Kingdom Bloodline

Chapter 268 We won
Inside Valhalla, two wounded men supported each other as they limped forward.

The man on the left has a buzz cut and a round face, dragging a menacing black spear, while the man on the right has a pale face and holds a white-handled curved knife.

Both of them had somber expressions, as if they were hiding an unyielding sorrow in their hearts.

Hurried footsteps sounded from the front of the corridor.

A dozen or so warriors from the Black Sand Territory appeared before them, exuding murderous intent and moving with swift efficiency.

The man on the right aggravated his left shoulder injury and groaned in pain.

"Speaking of which, that little prince asked me privately..."

"Do you hate His Majesty?" Ignoring the sudden encounter with the enemy, Nicolai glanced at the black spear and asked the equally dying Milek:
"After him?"

Michael dragged his badly injured thigh, feeling the Soul-Slaying Spear in his hand getting heavier and heavier.

Before him appeared simultaneously the imposing old king and the dashing young prince.

“I have no right to hate him,” the former officer said with a tense face, “I owe him too much.”

Nikolai glanced at the enemies approaching them and a smile played on his lips.

"You know, old friend."

“I always thought you were gay—always inseparable from Prince Suril,” the Meteorite patted Myrk on the shoulder and shoved him away, “until I found out you slept with his wife.”

Michael froze for a moment.

"Do you really have to bring this up?" Myrk asked bitterly.

The soldiers of Black Sand Territory spread out in formation, cautiously raised their weapons, and slowly surrounded the two wounded men.

Nikolai chuckled lightly, his expression magnanimous.

"Then you should struggle to survive."

Nikolai pressed down on Myrk's shoulder, shielding him behind him as they faced the enemy.

The Meteorite raised the Soul-Severing Blade, feeling the muscles that were almost uncontrollable due to his severe injuries, and said silently, "Even for your Lady Adele."

Michael watched Nikolai's retreating figure with a complex expression.

A few seconds later.

“Stop thinking about abandoning your comrades and being a lone hero,” Myrk said without hesitation, using his Soul-Slaying Spear as a support, dragging his injured leg to stand beside Nikolai, facing the enemy together with him: “Didn’t you get enough of Caslan’s whip back then?”

This time, it was Nicolai's turn to fall silent.

The Meteorite lowered his head and chuckled.

As Michael reminisced about the past, a smile crept onto his face.

A few seconds later, the two of them burst into hearty laughter at the same time.

The encirclement of Black Sand Territory was now complete, and the enemies' faces turned fierce: "Watch out for that gun... attack their wounds."

Neither of the two, both severely wounded, spoke; they simply raised their weapons, preparing for what might be the last battle of their lives.

Just now.

"beep--"

A mournful horn sounded clearly from the center of Valhalla.

Nikolai and Michael were both taken aback!
This is……

"beep--"

The warriors of Black Sand Territory looked at each other in surprise and disbelief.

It was as if I had heard the most incredible command.

----

Amidst the mournful wailing, Tuleha grabbed Cohen by the collar and looked up in shock.

“Impossible,” the Fire Knight muttered, setting down the guard he was holding. “This is…”

Cohen opened his eyes dazedly, feeling the pain and exhaustion all over his body—his right arm was starting to hurt again.

He lost.

They had fought with all their might, they had seized every opportunity, they had...

This was the first time he had truly experienced the feeling of powerlessness when facing extreme circumstances.

But that's nothing.

In the guard's blurry vision, the young figure lying on the ground was motionless and lifeless.

Raphael.

Tears blurred Cohen's vision.

how come……

Cohen trembled as he looked at the puzzled Tuleha, then at his own sword on the ground.

That weapon that pierced Raphael's heart.

"The one that bears the weight".

No.

Do not!
Cohen cried out in his heart in anguish.

A crimson light flashed before his eyes.

The heat from the Rising Sun Saber assaulted his skin, and Cohen felt as if he were back in the scorching desert.

The old soldier's voice seemed to echo in my ears again:
"Young Master, do you want to kill that orc, that monster, and avenge them all?"

"Do you want to fight your way out of here and get back alive?"

"First, you have to change yourself and shed some burdens: become a real monster."

"Just like them."

Cohen's pupils gradually focused, and the blood in front of him grew increasingly intense.

become……

Just like them...

monster……

The next second, the Radiance of the Stars within Cohen's body erupted with a deafening roar.

Tuleha subconsciously lowered his head.

The guard, who had been on the verge of death, suddenly turned fierce and roared as he stretched out his hands, which were shimmering with starlight!
Tuleha was startled!
Cohen gripped Tuleha's arm tightly and pulled hard!
The knight reacted with lightning speed, swinging his Rising Sun Saber.

But Cohen's sudden burst of energy exceeded his expectations.

The guard struggled to his feet and headbutted the Fiery Knight in the chest!

Boom!
Kill him.

Tear him apart.

Tuleha grunted and took two steps back, surprised that his opponent still had the strength to launch an attack.

The two were so close that the Rising Sun Saber could only graze Cohen's shoulder, emitting a sizzling sound and the smell of cooked meat.

Flames suddenly burst forth on the guard's shoulder.

But Cohen, with red eyes, ignored everything and roared as he took a step forward.

Like a wild beast, he pounced on Tuleha and slammed him against the wall!
Cut him off.

Chew him up.

The Fiery Knight pulled back his saber, but Cohen grabbed his wrist.

The blade only had time to burn a horrific wound on the guard's neck.

"what!"

In excruciating pain, Cohen, his left shoulder burning, roared as he pressed down hard on Tuleha's arms.

He felt the brilliance of the stars emanating from his heart, surging forth without regard to cost.

His muscles were filled with seemingly endless energy, which expanded and contracted his tendons and numbed his nerves, making him feel no fatigue or pain.

That’s the feeling…

This pleasure...

His vision was completely red.

There was only one thing on my mind.

Like a... monster.

monster……

A strange yet familiar impulse spread from the bottom of my heart.

Smash him.

Destroy him.

He could feel his heart pounding faster and more violently.

It is also gradually approaching the limit of the heart's workload.

“On the battlefield, some veterans are inconspicuous,” Tuleha, who had been suddenly restrained, said expressionlessly, “but once they see bloodshed…”

"They will transform into demons on the battlefield, and even their personalities will change."

No sooner had he finished speaking than Tuleha retaliated with a headbutt!
He then delivered a follow-up knee strike, sending the exhausted Cohen flying three meters away before he fell heavily to the ground.

"Ahhh..." Cohen roared as he struggled to get up.

He grinned and raised his head, staring at his opponent with a crazed expression, before reaching out to extinguish the flames on his shoulder.

He felt his blood surging, and pleasure flowing endlessly through his body.

Hunt him down.

Grind him up.

Amidst the blaring horns, Tuleha walked up to Cohen, his eyes blazing as he stared at the beast-like guard.

The Fiery Knight brandished his blade and said dismissively, "That's a good thing, soldier."

Tuleha slowly opened his eyes, which began to burn with madness and satisfaction: "Accept our nature as tools of killing."

“After all,” he raised his knife and grinned, “humans are born to kill their own kind.”

Cohen gritted his teeth, his eyes were terrifying, and he was bent over like a wild beast, as if he was about to pounce at any moment.

Monster...abandon...burden...

Like a... monster...

Cohen's bloodshot eyes swept over his opponent's weapons and limbs, and over the "Bearer" sword on the ground.

Almost instinctively, he instantly figured out the path and method of attack.

Kill him!

Tear him apart!
Just now.

A hand landed on Cohen's shoulder.

Cohen, who was under intense tension, suddenly shuddered and was about to turn around and make a move!

"Relax."

"It seems to be the ceasefire ship from Black Sand Territory." A light but weak voice sounded from behind him.

Upon hearing this voice, Cohen and Tuleha both froze!
The voice, though not loud, was filled with bewilderment:
"That child... actually did it."

At that moment, Cohen's emotions began to subside, and the red color in his eyes slowly disappeared.

The brilliance of the stars within the body also gradually subsided.

The guard turned around, trembling.

Tuleha was completely stunned, his eyes wide with disbelief.

He watched as the person behind Cohen clutched his chest, leaned on Wyman's shoulder, and struggled to his feet.

"How...how could this be..." the Fire Knight stammered, "How is this possible?"

Cohen, his hand trembling, reached out and took the other man's arm, supporting him, his face filled with shock.

"Raphael?"

"You...how did you..."

The man who had been pierced through the heart by a sword, Raphael Lindbergh, a young man from the Kingdom's Secret Service, had his red eyes wide open, and black veins were rising on his face.

Like a black snake crawling up your face.

The Fiery Knight stared intently at the young man's heart—it was perfectly intact.

He swept the ground again—the pool of blood from before had not yet disappeared.

It's impossible for the stab to miss just now...

The clothes are still torn...

but……

“Impossible,” Tuleha frowned, his expression more serious than ever, as he looked at the smooth skin on the other man’s chest and the strange black markings on his face. “What exactly are you…?”

Raphael shrugged weakly, a tremor running down his dark face.

"what?"

"Fire Knight, you said you... were forged and shaped in a hell of blood and fire?"

Raphael smiled as he boarded the evacuation ship in Black Sand Territory.

He pressed his body against Wyman's shoulder, who was equally shocked, and the dark veins on his face gradually faded:

I have serious doubts about this.

"You've never seen... real hell."

----

When Thales staggered out of the Hall of Heroes, he was utterly exhausted.

Lord Justin's guards, along with the palace guards and even the Grand Duke's personal guards, all stared at the young prince with strange and surprised eyes.

Led by Viscount Kambida, the Black Sand Territory warriors, who outnumbered the others, had sharp eyes filled with hatred and murderous intent.

Many of their weapons were already stained with blood.

But faced with two groups of soldiers who were about to draw their swords, Thales remained relaxed and unresponsive.

Compared to what's happening in the lobby...

The prince smiled wryly.

Once you've seen the ocean...

“Relax.” Thales sighed wearily, waving his hands dismissively at the men on either side of him, as if they were just rows of clay statues.

"The ceasefire has been sounded..." The small figure limped across the battlefield of flashing swords: "You all received orders..."

Thales was like a sailboat parting the waves; wherever he went, whether it was the people of Black Sand Territory or the people of Valhalla, they would consciously or unconsciously make way for him.

The prince's small figure appeared particularly lonely.

Thales trudged forward step by step, feeling utterly exhausted, both physically and mentally.

He walked past the bewildered guards with white blades, past the fierce Black Sand Territory infantry, past the greatswords, past the crossbows, past the iron shields, past the terrifying chain maces and halberds.

But none of these things could attract his attention.

Until the end of the crowd, a familiar figure appeared before Thales.

Thales stopped in his tracks.

He smiled and curled his lips into a smile.

The suppressed heartbeat, which had almost stopped, suddenly became joyful.

Thales raised an eyebrow, looking at the thin man in front of him—his hair was disheveled, his clothes were tattered, and the marks of being bound were still very obvious.

"Good day, Putila," he sighed slowly, a slight smile playing on his lips, "What a mess."

“Good day, Your Highness,” Putila looked at him meaningfully and nodded calmly and composedly.
"Each each other."

The two, one tall and one short, stood within the encirclement of the Black Sand Territory, silently facing each other amidst the wary, hateful, or resentful gazes around them.

A second later, Thales gave a forced and weak smile and lowered his head: "Thank you."

“No, we should be thanking you,” Putila sighed softly, blinked, looked at the soldiers around him with unfriendly expressions, and said with emotion, “You have just accomplished something that even the most powerful experts, even a thousand armies, even gods and calamities could not do…”

"we won."

We won.

Won?

The Star Envoy, however, noticed with keen insight that the prince was not in a good mood.

“Ah,” Thales shrugged, his expression somber. “What about the others?”

Putila narrowed her eyes slightly.

"The armistice has just been sounded," the gaunt deputy envoy exhaled calmly. "Give them some time."

Thales lowered his head.

those people.

Those who risked their lives to lure the enemy so that he could successfully infiltrate the hall...

How many people will be able to come back?

Just then, he suddenly noticed that, apart from the two groups of people, there were five or six people standing far away in the corridor, watching them warily and calmly.

The leader was an old man with sunken cheeks, a low nose bridge, and eyes that were not as deep-set as those of typical northerners. He was quietly and calmly resting with his eyes closed.

Thales recognized the old man he had only met twice—he was the one who had rebuked the unruly dukes before King Nunn's duel with Pefit, and he was the one who had walked beside the Red Witch before Thales's carriage crashed into the city gate.

“That is…” Thales asked in confusion.

Putila followed his gaze and nodded: "Yes, the Earl of Dragonstreet, King Nuen's most trusted vassal for many years, and Prime Minister Risban of the Royal Council."

"I was also startled when he and the High Priest of the Bright Moon Temple appeared at the same time."

Thales looked at the few guards surrounding Risban and was surprised:
“He abandoned his troops and followed the high priest into the palace alone. He really has guts.”

Putila smiled slightly.

“If you have learned anything from this journey, Your Highness,” the deputy envoy of the Stars said calmly, “I hope it is…”

Never underestimate the courage of the Northmen.

Thinking of Nunn and Rumba, Thales sighed and nodded in response.

Just then, their eyes flickered simultaneously.

Two figures appeared at the end of one of the four corridors leading to the Hall of Heroes.

There was a young man and a middle-aged man.

That was Jenard, a veteran of the Star God of War who had followed Thales in the birch forest and was now a personal guard of the Star God of War. He leaned on the shoulder of the new recruit Willow and walked unsteadily toward them.

The soldier holding the gun was pale and seemed very nervous.

Thales felt a sense of relief.

Behind them were two weary-looking men from the White Blade Guard: Nicolai and Mailer, who appeared to be badly injured, were helping each other along, limping as they approached.

One by one, figures appeared before them: White Blade Guards, Star Soldiers, and not only their own men, but also soldiers from Black Sand Territory.

In another corridor, a disgruntled Fire Knight, wearing a tattered light armor, slowly walked in, seemingly unharmed.

Behind him, a dejected Cohen and Wyatt, along with a pale-faced Raphael, dragged their feet and smiled at them.

Thales clenched his fist.

A group of soldiers from Black Sand Territory carried a stretcher back, supporting a short-haired woman whom Thales did not recognize. Viscount Kambida's expression changed as he stepped forward.

At the very back of the group, the Wind Demon, struggling with a splint on his right hand, appeared in sight, carrying the dying Miranda Aarond on his back.

The female swordsman was immediately taken over by Cohen and Raphael, who both looked unwell.

At that moment, Thales took a breath in and then exhaled deeply.

Not everyone came back, but...

At least……

At least……

As he watched the people approaching from afar, Thales finally succumbed to his physical exhaustion and collapsed to the ground.

At that moment, the Star Envoy saw the prince close his eyes tightly and curl the corners of his mouth.

“Ah, Putila,” Thales said, his voice trembling slightly, with a hint of relief.
"we won."

The fee is 3800 words, but the actual word count is 4700 words. You're welcome.

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(End of this chapter)