blueteamnovel Chapter 160 The Unknown Price!
Chapter 160 The Unknown Price!
Chapter 160 The Unknown Price!
Time seemed to stand still atop the city walls.
Arthur's guards, from King Rissooh to the lowest-ranking soldiers, stood frozen in place as if petrified.
Their eyes were wide open, their pupils reflecting the terrifying scene unfolding on the plains below—a scene far beyond their comprehension.
There was no fiery counterattack, no ecstatic joy at escaping a desperate situation.
Only one kind of cold, viscous fear, enough to freeze the soul, climbs up the spine to the top of everyone's head.
They watched as the shadow puppets emerged like phantoms from the shadows of the Nar soldiers, easily slicing their throats open with cold shadow blades.
Watching the wolf-headed man tear the soldier to pieces with brute force, his fangs and claws covered in warm entrails.
Watching the Shadow Warriors form a ruthless formation, slaughtering the collapsing enemy army with the precision and efficiency of harvesting wheat.
As the headless horseman passed by, hordes of living soldiers fell, their faces turning blue and purple, as if their life had been drained away in an instant.
Watching the distorted cyborgs torture their prey in all sorts of inhuman ways, they let out excited screams.
Watching the dark wizard apprentices coldly unleash all sorts of vicious spells, causing the soldiers of Nar to die screaming in extreme agony.
This is not war.
This is a slaughterhouse. It's hell on earth.
The air was thick with a nauseating stench of blood, mixed with burnt, putrid smells and an indescribable, soul-corroding stench of negativity.
Screams, pleas for mercy, desperate cries, and the roars and howls of the monsters mingled together, creating a mind-numbing symphony of death.
"vomit"
The young soldier was the first to be unable to hold back, bending over and vomiting violently, almost bringing up bile.
His face was covered in a mixture of tears, sweat, and vomit, and his body trembled like a leaf in the autumn wind.
Veteran Huo Ke gripped the wall tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force.
He had experienced countless battles and witnessed death, but he had never seen such a utter and complete trampling of life and dignity in a massacre.
He stared at the cold figure on the hillside, his throat tightening, unable to utter a single word.
King Risso's sword clattered to the ground. He seemed to have all his strength drained away in an instant, staggering back a step, only managing to stay upright thanks to the support of his personal guards.
His gaze did not fall upon the routed Nal army, but instead remained fixed on his son, Layton Arthur.
He saved the country. But what he attracted was an existence countless times more terrifying than the Principality of Binar.
"us----"
A hoarse voice broke the silence; it belonged to a noble general, whose face was deathly pale and whose voice trembled.
"We won?"
'
No one answered him.
Did we win? Maybe.
Nar's army completely collapsed. The soldiers abandoned their armor and weapons, crying and fleeing in all directions, wishing they had two more legs.
General Crove had already been pinned to death beside his wolf mount by a reflecting black arrow, his face still frozen in horror and disbelief.
But none of the Arthurians were happy.
A despair deeper than that faced with annihilation gripped everyone's hearts.
They survived.
But what about the future?
Where will these terrifying monsters and wizards go?
What will he do? Your Highness—what price did you pay?
Just then, the massacre on the plains gradually came to an end.
The remaining Nar soldiers had already fled far away, and the Dark Army did not rush to pursue them, but instead began to silently clean up the battlefield.
Shadow golems and shadow warriors began piling up corpses, friend and foe alike.
The wolf-headed man and the cyborg were scavenging through the pile of corpses, seemingly selecting "materials".
The black wizard apprentices were carving intricate runes beside the piles of corpses, preparing to perform some kind of large-scale necromancy or sacrificial ritual.
The headless horsemen stood silently at the edge of the battlefield, their ghostly blue soul flames sweeping across the direction of the capital, as if monitoring or awaiting their next command.
Layton Arthur did not move an inch from beginning to end.
He watched indifferently as his "army" handled the aftermath, as if everything before him had nothing to do with him.
Finally, he moved.
He gently spurred the horse's flanks, and the nightmare warhorse shrouded in black mist began to stride down the hillside at a leisurely pace, treading over the land littered with severed limbs and sticky blood, heading towards the city gates of Arthur's capital.
The dark army behind him automatically parted to make way, and all the monsters and wizards bowed slightly in awe.
On the city wall, everyone's heart was in their throat.
King Risso took a deep breath, suppressing the fear and confusion in his heart, and struggled to stand up straight. He was the king; he had to face it.
"Open the city gates!" His voice was extremely hoarse.
"Your Majesty! No!" Several generals instinctively tried to stop him.
"Open it!" Risso roared, his voice trembling almost imperceptibly. "Does he have to—order those things—to tear down the city gates?"
The heavy, scarred city gate was slowly pushed open with a teeth-grinding creak.
Layton rode his horse through the gate and into the capital.
Along the streets, surviving civilians and soldiers gathered, their faces showing no joy at surviving the disaster, only boundless fear and bewilderment.
They looked at the familiar yet unfamiliar prince on horseback, at his cold, empty eyes, and at the terrifying monsters disposing of corpses on the distant plains behind him. They instinctively retreated, huddling together like frightened lambs.
Leyton reined in his horse and stopped it in front of his father, King Risso.
Father and son looked at each other.
"Father, I did it—"
Looking at his father before him, Layton spoke with a trembling voice. Then, he looked at the civilians and soldiers around him and shouted loudly!
"We have won!!!"
"I've brought reinforcements! They will join us in reclaiming our lost territory! Blood for blood! They won't harm you!"
Hearing Layton's words, everyone was somewhat skeptical.
Such a terrifying monster, won't it harm them?
"What's the price—"
The old king Risso's voice was dry and heavy, each word as if squeezed out with difficulty from under a boulder.
His gaze was fixed on his son's face, a mixture of faint relief at surviving the ordeal, unspeakable fear, and a father's deepest worry.
This question was also a heavy burden on the hearts of all the survivors present.
Such terrifying power, so easily crushing a formidable foe —
What's the price for the black wizard's aid?
Layton's body stiffened almost imperceptibly for a moment.
He could feel the weight of his father's gaze, and the doubtful and fearful stares of the people around him.
The cold, cruel contract signed with the soul and the fate of the nation burned into his soul like a brand.
He can't tell the truth.
Once the truth is revealed, Arthur, who has just survived under Nar's iron heel, will immediately collapse from internal panic and despair.
The "salvation" he brings will instantly turn into an even greater disaster.
He has to maintain this lie, at least for now.
Looking at his father before him, Layton's lips moved with difficulty, trying to force a reassuring smile, but the smile was stiff and fragile, like a crack on ice.
He avoided his father's gaze, which seemed to see right through him, and turned his head slightly to look at the dark creatures outside the city who were silently processing the corpses, as if to confirm their "harmlessness".
"I have some old acquaintance with a big shot in the Silent Forest."
His voice was trying to remain steady, but if you listened carefully, you could detect a slight tremor that he was trying hard to suppress.
"He agreed to lend a hand. What he wanted was simply the spoils of war from the Duchy of Nar, and—perhaps some research materials in the future." He mumbled the last word.
"However, due to certain rules in the wizarding world, he and his direct subordinates are not able to directly intervene in secular wars."
Layton continued, weaving a web of half-truths and half-lies.
"Therefore, he sent these—allies—to assist us. Now, with their strength, we can not only defend our homeland, but also fight back! Reclaim all lost territory! Make the Nar people pay for their atrocities in blood!"
He turned to the crowd again, raising his voice, trying to mask the coldness and emptiness within him with the flames of vengeance: "They are here on orders to deal only with our enemies! They will not harm a single citizen of Arthur! I assure you with my royal blood!"
A slight commotion arose in the crowd.
The fear has not completely subsided, but the words "revenge" and "reclaim lost territory" have indeed ignited a flame in the hearts of some, especially those whose homes have been destroyed and whose loved ones have perished.
It's better to direct terrifying monsters to the enemy than to have them descend upon you.
However, the doubts in the eyes of the old King Risso did not dissipate.
He knew his son too well; Layton's shifty eyes, stiff posture, and deliberately ambiguous words couldn't put his mind at ease.
"Old friendship"?
"Research materials"?
"rule"?
What was hidden behind these words sent chills down his spine.
But looking at the civilians and soldiers around him who had just experienced a catastrophe, were still in shock, and were now slightly revitalized by the promise of "victory" and "revenge," Risso knew that this was not the time to press for answers.
Forcibly revealing the truth could immediately trigger uncontrollable chaos.
He forced all his worries and fears back into his heart, forcing a look of extreme difficulty and exhaustion onto his face.
He slowly raised his hand and patted his son's arm. The touch was icy cold, which made his heart tremble again.
"It's good that you're back—it's good that you're victorious—"
The old king's voice was hoarse, filled with complex emotions.
"Arthur—I need you."
He didn't say "I believe you," nor did he ask for any further explanation.
He simply acknowledged the fait accompli of victory and the terrifying yet powerful force his son had brought with him.
Layton felt a slight sense of relief, but this was followed by an even heavier sense of guilt.
He avoided his father's gaze and said in a low voice, "Father, you've worked hard. Go back to the palace and rest first—leave the rest to me."
Risso looked deeply at his son, then nodded wearily. With the help of his guards, he turned and slowly walked towards the palace, his back hunched and aged.
Watching his father leave, Layton Arthur, now his successor, slowly turned around and faced his people once more.
The faint expression on his face vanished, replaced once again by a cold, almost inhuman calm.
"Clean up the battlefield, treat the wounded, and assess the losses."
His voice returned to its previous calm and indifference as he began to issue commands, as if the emotional fluctuations of the moment had never occurred.
"Fortify the city's defenses and be wary of a counterattack from the remnants of Nar's forces
His commands were clear and logical, but no one felt truly at ease listening to the lingering chill in his voice and looking at the terrifying figures outside the city who were still piling up corpses and inscribing runes.
The cheers of victory were long overdue.
The Duchy of Arthur was saved, but a new and more obscure fear had quietly taken root in the hearts of every survivor.
Under these bizarre circumstances, both civilians and soldiers obeyed Layton's orders and began to act. However, when they passed by those "monsters," the fear in their eyes could not be concealed!