On the far western edge of the Guava Valley, amidst barren and rocky terrain, the small town of Vorthend stood in silence. It was neither grand nor opulent, but it was here that the finest steel was forged—crafted by the hands of stubborn blacksmiths into powerful weapons for the Whiteheaven Empire.
That day, even the enslaved blacksmiths chose to fight for their town. Under the command of Robb and Mendrova, the Dark Legion abolished slavery and liberated all workers from the forge owned by Lord Jemot, who had been executed the day before the battle.
The Balevad army, arrogant and confident, launched an assault on Vorthend. Under their black banners marched over 70,000 heavily armed soldiers, led by the feared twin brothers: Birrok and Borrik, known as the Wild Boars.
Defending the town were Robb and Mendrova, coordinating 40,000 Dark Legion troops alongside 5,000 Vorthend citizens. Though outnumbered, their forces were far more lethal.
Before the battle erupted, Robb glanced at Mendrova. Their eyes met.
"I haven't yet tested your strength, Mendrova," Robb said with a slight smile. "But my brother trusts you. Don't let me down today."forums.spacebattles.com+7infinitenoveltranslations.net+7meganovel.com+7
Mendrova nodded slowly, his gaze calm yet burning.
"You'll witness my army's prowess, Robb," he replied calmly beneath his black cloak.
The Balevad forces began to enter the town, moving cautiously, sensing something amiss. But it was too late.
One by one, traps were sprung—firebomb explosions, pit traps, sudden attacks from narrow alleys. Screams and shouts filled the air.
The seemingly deserted town was, in fact, a living hell prepared for them.
The Dark Legion, clad in silent black armor, moved swiftly through smoke and buildings, slaughtering the Balevad soldiers with brutal precision.
Unlike regular soldiers, the Dark Legion were assassination experts—wielding swords, knives, spears, even spiked chains—any weapon capable of killing swiftly and silently.
Amidst the chaos, Borrik growled, his face flushed with anger.
"Borrik! This isn't what Begosin promised!" Birrok shouted in panic.
"We see no slaves! No townspeople! Only traps and death!"
Borrik swung his axe in fury, destroying their tent, which was beginning to collapse.
"Damn it! They've emptied the town... They've trapped us like rats!" he roared.
Accustomed to easily conquering inland tribes, they were now utterly humiliated in a small town barely marked on maps.
On a small hill, Robb stood observing, his eyes cold and calm.
Watching the Balevad forces ensnared in traps, Robb asked Mendrova beside him,
"Will they make it out alive... or will they all perish inside?"
Mendrova, preparing his weapon, smiled lightly.
"I can't say for sure. But one thing is clear... They're finished before even reaching the town gates."infinitenoveltranslations.net
Robb chuckled softly.
"Hahaha! What a pity... Seems we won't have an exciting fight!"
"Don't worry," Mendrova replied casually.goodreads.com
"If we crush them swiftly, we can move on to Ulmara. But let's not rush, Robb. Today... let's ensure none of them leave the western side alive."
Robb nodded. Their eyes turned toward the coast, where the remaining Balevad forces were in disarray, some attempting to flee to their main camp, but none escaped the town.
Suddenly, on the Balevad warships... an explosion was heard...
The Dark Legion had already infiltrated.
Two hundred elite Dark Legion soldiers, on a covert mission, had stormed fifty Balevad ships—slaughtering all crew, burning masts, and detonating storage rooms.
From afar, the large ships began to smoke... slowly sinking.
The sea was ablaze.
"Look, Robb... They won't be returning," Mendrova said, pointing to the utterly destroyed Balevad forces, both the attackers and their supply troops on the ships.
Only their main forces remained on the beach.
Borrik looked up at the gray sky, hearing the explosions from the sea where their warships were docked.
His eyes widened as he saw their proud ships... burning.
"NOOO!!" Borrik roared, his voice echoing among his increasingly panicked troops.
The once-proud Balevad army was now scattered and directionless.
In the town they thought would be an easy victory—
in the humble town of Vorthend—
they were instead utterly massacred.
Vorthend... the deadly town.
Today, under a smoke-filled sky, that small town became a massive grave for the Balevad conquerors.
"I can't believe... they chose to burn their own town rather than let us plunder it!" Birrok shouted, his breath ragged.
Borrik quickly turned, his face tense.
"Our troops were overconfident. Turns out they were prepared from the start. That's why their traps were so well-laid."
Birrok swung his arm in frustration.
"This is madness. We need to send word to our brothers!"
Heavy footsteps approached from Vorthend.
Grobbok, the war commander leading his troops, retreated and returned to their camp. He approached the two Balevad Princes, the main leaders of the army.
He was furious and tense, his face covered in scars and tattoos.
"We've suffered a crushing defeat. Many of our troops died without a fight. They control this battlefield," he said gravely.
Lekkuri, standing behind, asked softly,
"Should we retreat...?"
Borrik slammed his axe handle into the ground.
"No. We don't retreat just because of a small town. We must destroy them. Whatever it takes."
A loud explosion suddenly echoed again from the direction of the ships.
BOOM!!
Thick black smoke began to rise from their large ships.
Borrik turned quickly.
"What was that?! Why are our other ships burning?!"
Grobbok, eyes wide, pointed toward the other sea area.
"They've infiltrated our ships on the other side... attacking and crippling us from the sea as well."
Birrok stared blankly.
Fire began to consume one by one the Balevad ships on the other side.
"We were too confident... this is beyond expectations."
Borrik clenched his fists.
"Send all troops! Level that town now!"
Lekkuri approached.
"We've already lost nearly thirty thousand soldiers. We haven't even fully seen their forces. If this continues, we'll be wiped out."
Borrik spat on the ground.
"In that case... burn and destroy the town. If we lose, at least they won't have anything left to live in. We'll attack them again once our forces are reorganized."
But before they could move...The ground along the coastline began to tremble.The thunder of thousands of hooves shook the earth—approaching from three different directions.The Dark Legion emerged over the dunes, clad in black armor, their horses outfitted with veiled helms.Each horse's eyes were covered with a thin, black mesh—protection against the beast-controlling magic commonly used by the Balevad.Without a single command, the cavalry charged.
Borrik and Birrok barely caught a glimpse of the long spears glinting under the sunlight before the enemy line crashed into them.The remaining Balevad forces scrambled to form a defensive line.But the Dark Legion cavalry split their formation apart from every direction.Spears impaled.Blades slashed.Warhorses trampled heads and bodies without mercy.Chaos consumed the shore.
Some Balevad warriors still tried to hold their ground.Their large, tattooed bodies—symbols of strength—screamed in defiance.They pushed back.But the pressure from the Dark Legion was overwhelming. These warriors didn't fight with rage.They fought with speed, precision, and unwavering focus.
From atop his horse, Robb observed the battle in silence.He simply raised his sword into the air and gave the signal.The Dark Legion cavalry drove the Balevad forces toward the sea.One by one, ships went up in flames.And on land, one by one, cries of command turned into screams of desperation.
The beach was now a field of blood, smoke, and lifeless corpses.Borrik and Birrok, still trying to rally what was left of their men, could only face the grim truth:They were trapped. And soundly defeated.
The battle raged on.Though outnumbered and cornered, a handful of elite Balevad warriors fought back fiercely.Mendrova, leading the southern flank of the Dark Legion, took note.
"Commander, on the northern front—there's still heavy resistance. They're making a significant push," reported Aoki Velary, pointing north from atop his horse.
Mendrova didn't even glance.He swiftly struck down a resisting soldier with one smooth slash.
"Isn't Reguya leading the north? Does he need support?" he asked tersely.Aoki nodded. "It appears so. They're being pushed hard."
Vorthend Beach had become a blazing hellscape.The stench of blood, the screams, the looming presence of death filled the air.The massive encampments the Balevad had once built along the shore were now in shambles.
Despite their savage and uncoordinated style, the Balevad warriors were still lethal.They cut down anyone in their path.But the Dark Legion moved with disciplined grace.They knew exactly when to divide, when to bait, and when to strike.That's what shattered the enemy line.
On the southern front, the Dark Legion swept through with relative ease under Mendrova's command, inspiring fierce confidence in his ranks.But on the northern side, the battle grew more savage.Reguya Veynor was locked in brutal combat with not one, but two Balevad leaders: Lekkuri and Grobbok.
Swords clashed.Reguya's body was covered in wounds.Lekkuri's strikes sent him staggering more than once.But Reguya endured.With a single counter, he drove his sword into Lekkuri's throat.Lekkuri collapsed, drenched in his own blood.
Before Reguya could catch his breath, Borrik appeared from behind.Without hesitation, he swung his sword and severed Reguya's neck—ending the life of one of the Dark Legion's commanders.
Grobbok narrowed his eyes. "That was our fight, Borrik. Why did you interfere?"
Borrik held his sword, panting. "You think this is the time for personal honor? Our army is nearly wiped out. If we don't sever the enemy's head, we're finished. Forget your duels. Focus on victory."
Moments later, Aoki arrived.Too late.Reguya lay lifeless, beheaded.Aoki clenched his jaw and immediately signaled to tighten the lines.
The battle raged on until the sun climbed high.Blood dried on the sand.Bodies littered the field.Whiteheaven pressed harder.One by one, the Balevad units collapsed—exhausted, leaderless, and lost.
Amid the chaos, Robb and Mendrova carved their way through the southern front, pushing the assault northward.
"Wouldn't it be better to take out their commanders now?" asked Robb, swinging both his swords—Illeum Heraxes—with chilling precision.Balevad armor split like fruit peels under the blades.
"The leaders aren't here. They're holding the north," Mendrova shouted back.
As the sun burned overhead, the Balevad forces were nearly gone.From tens of thousands, only around five thousand remained—wounded, spent, and barely standing.In desperation, Borrik and Birrok tried to flee using a small lifeboat.But offshore, they were intercepted by an elite unit of the Dark Legion, who had already finished torching the Balevad warships.
Unable to swim, the brothers were forced back to shore.Birrok collapsed, head bowed."Is this how we end?" he whispered.
Borrik exhaled, his face no longer fierce."There's no other way. This might truly be the end."
Silence hung between them.Their troops stood still—not truly fighting, not truly surrendering.Just waiting.
"This trap... it was barbaric. We never saw it coming," Birrok muttered.
"It wasn't entirely our fault," Borrik replied. "Bolisi ordered us to split. If we had concentrated our forces on one point… maybe things would be different."
Birrok nodded slowly. "Their army… it's far stronger than what the traders claimed. We were overconfident."
Borrik gripped his sword. "There's one last option... Challenge their leader."
Grobbok approached, his face smeared with sweat and dust.He was still trying to protect the two Balevad princes.
"Grobbok, is there anyone who can speak to them? Request a Balaidos Combat Challenge."
Grobbok turned to the back. "Is there anyone here who speaks the Whiteheaven tongue?!"
No answer.Silence.
The Whiteheaven army had completely surrounded them.But not a single arrow flew.Not one spear was thrown.
The remaining Balevad troops stood in a ring, guarding their final three leaders: Borrik, Birrok, and Grobbok.They stood bloodied, exhausted—but not broken.Not yet.