"I agree," I replied. "Leaving enemies behind to nurse a grudge is always a mistake. You pull the weed out by the root, or you don’t pull it at all."
Korin nodded, stepping up beside . "The Blood-Iron Tribe still has hundreds of warriors at their settlent. They are bruised, but not completely broken. Without Malakar, they’ll eventually choose another leader. And when they do, they will co back. They can’t let the death of a Chief go unpunished."
"So we don’t give them the ti," I said. "How many warriors do they have?"
"Two, maybe three hundred," Korin estimated. "But they are leaderless right now. Malakar ruled through absolute fear. Without him, the elders will be tearing each other apart for control. It’s going to be chaos."
"Where is the settlent?"
"A few miles past the northern pass. This is our best opportunity, Ren. It’s our only opportunity to end this forever." Korin said.
An hour later, the surviving hunters and village veterans gathered inside the hall. It wasn’t a grand eting, it was tense and strictly business. Korin knelt by a crude map drawn in the snow covering the floorboards, using the butt of his spear to point out the terrain.
"The settlent has a main gate reinforced with black-iron. Two watchtowers flanking it," Korin explained, his voice low. "The remaining warriors will be consolidated in the central cavern."
"We can’t take three hundred demons in a frontal assault," an older veteran muttered. "Even with our poisoned arrows, we’ll be outnumbered."
"We don’t need a frontal assault," I interjected, stepping up to the map. "We just need to break the gate. Once I’m inside, their numbers won’t matter."
The hunters looked at . After seeing what I did to Malakar, nobody argued.
"There’s sothing else," a younger hunter nad Jace hesitated, shifting uncomfortably. He looked around the circle, his voice dropping. "The main settlent... it’s not just a military camp. There are won and children there too."
A veteran hunter with a heavily bandaged arm looked up. His eyes were hollow, completely drained of warmth. "And they planned to feed our children to their hounds," the veteran stated flatly. "I heard them laughing about it."
The atmosphere in the room instantly darkened. The hesitation vanished, swallowed by a chilling, collective resolve. This wasn’t a tale of heroism anymore. This was vengeance.
I stood by the wall, watching them. I didn’t encourage the cruelty, but I didn’t step in to stop them either. In a world ruled by the strong, hesitation was a luxury dead n couldn’t afford.
***
High up in the northern peaks, the Blood-Iron settlent was shrouded in an uneasy, tense quiet. The elders paced near the central fire, anxious and irritable. Malakar’s vanguard should have returned with the human widow hours ago.
Then, the gates groaned open. Less than thirty surviving warriors stumbled into the cavern. They were covered in dirt and bleeding heavily. But what shocked the settlent wasn’t their wounds. It was the absolute, unadulterated terror in their eyes.
"What is the aning of this?" an elder demanded, pushing his way through the panicked crowd. He grabbed a trembling warrior. "Where is the rest of the vanguard? Where is Chief Malakar?"
The warriors just stared at the ground, shivering.
"I asked you a question!" the elder roared. "Where is the Chief?!"
The warrior swallowed hard, his voice cracking. "Dead."
Absolute, suffocating silence dropped over the cavern. Then, the settlent erupted in panic. Won began shouting. Warriors drew their weapons in a blind panic. Elders yelled over each other, violently denying the news.
"Lies!" an elder spat. "The Chief just ascended to the A-Rank! Nothing in that mud-hole could even scratch him!"
"It was an ambush," a vanguard captain croaked, dropping to his knees. He looked up, his eyes wide and haunted. "But it wasn’t the ambush that killed him."
"They sent a human," the captain trembled. "A single human swordsman."
"A human?" the elder scoffed, raising a hand to strike the captain. "You expect us to believe a human killed an A-Rank warlord?"
"He cut through Chief Malakar’s strongest attack," another surviving warrior shouted, taking a defensive step back. "I saw it myself! The Chief poured everything he had into a single strike, and the human just... swatted it away. Like a fly!"
"He pushed the Chief back," a third demon whispered, clutching his own head as if trying to physically block out the mory. "He bled him. He killed him with a single slash."
Fear spread through the cavern. For the first ti in the history of the Blood-Iron Tribe, they realized they weren’t the apex predators of the mountain. The panic in the settlent quickly devolved into politics.
"We must march down and avenge the Chief!" a younger vanguard roared, slamming his axe against his shield. "If we do not, the other tribes will slaughter us for our territory!"
"March down with what?!" an elder fired back. "Our best n are dead! The human will butcher you all!"
"We retreat deeper into the mountains," another elder suggested, his voice shaking. "We abandon this cavern today."
"We should contact the Fallen King’s emissaries!" a priest hissed from the shadows. "We were doing the King’s work. They will send reinforcents!"
"Yes, we must contact them. It’s the only way we will survive." The elders agreed.
***
Back in Elderglen village, the final hours before dawn were spent in a cold, industrious silence. The hunters gathered near the armory. The village watched from their doorways. The won held their children close. They knew exactly what was happening. Elderglen was preparing for a war of extermination.
I stood on the porch of the small cabin I had been given, tightening the leather straps of my bracers. The wooden door creaked open behind .
Lyra stepped out, wrapping a shawl around her shoulders against the pre-dawn chill. She looked at my readied gear.
"You just got back," she said softly, leaning against the wooden railing.
I checked Eclipse, sliding it back into its sheath. "Unfortunately, I wasn’t finished. Leaving them on the mountain ans leaving a knife pointed at your backs."
"Be careful," she whispered, stepping slightly closer. "You gave us our lives back tonight. Please don’t throw yours away."
A small head popped out from behind Lyra’s legs. Mira, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, looked up at . Her little demon tail swished slowly behind her.
"Are you going to fight the bad n again, Ren?" Mira asked, her voice innocent and clear.
"Yes, kiddo. I am."
Mira tilted her head, thinking for a second. "Can you kill them faster this ti, so we can play sooner?"
A genuine smile broke across my face, cutting through the heavy tension. "That’s the plan, Mira."
The sun barely breached the horizon, casting a pale yellow light over the valley as the gates of Elderglen swung wide open. The hunters stood at the threshold in tight, organized ranks. Their breaths puffed in small white clouds in the freezing air. Their weapons were drawn, their faces set in stone.
Korin stood at the very front, his massive iron spear resting on his shoulder. I stepped up beside him. The entire village had co out to watch.
Korin looked at the n. His scarred face hardened into a mask of pure violence. "Today," Korin rumbled, his voice echoing in the quiet dawn, "we bury the Blood-Iron Tribe."
Without another word, the hunters marched north.
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