Chapter 73: "So tell me now! Submit, or die?!" |
.......
The next moment, the area where Deswen stood was suddenly bombarded by a rain of icy arrows.
The arrows fell like merciless scythes of death, descending with overwhelming force.
Deswen felt the air around him instantly solidify, the piercing cold threatening to freeze his very soul.
His eyes remained fixed on the incoming arrows, a wave of despair rising in his heart.
Yet just as the arrows were about to pierce his body,
the green enchanted runestone given to him by Deslar suddenly emitted a soft yet powerful emerald glow.
The light formed an invisible shield that instantly enveloped his entire being.
When the icy arrows collided with the green light, they shattered with crisp sounds, turning into powder before dissipating into the air.
But when he turned to survey his surroundings, his heart plunged into the abyss.
His soldiers—comrades who had fought alongside him—now lay fallen in pools of blood.
The relentless arrows had pierced their bodies, leaving behind terrifying ice shards and frost patterns.
Blood flowed briefly before freezing solid.
Their corpses lay scattered haphazardly across the ground, not a single survivor among them.
It was as if they had faced an unstoppable natural disaster.
Deswen's ears still echoed with their dying screams.
"No..." Deswen murmured.
He stared wide-eyed at Jonas floating in the air, as if gazing upon a deity.
Jonas hadn't been bluffing—against such magic, they stood no chance of resistance.
And the retreat path had been completely sealed.
Their entire army would truly perish here.
How could they possibly fight against such a being?
....
Jonas looked somewhat surprised at the green runestone.
He said coldly, "So this is your choice?
Deswen."
Deswen raised his head, eyes filled with fury and despair.
Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to remain composed: "Jonas.
The flames of our Destiny Army will never be extinguished! One day, we will return!
To die on the battlefield is the greatest honor for a Destiny soldier!"
Jonas sneered: "Flames? What do you think your soldiers' deaths will achieve?
Die on the battlefield?
How laughable!
Before me, there is no war—only one-sided slaughter. You are but insignificant ants crushed beneath my hand.
To die in battle is for warriors defending their homeland against enemies—each one a hero.
But you? You're just pointlessly dying by the hand of someone who could obliterate you with a flick of his wrist.
Your deaths are meaningless, worthless.
No one will remember you.
They'll only think you overestimated yourselves.
Pitiful creatures."
"...You!"
Jonas' cutting words left Deswen frozen in rage, speechless against such verbal assault.
With a snap of Jonas' fingers, another dense volley of icy arrows descended, weighing heavily on everyone's minds.
The carnage around Deswen made many soldiers take an involuntary step back.
In mere moments, over a thousand had perished!
The Destiny soldiers swallowed hard.
Now, any will to fight had vanished—only the urge to flee remained.
At this rate, the army would collapse at the slightest trigger.
Seeing this, Jonas knew the time was ripe.
"Warriors of Destiny, I ask you... why did you join Destiny?" Jonas' resonant voice carried clearly to every ear.
"You needn't answer. I know, and everyone knows.
The Empire you live under has systematically crushed your survival space through endless oppression and injustice!
The food you crave is priced beyond reach by noble profiteering!
No food means certain death."
Despite the crowd of thousands, complete silence fell. Every eye remained fixed on the floating Jonas, mesmerized.
He was voicing their exact thoughts.
"Meanwhile, nobles in imperial cities live in gilded castles.
Gorging on delicacies, drowning in wine and jewels, indulging in extravagant decadence.
This is what you envy... what you desperately crave.
Hoping that you, your families, and descendants could live such lives.
This is how Destiny formed—how it grew!"
Jonas' voice softened, speaking directly to their hearts.
Wasn't this precisely their deepest desire?
As slaves and lowborn, they'd suffered for generations—refusing to endure further, or let their descendants suffer.
Seeing their hesitation, Jonas shifted tone.
"The Destiny leader harbors ambitions to conquer Bostaya.
After using you, what have you gained?
What have your families gained?
Hah... just exchanging one oppressive regime for another.
You fight for yourselves, your families, descendants, and people.
If you die by my hand today, what do you gain?
Fame?
Honor?
Ridiculous...
What do you lose?
Your lives!
You may die fearlessly, but what of the reasons you joined Destiny?
When you perish, what becomes of your families and people?... You dare not imagine."
Jonas grinned.
"Then let me spell it out.
Your parents lose their future, their sole support.
Your widows will remarry, becoming others' wives.
Your children will endure abuse in strange households, perhaps even abandonment;
Suffering society's scorn with no protector.
And Destiny's so-called stronghold under my rule? You can imagine!
So... are you truly unafraid to die?"
In any era's warfare, appealing to family concerns proves most effective for surrender.
One might brave death, but can never abandon concern for loved ones.
Jonas' words struck deep, each syllable hammering their souls with amplified effect.
Immediately, unrest spread through Destiny's ranks.
Many faces showed tears, confusion, and terror.
....
Jonas continued:
"Killing you would be simplicity itself—I needn't waste words.
Yet I offer a choice.
A choice with a bright future."
Hovering above, his gaze swept across the wavering thousands.
Magically enlarged magic cards displayed images before them.
"See clearly.
In my territory, every laborer lives in stone-and-cement houses—walls thick against bitter cold, roofs of snow-proof asphalt shingles.
Winter brings peat fires in hearths, children gathering to roast potatoes!
"Land here isn't noble-owned. You farm allocated plots—keep two-thirds of harvests after giving one-third to the territory.
No overseers' whips driving you, no nobles stealing winter rations as 'taxes.'
Spring planting brings free seed and tools; autumn harvests, free milling.
Under Empire rule, could you dream of this?"
His voice lowered yet gained undeniable power:
"Your descendants won't be born inferior like you.
Schools welcome all children—farmer's son or blacksmith's daughter alike.
All may learn magic, swordsmanship...
Even become scholars or mages—
No futures stolen by 'low birth.'"
"Destiny promises 'overthrowing the Empire,' but have they shown you concrete tomorrows?
They peddle empty promises of 'glory' and 'sacrifice,' using your flesh to pave their ambition's path!
While I—"
"I offer reality you can see and touch!"
As his words faded, the collective breath of thousands formed a heavy hum.
The air held blood and frost, yet also carried faint but searing traces of... hope.
Jonas smiled: "
So now.
Tell me!
Submit, or die?!"
.....