Back in his castle, Harry stood at the heart of the main hall, surveying the aftermath of his calculated victory.
"All captured?" Harry asked, his voice calm, almost casual.
"Yes, my lord," a soldier replied, bowing deeply. "All of the remaining lords and their kin have been apprehended."
Harry nodded slowly, his face unreadable. Outside, the fires from the battle still burned, casting shadows that flickered across his armor.
"Good," he said softly. "We're done here."
Harry's actions had turned the tide of a seemingly unwinnable conflict. By the time the dust settled, both Earl Thorn and Harry's positions were stronger than ever.
To the outside world, it appeared that Harry had simply been a loyal supporter of Earl Thorn. But to those who knew him, it was clear, this was not just loyalty. This was strategy, executed with the precision of a master tactician.
Harry hadn't just survived the storm. He had turned it to his advantage, emerging from the chaos as one of the most influential figures on the Black Forest border.
Under the cover of darkness, Harry led his army in a daring surprise attack against the coalition of lords. The night was thick with tension, but by dawn, the outcome was undeniable, the coalition had been shattered, its forces scattered like leaves in the wind.
The battle was swift and decisive. In a single night, Harry not only routed the coalition but also showcased the devastating power of a 'Great Knight'. He cut down five knights himself, their deaths a testament to his unmatched skill and strength.
By the time the news spread, the entire kingdom was in uproar.
Blood soaked the battlefield, pooling around shattered weapons and lifeless bodies. The golden blade in Harry's hand was now streaked with deep red, its polished surface dulled by the blood of his enemies.
Seated atop his warhorse, Harry surveyed the battlefield with a calm, almost cold expression. His sharp gaze fell on one of the last surviving knights of the coalition, a middle-aged man with a muscular build, clad in battered armor.
The knight knelt in the dirt, blood dripping from a wound on his side, his breathing labored. His face twisted with disbelief as he stared up at Harry.
"Why?" the knight rasped, his voice hoarse with pain. He lifted a trembling hand, pointing at Harry as if trying to make sense of what had just happened. "Why would someone as powerful as you side with that man, Thorn?"
His voice grew weaker, but his disbelief remained palpable. "You… you're one of us. A local lord. You should be fighting against Thorn, not for him."
The words hung in the air, filled with desperation. To him, Harry's actions were unthinkable. As lords of the region, they shared a common enemy in Earl Thorn, the man who sought to rule over them all. Yet Harry had turned against his own kind, cutting down fellow lords instead of opposing Thorn's authority.
Harry's lips curled into a faint smile, his voice calm and measured as he replied. "The reason is simple."
He leaned forward slightly, his golden blade glinting under the pale moonlight. "This land is crowded. Too crowded."
The knight's eyes widened, confusion flickering across his face.
"There's no need for so many lords," Harry continued, his tone matter-of-fact, as though he were discussing the weather. "And if I don't deal with you now… how will I take what's yours?"
The knight's expression shifted to horror, realization dawning too late. "You…" he stammered, but the words never fully left his lips.
With a blinding flash of steel, Harry's sword fell.
The knight's eyes widened in shock as his body was cleaved in two, split cleanly down the middle. His blood spilled onto the ground, joining the carnage around him. His lifeless remains slumped to the earth, his disbelief frozen forever on his face.
Harry straightened, the battlefield stretching out before him. It was a grim and haunting sight. The once-green plains were now a wasteland of bodies and broken banners. Smoke curled into the air, and the scent of blood hung thick, suffocating.
"Lord Harry!"
A familiar voice called out, cutting through the heavy silence.
Salah emerged from the distance, his armor stained and his face glowing with excitement. He hurried toward Harry, his previous hesitation and doubt replaced by unrestrained admiration.
Standing before Harry, Salah's heart pounded with a mix of reverence and awe. He had followed his lord deep into the chaos of battle, witnessed his unmatched ferocity, and seen him lead their forces to victory against impossible odds.
"Lord Harry," Salah said, his voice brimming with emotion. "No one could stop you. Not a single soul. Knights, warriors… they all fell before your blade."
Indeed, Harry had been an unstoppable force. Among the ten thousand coalition soldiers, he had charged fearlessly into their ranks, cutting down all who dared to stand in his way. No knight, no matter how skilled, could match him.
Harry glanced at Salah, his expression calm and composed, as though the bloodshed meant nothing to him. "The battle is over," he said simply, his voice steady and commanding. "Gather the survivors and secure the territory. There's no time to waste."
"Yes, my lord!" Salah saluted sharply, his chest swelling with pride as he turned to relay the orders.
"Just like before, gather the tribesmen and families of these defeated lords," Harry ordered, his tone calm yet commanding. "Send them to Thorn City. Let Earl Thorn share in the joy of our victory."
"Yes, my lord!" Salah responded with a bow, his voice trembling with excitement. He quickly turned and left to carry out the order.
As Salah moved away, Harry remained where he was, his gaze lingering on the battlefield. The golden sword in his hand dripped blood, but his grip was steady.
This wasn't just victory, it was conquest.
Harry's actions had shattered the coalition and cemented his place as a force to be reckoned with. Where others saw chaos, Harry saw opportunity. And as the smoke cleared, one thing became certain: the Black Forest border would never be the same again.
This is the power of a 'true' Grand Knight.
Unlike ordinary knights who could only fight with skill and strategy, a Grand Knight was a force of nature, capable of single-handedly breaking an entire army.
Harry had proven this without a shred of doubt. Even if he stood alone against an overwhelming number of enemies, even if multiple knights charged at him together, not a single one could harm him. His strength, speed, and sheer presence on the battlefield made him untouchable, a living weapon.
This was the undeniable might of a Grand Knight, and with the conclusion of this battle, one thing was clear: the balance of power in the region would never be the same.
Soon, Harry was left alone on the blood-soaked field. He stood in silence, the broken remnants of the enemy scattered around him. His golden blade gleamed faintly under the fading sunlight, stained with the blood of those who had dared to oppose him.
As he gazed across the battlefield, a faint smile crept across his face. Before his eyes, shimmering particles of energy seemed to swirl and coalesce. It wasn't visible to anyone else, but Harry could see it clearly 'the simulation energy.'
Simulation energy: 502.
The number floated in his vision like a subtle reminder of his growth. His energy level had surpassed five hundred; a staggering increase thanks to the battle he had just fought.
This wasn't merely a victory in a physical sense. The battle had reshaped the power structure of the entire Black Forest region, affecting tens of thousands of people. Such far-reaching consequences created ripples in the world itself, and for Harry, those ripples translated into an immense surge of energy.
In this battle alone, he had gained nearly two hundred boundary energy points.
And he knew it wasn't over.
As the fallout from the battle continued to spread, as lords realigned themselves and the people adjusted to the new reality he had created, the effects would continue to ripple outward. And with those ripples, the energy would keep flowing toward him.
Harry's smile deepened. He was already looking forward to what was to come.
---
A Few Days Later
In Thorn City, Earl Thorn sat in his chamber, a pile of reports spread across his desk. His hands trembled slightly as he read the latest intelligence from the battlefield.
"He… he really won?"
Earl Thorn's voice was laced with disbelief as he glanced up at the servant standing before him. "Is this accurate? Harry won?"
The servant nodded respectfully. "Yes, my lord. He defeated the coalition completely. The details are all here."
Earl Thorn leaned back in his chair, still stunned. He pressed the reports against his lap and began reading through the accounts again, trying to comprehend the scale of what Harry had accomplished.
According to the reports, Harry had played his cards masterfully:
First, he feigned weakness, lulling the coalition into overconfidence. Then, exploiting the inherent disorganization within the coalition's forces, he launched a surprise nighttime attack, striking with precision and overwhelming force. In one decisive blow, he routed an army far larger than his own.
Earl Thorn exhaled slowly, setting the reports down as he muttered to himself, "What a terrifying man."
He had already known, through David, that Harry had ascended to the rank of Grand Knight. That alone was enough to make him confident that Harry wouldn't lose the battle. But the sheer 'scale' of Harry's victory exceeded even his expectations.
Harry hadn't just won. He had shattered the enemy.
As Earl Thorn sat in silence, one thought lingered in his mind: Harry was no ordinary ally. His power, his strategy, is ability to see beyond the battlefield, these were the traits of a man destined for something far greater.
The Black Forest region had been a volatile, contested border for generations. But now, with Harry's rise, it was clear the old balance of power was crumbling.
For Earl Thorn, it wasn't just about survival anymore. Harry had given him more than a victory, he had given him a chance to seize a future no one thought possible.