Reincarnated Lord: I can upgrade everything!-Chapter 485: Slaughter

"Draw your swords!" the Awoken One roared, his voice booming across the ranks like a war drum. "You are the pride of House Nethaneel! We may not be immortals, but our steel is forged for moments such as this! Whatever comes, we stand firm! Brace yourselves, men!"

Shing! Shing! Shing!

Like a wave of silver light, blades were drawn in unison. Thousands of swords flashed beneath the filtered sunlight, and for a moment, the men’s hearts steeled. Their morale surged at their general’s defiance, until the forest before them parted.

Then they saw them.

Not the giants from their childhood tales, not the kind who stood merely a few feet taller than men.

No.

These were titans.

Real titans.

They stepped from the distance like walking fortresses, their armored forms blotting out the horizon. Towering twelve meters tall, a full two meters higher than the tallest Whitewood tree, they came in ranks, each one clad in black and steel plate, with thick pauldrons the size of wagon wheels and great helms crowned by long, ghostly white plumes.

Their footfalls shook the earth like hammers striking an anvil.

Neigh! Neighhh!

Panic seized the cavalry. Horses screamed, rearing and bucking wildly as their instincts overtook their training. Some knights clung tightly to the reins. Others were less fortunate, tossed aside like sacks of grain.

Some men fled. Yanking their steeds around, they galloped into the woods, leaving behind the discipline they were trained for. Fear shattered the line like glass.

"Cowards!" the Awoken One bellowed, turning in his saddle. "You’ll be exiled! Your families will face the sword! The rest of you stand your ground!"

But even as his threats echoed, more broke rank, terror outweighing loyalty. The titans were too much. Too vast. Too monstrous. Even those who tried to stay found their mounts slipping into panic, throwing them to the forest floor.

The Awoken One grit his teeth, trying to steady his own trembling steed. His gaze shot to the front, where the earth continued to quake.

The bushes rustled, then exploded outward.

In the next breath, hundreds of Minotaurs, wolves, and Werelions burst through the trees, thundering into the cavalry’s flanks like a flood of muscle and steel. Chaos erupted. Horses reared and screamed as the monstrous vanguard descended upon them with terrifying speed.

Titanium armour, once a symbol of pride and strength, crumpled like parchment under the weight of the assault.

In some cases, it folded inward, spearing the very men it was meant to protect. Others fared worse, cleaved cleanly in half alongside their mounts, their cries swallowed by the sound of splintering steel and breaking bones.

The Minotaurs were savagery incarnate, unleashed. Massive and wild, they rampaged through the knights, skewering horses on their horns and hurling the skewered bodies, creatures two or three times the size of a man, dozens of meters through the air.

Those who managed to exploit the small gaps in the Minotaurs’ armor found their reward short-lived, as the beasts bellowed and retaliated with twice the fury.

Then came the wolves.

Towering, intelligent, and clad in heavy armour, the wolves surged forward like a rolling tide. In synchronized motion, they raised their thick shields and locked them into a crescent formation, axes held firm in their other hands. They surrounded the cavalry in seconds, cutting off any path of escape.

Amid the slaughter, one man stood tall.

The Awoken One.

Steel hissed through the air as he fought at the heart of the carnage. A dozen bloodied corpses of Minotaurs and Werelions lay at his feet, their massive bodies quiet in the snow. He panted behind his helm, sweat soaking his collar, steam rising from his armour.

With a mighty step, he swung his greatsword in a wide arc, cleaving two charging Minotaurs down the middle, their blood spraying in thick arcs across the battlefield.

But then, something dropped from the sky.

Clang!

Steel struck steel.

The Awoken One staggered slightly, eyes narrowing behind his helm as his blade met another. Standing before him was a cloaked figure. Cold, snake and gray eyes stared back. It was Nero’s.

"A mere imperial," the Awoken One sneered, scoffing.

With a deep rumble, the ground beneath Nero shifted. Earth surged upward and encased his feet, trapping him in place. Seizing the moment, the Awoken One raised his sword for a decapitating strike.

But it never landed.

A clawed hand, huge and clad in a thick gauntlet, caught the blade mid-swing.

The Awoken One’s eyes widened.

Before him loomed a towering Minotaur clad in darkened steel, steam coiling from his nostrils like smoke from a furnace. The crimson rings in his eyes glowed brighter, burning like coals. Kaelor, the Minotaur King, had arrived.

With his other hand, Kaelor surged forward, gripping the Awoken One’s helmeted head. With terrifying ease, he tore it clean off, helmet and skull cracking like porcelain. The lifeless body slumped to the ground, armor clanging in the silence that followed.

Kaelor flung the severed head away and threw back his horns.

He roared.

It was a primal cry, long and deep, shaking trees and hearts alike. At his call, the Jotunn began to move faster, their thunderous steps shaking the frozen ground. They were not here for the cavalry.

Their eyes were set on the distant stronghold, a black silhouette perched atop a snow-laced hill beyond the plain.

Already, some of the fleeing cavalrymen had made it to the outskirts of the fortress, galloping toward it in panic, the storm of war hot on their heels.

....

One of the commanders, the very one who had once bellowed for Asher to come out of hiding, now gripped the reins of his horse with white-knuckled desperation as it thundered across the green plains, hooves tearing into the earth beneath.

Others followed, a scattered line of riders in the distance, but he was far ahead, panic giving his steed wings.

His heart pounded like a war drum, sweat streaming down his face and stinging his eyes. The wind tore at his cloak as he neared the fortress looming on the horizon.

"Close the gates!" he shouted hoarsely, voice raw with fear.

But no one moved.

The soldiers at the gate didn’t reach for the levers or shout in response. Instead, they stared past him, eyes wide, mouths parted.

Alarm crawled up his spine.

He twisted in the saddle and looked behind.

What he saw made his blood run cold.

This 𝓬ontent is taken from f(r)eeweb(n)ovel.𝒄𝒐𝙢