Chapter 90: Retreat
Kingdom of Mountel
The battle continued.
Smoke covered large portions of the battlefield while screams echoed endlessly beneath the darkening skies.
Soldiers dressed in Mountel’s deep red armor continued advancing steadily across the blood-soaked field like a spreading tide that refused to stop.
And King Altruss was pleased.
It was one thing for his people to starve slowly within their own kingdom. It was another thing entirely for him to drag them into war only to lose.
That could never happen.
Not now.
Not after everything he had sacrificed to build the weapons that currently tore through Aldrack’s army.
From his position closer to the battlefield, Altruss watched calmly as Mountel’s soldiers pushed forward under the commands of their general.
The guns had changed everything.
The soldiers themselves knew it too.
Confidence flowed through Mountel’s army with every thunderous shot fired from the frontlines. Every Aldrack soldier that collapsed strengthened morale further.
Meanwhile, fear spread through the enemy ranks faster than disease.
King Altruss stood tall atop his armored horse, his crimson cloak shifting violently behind him with the wind.
Unless an angel descended from the heavens themselves, Aldrack would fall today.
"Order them forward," he commanded coldly.
One of the nearby officers immediately bowed his head.
"Your Majesty?"
"Push harder," Altruss ordered again while staring toward the distant blue-armored forces of Aldrack. "Kill every last one of them if necessary."
His voice carried no hesitation.
No mercy.
He didn’t care what happened to Aldrack itself.
Not truly.
He only needed their food reserves.
That was all.
Because if something wasn’t done soon, Mountel would collapse from starvation regardless of military victories.
The soil across his kingdom continued dying for reasons no scholar or alchemist could properly explain. Crops withered before maturity. Entire harvests failed repeatedly.
And every month, hunger worsened.
If this continued much longer, eventually his people would begin turning against one another.
Against him.
Which meant Aldrack’s food stores now represented survival itself.
Below him, the battlefield descended further into chaos.
Blue-armored Aldrack soldiers attempted another push.
They screamed battle cries while charging forward with shields raised and swords lifted high.
Archers behind them released waves of arrows that darkened the sky briefly before descending toward Mountel’s advancing lines.
Some Mountel soldiers fell.
Others screamed as arrows pierced exposed flesh.
But it wasn’t enough.
The red-armored lines held firm.
Then came the guns.
A violent crack split through the battlefield.
Smoke exploded outward.
The charging Aldrack soldiers dropped almost instantly.
One man’s chest burst open beneath the force of a bullet that pierced directly through his armor. Another collapsed clutching his throat while blood poured endlessly between his fingers.
The bullets tore through metal like paper.
That was what terrified Aldrack’s soldiers most.
Their armor meant nothing.
The moment they got close enough to properly engage with swords, Mountel’s frontlines fired again.
And again.
The battlefield became a slaughter.
Blue-armored soldiers continued trying to advance using shields and arrows, but every push ended the same way.
Gunfire.
Blood.
Bodies collapsing into the dirt.
The closer Aldrack’s soldiers came, the faster they died.
Soon entire sections of the battlefield were littered with corpses dressed in blue.
Some still twitched weakly while crying out for help that would never come.
Others lay motionless with empty eyes staring toward the sky.
Still Mountel advanced steadily.
The general rode across the battlefield barking orders while horns sounded repeatedly across the lines.
"Reload!"
"Advance!"
"Fire!"
The commands echoed endlessly.
Mountel’s soldiers obeyed with growing confidence.
Aldrack was breaking.
Everyone could see it.
Panic spread openly through their formations now. Some soldiers abandoned their shields entirely while attempting to flee back toward the walls.
Others froze where they stood, too terrified to move forward and too terrified to retreat.
Altruss watched everything with satisfaction burning quietly inside him.
Victory was close.
Very close.
Soon the capital walls would belong to him.
Soon the food reserves would be his.
Then perhaps his kingdom would survive another winter.
Another loud volley erupted across the battlefield.
Dozens more Aldrack soldiers collapsed instantly.
The screams barely even registered anymore.
Then suddenly—
A horse approached at full speed from the rear lines.
Altruss frowned immediately.
The rider looked frantic.
Dust covered both the horse and messenger while several guards quickly moved aside to allow him through.
The messenger nearly fell from the horse while dismounting.
"Your Majesty!" he shouted breathlessly.
Altruss’ expression darkened instantly.
The man carried a red-stamped report.
Urgent.
Severe.
Something terrible enough that battlefield protocol had been ignored entirely.
"What is it?" Altruss demanded sharply.
The messenger dropped to one knee.
"Our villages—"
He struggled to catch his breath.
"Our villages are under attack!"
For a brief second, Altruss thought Aldrack had somehow circled behind them.
Cowards.
Desperate cowards trying to attack civilians now that they were losing the war.
His expression twisted with fury.
"Aldrack?" he demanded.
But the messenger immediately shook his head violently.
"No, Your Majesty!"
Confusion flickered briefly across Altruss’ face.
"Then who?"
The messenger swallowed hard.
"Humans."
Silence fell around them instantly.
"Humans?" one of the commanders repeated in disbelief.
The messenger nodded frantically.
"Humans turning into werewolves," he explained shakily. "They attacked multiple villages simultaneously."
Several nearby officers exchanged disturbed looks.
"What nonsense are you speaking?" another commander snapped.
But the messenger quickly held out the sealed report.
"The attacks are real," he insisted desperately. "Entire villages are burning. Many of our people are already dead."
Altruss snatched the report from him immediately and broke the seal open.
His eyes scanned the contents rapidly.
Then his expression changed completely.
The report was worse than expected.
Far worse.
The attacks weren’t isolated.
Several villages had already fallen.
Men, women, and children slaughtered.
And according to survivors, the attackers weren’t ordinary humans. They transformed. Like beasts into wolves.
The women from the villages had been taken hostage. Entire settlements were gone.
The red seal suddenly felt far too justified.
Altruss clenched the parchment tightly in his fist.
This wasn’t coincidence.
Someone had planned this carefully. Attack Mountel while its army remained occupied with Aldrack.
"No..." one of the commanders muttered quietly while reading over his shoulder. "This can’t be happening."
But it was.
Altruss slowly lifted his gaze back toward the battlefield.
Victory stood directly in front of him.
Aldrack was collapsing.
Another hour—
Perhaps less—
And the capital itself might fall.
But if Mountel’s villages continued burning behind them, then eventually there would be nothing left to return to.
His jaw tightened violently. Rage churned beneath his skin. At whoever dared attack his kingdom while his army stood elsewhere.
"Your Majesty..." the general began carefully.
Altruss already knew what needed to happen.
Even if he hated it.
Even if it felt like ripping victory directly from his own hands. There was no choice.
Altruss turned sharply toward the battlefield one final time. Aldrack’s blue-armored soldiers were still dying beneath gunfire.
Victory was close enough to taste and yet—
"Retreat," he ordered coldly.
Several officers froze in shock.
"Your Majesty—"
"Retreat!" Altruss roared louder this time.
The command echoed immediately.
Horns began sounding across Mountel’s lines.
Long. Sharp.
The signal for withdrawal.
Confusion spread rapidly through the battlefield as red-armored soldiers slowly began pulling back despite their overwhelming advantage.
Across the field, surviving Aldrack soldiers stared in stunned disbelief.
Meanwhile, atop his horse, King Altruss looked toward the distant horizon where smoke from burning villages rose faintly into the sky.
Someone had dared attack his kingdom and when he found them— He intended to make the entire world regret it.
