Dragon Heart: Iron Will. LitRPG Wuxia Series: Book 2

by Kirill Klevanski

  Now...

  He felt like the theater in front of him. Broken and bleeding.

  “To the demons with it!” Hadjar growled.

  He unsheathed his sword and cleared a pile of debris with just one slash. It soared into the air and Hadjar followed after it. Each of his strikes swept away a huge cobblestone and reduced boards and logs to pieces.

  Where was this defender’s honor while her citizens were being enslaved? Where was her honor when the sect committed its atrocities? What right did she have to condemn him? He’d defended his own warriors, saved them from starvation. He had done the right thing. And had it been a thousand times more dishonorable, it would’ve still been right.

  After a couple of seconds, there was nothing left of the theatre’s ruins.

  Hadjar sank to the ground and forced his sword back into its sheath.

  “What was that about?” Nero asked quietly.

  “I’ve cleared the rubble,” Hadjar shrugged. “The carts have to pass through here somehow.”

  Nero tilted his head to the side and squinted a little.

  “Well, yes,” he whispered softly. “Of course, it’s a…”

  The end of his sentence was drowned out by a loud roar. Hadjar and Nero turned in the direction of the sound, and at the same time, a strong blast wave struck their bodies. In the northern part of the city, an orange flower of fire blossomed with a black, smoky crown.

  [The source of the threat was 30 degrees to the north-west]

  “Demons!” Nero roared, “Some of the storehouses are there!”

  Without saying a word, they pushed off the ground and, jumping up to the nearest roof, rushed in the direction of the blazing fire. Hadjar cursed himself for his short-sightedness. What were the chances that they’d managed to put all of the city’s defenders in a ‘cage’? How many soldiers from the garrison had been on leave or just dressed as ‘citizens’?

  Damn... Damn!

  Once he got to the fire, Nero unsheathed his heavy sword. He swung and struck it with the flat of the blade, as if he were hitting a water surface with a paddle. A gust of hurricane wind followed, at first making the fire flare up even hotter, but it was soon directed into the sky, dispelling the blaze like a myriad of purple petals.

  On the ground, among the stones, the burnt bodies of soldiers were strewn about. They’d been burned alive, still in their armor.

  “General!” One of the officers ran up to Hadjar, who was sitting on the pavement.

  Hadjar couldn’t remember his name, but at the moment, it didn’t matter. The officer looked like a sinner that had escaped from sadistic demons. Half of his hair was missing, exposing the scorched flesh of his skull. His right arm was blackened in some places, and a wooden splinter was sticking out of his thigh.

  “Soldiers!” Hadjar called out to those who weren’t writhing in pain. Apparently, they had been standing far from the explosion. “Take your officer to the healer.”

  “But... my General.”

  “You’ve done enough, Officer,” Hadjar saluted the man with a fist against his chest. He knew why the officer had been wounded so horribly and why the burned soldiers were lying on the ground outside. The man had pulled them out of the fire by himself… “Now rest.”

  “My General,” the officer saluted and... Collapsed into the hands of his subordinates, unconscious.

  Hadjar and Nero exchanged glances.

  As long as such people served in his army, Hadjar was ready to commit any ‘atrocities’ necessary to save their lives.

  “We need to ensure the forge and storehouses are secure,” Hadjar turned to his friend. “Especially the gunpowder storehouses. If they get in there, half the city will be destroyed.”

  “I’m already on it,” Nero nodded and jumped up into the night sky, disappearing among the roofs and chimneys.

  Hadjar looked over his shoulder at what had once been a barn. For some reason, he thought about the theater and how he could also shout out “You have no honor” now. But over the course of just one night, Hadjar had come to understand a simple thing—in a war, generals had no honor, no conscience, no god, and no demons. Only one concept guided them.

  The concept of ‘having to do something’. And if they ‘had to do something’, they could poison wells, trample crops, burn forests.

  Because they had to.

  Because a war was going on.

  “Hurry up,” Hadjar approached a group of soldiers and picked up one of the wounded men on a stretcher.

  “General.”

  “General Hadjar.”

  The warriors directed puzzled glances at him.

  “Why are you standing still? Get the wounded to the healer! Quickly!”

  “Yes, my General!” The soldiers shouted back in chorus and, together with their General, carried their comrades-in-arms toward the gates leading out of the city.

  Chapter 102

  The night of their victory was full of minor losses. The explosion in the barn wasn’t the last act of sabotage committed by the city’s defenders. They managed to set fire to the storehouse that housed the arrows and the underground sewage system, attacked the convoy carrying gunpowder, and even blew up the whole street where they’d been transporting armor.

  Hadjar and the commanders held a military council in his tent.

  “How long will we just take this?” Helion hit the table with his fist. His eyepatch, which he wore over the eye he’d lost, glittered menacingly, although such a thing seemed impossible.

  Agreeing with Helion, Lian nodded and adjusted her bushy brown hair. “They’ve been nipping at us all night long, but we haven’t answered them at all!”

  “What do you suggest we do?” Hadjar asked.

  He was reading the reports, and his neural network was doing the calculations. In one night, even taking into account all the setbacks caused by the Garnuthians, they’d greatly improved their position. But it was still a disastrous position to be in.

  They’d replenished their supplies, but, because of the attack on the barn, they still didn’t have enough to survive the winter. And winters in the north weren’t the same as in Lidus. In Balium, if you went outside with a glass of hot tea on a winter morning, you would return home with tea-flavored ice cream.

  Their army had neither the right ammunition nor the right amount of blankets to fight General Frost. Hadjar knew very well what a strong ally the cold was, thanks to the history of his distant homeland from the other planet.

  Frost always helped those who were accustomed to it and destroyed those who didn’t take it seriously enough.

  In addition to the approaching winter, a large number of cannons, taken from the city walls, still lacked gunpowder and cannonballs. The armor they’d taken would also have to be melted down, so that, in the heat of battle, the soldiers didn’t kill their comrades. This meant that the blacksmiths from their mobile forges would require coal for their furnaces, special materials, and so on from the suppliers. And the suppliers would go to the General. But who would Hadjar go to?

  However, Hadjar was happy that the money taken from the treasury was enough to pay the salaries of the soldiers for some time—two or three months.

  This was enough if he decided not to cooperate with the local merchants. But he would have to cooperate with them. Fortunately, every country had enough unprincipled people ready to trade with potential invaders.

  It was the first law of commerce: any war was the fastest way to get rich.

  “What you, General, had planned to do at the very beginning,” the spymaster’s eyes flashed, “raze the city to the ground. I don’t really understand your plans for how we’ll be leaving the city. Since we won’t be completely emptying Garnuth’s reserves, any army from Balium will be able to get reinforcements here and stab us in the back.”

  “Precisely,” Tuur said, “even if an army doesn’t come to attack us, we’ll still be leaving the rear guard vulnerable to the garrison.”

  Hadjar looked around at his
commanders. In spite of everything, they were ordinary people, very well-versed regarding their own specializations. So well that Hadjar always listened to their advice and trusted their judgment.

  Although the officers had one very significant problem. They couldn’t see the big picture.

  “Does everyone agree?”

  “My General,” Lergon rose from his chair. “I understand why you’re doing things as you are. I think that we need to leave the city as soon as possible.”

  They looked at the Baliumian commander like he was crazy. Only Hadjar sighed with relief. He’d doubted Lergon’s ability to see the big picture.

  “Explain, Officer,” Lian hissed.

  The ordinary soldiers treated the soldiers of Balium with suspicion (even though they were now also ‘moon’ soldiers), and the commanders did the same with Lergon. Hadjar couldn’t blame them. Perhaps conquering Garnuth had slightly tipped the scales toward trust, but not enough. The General could only expect the situation to improve after a large-scale battle.

  “May I, my General?”

  “Of course, Officer.”

  Lergon nodded and even coughed. He looked eerie because of his many scars and burns.

  “I don’t have all the information,” he began, “but the army was never going to greatly benefit from capturing the city. We still have huge holes in our pockets, and the winter season is coming. Winters in Balium aren’t like what you’re used to in the south. If we stay in the city, we’ll be gnawed on from both the inside and outside. And when the army comes…”

  “We’ll have the strong walls of Garnuth to protect ourselves with!” Helion barked and turned to Hadjar. “My General, we’ve taken the fortified city that no one has been able to capture before. Why do we have to leave it? Let’s wait out the winter here and then move inland.”

  Hadjar looked at Lergon and waved his hand to ask the officer to sit down. The Baliumian officer saluted and returned to his chair. He looked at Helion like he was a stupid child. He probably thought the commander of the Moon army’s cavalry was actually a stupid child.

  “My General, please forgive me for being late,” Nero rushed into the tent. “I was busy with carrying out your orders.”

  “How many?” Hadjar asked, noticing that Nero was hiding his bloody hands behind his back.

  “About a thousand and a half.”

  Demons... 1500 idiots who had decided to disobey his orders and cause trouble in the city.

  “Sit down, Commander Nero. Now that we’re all here, let me ask you, why do two hundred thousand soldiers in our army fight?”

  The commanders looked at each other.

  “You mean the Baliumians?” Lian asked.

  “Yes.”

  Lergon was silent.

  “Because we’re fighting against the sect they hate, ‘The Black Gates’,” Nero replied, slightly out of breath.

  “Exactly!” Hadjar rose from his chair and approached the map. “What will happen when the Balium army comes to fight us? Or when we start tearing this Fort apart? How many of the Baliumians will falter?”

  The tent was silent.

  “What are you trying to say, General?” Tuur asked, almost stuttering.

  “I’m saying that you’re not thinking ahead. And that you don’t understand that we didn’t capture two hundred thousand people and didn’t force them to fight for us. No, we made a military alliance with them! These people are fighting with us against our common enemy. I hope no one thinks that the common enemy we share with officer Lergon and his men is the capital of Balium?”

  The commanders began to exchange glances again. All of them except Nero and Lergon, that is. The former thought that his friend was completely mad, and the latter was able to see the big picture. Otherwise, he would never have crossed the border, would never have ‘betrayed’ his country, and would never have fought under the enemy’s banner.

  “But, my General,” Helion rose from his seat, “you said that we’ll be going to war with Balium.”

  “We will,” Hadjar said. “But we won’t go north, to the capital. We’ll go around, to the north-east.”

  Hadjar took his pointer and drew it along the mountain passes and ridges until he pointed at a small valley.

  “That’s ‘The Black Gates’ sect’s main pavilion!” Lian exclaimed. “With all due respect, General, have you gone insane?!”

  “No, Commander Lian. If you think about it, you’ll come to the same conclusion that I have. We won’t be able to capture the capital, because Lergon and his men wouldn’t help us do so. Isn’t that right, Officer?”

  Clearing his throat again, Lergon also rose to his feet.

  “I’d rather die than let the troops of Lidus raise their flag over the capital of my homeland.”

  “Damn traitor,” Helion unsheathed his blade, but noticed Hadjar’s stern look. A look that could cow the boundless sky itself. “Please forgive me, my General, but I don’t understand what is going on here.”

  “You aren’t the only one,” the spymaster grumbled.

  “Officer Lergon, are you ready to fight with me against ‘The Black Gates’ sect?”

  The Baliumian immediately straightened up and punched his chest.

  “If my hands are cut off, my General, I’ll hold my sword in my mouth. If my legs are cut off, I’ll crawl after you on my stomach, like a worm. One way or another, I’ll go with you, and crawl or swim if need be, to the pavilion of the sect. Even if I’m reduced to a disembodied spirit.”

  “Then that’s where we’ll go,” Hadjar took a few toy soldiers and surrounded the seat of ‘The Black Gates’ with them. “We won’t touch a single civilian and won’t conduct a single battle against the armies of Balium. After a week of our march through the mountains, songs will be sung about us. The news that Lidus has come to fight not against the common people, but against the sect, will spread throughout the country like wildfire. Two weeks later, there will be not just a million, but two million people marching under our banners. A month later—four million. By the time we get to ‘The Black Gates’, we’ll have gathered ten million people. And each of them will be filled with anger and a need to get revenge. With their help, I’ll crush this sect and erase the very memory of their existence.”

  Hadjar punched the spot on the map where the pavilion of ‘The Black Gates’ was indicated. When he raised his hand, there was no sign of it left. The commanders looked at each other. Their General had once again come up with a crazy plan that actually looked very insidious and promising.

  Hadjar looked at Lergon sympathetically.

  How could he kill the colossus that was Balium? Simple: he would cut off its clay legs.

  As soon as ‘The Black Gates’ sect collapsed, the Kingdom would immediately find itself between a rock and a hard place. And vultures from all around their Valley would gather for the feast. The first and largest vulture would be Lidus itself. Not only the Moon army, but all four armies of Lidus would march to the northern border. And Balium would fall.

  Did Lergon understand this? Perhaps he did, but didn’t want to think about it.

  The fire of his hatred was too hot, his desire for revenge all-consuming. And it had slowly started to devour him from within.

  The other commanders were thinking the same thing.

  Was it honorable to take advantage of the Baliumians’ resentment to get rid of the only shield that protected them from the outside world? Not a bit.

  But they had to.

  Chapter 103

  It was likely that no one, not even the soldiers of the Moon army themselves, had expected that, on the second day after the victory, Hadjar would lead the troops north-east. It looked like the General was really not going to fight against Balium.

  He hadn’t massacred everyone in the city, even after all those explosions and other acts of sabotage. He’d kept his word and hadn’t completely emptied Garnuth’s reserves. The news that nearly a thousand and a half soldiers who’d tried to behave like bandits had bee
n executed quickly circulated around not just the city, but also the nearby regions. Hadjar’s leaflets were now spreading further.

  They were being handed out by traveling merchants and travelers alike. They spoke about the mighty and fearless General who was marching against the invincible ‘Black Gates’ sect.

  Some people didn’t believe it, some scoffed at the notion, but every day, more and more people joined Hadjar’s army. This was a good thing, but it wasn’t just trained soldiers who’d deserted for the sake of revenge that had joined him.

  There were mortals and lone practitioners among them. Some came with their own weapons and armor, but most had forks and axes, or worthless weapons of the same quality as the one Hadjar had once bought from a wandering merchant in the Valley of Streams.

  And all these people had to be dressed, fed, distributed among the squads, and armed. Every day, Hadjar had more work to do and less time to train.

  During the month of their march toward the mountain passes where the pavilions of the sect were located, the Moon army ended up having to fight several battles. But these battles were more like playful squabbles between children.

  Apparently, not all of the soldiers and generals had a strong desire to stop the army from bypassing their cities, trade routes and villages. With every week that passed, the news of their advance spread further into the interior of the country.

  Carts loaded with warm blankets, clothing, and food would often be sent to the army. Sometimes, they even received military assistance. Every time this happened, Hadjar thought about his native Lidus.

  Did Primus understand that this exact same thing could happen to him? That his own subjects could end up helping invaders to rid themselves of him and his oppressive regime.

  Finally, they reached the numerous villages lying at the foot of the mountain range. The mountain range was completely black, which was where the sect had gotten its name from. It was as black as the soul of the worst sinner to have ever fallen into the abyss.