The wind howled across the high ridge, biting and sharp as the edge of a blacksmith's chisel. Throy stood at the summit, boots planted firmly in the frostbitten soil. Below, the valley lay sprawled like a throat waiting to be cut.
He could feel it again—that weight in his chest. Not fear. Not exactly. But the quiet awareness that something vital was about to happen.
Behind him, two dozen young warriors stood in silence. His Spartgeon trainees. None older than twenty. Their helms were mismatched, shields patched with rope and scavenged bronze, and their sandals still bore holes from their time in the slave pits.
And yet… they stood tall.
Throy turned slowly to face them. His voice, though soft, carried across the ridge like a blade unsheathed.
"You all feel it, don't you? The wind before battle. The blood singing in your bones."
Some of them nodded. Others clenched their fists. One, a boy named Elric, was shaking visibly, though he tried to hide it.
"I'm not here to pretend we're ready," Throy said. "We're not. The Stormbreakers down there? They've fought in real wars. Burned towns. Skewered men twice our size."
"But they've never fought us."
The trainees looked at each other, doubt warring with belief.
"We are not farmers with swords. We are not prey waiting to run. We are the beginning of something greater than fear. Greater than power. We are Spartgeons."
He stepped forward, unsheathing his short bronze blade—the one he'd forged himself in the smoldering pits beneath Ironroot.
"And if we die today… we die free. No longer slaves. No longer hunted."
One voice rose in answer.
"No longer prey!"
Another joined.
"Iron in the blood!"
The chant built slowly, one voice after another, until it became a storm of defiance rising into the sky.
"IRON IN THE BLOOD! IRON IN THE BLOOD!"
And with that, Throy turned and raised his hand, signaling the descent.
Below the Ridge
The enemy was camped in an old mine-town—wooden palisades half-broken, but guarded. Two squads. Forty men. All Stormbreakers.
Throy had studied them for two days. Their habits, their shifts. He'd seen them mock villagers, slit the throat of a resisting elder, and laugh over fire as they roasted stolen game.
This wasn't about a quick raid. It was about sending a message.
His system pinged softly in the corner of his mind as he activated Tactical Insight (Lv. 1).
[System Notification]
Terrain advantage: High ridge elevation.
Morale: +12% (Speech effect: "Free Blood Oath")
Enemy formation: Lightly fortified. Patrol rotation: 3 squads on, 1 resting.
He'd gained that skill after training his first ten Spartgeons—an automatic unlock under the "Path of the Warlord" alignment.
He knelt and whispered to the girl crouched beside him—Lysa, the quietest in the group and the best scout he had.
"Same pattern as yesterday?"
She nodded, dark eyes unreadable. "Guard changes in two minutes. Right flank weakest."
"Good. Break them there. Then pull them out. Once they chase, we hammer them on the hill."
The ambush was brutal.
Lysa's unit of five hit fast and loud—screaming "IRON IN THE BLOOD!" as they stormed the gate. Throy's main force—seventeen in a tight shield wall—held the ridge, then surged downhill the moment the Stormbreakers broke formation to pursue.
The young Spartgeons fought like cornered lions.
Their shields held. Spears struck low and fast. For all their inexperience, they moved as Throy had trained them: in unison, in silence, in fury.
When the last Stormbreaker fell, gurgling into the mud, Throy sank to one knee—not from a wound, but from the sheer weight of it all.
He looked down at his hands.
Blood.
Not his.
"We did it," muttered Elric, panting beside him. "We really did it."
"No," Throy said, rising slowly. "We just started."
Later That Night
The town was theirs.
The villagers—half-starved and frightened—emerged slowly from the buildings, staring at the young warriors in disbelief.
One old woman tried to kneel before Throy, tears in her eyes.
"Don't kneel to me," he said gently, lifting her up. "Not ever again."
That night, as fires crackled and meat was shared, the System spoke again.
[SYSTEM LOG – CHAPTER UNLOCKED: "FIRST BLOOD"]
Alignment Path Update: "Merciful Flame" awakened.
You showed mercy and protection to innocents instead of plunder.
Reward:
+1 Leadership
Passive Ability: "Torchbearer's Aura (Lv. 1)" — Nearby allies gain +5% morale when defending civilians.
New Title Unlocked: Defender of the Broken
Warning: Your mercy has been witnessed. Not all enemies will respect it.