The Devouring Knight-Chapter 368 - 367: Ashes of Honor

"My Lord, the wall has been breached!" Knight Corven burst into the room, his armor scratched and bloodstained. "You must evacuate immediately!"

Hadric didn't move from his seat. He looked calm, but his eyes carried a quiet weight.

"Corven, gather the elders and the remaining soldiers. Lead them toward Viscount Liraeth's territory."

Corven hesitated. "What about you, my Lord? You should come with us!"

Hadric shook his head firmly. "No. Someone has to stay behind to hold them off. If I leave now, no one will make it out alive."

"I'll do it, my Lord!" Corven stepped forward, his voice desperate. "You should escape while there's still time!"

Hadric gave a faint smile, though his face was pale under the pressure that filled the air. "You won't last long, Corven. That presence out there… it feels like I'm standing before the emperor himself."

Corven froze, his breath caught in his throat. "The emperor? No… that can't be…"

Hadric's tone hardened. "Enough. Go! There's no more time to argue!"

Corven clenched his fists, his jaw tight with frustration. "Understood, my Lord… Please, stay alive."

He turned and ran, leaving Hadric alone in the silent, trembling office.

.....

Moments later, Duke Hadric emerged from his office, clad in his repaired blue full armor. Even with only one hand gripping his sword, his stance remained firm and proud.

The city below was a nightmare. Flames devoured homes, smoke filled the air, and the cries of the dying mixed with the roars of the invading Vikings. Bodies of soldiers and civilians alike littered the streets, their sacrifice already written in ash.

Hadric exhaled slowly, his gaze burning with resolve.

"Come to me you beasts!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the chaos. "Let's see if any of you are worthy to take my head!"

Dozens of Vikings roared and rushed him, weapons raised high, but Hadric met them head-on. His sword flashed with blinding speed, cutting through steel and flesh alike. Each swing carried the weight of his fury, his blade slicing through every enemy that dared step forward.

Then, through the storm of battle, a voice broke through.

"My Lord!"

Hadric's eyes widened. Just as he feared, a familiar figure was running toward him.

"Corven, you fool!" he growled, slashing down another Viking. "Didn't I tell you to leave!?"

Corven stopped beside him, panting, his armor bloodied. "Forgive me, my Lord, but I can't leave you. Even if I die, I'll die fighting beside you!"

Hadric clicked his tongue but couldn't help but smile. "You stubborn bastard… Fine then. Let's cut down these brutes together!"

Corven nodded, gripping his blade tightly. He rushed forward to join the fight...

...but before he could reach Hadric, a massive axe came spinning through the air.

Corven raised his shield to block it, but the weapon cleaved through it like paper.

The next moment, his body was split clean in half.

Time seemed to still for Hadric. Then everything snapped into place.

"CORVENNN!" Hadric roared, rage exploding from his chest as he turned toward the direction the axe had come from.

A lazy, mocking voice echoed across the battlefield.

"What's all this yapping and shouting about?"

The Vikings froze, their cheers and roars dying instantly. The ground trembled beneath heavy, deliberate footsteps. The army instinctively parted, giving way to something far greater than themselves.

King Hroldir strode forward, his massive frame towering like a mountain. He stopped just in front of Duke Hadric, his presence alone pressing down like a weight too heavy to bear. 𝕗𝕣𝐞𝐞𝘄𝐞𝚋𝚗𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝚌𝕠𝚖

All of Hadric's fury vanished. Face-to-face with the King, his body felt as if it weighed a hundred times more than normal. Every instinct in him screamed, fear, dread, and a crushing sense of powerlessness.

"Were you the one who killed Sigvar?" Hroldir's deep voice rumbled, each word shaking the air around them.

Hadric couldn't answer. Not because he didn't want to, but because his body refused. Standing there, under the sheer weight of the King's presence, he was paralyzed.

Hroldir leaned close, his voice dropping near Hadric's ear.

"That can't be right… You're far too weak to have taken him down." He clicked his tongue, the sound sharp and final. "He was one of my best men. I can't believe he fell to a place this weak… This is a disgrace!"

The King's anger flared, and the oppressive aura around him grew heavier, suffocating. Hadric collapsed to his knees, the ground beneath him cracking under the pressure, each breath a struggle against the overwhelming force that was Hroldir the Dreadwake.

"Y-you…" Hadric stammered, struggling to get his voice out.

"Huh? What was that, maggot?" Hroldir's voice dripped with arrogance.

"I… I WAS THE ONE WHO KILLED SIGVAR!!!" Duke Hadric roared, finally pushing back against the King's suffocating pressure. With a surge of determination, he leapt forward.

Gathering every ounce of his life force, qi, and mana into his core, Hadric let out a wild, crazed laugh.

"YOU'RE ALL COMING DOWN WITH ME!!!"

His core flared brilliantly, a blinding white light radiating outward. Even Hroldir's massive eyes widened at the sudden burst of power.

But before the King could react…

BOOOOM!!!

A deafening explosion erupted, the white energy surging outward like a wave of judgment. The city shook violently as buildings, walls, and streets were swallowed, reduced to dust in an instant.

....

Moments later, King Hroldir strode from the ruins, his heavy boots crushing the dust. Around him, his men gathered, battered but alive.

The blast had stripped the city to bone, yet Hroldir himself still stood, though his right hand was badly burned, blackened where he'd tried to stop the blast. Without his quick action, the explosion would have been five times worse and their losses far greater.

"That maggot," Hroldir hissed, clicking his tongue. Thousands of his men died from the explosion.

The king's mood curdled into a deep, slow anger. "I'll find whoever killed Sigvar and take their head myself."

He turned, his face hard as iron. "You, and you, and you." He jabbed toward five towering figures standing nearby. "Go. Hunt down anyone who escaped. Leave none alive."

The five bowed in unison. Each was as strong as a Knight Three, and each moved with a cold, precise purpose. They melted into the wasteland, tracking the Elders and any who had fled the city.

Hroldir mounted his ship with a long, dangerous calm. Behind him, the war drums of the Viking host beat on the ruined fields, a promise that the massacre was far from over.