"Whoever kills that beast will be recorded with first-assault honors!"
Those words ignited every Imperial soldier's heart, burning away their fear and pain. In their minds now, there was only one goal—to kill that tribal general and seize the glory of the first assault.
The titles of Seizing the Banner and First Over the Wall were the greatest honors a soldier could earn—achievements that came only with unimaginable risk. But for these sons of peasants who had joined the Imperial Army, this was the moment they had been waiting for.
To trade one's life for fortune and glory!
"Kill—!!"
Driven by the promise of fame that could change their destinies and bring honor to their families, countless steel blades and long spears thrust forward, all aimed at the encircled southwestern tribal general.
The tribal general was no coward. Even surrounded and wounded, he refused to retreat or surrender. Instead, he roared defiantly and swung his massive war hammer once more.
"Come, Imperial cowards! My head is right here!"
Not far away, an officer of the Imperial Guard sneered. He hadn't expected this tribal commander to be so reckless—to remain on the front lines despite his injuries. As the commanding officer, the man's death would mean disaster for his troops, yet here he was, letting pride drive him into folly.
Savages will always be savages, the officer thought with contempt. No sense of strategy, only brute strength. Once he dies, their morale will collapse.
Grinning, he barked, "Musketeers—prepare to fire!"
But their target was not the surrounded tribal general—it was the mass of warriors trying to rush to his aid.
As a captain of the Imperial Guard, he knew the value of discipline. Words spoken in command had to be carried through, but a mere barbarian leader's head was not worth him competing with common soldiers over credit. Instead, he would create the conditions for their victory.
"Fire!"
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Bullets poured down like rain. The tightly packed ranks of the southwestern tribes were torn apart—hundreds fell instantly, their formation collapsing into chaos.
"You have one minute!" the officer roared. "If you can't finish him, I'll do it myself! Don't say I didn't give you the chance to earn glory!"
Still, he wasn't unreasonable—on a battlefield where seconds could change everything, one minute was generous.
Raising his greatsword, the officer leapt into the fray.
BOOM!
His strike landed with thunderous force, sending a shockwave rippling outward. The impact rang in every ear, a deafening roar that made even hardened soldiers stagger.
"Attack!!"
His battle cry was like a spark in dry grass—the Imperial troops surged forward, their morale soaring higher than ever.
Slash!
The tribal general, bleeding from eight wounds, his hammer shattered, knelt to one knee. Gasping for breath, he raised his armored arms in a last-ditch defense as a dozen blades bore down on him.
In an instant, both gauntlets cracked apart, blood spraying through the air.
A single long blade crossed the others, its edge grinding down through the arm guards, scattering sparks before slicing clean through his throat.
A fountain of blood erupted as the tribal general's body crumpled—head severed, eyes still wide in defiance.
"Hah! Nice work, kid!" shouted a squad leader of the Imperial Guard, his voice ringing with excitement.
The soldiers roared in triumph, raising their weapons high.
"Glory to the Empire!"
"Glory to the Empire!"
Across from them, the remaining southwestern tribesmen froze in horror, their courage shattering.
Their general was dead—cut down by a dozen Imperial blades.
Seeing this, the Guard captain wasted no time. "The enemy commander is dead!" he bellowed. "Kill them all!"
At once, the enemy ranks broke. The tribal warriors dropped their weapons and fled, terror written across their faces. With their leader gone, resistance was meaningless.
"Quick! Open the gates! The city is lost!!"
Moments later, the city defenses collapsed completely. The gates burst open—and the waiting Imperial army flooded inside like a tidal wave.
Clad in dark armor, the Imperial soldiers looked as though their very hearts had turned black. Facing the demoralized tribal warriors, they showed no mercy. Whether their enemies surrendered or not, the sharp blades continued to swing, leaving trails of dark light in the air—each stroke bringing blood and slaughter.
The fall of the city gates marked the end of it all—the campaign to suppress the southwestern tribes had come to a close.
...
"Hoh, looks like they've finished the battle."
From above, Selene gazed down at the conquered city. Though it wasn't engulfed entirely in flames, thick black smoke billowed into the sky—a picture of ruin and plunder.
Descending slowly onto the city walls, she looked around with satisfaction. Countless tribal captives had been driven from their homes and separated into different groups for confinement.
"General!"
Seeing the familiar gleam of silver and blue ensemble, the ranking officer in charge of the area rushed forward and saluted respectfully.
"Mm... Have you tallied the number of able-bodied laborers yet?" Selene asked, standing beside one of the fenced-off prison areas.
"R-reporting to the General... The battle only just ended, and we are still sweeping for hiding enemies. So... the exact number of able-bodied captives hasn't been confirmed yet..."
The officer's voice trailed off as he lowered himself to one knee, trembling slightly, fearful of displeasing her.
Selene waved her hand dismissively. "Enough, get up. I'm not blaming you. Just make sure the count is completed quickly. Oh—and summon all company commanders to assemble."
"Yes, General!"
Turning her gaze back to the enclosure, Selene studied the makeshift prison pens before her. They were built from branches and reeds—clearly once used to hold livestock.
Inside were no strong men—only the old, the sick, women, and children. Thousands of frightened eyes watched her as she passed, surrounded by heavily armored soldiers. Some of the children clung to their mothers in terror. One small boy, unable to contain himself, burst into tears.
"Heh... I don't think I look that scary," Selene thought dryly to herself—apparently forgetting that she was the very one who had led the army that annihilated their people.
When one of her soldiers drew his blade, Selene raised a hand to stop him. She ignored the kneeling mother before her, who held her child and kowtowed desperately.
Without another word, Selene turned away and continued walking aimlessly through the conquered city, glancing about curiously at the unfamiliar, exotic architecture.
"General!" ×N
Hearing the familiar voices, Selene turned toward the sound. Approaching her were Kinshasa and several other Imperial officers.
What caught her attention, however, was the bound figure they were dragging behind them—a man restrained tightly in chains.
"And who," Selene asked calmly, "is this?"