128. The Great Decisive Battle of the Metal and Stone Empire

The military and civilians of the Goldstone Empire celebrated too soon.

Hardly had Kane and his Death Iron Cavalry vanished into the forest beside the capital when the enemy’s desperate counter-offensive began. The people of Goldstone had experienced a day of wild emotional swings. They had not expected—or perhaps never even considered—that this enemy, supposedly "terrified" into submission by the allied cavalry, would dare to return, let alone return so quickly.

However, they were slightly reassured to see that the returning enemy did not immediately assault the city walls, but instead dispatched scouts in all directions. The Berserker commander atop the ramparts knew that the enemy was regrouping to hunt down the Empire’s cavalry for a final, decisive battle. He silently resolved to support the Imperial cavalry and crush this enemy force once and for all. He immediately issued combat orders, gathering the Berserkers and Elven crossbowmen who had been dispersed along the walls. Seeing the dense masses of the enemy outside, the commander stood before his assembled troops. "Brothers, leave your current duties to the allied commanders. You have seen the enemy out there; they are here to wipe out our Imperial cavalry. Shall we let them succeed?" he roared.

"No!" the Imperial garrison, bolstered by the newly arrived Berserker squads and Elven scouts, now numbered 110,000 strong.

"Then, when the Imperial cavalry engages them, it will be our turn to show them what we are made of. Glorious warriors of the Empire, polish your weapons and show them our true power!"

"Wind! Wind! Wind!" the 110,000 troops bellowed in unison.

Hearing the roar from the city, Kane led his undefeated Death Iron Cavalry slowly out of the forest. He, too, had learned of the enemy’s return from his scouts. But could he turn away now? When had proud Berserkers ever tolerated an enemy’s provocation? When had the Death Cavalry, undefeated since its inception, ever retreated in the face of a foe?

The two armies faced off once more. This time, Kane increased the distance between them, determined to show these clowns what true warriors looked like.

Watching the disciplined, black-clad cavalry radiating killing intent, the enemy commander felt a pang of regret. Why had he provoked them? Even if he survived, he would likely be hunted down by the infantry from the city. He had no idea that a force of over 100,000 was waiting, ready to strike his flank the moment the battle began.

The enemy had been reinforced to 500,000, while Kane and the city garrison combined totaled just over 230,000. It was a lopsided contest in terms of numbers, but the true test of strength would only be decided in battle.

Kane launched the first strike. His 120,000 well-rested cavalry surged forward like a rushing tide. A hail of arrows filled the sky, and the enemy vanguard was either cut down or trampled underfoot. The Death Cavalry, acting like a black arrowhead, pierced the enemy formation without hesitation, cries of agony and the shrill whistling of arrows filling the air.

Just as the enemy commander rejoiced at having successfully encircled the cavalry, the city gates swung open, and a massive force poured out.

The enemy commander stared in shock at the warriors clad in the same iron armor. They were infantry and crossbowmen, clearly from an empire—but not the one he had been occupying. He felt true regret. Watching the cavalry rampage through his ranks, then looking at this new infantry force…

The battle did not unfold as the enemy commander had hoped. Under the impact of the city’s sortie, the left flank of the enemy encirclement quickly collapsed. The berserked Land Berserkers ignored spears and scimitars, slaughtering all in their path. The enemy was terrified by these massive, death-defying warriors. Behind them, the Elven crossbowmen never ceased their fire, their arrows flying even faster under the protection of the Berserkers.

The melee continued. The Death Cavalry, trapped in the center, linked up with the infantry that had shattered the enemy’s left flank. Together, they carved through the enemy like a scythe through grass. Both sides were blinded by bloodlust, locked in a fight to the death.

The people of Goldstone watched in stunned silence. The warriors of the Death Empire had once again shown them the meaning of fearlessness. The Emperor of Goldstone had reached the ramparts, watching the life-or-death struggle in shock. He finally understood the value of the price he had paid to become an ally of the Death Empire, and the weight of the words spoken by Emperor Mo Fei.

"Warriors of the Empire, look at our allies! They are our brothers, fighting and bleeding to protect our land. Shall we simply watch them fall to the enemy’s shameful blades? Draw your swords and spears! Follow in the footsteps of our allies and fight to protect our homes and families! Charge!"

All four city gates opened, and the Goldstone defenders abandoned the safety of the walls. They could not watch their allies die for them. Filled with newfound bloodlust, the Goldstone troops joined the fray, willing to die side-by-side with their heroic comrades.

The Goldstone army, once timid as sheep, transformed. The enemy, already struggling, was now overwhelmed by 200,000 fresh troops. Their lines crumbled into a rout. In such a battle, there was no mercy; the blood-crazed Imperial army accepted no surrender. Wherever iron hooves trod, nothing remained but corpses pierced by arrows.

The battle raged for a day and a night. After the enemy commander committed suicide, his entire force of 500,000 was annihilated, with only a few survivors fleeing into the forest.

However, the cost was high. For the first time, the Death Iron Cavalry suffered casualties—31,100 men were sidelined, not by death, but by physical exhaustion; their fingers were broken from the repetitive strain of drawing their bows. Nearly 60,000 Berserker infantry were too injured to continue, and over 30,000 Elven crossbowmen had suffered permanent finger damage. They would require special training to ever return to the field, and many would have to leave the military forever. These iron-blooded warriors, who had never flinched at death, wept openly at the thought of leaving their brothers behind.

The crisis was resolved. After leaving a few officers to help reorganize the Goldstone army, Kane departed with his troops and the wounded. He refused the Emperor’s pleas to stay, insisting on escorting his men home. Many of the cavalry’s magical mounts carried two riders—the wounded who could no longer fight.

The rest of the cavalry surrounded the injured, a wall of steel that promised death to anyone who dared approach. While the Death Empire had only lost a few thousand in the war against the Bear Clan, this battle saw over 100,000 elite warriors pulled from the front lines. It was the largest loss since the Empire’s founding.

Scouts fanned out, their eyes red with grief, cutting down any stragglers along the way. They mourned the comrades they had lost to injury—their brothers.

In the distance, the majestic capital of the Death Empire appeared, black banners fluttering in the wind. Kane saw his young master, Mo Fei, and the Empire’s high officials waiting by the gate. New recruits had ridden out a hundred miles to meet them, mounted on new magical beasts with sharp horns brought from the Demon Continent.

The new recruits looked upon the returning veterans with awe and longing. They saw their own futures in these wounded heroes; the Death Iron Cavalry was destined to be invincible.

As the low, mournful horns sounded—the signal for a victorious return—the wounded Berserkers and Elves wept. They were heartbroken that they could no longer fight alongside their brothers. The Elven warriors were stunned to see their Queen and Princess standing at the forefront of the welcoming party.

The Dark Elves bowed their heads—a gesture of profound honor, as they only bowed to their own Queen during her coronation. Yet here, they offered this respect to the warriors. The Elven crossbowmen stood in two columns and knelt on one knee in the highest gesture of their race, ready to take up the mantle. These returning warriors had earned eternal glory; many would become commanders or mentors, their deeds a beacon for the next generation. The combat prowess of the Elves would never again be underestimated on the continent.

Mo Fei greeted the warriors with the most solemn of ceremonies. Seeing their young master’s tear-filled eyes, the soldiers felt a sense of fulfillment—they would gladly die for the Empire again.

Following this, Mo Fei officially issued a total war mobilization in the name of the Emperor, calling all capable civilians to arms. In a rare display of iron-willed resolve, he ordered a full-scale retaliatory offensive and directed the logistical departments to build massive warships. Once this landing force was extinguished, the Empire would launch a counter-invasion to wipe the enemy race from existence.

Meanwhile, reinforcements from other empires across the continent accelerated their march toward the Death Empire. A continental alliance, led by the Death Empire, was slowly taking shape in the wake of these two great wars.