"Report: Centurion Pallet has completed the purge of all southwestern tribal forces within fifty kilometers of Yule Mountain Pass. Requesting the General's next orders."
"Is that so? Already finished... quite fast," Selene remarked.
After listening to the messenger kneeling beside her, she adjusted her orders. "Command: have the vanguard return to camp for rest. Bring all captured tribal prisoners back to the encampment as well."
"Remember—only those with fully developed, intact limbs are to be taken. The elderly, the children, and the crippled are to be executed on the spot. The Empire has no medicine to waste on them."
"Yes, General!" The messenger saluted sharply, mounted his horse, and rode off to deliver the order.
Watching him leave, Selene turned her attention to the group of prisoners that had already been brought before her.
"So many of them. Where were they captured?" Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Oh... and that one covered in gold and silver—who is he among the tribes?"
Among the trembling captives, one man stood out. His skin was dark, his build average but stout, his belly round, and his entire body gleamed with gold and silver. Quite literally—precious metals were embedded and tattooed into his flesh.
It was obvious that his status among the tribes was high.
"These tribesmen were captured by the vanguard ten kilometers southwest of Yule Mountain Pass," one officer reported. "They had turned a beacon fortress into a warehouse fortress. It was full of grain—most likely plundered from Imperial lands."
"They appear to have been the garrison there. The one adorned with gold and silver must be their commanding general. Lucky for him—he survived your attack by chance."
"I see... Bring him to me," Selene said calmly.
"Yes, General."
Moments later, while Selene conversed with several of her officers, the captured tribal general was dragged forward—bound tightly from neck to ankle.
"Speak," Selene ordered coolly. "Tell me everything you know."
Unlike the rest of his terrified kin, the gilded tribal general glared up at her with defiance. "Untie me first. You've bound me so tightly I can barely breathe."
Heh. Selene could already guess his intentions. There were always those kinds of fools—the self-proclaimed martyrs. She gestured lazily to her soldiers. "Untie him."
"Die, Imperial scum!" The moment his bonds were loosened, the man lunged, fists flying straight toward Selene's face.
Before Selene even blinked, Esdeath moved. A flash of white light—three feet long—swept cleanly across the air.
Slash!Thud!
The tribal general froze mid-motion. He tried to lift his arms—but found he couldn't. When he looked down, horror filled his eyes.
Both of his arms had been severed cleanly at the shoulders. They slid down, hit the ground, and rolled away.
"AAAAHHHH—!"
Blood spurted from the stumps as the man screamed in agony, his body convulsing.
"Insulting the General—how dare you!"
Crack!
Before the screaming could even fade, a nearby officer slammed the man's head into the ground. His skull burst open like a melon—red, white, and black splattering across the dirt.
"Are the artillery divisions ready?" Selene asked casually, glancing down at the corpse being dragged away. Her tone was calm, almost indifferent. Her attention was already fixed on something else—her new "toys."
"All howitzers, cannons, and Palatine artillery units have been assembled and deployed," an officer reported. "As per your orders, incendiary shells are being prioritized. We expect full ammunition reserves ready for transport by tonight."
"Palatine artillery?" Selene raised an eyebrow. "I know what a howitzer and a cannon are—but what's that?"
"Uh... I'm not entirely sure myself, General. They say it's a new model developed by Dr. Stylish in the Capital. For now, only the Imperial Guard is equipped with it."
At the mention of that eccentric scientist, Selene's lips curled in understanding. So this must be an early prototype of the Judgement of the Ten Heavenly Kings.
"Excellent," she said, smiling faintly. "It seems the rebellion of the southwestern tribes is about to end."
...
At dawn, when night and day met on the horizon, the darkness had not yet fully receded, and the first rays of sunlight merely brushed the earth with pale, scattered light.
Beyond the dense forests, on a small alluvial plain, stood a vast settlement of low, thick-walled houses—small-windowed and pale in color—revealing a way of life far removed from that of the Empire.
This was a major southwestern tribal city, home to more than a hundred thousand people. Though it lacked grand architecture, its sheer sprawl made it the size of a provincial capital.
At this hour, most of its inhabitants still slept soundly. Yet, as dawn began to tint the horizon, packs of energetic tribal children—bronze-skinned, their faces painted with the distinctive tribal markings—were already running about, laughing and shouting in the streets.
The air was peaceful, the morning calm.
But this peace, this fleeting prosperity, had been stolen from the Empire—ripped from its weakening body like flesh torn from a dying beast.
"This year should be better," an elderly tribesman said, sitting by the riverbank with several companions. "Hopefully no one will starve this time."
"Hahaha... those little ones are already talking about raiding the Empire again!" another laughed.
"Fools! War is no game," the elder scolded lightly.
"Relax," a third replied. "Most of our young warriors left with the chieftain. The loot they brought back a few days ago will keep us well-fed for the year."
Then, suddenly—
A pillar of fire shot into the sky.
"What... what is that?" someone gasped.
It was like a signal. First the northern sky ignited—then the west—then, in a matter of moments, countless flashes lit up the heavens above the entire city.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM—!
The air filled with the shriek of shells cutting through the wind, followed by thunderous explosions. The nearest building—a low, single-story home—was engulfed in smoke and dust before it was pulverized into rubble, crushed as though by invisible hands.
In the next heartbeat, flames burst forth everywhere.
The wind fanned the fires, and the fires fed the wind. Within moments, the entire city was consumed by a blazing inferno.
"Enemy attack! Enemy—AAAHHHHH—!!"
The explosions unleashed waves of scorching heat, devouring everything in their path. Houses groaned as they burned, collapsing with sickening cracks beneath the roar of the flames.
The once-gentle river now boiled, its waters thick with the bodies of the dead—cooked alive by the searing heat. Those who hadn't escaped the initial bombardment were burned to ash, their flesh melted into the earth.
The flames grew higher and higher, a living storm of fire and smoke. From above, the once-prosperous tribal city resembled a mass of molten coal—glowing red, collapsing, and crumbling into nothingness.