Chapter 552: Steel and Shadows ( 552 )
Later that morning.
“Leader…”
“Yeah, I know,” the dwarf commander replied, voice heavy but steady. “We’re all hungry. Still tired. But today’s the sa as yesterday.”
He looked over his stubborn, grimy people—still standing, still fighting.
“We have morning soup. Dried at boiled in water, so spice and salt—enough for everyone.”
No one complained. They simply nodded.
“But we hold this stronghold,” the leader continued, slamming his fist gently against the stone wall. “We defend against the halfling advance. No matter what.”
“Yes, leader.”
Then he added, “We’re luckier than the other two strongholds. They’re facing wyvern attacks from above.”
A few dwarves muttered curses softly.
“If so of us were stationed there…”
“I’m sure we’d have lost many. Probably most.”
“Exactly. So be grateful,” the leader said. “That’s why the rations are here. That’s why we’re still breathing.”
They nodded again. Tired but understanding.
Surviving one more day. Holding one more wall.
Once they finished their sparse breakfast, the leader stood tall and clapped his hands to unify the troops.
“Alright everyone… don’t die, do your best, and—”
“Leader!!”
A frantic voice shattered the morning fog. A scout, breathless and pale, sprinted down from the watchtower.
“The Halfling army—it’s huge!!”
“What!?” the leader shouted. “How many!? Tell the total!”
“Approximately 120,000!!”
“What!?” The leader’s eyes widened in shock. Murmurs rose among the dwarves, fear creeping into their hearts.
But before panic fully took hold—
“Leader!!!”
Another scout burst onto the scene, even more frantic.
“What now!?”
“There’s another army approaching! Not the halflings! A new one! Their banner and crest—they’re unfamiliar!”
“Shit!” the leader’s voice cracked. “Are we dood? Are we gonna die? Is it the Human Kingdom?”
“No… they look human, but they’re not flying the kingdom’s banner.”
“Then who are they!?”
“Their armor… shining mithril, even on the foot soldiers! And their commander… he’s wearing strange armor. Black with red trim. A fearso helt, horns like a demon.”
The leader’s eyes widened in realization.
“A demon’s mask…?”
A hushed whisper spread among the dwarves.
The Unknown Demon…?
The leader hurried up the stone stairs, each step heavy with tension and urgency. His boots thundered against the cold stone until he reached the top of the wall, eyes sharp and unyielding as he scanned the horizon.
And there they were.
An entire army gleaming in polished mithril armor. Thousands of soldiers standing in perfect formation, like statues of tal and glass. Leading them—
A solitary rider.
Tall and unmoving, cloaked in dark armor that shimred with red lacquer and outlined in gold. A fearso oni mask concealed his face, horns curling from the helm like a war god descending onto the battlefield.
And his mount—
“A Pekko…?” the leader whispered.
The majestic, exotic bird stomped proudly, its keen eyes gleaming with intelligence. A species only bred and found in a single place.
“Is he… from Armand?” the leader wondered aloud, trying to make sense of the figure.
One of the scouts beside him, still gasping, answered.
“We don’t know, Leader. The black flag with the golden emblem… it’s unfamiliar. No known house or kingdom flies it.”
“Where did he co from then…?”
The leader narrowed his eyes, deep in thought.
Then, suddenly, the mysterious knight raised his sword high.
The wind roared.
The halfling army halted its advance, sensing the ominous signal.
The wind carried a sudden, powerful pulse of mana, followed by a voice that thundered across the battlefield with unwavering authority.
“This is Javier De Armand!”
Every halfling soldier halted, their weapons mid-air, eyes wide with shock. Even the dwarves atop the wall stiffened, caught off guard by the commanding voice.
“This is a ssage to the Halfling Army and your commanders—”
A pause. The air grew tense.
“I demand your surrender, or your retreat.”
“You have a choice:”
“Leave the dwarven kingdom. Abandon your campaign. Let the dwarven land be mine to conquer.”
The dwarven commander gasped, struggling to believe what he heard. “What…?”
The voice continued, cold and rciless.
“Or… stay.”
“Stay and fight.”
“But understand this—if you do, your entire army will fall.”
Javier’s voice sharpened, filled with fury wrapped in steel.
“I swear… I will bring you a man.”
“A man who doesn’t just bring destruction to your soldiers—”
“—but brings your death.”
The final words echoed across the hills like a tolling funeral bell, sealing the grim fate awaiting the halfling forces.
The halfling frontlines erupted into boisterous laughter.
“Did you hear that?” one soldier snorted.
“A kid! A boy barely old enough to grow a beard is threatening us!”
“Hahahaha!” others echoed, their voices ringing with mockery.
Their commander stood tall, arms crossed, a sneer curling his lips.
“Heh~ This little boy thinks he can scare us with his toy soldiers?”
He gestured toward the shining army under the sun.
“Thousands at most… and yet he dares bark at us? With an army of 120,000?”
One of the captains leaned in, eyes narrowing.
“Commander… those knights really do wear mithril.”
“So what?” the commander scoffed. “Mithril doesn’t matter. Numbers make the difference.”
He raised his voice, confident and loud.
“He thinks just because his soldiers shine like coins, he’ll win?”
“Hah! In his dreams!”
Laughter roared again through the halfling ranks—loud, mocking, full of arrogance.
An hour before the confrontation, Javier Yawned wide, eyes barely open as the wind whipped through his hair.
“Yawn~ Oh… we arrived already, Buddy?”
Cuquawked!! his Pekko barked in annoyance, stomping once with attitude.
“Huh!?” Javier blinked, glancing around. “You skipped all the towns and went straight to the enemy’s front gate!?”
Cuquawked!! (No regrets.)
“You skipped the appetizers and jumped straight to the main course, huh?” Javier sighed, rubbing his temple.
With a stretch, he stood tall on Buddy’s saddle, took a deep breath, then raised his right hand.
“Summon: Puppet Knights.”
The ground rumbled deeply.
One after another, portals blazed open with flashes of blinding white light. From them erged his 20,000 puppet knights—clad in gleaming mithril armor, ard with mithril longswords, magic bows, and reinforced crossbows. Shields clicked into place, helts snap-fitted as they ford their ranks.
Javier’s expression shifted from lazy to deadly serious. He pulled on his oni mask, adjusting the samurai helt that now rested on his head. His dark cloak fluttered fiercely in the wind.
“Alright, my knights—”
He grinned behind the mask.
“Let’s go greet our new guests.”
The puppet army began its march—formation locked, weapons ready. tallic boots clanged like the sound of a judgnt drum rolling across the barren field.
“MY KNIGHTS!!”
He pointed ahead.
Javier’s grin stretched wider as the shimring silver tide advanced, an unstoppable flood across the desolate earth.
“Heh… Let’s go remind the world why you don’t ss with Armand.”
Buddy let out a smug squawked, tossing his head like a war drumr prepared for the final act.
( End Of Chapter )
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