NTR: Barbarian Harem Conquest

Chapter 156: Back Again

"A meeting?" Firlia asked, tilting her head. "You are injured. The council can wait."

"No, it cannot," Kane said, his playful demeanor fading into serious determination.

He looked directly at the elf.

"We have a lot to discuss regarding your homeland, Firlia."

Getting forced into bed was usually a fun experience, but this particular instance just felt like a hostage situation.

Thora practically dragged him into the royal bedchambers by his uninjured arm, tossing his ruined chest plate away.

Firlia followed closely behind, carrying a bowl of warm water and fresh linen.

"Sit," Thora commanded, crossing her arms beneath her chest.

"Do not make me tie you down."

"You usually charge extra for that," Kane teased, wincing as he leaned back against the plush pillows.

Misha just sighed, taking a seat on the edge of the mattress to inspect her previous healing work.

Firlia handed her the linen, leaning in close to study the neat stitching running along his bicep.

Standing near the open window, Griselda kept a vigilant watch over the courtyard below.

Her new black wings remained tucked neatly behind her back, though she occasionally stretched them to test the muscles.

"You heal remarkably fast, Kane," Griselda noted, her voice still drawing surprised looks from the other women in the room.

"System perks," Kane replied, rotating his shoulder cautiously.

"Plus, having a skilled oracle as a wife certainly speeds up the recovery process."

’I have the best vanguard on the continent,’ Kane realized, watching his council seamlessly welcome the fallen angel into their ranks.

’We have raw power covered completely. But fighting elves is a different game entirely. They use guerrilla tactics and illusion magic. Brute strength alone will not win this campaign.’

"Since I am confined to these pillows," Kane announced, clapping his hands together once, "we might as well make use of the time. Sira, drop down from there and join the circle."

Sira landed lightly on the floorboards, having spent the last ten minutes hiding in the rafters just to see if Griselda would notice her.

"Let’s talk about your homeland, Firlia," Kane directed his attention to the elf.

Firlia stiffened slightly, lowering the washbasin onto a side table.

She pulled up a wooden stool, her long ears twitching nervously.

"You are serious about this?" Sira asked, stealing a grape from a nearby fruit bowl.

"We just got back from fighting a mythical snake."

"Always," Kane answered flatly.

"Momentum wins wars. Firlia, give me the brutal truth. If I march an infantry into those forests tomorrow, what happens?"

Firlia didn’t hesitate for even a second.

"You all die within a week."

Thora scoffed loudly, resting a hand on the pommel of her sword.

"I would like to see them try."

"It is not about individual strength," Firlia explained patiently, looking directly at Kane while ignoring Thora’s bravado.

"You have been there before. There are elite warriors. The forests themselves are enchanted. Trees shift positions constantly to confuse invaders, trapping armies in endless loops until they starve to death. Elven rangers never fight head-on. They consider direct combat to be barbaric."

"So they hide," Griselda stated.

"They will poison your water supplies," Firlia continued, tracing a map on the bedsheets with her finger.

"They will rain arrows from the canopy while hidden by illusions. You will lose half your men before you even see a single Elven soldier."

’Classic defensive cowardice,’ Kane mused, tapping his chin rhythmically.

"Marching into their domain is a death sentence," Firlia finalized, looking genuinely worried for her new family.

"Then we don’t fight in the trees."

Everyone in the room turned to look at him, waiting for the warlord to explain his madness.

"Elves are arrogant," Kane continued, a smile crossing his scarred face.

"They believe humans are beneath them. So, we insult their pride."

Sira leaned forward, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

"How?"

"We march to the border and burn their outer outposts to ash," Kane declared coldly.

"We pillage the perimeter. We cut down their sacred boundary trees and use the wood to build our siege engines right in front of them."

"Do Elves have good loot?"

"The best magic cores in the realm," Kane confirmed.

"And weapons that never dull. If we win, Menual becomes the richest city on the map."

"I hate magic," Thora grumbled, crossing her arms.

"Swords are honest. Spells are just tricks for cowards who cannot throw a proper punch."

"Which is why you will be leading the vanguard charge on the open plains," Kane promised, earning a fierce, satisfied grin from the tall warrior.

Sira grinned, catching onto the strategy instantly.

"We make a giant mess on their front lawn."

"Exactly," Kane nodded.

"If we burn enough outposts, their pride will force them to respond. They cannot allow mere humans to desecrate their borders without losing face among their own people. They will have to march out of their enchanted forest and face us on the open plains to defend their honor. We make them fight on our terms."

Griselda let out a chuckle from the window, clearly approving of the tactic.

"A brutal, effective trap. Lure the prey out of the den."

"Prepare the logistics," Kane ordered, closing his eyes to signal the end of the meeting.

"Thora, get the infantry ready. Firlia, map out every single border outpost you can remember. We move out in three days."

Late at night, the makeshift war council finally dispersed.

Misha fell asleep, resting her head against his chest, completely exhausted from channeling so much mana during Griselda’s unbinding ritual.

Her breathing remained soft and steady, bringing a strange sense of peace to the chaotic room.

Kane lay wide awake. Staring at the ceiling, he ran logistics and system shop calculations through his head.

He mentally allocated gold coins for siege weapons, fire-resistant tents, and extra rations.

Shadows in the far corner of the bedroom suddenly distorted.

The temperature in the room dropped significantly, yet it didn’t feel like mountain frost. The fireplace flames flickered wildly, turning a strange shade of blue before dimming entirely.

A woman stepped seamlessly out of the void, her boots making zero sound on the wooden floorboards.

She wore familiar combat gear, although now black, and her entire posture radiated lethal confidence.

Twin daggers rested securely at her hips, glinting in the faint moonlight streaming through the window.

Kane reached instinctively for a dagger hidden under his pillow, his combat instincts flaring to life before his brain could even process the visual information.

Moonlight caught her face as she stepped forward, sharp features and a very familiar, wicked smirk.

"First blade."