They also very successfully practiced various slave Techniques and other ‘filth’. As long as the sect possessed a sufficient amount of power, all of this was considered perfectly normal within their ranks.
If you were powerful enough, no one dared to say anything to you. But once you showed even the smallest sign of weakness, dozens of ‘vultures’ appeared, ready to devour you in order to grow stronger.
It was cruel, there was no denying that, but this world, at least, was honest about its cruelty.
Using this particular image, Hadjar was going to attract not only the ones that had been wronged by the sect, but also the lower urban strata—the deprived ones. At first, they would be bad soldiers, and some of them would surely try to desert, but it was better than nothing.
Behind Hadjar, far away, in the darkness of the night, there were mountains. His homeland was beyond them. He hoped that he could manage to get to the palace before anyone else tried to use a similar maneuver against Lidus.
The General, collecting rebel troops in the north, could try it.
Hadjar hoped that he wasn’t so stupid as to drown the country in rivers of blood. And not just rivers... a similar trick could end up drowning the whole of Lidus in a sea of blood.
Hadjar didn’t want to see such a fate befall his countrymen, therefore, he didn’t want to return to the palace through force. The people had already suffered too much under Primus, and Hadjar didn’t want to add more misfortune on top of that.
Pushing away the uninvited thoughts, he put down the leaflet and looked at the magnificent walls of Garnuth before him, or, at least, what he could make out under the torch lit night sky. There was no denying their magnificence, but they were also painfully similar to the ones that had surrounded the ill-fated, blown-up Fort.
He wondered what General Leen had felt. Had she thought that she’d acted dishonestly? Because that’s exactly what Hadjar was currently thinking.
He stood among the trebuchets. Three days ago, they had tirelessly bombarded Garnuth with bags full of leaflets. The engineers had been inventive in ensuring the ribbons untied one at a time, rather than all at once.
Many of the leaflets had ended up beneath the walls, but more than half of them now littered the city’s streets.
Was there a lot of honor to be had in inciting a rebellion and pitting brother against brother, and son against father?
No, not really.
But hundreds of thousands of his people stood behind him. They had come here following him. They believed in him, and he was obliged to do his best for them. He had to give them a victory and save as many lives as he could in doing so. Even if he had to sacrifice his own honor in the process.
Hadjar didn’t look for excuses. He only tightened his grip on Moon Beam’s hilt and peered out into the darkness.
His spymaster had deployed a large-scale operation. In just one day, he had been able to organize a network of spies inside the city—coming up with ways to identify them, coordinating their actions, and tirelessly reporting to the General on all of his findings.
Hadjar wouldn’t have been able to secure a tenth of what his spymaster had created.
That’s why an army was never just ‘one’ person, but rather, it was the combined efforts of many people, each possessing a different set of skills.
The tiled roofs of the many houses towered above them, and the lights on the watchtowers kept burning. Sometimes, they caught the warriors’ silhouettes as they walked along the crenellated parapets of the wall, disappearing only as they went behind the merlons.
Finally, a light in one of the highest towers blinked. Then it did so again, and again. In total, the light blinked three times, with absolutely equal intervals in between.
Hadjar raised his fist and waved toward the city. At night, it looked like a clot of darkness, and the hundreds of thousands of soldiers running toward him in absolute silence looked like greedy shadows that were ready to devour an entire city.
As usual, Hadjar and Nero ran ahead. They led the army fearlessly, and the soldiers who saw the broad backs of the legendary officers felt their spirits lift.
The closer they got to the clot of darkness, the higher and more impregnable its walls seemed. There was no moat around the city. Probably because they’d had no money for it initially, and then it became unnecessary. What madman would attack the Kingdom when it was under the protection of the sect?
And yet, such a madman had now appeared.
At the head of the army, he ran over to the heavy gates as they slowly opened to grant them passage into the walled city. Each door was so large that if it had been a raft, it would’ve been able to hold no less than five hundred people and twenty horses, carts included.
The gates were opened by people with white rags tied around their arms. That’s how the soldiers were going to distinguish ‘friend’ from ‘foe’. Knowing that there were probably sect spies in his ranks, Hadjar hadn’t disclosed all of the information at once. The fact that the city would be captured tonight, and all the other details, had only been explained to the soldiers a couple of hours prior to the battle.
That interval was so short that the spies surely hadn’t been able to report to ‘The Black Gates’.
Keeping silent, the soldiers broke through and into the city.
The streets were already littered with the bodies of both defenders and rebels. Every dead body with a white bandage around its arm was a weight that Hadjar would have to carry with him all his life.
Roaring soldiers were already running down the stairs of the parapets and pouring out of the barracks, the streets, and the alleys. They’d seen the signal, and they knew what it meant.
There were enemies in the city.
“Hold the line!” Hadjar roared.
The civilians closed their windows and slammed their doors shut. Hadjar heard ordinary people shouting. They’d been unlucky enough to get caught up in the chaos. Despite his direct orders to not harm the civilians, this war wouldn’t end without ‘extra’ casualties. How many children, mothers, and fathers would be killed simply because Hadjar needed to take this city?
Using only his palm, he easily deflected the sword of a mere watchman.
Name
???
Level of cultivation
Bodily Nodes (6)
Strength
0.3
Dexterity
0.35
Physique
0.4
Energy points
0.2
Childish eyes sparkled in the bright moonlight.
The young man was no more than sixteen years old, but he would never see seventeen.
Hadjar’s sword pierced his heart, and the young man fell, his dark red blood coating the pavement.
Hadjar cut down another enemy and, throwing them off his body, he turned around.
The battle was now in full swing. The soldiers were fighting on the roofs of the houses, on the balconies, on the ground, and on the parapets. There were obviously fewer defenders than attackers, and the Moon Army continued to flow into the city in a single, unceasing stream.
They buried the defenders like an avalanche, and everything was bathed in the light of the night queen—the Moon. In the midst of this white light, the crimson flares of fire and blood looked like the eyes of a demon, peeking out of the abyss.
“Nero!” Hadjar caught up to his friend who was in the throes of battle fever.
Nero started to swing his sword at his comrade, but then realized that he wasn’t an enemy.
“I’m going to look for their General while you advance toward the second gate.”
“Good luck.” Nero nodded and, turning to the soldiers, he shouted, “Follow me!”
Climbing up above the street level, Hadjar rushed over the rooftops, going toward the city’s command post. The enemy soldiers unlucky enough to get in his way had no choice but to flinch and try to hide at the sight of a black raven. The raven, with only a flutter of its wing, sent
out flickering sword strikes, cutting them down on the spot.
Hadjar left behind a bright, bloody trail, which the defenders of the city couldn’t help but fear.
Chapter 100
Hadjar burst into a wooden tower, soaring above the last ring of walls. His army was now storming the second gate, and it surely wouldn’t take them too long to breach it.
The defenders immediately charged this unexpected enemy that had already breached a wooden wall with just a sword strike. Armed with short spears and small shields, they tried to encircle their foe, but he seemed to float through the air. He easily pushed away their shields, flying up to the tower dome. When they tried to stab him with their spears, he merely ran along the tips.
With each slash of his sword, another defender left this world.
In a fraction of a second, Hadjar dealt with more than a dozen warriors of Balium. Shaking off the blood coating his sword, he stood in the center of the tower and swung his blade.
“Strong wind!”
Energy use:
0.4
While this Technique had once used to create only a whirlwind, Hadjar’s attack now created a real tornado. A tornado full of razor-sharp blades.
To an onlooker, it might’ve seemed like a huge tornado had suddenly appeared in the wooden tower, turning it into nothing more than a pile of debris and wood chips.
The army had gotten through the gate. Blood flooded the streets and screams filled the night air, but with each passing moment, the sounds of battle gradually subsided.
The soldiers of Lidus and Balium surrounded two people.
General Hadjar—wearing simple clothes, his long, black hair tied into a bun, and the General of Garnuth—a woman with a Scutum shield and a broadsword. She apparently hadn’t had the time to get fully dressed because she only had her breastplate covering her torso.
With a fury in her eyes, and with her bloody sword and shield in her hands, she stood in front of Hadjar. Her red clothes fluttered in the wind, and her black pants were tucked into simple boots.
The General clearly hadn’t expected such an early attack, and that was her mistake—one that would likely end up costing her her life.
Her golden hair had been styled into dozens of thin braids that were scattered across her face and shoulders.
“You have no honor,” she snarled. “You have no honor!”
A gust of wind lifted her gray, rugged cloak, and she launched a furious strike. She destroyed a lot of the wooden debris that surrounded them, and even scratched the old paving stones, but she wasn’t able to lay a single finger on Hadjar.
Like a leaf in the wind, he only turned his body slightly, effortlessly dodging the slash.
Looking determined, he pushed off the ground and counterattacked.
The General covered herself with her shield as each of Hadjar’s strikes sounded like thunder and produced a shower of orange sparks. His attacks were so powerful that the street behind the General became covered with terrible cracks. Houses collapsed, and recently extinguished fires broke out again.
He attacked with such speed that it looked as if his right arm had completely disappeared. Only by following the sparks and the ringing of metal on metal could the strikes be perceived.
The General growled and, putting her whole body behind it, she pushed the enemy away with her shield. She swung her sword and a stone sword, five yards long, materialized and came down on Hadjar. It hit him squarely in the chest and flung him back, across the cobbled street.
Rising, he felt his shoulder, which hadn’t fully recovered after the battle with Dragon Tooth. It ached terribly. Not enough time had passed since then, and now he had to fight another equally strong opponent.
The next strike of the warrior’s Technique was blocked by the ‘Calm Wind’ shield. It was able to soften the strike but not completely repel it. Hadjar flew over the pavement again, but this time, the spectators didn’t see him fall.
Instead, those that paid particularly close attention saw his body turn into a raven, and in the next instant, Hadjar was near the General again.
Like a wind bending around her from all sides, he launched strike after strike from absolutely unimaginable angles. With each attack, a blade of wind was launched from his sword. They flew away, effortlessly cutting through stones and walls alike.
The warrior remained firmly on her feet. Hiding behind the shield, she was like a rock. Proud and unshakable.
With a fierce cry, she intercepted Hadjar and raised her sword above her head. It flashed in the rays of moonlight and, shrouded in it, fell toward her enemy.
Hadjar felt the mountain peak falling from the sky above him. The gray light of stone and the moonlight flooded everything around him. The earth trembled beneath their feet, and the paving stones cracked. Such a strike could’ve left a deep hole in the wall of Garnuth itself.
Hadjar wasn’t planning to find out what would happen if his body was hit with such power.
To those watching, it looked as if Hadjar had been caught by a gust of wind as he ‘sailed’ to the side. He turned on his heel, sheathed his sword, and then quietly covered the handle with his palm.
In the next instant, with a loud whistle, he drew his blade once more. Along with it, a bright beam shot up into the air. Even from afar, it resembled the tip of a blade, imbued with the very essence of the ‘sword’. For a fraction of a second, this beam became almost 35 feet long. It easily pierced through houses, stones and wooden fragments alike.
Just as easily, it pierced the General’s shield.
Coughing up blood, she dropped it and fell to her knees. The blood ran from her chest, and the light in her eyes rapidly began to dim. Perhaps this was why it looked like it wasn’t a human being that approached her, but rather a beast.
“You have no honor,” she croaked.
Hadjar raised his blade.
He knew that she was right.
A moment later, the General of Garnuth lost her head. Being at the level of ‘One with the World’, Hadjar could feel the world around him and the sword as easily as his own fingers.
He could’ve beaten the warrior with just one move. And yet, he had decided to fight her in melee. He needed dangerous and difficult fights if he hoped to progress.
They were his only hope of becoming even stronger.
“Warriors!” he shouted, turning toward the defenders. “Lay down your arms and we’ll spare you and your families! We won’t touch the city, the women and children, nor the old people! We’ll take your supplies, but we will leave enough so that you’ll be able to survive the winter. We’ll take your weapons and part of your treasury, but we won’t completely empty it.”
Hadjar glanced around at the Baliumians as they listened to his every word.
“If you continue to fight…” Hadjar swung his sword. A huge tornado came off the blade and turned several nearby houses into a pile of wood and rubble. “I’ll raze Garnuth to the ground.”
The warriors looked at the formidable, majestic figure before them. Despite his simple clothes and his complete lack of armor, holding only a single sword, he looked both powerful and fierce.
A hero from the legends of old was standing in front of them. A hero who could conquer the whole world with his sword.
Swords, shields and spears fell to the ground in unison.
In just four days, Hadjar had taken the city that some warriors wouldn’t have been able to conquer in a year.
However, for some reason, he wasn’t happy about it.
Chapter 101
Hadjar walked through the city streets. The residents, rarely peeking out of their windows, looked at him with fear and even horror. Mothers hid their crying children, and old men took up arms.
All the young practitioners had been herded to a local temple. Hadjar had posted about a thousand guards there. Just to be on the safe side. He didn’t want a rebellion on his hands while his troops were engaging in... robbery.
Fortunately, he’d managed to pr
event the classic version of a city’s despoiling, where it would surrender to the army for three days of looting. Women would be raped, their children tortured, houses ransacked and destroyed. Not because the soldiers were animals, but because they had to vent their anger.
But Hadjar needed that anger. He needed the warriors to maintain their rage. Needed them to burn with it. Sustain themselves with it. Bathe themselves in it. That was the only way they could fight this war. Only when their swords were held not only by their hands, but also by sheer rage and fury, could they hope to win.
“Tonight won’t go over easily,” Nero sighed, walking beside him. “We have around a million soldiers. Some will certainly disobey your orders.”
Serra had gone to oversee their pilfering of the City Treasury. The Governor, who was too young to know he’d have hair on his chest one day, didn’t mind. Although, a six-year-old child couldn’t really mind much anyway. And while his advisors had long ago been bought by the sect officials, they also weren’t against it. While they knew about chest hair, they didn’t want to lose theirs.
“Execute them if they do. Publicly.”
Hadjar didn’t see any other way he could maintain his authority. His orders had to be the law. For disobeying them, there was only one effective punishment—an immediate death.
“Let’s hope that there will be very few of them, then.”
Hadjar stopped and looked at the once beautiful building of the local theater. Now it lay in ruins, and blood flowed down the broad avenue. He could hear the General’s words again: “You have no honor!”
During the past few years, Hadjar’s only guideline in life had been the concept of honor. Sometimes it was very simple, sometimes… hazy. It didn’t let him differentiate between ‘good’ and ‘bad’, because in this world, it was impossible to be good or bad. But it had taught him something more important—how to tell right from wrong.
Dragon Heart: Iron Will. LitRPG Wuxia Series: Book 2 Page 15