Chapter 80: The War Ends, the Return!

Chapter 80: The War Ends, Return!

Li Wei received news of the great victory.

It had already been four days since Gus informed him of the final battle.

The message came from Guze.

Guze: "The war is over. A resounding triumph. I should be returning in a few days."

Li Wei: "Master, the orcs outnumbered humans by more than two to one—how did we achieve such a decisive victory?"

He was deeply curious about this.

Guze: "Marshal Aorn broke through to a higher realm during the final battle, causing our entire army’s strength to surge. We crushed the orc legions in one fell swoop."

He didn’t want to tell Li Wei the details.

Even he himself had been shocked—horrified—by the final scene.

Humans no longer looked human; they were more bestial than the beasts.

That night after the war ended, he had nightmares.

Rumors said orc shamans possessed a spell that numbed pain, erased fear of death, and amplified strength.

Frenzy Spell!

But it could only affect a single target.

Even mass frenzy affected only a handful.

Yet Aorn’s Frenzy Aura reached tens of thousands—too terrifying.

War Knights—monstrous beyond measure!

Not just the Frenzy Aura, but also the Aura of Intimidation. Otherwise, the orc army wouldn’t have collapsed so swiftly.

Li Wei, hearing that Aorn had ascended during the final battle, showed astonishment.

Suddenly, he thought of Leina.

She had once told him that Aorn arranged an ascension ritual for her during the war.

Li Wei fell into contemplation.

"Is the ascension ritual of the War Knight class... war itself?"

Now he seemed to understand why Aorn helped Aozi establish a kingdom.

So that was it.

The Spark Literature Society had not yet received word of the great victory at the frontlines.

They continued printing vast quantities of newspapers extolling Lord Aozi’s heroic deeds.

Distributed freely to the people, posted on bulletin boards.

They even paid wandering bards to adapt the stories, reciting them aloud for the illiterate masses.

Not just in Maple City—the Spark Literature Society used every connection to spread these newspapers across the land.

After all, the city lord’s mansion footed the bill.

The society merely carried out its grand propaganda mission, fulfilling the important task entrusted by the lord.

The newspapers reached towns under Markeil Kingdom.

When the king first heard of it, his immediate reaction was to mock Aozi—boasting at the slightest achievement, like a country bumpkin who’d never seen the world.

At first, he watched it like a circus, laughing with his ministers at Maple City’s exaggerations, ridiculing Aozi’s vanity and hunger for glory.

But after a few days, he sensed something amiss.

The common people within his kingdom began to rally behind this hero who had driven away the orcs.

The king immediately ordered the confiscation of all newspapers and flyers, banning any praise of Aozi’s feats.

Then, news arrived from the frontlines—the king’s heart leapt with joy, momentarily forgetting the newspaper affair.

On the third day after Aorn defeated the eastern orc army, the western orc forces withdrew voluntarily.

The orc kingdom feared being caught between two fronts.

And they were frightened—truly frightened—by Aorn’s deeds.

The retreat of the orc army brought the king temporary delight. The entire nation rejoiced.

Originally, he should have invited the city lords who answered the call to arms to gather in the capital, hold a grand celebration, and honor the most outstanding among them as a reward.

But because of the newspapers, the king now harbored resentment and suspicion toward Lord Aozi of Maple City.

So he did not invite Aozi.

If the greatest contributor wasn’t invited, why bother inviting the others?

After all, it was Aozi’s victory on the eastern front that had repelled the orc invasion.

The king felt too ashamed to boast of Markeil’s glory before the other lords.

Inviting others to a victory feast would be meaningless.

As the king hosted his celebration, Aozi met with Aorn.

Aozi looked at Aorn and smiled: “Congratulations on your successful ascension.”

Aorn rarely smiled, but today a hint of joy softened his face, less stern than usual.

“An expected outcome,” he said.

“The army has been reorganized. The wounded remain in Polar Night City to recover. Over fourteen thousand able soldiers are ready to march at any moment.”

“And we’ll use twenty thousand orc captives as our vanguard assault force—to minimize casualties among our own men.”

Aozi’s lips curled upward. In his eyes, the future was already unfolding.

He said: “Let us depart.”

“The orcs have consumed enough grain. Now it’s time they paid their worth.”

Aorn led his massive force of over thirty thousand back toward Maple City.

Officially, it was to return soldiers from various cities to their homes.

Tens of thousands marching—when the footsteps shook the earth beneath the city walls, the guards above trembled, paralyzed with fear.

Wherever Aorn went, city lords braced themselves as if facing an invading army.

He sent forward detachments belonging to each respective city, using the pretense of returning troops to bring his army close to the gates.

Seeing this, how could any lord dare open the gates?

They feared that once the doors opened, Aorn would give a single command—and tens of thousands would flood inside, breaching the city without a fight.

An army of over thirty thousand—larger than the population of some small towns.

When the lords refused to let warriors who had driven out invaders return home, unrest stirred within their walls, and loyalty from external soldiers began to crumble.

Seizing the moment, Aorn won hearts and minds. He pulled back the human soldiers, then dispatched twenty thousand orc prisoners marching toward the city walls.

Twenty thousand, a vast, dark mass.

Even without launching an attack, their mere presence beneath the walls pressed down like thunder on the defenders above.

The city lord had lost the people’s hearts; morale was sinking fast.

The air atop the ramparts grew suffocating, thick with dread.

Just by laying siege and holding back, they had already cornered the ruler into desperation.

Otz stepped forward at the perfect moment, offering surrender.

"Submit or be destroyed? Choose."

The weaker lords yielded instantly, bowing without hesitation.

The stronger ones dared not open their gates, yet still refused to surrender.

Oen did not force the assault.

And then, those defiant lords suddenly found—their gates had opened themselves.

A special strike force, composed entirely of professionals, had infiltrated during the standoff, breaching the city from within.

These warriors had never appeared on any battlefield before.

But whenever a lord attempted resistance, they would emerge like phantoms, shattering the city's defenses from the inside.

With gates thrown wide, surrender became inevitable.

The journey back from Frostnight City to Maple City took five days.

Few battles erupted along the way. The orc captives used as cannon fodder suffered little bloodshed—

but endless marching drained them utterly, leaving them exhausted, broken, incapable of flight.

From Frostnight City to Sandsedge, then onward to Maple City—twelve cities in all.

Five surrendered swiftly, submitting without delay.

Two were breached from within by the strike teams, gates flung open, forced into capitulation.

Two others, after opening their gates, resisted briefly—then, sensing doom, knelt and pledged allegiance.

Three cities, larger even than Maple City, remained unmoved by Oen’s encirclement.

Confident in their strong armies, towering walls, and fortified keeps, they feared no siege.

After one day of watching and waiting, Oen, seeing no opening, withdrew deliberately.

Counting Frostnight City—the first to support Otz’s nation—and Sandsedge, originally seized under his command,

Otz now ruled twelve cities, claiming most of the eastern territories of the Malkil Kingdom.

He had effectively severed the three strongest cities from the rest of Malkil, isolating them completely.

Thanks to the tireless propaganda of the Spark Literary Society,

the common folk across these cities, upon learning their new overlord was the heroic Lord Otz,

felt no resentment—instead, they rejoiced, celebrating with hats tossed high and songs in the streets.

On the second day of this conquest, news reached the Malkil Kingdom.

They mobilized troops to intervene—

but when word came that Oen commanded over thirty thousand soldiers,

the advancing army turned around mid-march and fled back home.

Reinforcements pulled from the frontlines would arrive too late. Helpless, they could only watch as Otz returned triumphant to Maple City.

That day, Liv stood early upon the walls, waiting for their return.

He gazed into the distance, watching an endless procession of banners and soldiers slowly winding toward Maple City.

Victorious—they had come home!

(End of Chapter)