"Then... we'll make camp here," Selene ordered as she swung gracefully onto her horse.
After issuing her command, she turned her head toward the garrison officer, who still stood frozen in disbelief. "Hey, are you awake yet?"
"Uh...? Y-Yes, General!" The officer snapped out of his daze at Selene's cool, commanding voice. In his rush to stand, he nearly tripped, then straightened up and saluted respectfully.
"Yue Mountain Pass has been completely destroyed," Selene said, her gaze sweeping across the vast, newly formed ravine. "Go inform the governor of Patripol Province. Tell him to gather craftsmen and workers—the fortress needs to be rebuilt."
"Yes, General. But..." The officer hesitated, glancing at the massive expanse before them. "To rebuild a wall that stretches for several thousand meters, we'll need a tremendous amount of labor. It would take at least a week just to gather enough workers."
Selene arched an eyebrow. "You misunderstand. I only need skilled builders. As for the labor..." Her crimson eyes gleamed faintly. "There's plenty of that beyond the Imperial borders."
The officer swallowed nervously. "You mean... to capture the southwestern tribes and use them as forced labor?"
"Exactly," Selene replied with an icy smile. "After raiding our lands for so long, it's only fair we collect some interest. Tell the governor to send extra troops. With most of their forces wiped out, the tribes will make for easy slaves."
Her soft, melodic voice carried a chilling undercurrent that sent shivers down the man's spine.
"Y-Yes! I will see it done, General!" he stammered, bowing deeply before hurrying back toward Patripol City. He knew that with Selene's ruthlessness, the southwestern tribes were doomed—if not exterminated outright, they would lose half their population to captivity.
Meanwhile, under Selene's command, the Imperial army advanced into the valley, setting up camp along the outer ridges. Normally, after such a massive quake, entering the mountains would risk aftershocks or landslides—but morale was absolute.
Selene's overwhelming display of power had solidified her authority beyond question. The soldiers of the 8th Imperial Guard Legion—already accustomed to her feats from the southern explosion and the subsequent "mountain-moving" projects—followed her orders without hesitation.
Even the local provincial troops, having witnessed the cataclysm firsthand, now revered her as an almost divine figure.
In the Empire, men could tolerate tyrants—but never cowards.
Power was everything. The strong commanded loyalty; the weak invited scorn. The Empire did not fear despots or cruel rulers. What they feared were the feeble—the indecisive leaders incapable of guiding them to victory.
Throughout Imperial history, every era ruled by a strong sovereign had been one of conquest and prosperity. And every age led by a weakling had brought only division and decline.
The Empire was a nation built to be ruled by strength.
Of course, Selene was far from a reckless commander. As a "benevolent" general, she would never endanger her soldiers needlessly. The ground of the valley and the surrounding cliffs had already been reinforced by her power.
"Order the 8th Legion's vanguard to split into small squads," Selene commanded coldly. "Advance in reconnaissance formation and eliminate all remaining tribal hideouts within fifty kilometers of Yue Mountain Pass. Kill or capture as needed."
This was no act of overconfidence. The enemy's main army was already annihilated. If her troops couldn't handle scattered survivors, then they weren't worthy of wearing Imperial armor.
"Yes, General!" ×N
...
Beyond Imperial borders—deep within the forests past the Yue Mountain Pass gorge.
Several shadowy figures moved swiftly through the dense undergrowth. Their faces were hidden behind masks, their skin pale and painted with strange white symbols drawn from some ritual dye.
"What was that massive sound earlier?" one asked. At the front of the group, an elderly man wearing a bronze mask and carrying a bone staff—the attire of a tribal priest—spoke in a grave tone.
Though aged, the elder's movements were swift and sure—not inferior in the slightest to those of the tribe's young warriors.
"The sound came from Yue Mountain Pass. Didn't the chieftain already seize it?"
"Yeah, Elder, you worry too much. Those weakling Imperials? They're no match for us!"
"But why... why do I feel such a sense of dread?"
The elder paused mid-step, muttering under his breath. The closer they drew to the Imperial border, the stronger the unease became. Even the venomous insects he had nurtured for years writhed and trembled, as though some monstrous abyssal beast lurked beyond the fortress.
Suddenly, rapid, ragged breathing echoed from ahead. A tribal warrior stumbled into view, his white mask cracked, his clothes in tatters. His right arm had been crushed to pulp—its mangled stump still dripping blood.
"You're one of ours..." The elder blinked in confusion, about to question him.
"E-Elder, run! The Imperial army is attac—"
Shing!Splurt!
Before he could finish, the sound of steel slicing through flesh silenced him. In the next instant, the wounded tribesman was cleaved cleanly in half—his upper body falling to the ground with a scream of agony.
"Well, well... looks like we've caught a big one," a tall Imperial officer stepped out from the shadows, clad in dark armor that gleamed faintly under the forest light. Behind him, dozens of Imperial soldiers emerged in formation.
"You... Imperial soldiers?! That's impossible! Our army—where are they?!" the elder stammered in disbelief, his voice trembling.
The officer chuckled coldly. "Where do you think they went?" He gripped his sword tighter, then lunged forward. "To meet their gods, of course!"
The southwestern tribal warriors fought fiercely—their individual combat skills impressive, their movements honed by years of survival in the wild. But against Imperial soldiers clad in layered steel armor and wielding forged blades, their bronze weapons and hide armor were pitifully outdated. The difference between them was an entire era.
Within moments, the Imperial officer charged into their ranks, his heavy sword cleaving through one defender after another. His soldiers followed swiftly, encircling the survivors and cutting them down without mercy.
This was war. Mercy had no place here—only the rule of survival: kill or be killed. Numbers, morale, weapons—all were on the Empire's side. Within a few breaths, the entire group of tribal guards was annihilated.
As for the priestly elder, his desperate struggle only earned him a more brutal end—cut to pieces before he could even summon his venomous insects.
"Report to General Selene," the officer ordered coldly, wiping the blood from his blade. "The southwestern tribe's hideout under our jurisdiction has been completely purged."