heavily. General Viktor, the man who had once led Galdros' brutal conquest, lay dead at his feet. His blood had soaked into the earth, but Padrino felt no sense of triumph, only a weight in his chest that grew heavier with each passing moment.
"Your Majesty," a voice called. It was Marko, his face streaked with soot and exhaustion, but his eyes alive with concern. "The enemy is retreating."
Padrino looked out across the battlefield. The forces of Galdros, broken without their leader, were withdrawing, their once mighty army scattering like leaves in the wind. It was a victory, no doubt. But at what cost?
"How many?" Padrino asked, his voice hollow.
Marko hesitated before speaking. "We've lost many. It will take some time to gather the full count, but… it's bad."
Padrino closed his eyes, feeling the weight of every fallen soldier pressing down on his shoulders. He had won this battle, but the victory felt hollow. So many lives had been lost—so many who had put their faith in him, only to die for his cause.
Hinata approached, her light magic still flickering in the air around her as she healed the wounded. Her usually calm and composed face was tight with sorrow. "We've secured the battlefield, but… there are more wounded than we can handle. We'll need to call for more healers."
Padrino nodded, unable to find words. He could feel the exhaustion settling deep into his bones. This wasn't the end. It never was. Every battle seemed to lead to another, every victory came with a price. His kingdom was safe for now, but he knew that the next threat was always just beyond the horizon.
He glanced at the retreating forces of Galdros, their banners disappearing into the distance. This war had taken its toll on both sides, but the kingdom of Rimuru had survived, and that was something. Yet, survival wasn't enough.
"We need to move the wounded back to the city," Padrino said finally, turning to Marko. "Start gathering the survivors and bring them home. We'll give them the rest they deserve."
Marko nodded and immediately began organizing the soldiers. Padrino watched him for a moment, grateful for the man's unwavering loyalty. Marko had been at his side through thick and thin, and without him, Rimuru might have fallen long ago.
But Padrino knew that the real battle had just begun.
As he made his way back toward the gates of Rimuru, the weight of leadership pressed down on him harder than ever before. There were decisions to be made—decisions that would shape the future of his kingdom. How many more lives would be lost before they could truly call this war over?
Inside the city, the atmosphere was somber. The citizens of Rimuru, who had once cheered for every victory, now looked on with sorrow as the wounded and dead were carried through the streets. Children wept, and families clung to one another as the reality of war set in.
Padrino stood in the central square, watching as the bodies of the fallen were laid in rows, waiting to be honored in a ceremony that would come later. His heart ached for each one. He knew their faces, their names. They weren't just soldiers—they were people who had believed in him.
Hinata appeared at his side, her expression gentle but firm. "You did what you had to do," she said softly, sensing his turmoil.
Padrino shook his head, unable to shake the guilt that gnawed at him. "And yet, so many died. Was it worth it?"
Hinata placed a hand on his arm. "Every decision in war has a cost. You know that. But you also know that if we hadn't fought, Galdros would have razed this city to the ground. Those who died today did so to protect everyone else. That's not something to take lightly."
Padrino remained silent, her words echoing in his mind. He understood what she was saying, but the weight of those lost lives still hung over him like a cloud.
"They fought for Rimuru," Hinata continued, her voice steady. "They fought for a future that they believed in—one that you're still here to protect. Don't let their sacrifice be in vain."
Padrino nodded, his resolve hardening. He couldn't afford to falter now. There was still work to be done. The enemy had been beaten back, but Galdros was far from defeated. Their retreat was only temporary, a regrouping before the next wave of destruction.
"The council needs to meet," Padrino said, turning his thoughts to the next steps. "We have to plan for what comes next."
Hinata nodded in agreement. "I'll gather the others."
As Hinata left to summon the council, Padrino allowed himself a moment of quiet reflection. He had come so far from the humble villager he had once been. But the journey had changed him, and now he stood as a king—one who had seen both triumph and tragedy.
The time for mourning would come, but for now, he needed to stay focused. There was a kingdom to protect, a future to secure. He would honor the fallen by ensuring that their sacrifices weren't in vain.
As the sun began to set over Rimuru, casting long shadows over the city, Padrino prepared himself for the next chapter of his kingdom's fight for survival. This victory was just the beginning, and the road ahead would be long and fraught with danger.
But as long as there was breath in his body, Padrino Penduko would fight. For Rimuru. For Xandros. For the future.