Chapter 236

Leopold’s army was advancing without much difficulty, but there was still a long way to go before the Empire could regain peace.

After Isabella’s evil deeds were made public, rebel forces everywhere lost momentum, but they hadn’t completely quieted down.

Some nobles from Ernst’s faction were still attacking around their territories, continuing the war. Most of them were deeply entangled with Isabella and had committed so many crimes that even if they surrendered to Leopold, they were certain they wouldn’t escape execution.

Most of them were wealthy high-ranking nobles, and as such, they had large numbers of private soldiers, making it difficult for local lords to stop them.

Of course, the Empire’s 3rd Legion, currently reorganizing in the capital, was sharpening their blades to turn their territories into flatlands. After the Battle of Einfeld, the 3rd Legion, which had grown favorable toward Leopold, declared their participation in the holy war as soon as they had a reason to join.

And yet, unbeknownst to anyone—

The north was hell.

—

“Gasp… gasp…”

The exhaled breath froze white in the air.

Damien, drenched in blood, leaned on a greatsword, breathing heavily. His heated body steamed as it rapidly cooled.

His condition was dire. The fur and armor he wore were tattered as if slashed by dozens of blades, and his wounds were so severe that it was hard to tell if the blood was his or his enemies’. His deeply gouged left shoulder exposed bone, and his trembling right arm had a broken claw embedded like a dagger, wobbling precariously.

“Haaa…”

Damien shivered, groaning from the seeping cold and the pain of his wounds.

The dripping blood froze before it even hit the ground. The cold, sharp as a blade, dug into his wounds, carving pain that felt like scraping his nerves.

The blood covering his body cooled rapidly, stealing his body heat. Even the thick fur and the heat of battle couldn’t withstand the harshness of the Sky Mountains.

“…How many are left?”

There was no answer. The troops who could answer had all been torn to shreds, staining the snowfield red.

Steam rose from the scattered entrails like vines, but even that quickly lost warmth, freezing into a thin layer of ice.

The butchered bodies of the beastmen still held some warmth, but that wouldn’t last long either.

Nine pure-blooded warriors. That was all it took to annihilate a force of nearly a hundred, including ten knights.

If this weren’t the Sky Mountains, they wouldn’t have been wiped out so easily. But in the freezing snowfield where even breathing was a struggle, humans were utterly weak.

The body shriveled, muscles stiffened, and senses dulled. The thick fur meant to withstand the cold only hindered movement with its weight and bulk.

And the moment a wound was inflicted, the cold seeped in, freezing the blood. Once that happened, it was over. Even skilled knights couldn’t last long in that state.

On the other hand, the beastmen, born with fur and higher body temperatures than humans, moved effortlessly in the cold. Even when wounded, their regenerative abilities kept them going.

It was a battlefield where the fundamental limits of species were starkly revealed, impossible to overcome with skill alone.

“Damien! Are you okay? Can you still move?!”

Milia rushed over, embracing Damien. His pale face, trembling body, and skin covered in frost—it was clear he wouldn’t last long without sharing some warmth.

“Milia…?”

Damien muttered weakly. To anyone, it was obvious he was in no condition to move, let alone stay conscious.

Gritting her teeth, Milia pulled out a torch and lit it. A single torch couldn’t hold back the cold, but it was better than nothing.

“Just hang on! The magicians will be here soon…!”

Originally, it was a rule to bring magicians when traversing the Sky Mountains—not to attack enemies, but to withstand the cold. Damien’s scouting party did have a magician, but they were already freezing cold in the corner.

“Why are you here…? What about Freide…?”

“She’s already retreated. We need to get out of here too…!”

This scouting mission was another failure, as expected. The Sky Mountains, as always, refused to allow human footsteps, cruelly and arrogantly sucking away their lives.

—

The Great Invasion was almost an annual event, recurring every ten to thirty years. Each time, the damage was immense, but with the combined forces of the Empire and the Pale Moon, they managed to hold out, so optimism remained.

But this time—

The invasion was completely different from before.

The previous large-scale invasions were like a furry tidal wave crashing in. Thousands of beasts would charge at the walls of Pailun all at once.

The people of the Pailun Empire could win just by holding them off while relying on the walls. It wasn’t easy, but… it wasn’t extremely difficult either.

All they had to do was pour oil and set fire to the beastmen climbing the walls with their claws. Since the enemy’s forces were concentrated, tired soldiers could take turns resting, and they could endure the northern cold by lighting bonfires on the walls.

But this invasion wasn’t like that. The beastmen’s tactics had advanced several times compared to before. It was like the difference between monkeys and humans.

For the Imperial Army, it was a nightmare.

Instead of gathering all their forces to attack one place, the beastmen divided their troops into small units. Then, they spread out and began attacking the entire northern border.

They didn’t go all out to cross the border either. They would strike like they were testing the waters, and if the resistance was fierce, they’d retreat, repeating this over and over. They seemed to have no intention of risking their lives to break through the walls, moving swiftly without hesitation.

If the resistance was weak, multiple units would gather at that point and slaughter the Imperial Army. Even then, they didn’t occupy the walls or push further. Once they felt they’d killed enough Imperial soldiers, they’d retreat before reinforcements arrived.

It was a strategy to minimize their own losses while gradually whittling down the enemy’s numbers. A cunning method, indeed. Humans could die from minor injuries, but as long as the beastmen weren’t killed instantly, they could regenerate eventually.

And that wasn’t all.

Unlike the previous invasions where they simply climbed the walls to wage siege battles, this time the beastmen used every means possible.

They triggered small avalanches to disable the walls, and they used catapults—who knows where they got them—to hurl ice chunks the size of human torsos. They even fired ballistae made from the tendons of their own kind. Stopping all this wasn’t easy.

And then, finally, the king of Varyakrus who joined the battle… was a literal monster.

The Winter Wolf, Lyurik.

He appeared with two great warriors by his side and left all the Imperial Army’s masters on the brink of death. A transcendent being.

…They barely managed to repel him, but it was a close call—the north could have fallen.

Since the 1st Corps Commander, Georg, was still bedridden, the overall command of the north was now in Duver’s hands.

To deal with the beastmen who were dispersed in small units and waging guerrilla warfare, Duver proposed a plan that sounded insane to anyone who heard it. He suggested sending elite troops into the Sky Mountains, where the beastmen were swarming, to defeat their units one by one.

Even though the northern natives, led by Freide, opposed it, they had no better alternative… so Duver’s strategy was eventually accepted.

And the result was the current situation.

A back-and-forth battle of life and death in the freezing mountains, where the Imperial Army killed beastmen and were annihilated by them in turn.

It was a fight akin to hell.

It wasn’t as one-sided as a defensive battle, but the Imperial Army’s numbers were rapidly dwindling.

—

“I wonder if Hashal is doing okay…?”

“At least she’s better off than us. It’s probably not as cold there…”

Damien shivered weakly as he replied. Magicians and priests clung to him, trying to raise his body temperature and heal his wounds.

“…Should we throw him into icy water when we get back?”

Milia muttered as if joking. But judging by the tension in her back muscles, she might not be joking.

“That sounds good. I’ll help you do it.”

Freide, who was changing bandages, laughed as if she liked the idea.

She was also covered in wounds, but not as badly as Damien. Unlike Damien, who had lived in the Empire’s interior, Freide was a native of the north and was relatively resistant to the cold.

Moreover, through this war, she had finally reached the level she had always aspired to. Unless a great warrior appeared, ordinary pure-blooded warriors could no longer match her.