[You have slain a Pawn of the Fallen King.]

I read the words again, letting the implication settle in my mind. If a A-rank was only a pawn, then how powerful was the Fallen King?

’I need to gain more strength. Only then will I be able to face the fallen king.’ I thought. I felt my current realm of cultivation won’t be enough to defeat it.

I heard the heavy shifting of gravel. Turning away from the corpse of Malakar, I noticed Korin and the surviving hunters gathering their dead comrades.

I walked over to where Korin was. "The battle is over, Korin, we won." I said.

Korin didn’t look up. His hands hovered over Gael’s body. "Did we? Because it feels like we lost."

"You didn’t lose. The village is safe thanks to their sacrifice."

"He was just a boy, Ren," Korin’s voice cracked. "We were joking by the fire just yesterday. He was supposed to take over my squad in a few years. How do I go back and look his little sister in the eyes? How do I tell her that her brother died because I wasn’t strong enough to save him in time?"

I didn’t offer him empty pity. He needed an anchor. "You tell her that her brother stood his ground against the enemy vanguard. You tell her he didn’t run away like a coward. He died a man protecting his home. Don’t take his courage away from him by making it about your guilt."

Korin stared at me for a long time. "You’re right. I know you’re right. It just... it doesn’t make it any easier."

"It never gets easier," I told him, looking at the other bodies. "Take them home, Korin. Give them a proper burial."

Korin nodded slowly. He stood up, "Let’s bring our people back home." 𝕗𝕣𝐞𝐞𝘄𝐞𝚋𝚗𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝚌𝕠𝚖

The hunters carefully lifted the stretchers. The wounded leaned on their comrades. Without another word, we began the long walk home. The village spotted us from a distance. As we emerged from the treeline, a shout rang out from the watchtower.

"They’re back!"

The gates opened. The villagers poured out into the courtyard.

"The hunters are back!" a woman cried out.

"Did we win?" a younger boy yelled, running forward. "Did you beat those bad guys?"

"Daddy!" a little girl screamed, rushing past the gates and throwing her arms around a limping hunter’s waist.

For a few fleeting seconds, the air was filled with joyous relief. Women were crying, people were smiling, and the suffocating tension that had gripped Elderglen was finally breaking.

Then, they saw the stretchers that carried the dead. The excitement disappeared and the cheering stopped. The bright smiles melted into expressions of horror. The entire atmosphere shifted from euphoric relief to a suffocating dread.

"Who..." an old woman whispered, her voice trembling in the sudden quiet. "Who is under the cloaks?"

"Oh gods, no. Please, no," a man muttered, taking a step back.

Nobody needed to ask what had happened. They looked at the blood, the broken weapons, and the motionless forms. They already knew that this victory came with a cost.

"Brother! Gael!" Gael’s younger sister, Elia, pushed eagerly through the crowd. She was smiling, her eyes darting among the exhausted faces of the returning men. "Gael, you promised you’d show me the new hunting knife!"

She kept searching. But Gael didn’t answer. Her smile faltered, she looked confused. She stepped further into the center of the courtyard, noticing Korin at the front of the line. The giant hunter had stopped walking. His head was bowed. And right behind him were the stretchers.

"...Where’s my brother?" Elia asked, her voice small.

Nobody answered her.

"Uncle Korin?" She took a step toward him. "Where is Gael? Is he at the back? Is he hurt?"

Korin opened his mouth, but no words came out. The absolute silence of the village gave her the answer.

Elia slowly walked toward the nearest stretcher. Her breathing became fast and erratic. Her hands trembled violently as she reached out. "N-no, You’re joking. H-he said he was coming back. He told me he would show me his new hunting knife," she whispered.

She grabbed the blood-stained cloth and pulled it away. She saw Gael’s pale and lifeless face.

Elia’s legs gave out instantly as she collapsed into the earth, falling to her knees beside the stretcher. Her small hands desperately grabbed his torn leather armor, shaking his shoulders.

"N-no... Gael, wake up!" she cried, her voice cracking. "Stop playing! You have to wake up!"

Gael didn’t move.

"Please!" she screamed, burying her face into his chest. "Please wake up! I won’t steal your arrows anymore! I promise! Just wake up!"

Her agonizing wail shattered the village. The villagers watched in absolute silence. Women covered their faces, weeping softly. Korin looked away, completely unable to meet her eyes.

"It’s my fault," Korin choked out, his voice barely a whisper. "I should have been faster, I should’ve been stronger." I placed a hand on Korin’s arm, gripping it lightly to comfort him a bit. We watched as Gael’s sister bawled her eyes out.

***

The entire village gathered in the clearing behind the Elder’s hall. The dead hunters had been washed and laid to rest in wooden caskets. Torches crackled softly, casting long shadows across the grieving crowd. The Elder stepped forward, leaning on his wooden cane.

"Tonight, we mourn," the Elder spoke. "We mourn Gael. We mourn Toris. We mourn Kaelen. They were our sons. Our brothers. Our friends."

"For generations, we have lived in fear," the Elder continued. "In the past, when the stronger demons demanded tribute, we paid it. When they demanded our resources, we gave them. We believed that compliance was the only way to survive. But these men... these men chose a different path." He said pointing his cane toward the caskets.

"They did not die as victims. They did not die running. They marched up that mountain and they fought for us. They traded their lives so that the women and children of this village would never have to look over their shoulders again."

Elia stepped forward. Her eyes were swollen and red from crying. Her hands shook as she placed a small bundle of winter-bloom flowers on Gael’s casket.

"I won’t forget you brother," she whispered. "I want to be your sister again in our next lives."

Hours later, the village finally went quiet.

Snow had begun to fall gently, dusting the rooftops in white. I was standing alone near the extinguished central fire pit, watching the snowflakes melt against the warm stones.

I heard the soft crunch of someone approaching. Lyra approached quietly, a thick shawl wrapped around her shoulders. Her eyes were red from crying.

For a while, neither of us spoke. "It’s finally over," Lyra whispered.

I looked at her. "Yeah. It’s over."

"Three men," she said, her voice breaking. She wrapped her arms around herself, staring at the ground. "Three good men are dead, Ren. Because of me. If I obeyed Malakar, they wouldn’t have died."

"Stop," I said, my voice cutting through her guilt. "Don’t do that."

Lyra looked up at me, tears spilling over her cheeks. "How can I not? If I had just gone to him—"

"If you had gone to him, he would have killed you, taken Mira, and then burned this village to the ground anyway," I interrupted, stepping closer to her. "You need to understand something, Lyra. Those men didn’t die for you. They died protecting their homes. Their sacrifice was their choice. Do not cheapen it by making it your fault."

Lyra stared at me, her chest heaving as she processed the words. She wiped a tear from her cheek. "No one is taking you away from Mira now," I said.

Fresh tears filled her eyes, but the heavy burden of guilt melted away. It wasn’t sadness anymore. It was pure, overwhelming relief.

"Thank you, Ren," she choked out, her voice barely a whisper. "Thank you for everything."

This time, I didn’t make a sarcastic joke and simply nodded. Lyra eventually returned home to Mira.

I remained outside, standing in the snow. I looked past the palisades, toward the distant, jagged peaks of the northern mountains. Toward whatever lay beyond the Blood-Iron territory.

Footsteps entered my ears asKorin walked up beside me. He held his spear in one hand, the blade freshly sharpened. His grief had hardened into something cold and terrifying.

"Ren," Korin said, his voice completely devoid of emotion.

I looked at him. "Yeah?"

"The men have talked. We aren’t waiting for them to regroup and pick a new Chief," Korin rumbled, staring at the northern peaks. "At dawn, the hunters and I are marching back up that mountain. We’re going to wipe the rest of the Blood-Iron Tribe off the map. No one will be spared."