Chapter 536: For the Noxarian Faction!
Chapter 536
"Look at that, he is going?"
"Yikes! I feel bad for him now."
"I can’t believe that Borfan would really go this far. Doesn’t he care about the life of his child?"
"I guess, it’s the duty of a leader."
"I really did like Dame out of all the kids born to Borfan and now, he is going on a suicide mission? I’m really going to miss him."
"I pray he comes back safe and sound."
"Are you all also forgetting about the men who are going with him? The three hundred men, what about them?"
"That’s right. They are willingly about to throw themselves into a war they know nothing about. This is crazy."
"I hope they all come back safely otherwise, I don’t know how Borfan would really react."
"You think he cared? He is the one who is sending his kid on this mission and you think he cares?"
"Shush! Don’t let Dame hear you."
’Too late.’ Dame sighed inwardly as he walked through the streets with steady but heavy steps, his cloak swaying lightly in the wind. Behind him marched three hundred armed men, their boots hitting the earth in a steady rhythm that made the crowd tense.
Each man held his weapon tightly, their blades, axes, and spears glinting faintly in the light. They wore fitted blue attire with matching armbands, a symbol of their allegiance, but their hearts were not as firm as their outfits.
In their ranks, however, one figure stood out. A warrior whose face carried no trace of panic, no ripple of hesitation. He walked with eerie calm, his swords strapped neatly to his waist, his eyes locked forward with a stoic expression as though war was nothing but a formality.
Dame himself was quiet. He could hear the murmurs of pity from the onlookers lining the streets, voices laced with despair as though they were already mourning him and the three hundred men. He clenched his fists but said nothing, carrying his burden in silence.
Today was the day. The day he was forced to face Beatrix and her army. She had sworn to infiltrate a town, crush its defenses, and claim it for herself. And it was Dame’s punishment—his redemption trial for the mistake he committed, a mistake that nearly sparked an all–out war between clans.
’I have tried everything possible,’ Dame thought bitterly, staring at his hands, now empty of weapons. ’But all my efforts to discover what else this weapon the Supreme Magus crafted for me can do, aside from camouflaging, were useless. I tried day and night to unlock its secrets, yet nothing. And now, I’m walking into this fight blind. Damn! This war is going to be a long one.’
—
A few minutes later, the company reached a small town. Just like before, the people stopped in their tracks to watch them, whispering among themselves with worry etched across their faces. Mothers held their children close, men shook their heads in disbelief, and old folks prayed quietly as if they already knew what was coming.
Ignoring the stares, Dame led his men past the town’s gates until they stood on the wide-open plain outside. The land stretched nearly twenty meters across, flat and exposed, leaving no cover. A battlefield waiting to be painted in blood.
The enemy had not yet arrived. Tension tightened the air as the three hundred warriors prepared their weapons and spread out, hearts pounding like war drums. Some licked their lips nervously, others shifted their grip on their blades as sweat beaded down their foreheads.
’Come on,’ Dame thought, narrowing his eyes at the horizon. ’How much longer?’
Minutes crawled by. Still, no enemy appeared. The waiting gnawed at them, breaking the men’s focus. Confusion spread.
"Huh? Aren’t they attacking again? Are we safe?"
"Maybe they chickened out or something."
"Should we return back to the clan?"
The whispers grew restless, fueling uncertainty. Dame closed his eyes for a second, then took in a deep, steadying breath.
"Listen up." His voice cut through the noise like a blade, firm and commanding, even though he didn’t turn to face them.
"I have known Beatrix for some time, and if she says she will attack, she will. She is not the kind to bluff. So hear me well. No matter what happens, do not give up. Not today."
His words echoed, strong enough to silence the fear swelling in their hearts, even if only for a moment.
"Because if you do, then those people behind us, in the town they want to attack, they will die. I know most of you don’t have any relationships with those people, but remember this: it can just as well happen to a town where your families live.
We in the Noxarian faction are fractured, yes, but that does not make us selfish. So which is why, when the enemy comes, show them our might and our strength. Everybody have their pills, right?"
"YES!" the men replied at once, voices rolling across the plain. Dame nodded, a small, proud smile tugging at his lips.
"With the help of the Supreme Magus, we will make sure to win this battle no matter what. And I want you all to know this," he said, finally turning to face them fully, his eyes burning. "I am sorry for dragging you into my mess. You are all like family to me, and I promise I will stand with you to the end of the line."
The statement did what words are meant to do in desperate moments. Faces that had been drawn tight with anxiety softened. Smiles spread, tentative at first, then wider, as courage and purpose returned to the soldiers. The men straightened, grips on their weapons tightening.
The lone warrior among them, the one with two swords strapped to his waist, allowed himself a faint curl of his mouth into something like approval.
’Atta boy! Didn’t know that Dame had a sweet tongue. Or did I? Kek! Anyway, I’m here to uphold Alba’s deal so it is what it is. Just know this, I’m not going to interfere in your battle with Beatrix but I will make sure to reduce the casualties that’s going to occur.
Thanks to the mask you brought me, nobody would know who I really am and I can help properly. Time to wreck havoc.’ Killian grinned widely.
"They are here," Dame muttered as thunderous footsteps and distant shouts reached them.
The ground seemed to shiver, and then, over the ridge, the enemy emerged: six hundred warriors in ash-colored armor, weapons glinting at their sides. A stoic female led them, braided black hair swinging as she walked, dressed in striking white that cut through the dust and the colors of war.
She raised her fist and the attackers held. Ten metres separated the two forces. Silence hung a breath, broken only by the wind and the low hum of readiness.
"You know I am not one for much talk, Dame," the woman called out. Her voice carried easily to them without ever needing to shout. "I will give you one chance. Step aside, and your men step aside, and we do what I came here to do."
Clang, clang.
Dame punched his fists together. A pair of red gauntlets materialized, snapping into place on his forearms as he assumed his stance and met her gaze head on.
"I am starting to want you to come and make me," he declared, his voice steady and loud enough to reach even the town. "This is my clan, my faction, and nobody messes with it!"
Beatrix regarded him with a long, level look, then gave a small sigh.
"Fine then," she said at last. She raised her hand and pointed. "Have it your way."
At her signal, six hundred voices erupted into battle cries, a tide of sound that rushed toward them like a physical thing. The earth seemed to lean under the weight of it.
"Let’s go! Let’s win this for the Noxarian faction!" Dame thundered, and the three hundred men behind him answered the call without hesitation.
"For the Noxarian faction!" they shouted, and then they charged, feet pounding, weapons raised, the plain between the two forces collapsing into a maelstrom of motion. The battle had begun.