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Fifty of them were Northrender legionaries, the other sixty were the remnants of his own forces—what was once a proud Byzeth army of a hundred and fifty, now whittled down by the ruthless north.

More than half had perished, not in battle, but at the hands of a more relentless killer—the cold.

After their first engagement with the settlers, some had fallen to arrows and blades, but many more to the biting freeze. Men from the warm south, unaccustomed to the unforgiving northern climate, had quickly found death.

The cold scraped at their bones, and as their strength faded, so too did their will to survive. Horses bred for the southern plains had fallen ill, their breaths had become shallow as they lay helpless in the snow.

Some men died in their sleep, unable to wake to another brutal morning, while others, shivering and delirious, were put out of their misery by comrades who were no longer able to bear their pitiful groans.

Aric had said nothing to his men about these deaths.

What could he tell them? That they were weak? That they were undeserving to continue? That they didn\'t have the strength to stand in the north?

That was the truth, and sometimes even as brutal as it were the truth needed no sympathy.

He sighed, his breath a frosty cloud in the air, his eyes narrowing as the battle reached its climax. Below, the enemy soldiers crumbled under the onslaught of Yrsa and her legion.

Yrsa, in particular, was something else.

The ways she moved, like a perfect warrior on the field of blood, her large axe slicing through enemies with terrifying ease. The weight of her weapon seemed like nothing in her hands, as though it were made of air instead of iron and steel.

Her martial prowess was undeniable, but it wasn\'t just her strength that made her so terrifying.

Like the legionaries at her side, she wielded ki at a deadly level…they were all beyond first rank martial knights like Aric.

The prince watched as she gathered energy into her weapon, her body glowing faintly as she made a destructive swing. The axe cleaved through both steel and flesh, a violent slice of energy exploding from the strike, cutting through three soldiers at once.

Their cries died in their throats as they fell, their bodies slumping to the blood-covered ground.

Another group of soldiers attempted to flank her, but she expected it, spinning with the grace, her axe a blur of raging ki. She slammed it into the earth, sending a shockwave rippling outward, toppling the men before they could even raise their weapons.

The force of the blow cracked the frozen ground beneath her feet, and the enemy soldiers were hurled back like rag dolls, their bodies broken at the moment of impact. Find more chapters on M V L

It didn\'t take long for the battle to end.

The screams and clashing steel slowly faded, replaced by a perfect silence, the air consumed by the metallic scent of blood. The battlefield now littered with corpses, and the snow had turned crimson where the dead and dying lay.

Aric\'s men, the full Northrender legion, and what remained of his own army marched back from the field, their breaths heavy in the cold air.

Yrsa walked ahead, her purple hair now streaked with blood and tangled messily around her head. She was drenched in it, her armor gleaming with dark crimson, yet she moved with the same dangerous grace, and now it unnerved the prince a bit.

She tossed her heavy axe to Aric as she approached, the massive weapon spinning through the air.

Aric caught it effortlessly, his grip steady, though he did not move to use it.

His eyes remained on her, calm but curious. As Yrsa tied her bloodied hair into a tighter knot, she met his gaze, the barest hint of a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"You really enjoy this, don\'t you?" Aric muttered, his voice low as he eyed her, amusement in his tone.

She locked eyes with him, her lips curling into a full smirk now. "Yes," she replied without hesitation, her voice filled with a strange satisfaction. "Do you not?"

Aric didn\'t answer right away—he wasn\'t certain himself, so he let the question hang in the cold air for a few moments. Her gaze remained locked on his grey eyes, betraying nothing. Finally, with a slight nod, he handed her axe back to her, his movements calm and deliberate.

Yrsa took the weapon and slung it over her back with ease.

She glanced over her shoulder at the battlefield, the aftermath of the bloodshed, and then back at him.

Her expression shifted slightly, becoming more serious.

"We just received word from the north via rune stone," she said, her tone suddenly cold, dangerous. "And before I kill you and slaughter the rest of your army… I want to understand."

Aric\'s gaze sharpened, but he remained still as she stepped closer, her eyes narrowing as if to study him more closely. "Did you really think your coward king could cheat us? That you could rob us, attack our people, and not pay with your lives?"

Aric said nothing, his expression betraying nothing of the thoughts running through his mind. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword at his back, ready, but he made no move to draw it. Instead, he met her gaze, calm and unbothered by the clear threat in her words.

Yrsa\'s grip on her axe tightened, her knuckles turning white. "Answer me, prince," she demanded, her voice laced with venom.

But Aric remained silent, his cold grey eyes locked on hers.

"That…is not my doing, and I know nothing of it."

The prince lied in the best way he knew how.