The fires of Wolf Mountain still burned in the early hours of the third day.
When messengers carried word back to the Holy City, they brought with them the stench of charred flesh and blood—
and a presence on the battlefield unlike any seen before: the cold, frost-like breath of ash.
That scent lingered in the air for three full days,
like a belated declaration.
In the court, silence reigned.
King Kai sat upon his throne, amber wine spilling along the cup's rim and dripping onto the stone steps below.
He tilted his head back, letting broken, intermittent laughter escape his throat.
It was empty.
Like drunkenness.
Like relief.
"Wolf Mountain… hah…"
He swirled the cup. The liquid trembled in the candlelight.
Looking down at the reflection in the wine, he murmured,
"Now it's done."
He lifted his gaze, a smile creeping over bloodshot eyes.
"Hong Chen…"
"He did it… for us, didn't he?"
In that instant, Hong Lei's face darkened completely.
Not with anger.
But with a pale shock—the faith he had believed in, torn apart.
Far less expressive, Falr did not look at the king.
His eyes fell to a droplet of wine, still wet on the floor.
Like blood.
Yet more easily wiped away than blood.
Only the crease between his brows betrayed the storm raging within.
"One man…"
Finally, a trembling minister broke the silence.
"…Just one man, and ten attendants… and in a single night, Wolf Mountain Fortress is reduced to ashes?"
No one answered.
This was no longer a matter of military strategy.
It was not war.
It was a disaster wrought by human form,
targeted and precise.
Hong Lei stepped forward violently.
The clink of armor echoed through the hall like thunder striking the ground.
"Your Majesty!"
"Hong Chen is not aiding the Holy City!"
His eyes glowed red. His voice hoarse with restraint.
"This is a declaration of war!"
"Against the Holy City, against the very order of humanity!"
"Hong Chen must be ended!"
"Before he brings even greater calamity!"
Finally, Falr lifted his head.
His gaze passed over Hong Lei's furious figure, landing at the side of the throne.
Empty.
Once, Qin Feng always stood there.
Falr's voice was quiet, yet clear enough to override Hong Lei's lingering fury.
"End him…"
He paused.
"But…"
"Who will end him?"
Silence swallowed the hall once more.
Meanwhile—
Wolf Mountain.
Hong Chen stood amid the embers.
Charred rocks still glowed faintly, as if even the memory of flame had frozen in place.
To the east, the horizon lightened bit by bit.
Wind stirred the ashes, letting them fall upon his bloodstained robe.
He did not brush them away.
The Ten Attendants stood silently behind him.
Not one spoke.
They were ten tombstones, unnamed and unmoving.
"Master," finally, someone broke the silence.
"The orc reinforcements… will arrive by tomorrow at the latest."
Hong Chen did not turn.
"Then we wait."
His voice was hoarse, carrying the exhaustion of an entire night of slaughter.
Yet clearer than ever.
"Wait for them…"
He gazed at the brightening sky,
the world before him cast in shades of gray.
"Let them…"
"…also become this ash."
狼山的火光,在第三日凌晨依然未熄灭.
信使把消息传回圣城时
那焦臭,血腥,
以及一种从未在战场上出现过的,冷冽如霜的灰烬之息.
那气味,在空气中持续了整整三日.
像是一场迟来的宣告.
朝堂之上,死寂无声.
国王凯坐在王座上,酒液沿着杯沿溢出,滴落在王座的石阶上.
国王凯仰着头,喉咙里发出断断续续的笑声.
那笑声有些空.
像是醉了,
又像是终于松了一口气.
"狼山...呵..."
他晃了晃酒杯,琥珀色的液体在烛光下轻轻摇曳.
他低头看着杯中倒影,
"现在好了."
他抬起头,笑意漫上泛红的眼角.
"红辰..."
"他不是替我们做了吗?"
洪雷的脸色,在那一瞬间彻底沉了下去.
那不是愤怒.
而是一种,信念被撕裂的苍白.
法尔没有看国王.
他的目光落在地上那一滴尚未干透的酒痕上.
像血.
却比血,更容易被抹去.
只有眉心那道无法抚平的褶皱,
泄露了他内心的惊涛.
"一人..."
终于,有大臣颤抖着开口,打破了这片死寂.
"...仅凭一人与十名随从,一夜之间,焚尽狼山要塞?"
没有人回答.
因为此事,早已超出军事的范围.
那不是战争.
而是一场
由人形引发的,目标明确的天灾.
洪雷猛地踏前一步.
盔甲撞击声在殿内炸响,如雷霆落地.
"陛下!"
"红辰不是在帮圣城!"
他的双眼赤红,声音因压抑而嘶哑.
"这是宣战!"
"对圣城对整个人类秩序的宣战!"
"红辰必须被终结!"
"在他酿成更大的灾祸之前!"
法尔终于抬起头.
他的目光越过洪雷激烈的背影,
落在王座之侧
那里,空无一人.
曾经,琴风总是站在那里.
法尔的声音很轻.
却清晰地,压过了洪雷尚未散尽的怒意.
"终结他..."
他停顿了一瞬.
"那..."
"谁去终结?"
殿内,再次陷入死寂.
与此同时.
狼山.
红辰站在余烬之中.
焦黑的岩石仍在散发微弱的冷光,
仿佛连火焰的记忆,都被冻结在此.
东方的天际,正一点一点泛白.
风卷起灰烬,落在他染血的袍角.
他却没有拂去.
十待静立在他身后.
没有一人开口.
像是十座,尚未立名的墓碑.
"主上."
终于,有人低声打破沉默.
"兽人援军,最迟明日抵达."
红辰没有回头.
"那就等."
他的声音低哑.
带着彻夜杀戮后的疲惫.
却比任何时候,都要清明.
"等他们来..."
他望着渐亮的天色,
眼底映出灰白的世界.
"让他们..."
"也成为这片灰烬."