Kane parried, letting the Soul Brand activate on the third strike.
[Hidden Property Activated: Soul Brand]
[Target defenses shattered permanently]
Ravan’s defenses shattered.
His iron armor remained physically intact, but the inherent combat confidence built by two decades of winning evaporated instantly.
’Shit...’
His eyes widened in sudden, inexplicable terror as the next swing was half a second too slow.
Ducking under the sluggish blade, Kane stepped inside his guard.
He drove the iron haft of Mjoldr directly into Ravan’s solar plexus with bone-crushing force, collapsing the man’s lungs.
"Gah!"
As the commander folded forward, gasping for air, Kane brought his knee up, smashing Ravan’s nose into a bloody ruin.
Bam.
Spitting out broken teeth, Ravan collapsed into the muck.
"COMMANDER DOWN!" a terrified soldier shrieked.
Organized chaos devolved instantly into routing panic.
Standing triumphantly over the bleeding officer, Kane glared at the eight hundred elite soldiers who just watched their beloved commander get utterly dismantled by a single man who fell off a cliff barely two minutes ago.
Raising Mjoldr high, the crimson aura flooded the narrow gorge.
"Yield!" Kane commanded.
His voice carried clearly through the Conqueror’s Presence passive, hitting that specific, terrifying frequency that forced n to drop their weapons and listen.
Fighting didn’t stop imdiately.
It took another four bloody minutes for Seraphine’s soldiers to climb down from the ridge, executing anyone who refused to kneel.
Rutheus and his forty tribal warriors appeared at the far end of the channel, completely cutting off any hope of retreat.
Arriving from the mobile route right on schedule, Kessa sealed the eastern gap, her claws already dripping with blood.
The outco was truly decided the very second that column foolishly entered the pass.
[Combat Concluded: Central Pass Engagent]
[Enemy force neutralized - 847 engaged, 312 casualties, 535 captured]
[Note: The siege engines never deployed]
[They are still sitting in the column behind the choke point. Intact.]
[New equipnt available: 12 nual siege engines - repurposed for defensive use]
[Experience gained: Level 38 → Level 41]
[Stat increases applied]
[Note: You now own siege engines]
[The queen is going to have questions about that too.]
Flicking a chunk of gore off his axe, Kane started laughing.
The pass settled into a chilling quiet.
It carried that silence that always follows a profound amount of organized brutality.
Five hundred and thirty-five periter to ensure no late reinforcents crashed the party.
Wandering through the disard column, Kessa casually looted the best rations and shiny trinkets from the terrified captives.
She flashed her fangs whenever a soldier complained.
Taking a seat on a boulder, Kane allowed Thora to examine his battered torso.
"You jumped off a ridge," Thora states, her tone completely devoid of sympathy.
"It seed like the fastest route down to the actual fight," Kane replies defensively.
"Fifteen vertical ters," she points out, slathering a stinging herbal salve across his bruised skin.
"I used a few rocks to break the fall," he counters.
"Approximately."
Snatching the linen binding, she wraps it around his chest and pulls it significantly tighter than dically necessary.
The sharp pressure forces a short gasp from his lips.
"Noted," Kane wheezes.
’I conjecture I earned that,’ Kane thinks, watching her tie the knot with precision.
’She’s definitely enjoying this punishnt.’
Sliding gracefully down the rocky incline, Sira approaches the boulder.
Her eyes are already calculating the updated logistics.
"The rear elents of their column," Sira begins, skipping any pleasantries.
"Those siege engines stopped well before the choke point when the front lines panicked and compressed. They’re sitting completely intact on the eastern approach road."
"I figured they would be," Kane says, testing his bound ribs with a shallow breath.
"Twelve full engines," Sira notes, adjusting her bow sling.
"Based on the specifications you ripped from that scouting commander, you know what they were originally built to accomplish."
"Taking defensive walls perfectly intact," Kane answers.
"They execute a controlled breach rather than burning everything down to ash."
Sira tilts her head, offering a rare, sharp smile.
"Engineering works both ways, Chief."
Kane looks at the archer, waiting for the rest of her thought.
"If a machine is built to breach a wall cleanly," Sira explains, "it is also designed to establish one. Or reinforce an existing position. Or, hypothetically, make a mountain pass permanently impassable to any large-scale military movent."
’How is a barbarian this smart?’
Scanning the quiet channel, Kane looks at the towering stone walls.
He pictures the dozen captured machines sitting just a kiloter away.
"How long to repurpose them?" Kane asks.
It isn’t a question; it is a direct demand for a tiline.
"I would need to examine their internal components," Sira admits.
"But constructed chanisms follow basic logic. The primary function changes the mont you alter their physical orientation."
Stepping into their circle, Seraphine joins the conversation.
Her white armor remains surprisingly clean despite the recent slaughter.
"My engineers possess distinct experience with nual siege equipnt," Seraphine offers smoothly.
"We captured several smaller models three years ago during a border skirmish. My people fully reverse-engineered their firing chanisms."
"You’ve soldiers who know how to operate them," Kane notes, impressed by the sudden overlapping of resources.
"Operate, maintain, and completely modify," Seraphine clarifies proudly.
"How long to turn twelve offensive engines into permanent channel fortifications?" Kane asks, locking eyes with the First Blade.
"Give forty-eight hours," Seraphine promises without hesitation.
’Repurposed engines, a World Tree node causing panic, and high ridge firing positions,’ Kane calculates ntally.
’This vulnerable pass just stopped being a strategic liability. It becos a permanent fortress.’
"Get it done," Kane orders.
Nodding briskly, Seraphine turns on her heel and marches off to shout orders at her lieutenants.
Approaching from the periter, Rutheus carries a small tin cup in his remaining hand.
Handing the water to Kane, the veteran takes a seat on the adjacent rock.
They sit in comfortable silence for a long mont, watching the prisoners flinch every ti a Milfheim guard walks past.
"The elven queen," Rutheus finally rumbles, scratching his scarred chin.
"Her precious war room will demand these captured soldiers get processed through official imperial channels," Rutheus warns.
"Bureaucrats love their paperwork, and they will want the glory of managing the prisoners."
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