[Chapter Size: 3400 Words.]

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Thrid Person POV

Yi-Ti, 296 AC.

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Many days had passed since Jon had last been in Yin, waiting for a response from the man who ruled Yi-Ti. However, that changed today, as the reply finally arrived, with Lord Kin’emon coming aboard Jon’s ship personally.

Jon invited him in without hesitation, as it was not Kin’emon’s first time there. Over the past week, he had become familiar with the Articans, entering the cabin and finding Jon and his family.

“It’s good to see you, Lord Kin’emon,” Jon said calmly as the man nodded and greeted them.

“It’s good to see you again, Arctic King. Queens, and Ladies,” he addressed them all, while Jon kept his guard standing behind him as always. Kin’emon’s gaze swept over the guards and Jon’s wives—Queen Rhaenys, who held the king’s son in her lap, alongside Lady Daenerys. Not to mention the creatures surrounding their feet, a sight that made Kin’emon swallow hard upon seeing the numerous baby dragons among the Artican group.

He didn’t quite know how to feel about the creatures. He had only believed in legends from long ago, with some traces of dragons rumored to have existed in the lands of the setting sun centuries earlier. Yet, nothing had been mentioned since—until now. Here stood more than ten dragons, and the Arctic King had confirmed that he was descended from dragonlords, which explained why such creatures stayed loyally at their feet.

“Please, follow me. I understand you’ve received a letter from the capital,” Jon said. Kin’emon didn’t know what to make of it; this mysterious king seemed to have an uncanny ability to know everything happening around him. Kin’emon often wondered if Jon was some kind of sorcerer. However, he still regarded him as a friend since Jon had shown nothing to indicate otherwise. If Kin’emon had to rewrite his letter to the Shogun, he would describe how much he admired Jon’s personality, his peculiar abilities, and his masterful skills with blades. Not to mention his incredible armor, unmatched in Yin, and—above all—how he had transformed Yin with his food, eliminating hunger with abundant supplies that lasted for months. Kin’emon would firmly recommend that the Shogun negotiate with the Articans.

The two men walked to Jon’s cabin, where only the two of them were present. Jon sat behind his desk, and Kin’emon followed suit, taking a seat.

“You are correct about the letter, King Jon,” Kin’emon said, placing the scroll on the table. “The Shogun, Oden-sama, has authorized your entry into the empire, but he wishes to negotiate with you personally in the capital.”

Jon nodded. “That is excellent. I have a gift that your Shogun will greatly appreciate,” he said calmly.

Kin’emon, nodding, didn’t ask for details but felt confident Jon would present something remarkable to foster friendship between the Arctic Kingdom and the Yi-Ti Empire.

“Will you accompany me, Lord Kin’emon?” Jon asked.

Kin’emon shook his head. “I cannot, as I must tend to Yin. However, I will assign trusted men—other noble samurai—to act as guides under your leadership,” he replied.

Jon nodded, and the two began discussing many topics, from how the Artican food was being distributed in the city to other logistical concerns. When their meeting concluded, Jon escorted Lord Kin’emon to the ship’s exit. They discussed a few final matters and bid each other farewell.

Jon sighed as he watched Lord Kin’emon depart, then swiftly summoned his family for a discussion.

“I will leave in two days. I plan to head to the capital, and I would like Rhaenys and Ygritte to stay behind,” Jon announced.

Rhaenys didn’t object, but Ygritte seemed less than pleased. Nevertheless, she eventually nodded, understanding that she might hinder Jon more than help.

“May I go?” Daenerys asked. She rarely traveled, having visited Yin only once with Jon, still haunted by memories of what had happened in Myr.

“You know your dragon cannot be brought along, don’t you?” Jon replied.

She nodded. “It won’t be for many days, will it? He can stay with his siblings,” she said, and Jon agreed.

“All right,” he said and turned to Arya, who was staring at him.

“You don’t even need to ask,” she said, and he nodded.

“Be ready to leave in two days. I’ll need additional men here, so I’ll request 2,000 Articans to accompany us from the fleet, as I don’t trust a country in the midst of war,” Jon said. The conversation continued for a while before he left his room and headed to a larger hall where a sort of council was held.

Here, they discussed many matters, including the fleet’s next moves and other pressing issues. In the end, Jon gathered his two ministers, members of the royal guard, and the ship’s captain, outlining the steps ahead.

“I want everyone prepared to depart. Send my request to the fleet and have 50 more ships stationed at the port of Yin,” Jon instructed, and the captain nodded.

Over the next two days, Jon spent time with his family, visiting Lord Kin’emon’s mansion to train and learn more about the culture. His reputation in the city had captivated the entire population. He was called the “Legendary Foreigner,” whether for the food he sold, his fencing skills—which were said to rival a legendary figure from the past—or simply his presence. Wherever Jon went, countless young people in Yin sought to become his apprentices. Even samurai lords requested Jon to train their sons, though he had no way to accept such requests and often had to decline or ignore them.

A remarkable event caught the city’s attention: the creation of an armor, forged by a man who worked tirelessly for over 36 hours without rest. The city began to speak of Jon with reverence, giving him titles such as Densetsu no Yaiba—the Blade of Legends in their language; Kashin—Heart of Fire; Kajikon—Spirit of the Forge; and Hoshinushi—Lord of the Stars, likening him to a guiding beacon.

Rumors also swirled about his wolf, who roamed the ship’s deck and even accompanied Jon aboard his vessel. Over the past few days, the wolf had earned a new nickname that began with murmurs but soon spread widely: Ōkuchi no Makami, the Great White Wolf Protector—a legendary guardian wolf of Yi-Ti. This arose because Jon had stocked the city’s granaries, was the fastest swordsman they had ever seen, and had a giant white wolf as his companion. Jon himself didn’t fully understand why they referred to him this way.

Finally, two days passed, and the Artican ships appeared on the horizon. All eyes in the city turned to the port, admiring the impressive foreign fleet. A day before their departure, 50 of the 100 Artican ships docked and began preparations.

Without surprise, after bidding farewell to his family, Jon mounted his wolf. The great beast was fully armored in Eldenmetal, its design neither restricting its movements nor causing discomfort. Jon sat atop the wolf as it descended from the ship, with Arya and the royal guards following closely behind.

The city came to a halt, its inhabitants mesmerized by a scene they never thought they’d witness: the Arctic King parading through their streets on his armored wolf, heading toward the northern city gate. He was accompanied by 2,500 men, including 500 dwarves and 200 giants, with many carts in tow.

The last of the group eventually passed through as Jon led the way. At a certain distance from the city, they marched through fields, startling travelers along the way. Mistaking them for enemies of the empire, many fled at the sight. This pattern continued for three days, with steady marching and camps set up in open spaces—a task made easier by the abundance of grazing land in the region, where farmers raised cattle.

Jon was in his tent at this moment, studying a map of Yi-Ti, marking various points on it.

“My king… any sign of the enemy?” a royal guard asked, approaching Jon, whose eyes remained fixed on the map.

“Yes…” Jon replied in a calm tone. “They are trailing us…”

“Wouldn’t that be bad?” the royal guard asked, her voice tinged with concern. Her name was Jirna. Among the 100 royal guards, a few were women who had proven their worth, and Jirna was one of them. She often spoke directly with the king on many occasions. She was a striking woman with black hair and eyes, tall and strong. Jon valued her strength and dedication to protecting him and his family, and he trusted her implicitly. She had been assigned to lead and organize this expedition.

Jon was still studying the map when his eyes shifted to her, clad in full armor.

“Don’t worry. The enemy has 10,000 men crossing the eastern mountains. I’ve been monitoring them since I began investigating the entire empire,” Jon said. He had quickly deployed animals to survey the entire Yi-Ti empire, gathering intelligence. In just a week, he had established a royal information network throughout the kingdom. He knew exactly what was happening in every province, including the Mongols to the east and Khotun Khan’s attempts to trap him by positioning a large number of men in that province.

“What are those 10,000 men like, my king?” Jirna asked cautiously.

“Nothing remarkable. They’re in simple clothing, unable to cross the mountains easily and forced to leave most of their equipment behind. Though they’ve had trouble with basilisks, they managed to cross without significant losses and are now trying to catch up with us from behind,” Jon explained. His tone, however, revealed his lack of concern. He regarded them as little more than a nuisance.

Jon had known about their plans since leaving Yin and was confident his 2,500 men could handle them with ease. It was unfortunate that he couldn’t control the mountain animals due to the distance; otherwise, he could have dealt with most of them without anyone knowing. Still, they were here, and Jon would have to confront them soon.

“If you say they’re no threat, I trust you, my king,” Jirna said, and Jon nodded.

He returned his focus to the map, marking the positions of various armies and their possible movements. Eventually, he set the map aside, deciding to eat something with his men. It was night, and he stepped out, finding the Articans gathered in groups around several campfires. Jon headed toward Arya, who was seated with a group of royal guards.

“The king has arrived! Will we be blessed with your music tonight?” Tormund, ever bold, shouted upon seeing Jon approach without his armor.

“Tsk. I might consider it, my loyal subject,” Jon retorted, moving to sit beside Arya, who laughed. He grabbed some food as a servant handed him a plate, settling in front of the fire.

He ate quietly as his wolf emerged from the tent a short while later. Ghost stretched his massive six-meter frame behind Jon, drawing admiring and reverent glances from the samurai accompanying them.

“Bring me a lute or a guitar,” Jon requested, the latter being an instrument he had introduced to Artica in recent years.

“Of course, an instrument for the king!” the men shouted, quickly retrieving one for him. Jon began to play, drawing a crowd eager to hear what he would perform for them tonight.

Jon held the guitar, already tuned, and plucked the strings. A melody emerged, followed by his voice.

“In the lands of the setting sun, where shadows dance on the ground,

Steel meets flame, forged in ambition profound.

Under war-torn skies, we swear never to yield,

And in the darkest night, we are what remains… of might revealed,

Facing the monsters…” Jon began, his music continuing.

“Monsters…”

A trembling voice broke the rhythm—a man’s voice, neither Artican nor from Yi-Ti. His eyes widened as he stared ahead. Around him, men screamed in terror and agony.

Green flames engulfed the battlefield, consuming everything. Massive arrows soared through the air, striking down soldiers indiscriminately. Fear gripped him—it was a feeling he could never forget.

This was one of the men responsible for leading their expedition through the mountains. Until a few days ago, he had been confident he could handle a group of men, especially with the intelligence that said the enemy numbered only 2,500. A strange letter had reached him, claiming to come from a traitor within the empire. He had followed its guidance, unaware that it was Jon himself who had orchestrated the entire situation, manipulating his every move and positioning the 10,000 men precisely where he wanted them to end the threat in one decisive blow.

Jon had achieved this using the vast network of eyes and ears he had scattered throughout the empire, granting him unparalleled information. Though a foreigner with 20,000 men, Jon had already become the most dangerous man in Yi-Ti. He could send messages via birds to anyone, fluently speaking both the Mongolian and Yi-Ti languages—skills he had acquired in Artica during his early years.

Now, the Mongolian commander had fallen to his knees, clutching the scorched, blood-stained ground. His mind raced in frantic circles as he stared at the chaos before him, unable to comprehend how they had fallen into such a catastrophe.

He had believed, with absolute certainty, that his strategy was flawless. Defeating a group four times smaller than his own should have been no challenge.

“We crossed the mountains…” he murmured, his voice so faint it was nearly drowned out by the roaring green flames and the screams of his men. “We left behind our heavy bows, our armor, our larger spears—all to move quickly.”

He remembered the heated discussions with his superiors before the campaign. Crossing the mountains had been a risky decision, but it seemed like the perfect tactical move. They would attack the Artican foreigners from behind, capture their leaders or perhaps even important women belonging to their foreign king. A precise strike that would shatter any negotiations with Yi-Ti.

But now… what lay before him was not an ordinary enemy. They were monsters.

Giants, clad in green armor, roamed the battlefield like living nightmares. Each swing of their colossal weapons cut down or crushed dozens of men, carving a bloody path through the Mongol army.

Around them, arrows tipped with wildfire rained down before exploding, turning the field into an emerald inferno.

The Artican dwarves, nimble and tireless, operated siege weapons that looked too advanced to have been crafted by human hands. Every projectile they launched exploded with terrifying force, shaking the ground. One of their machines spun through the air, deflecting all incoming arrows before shredding the Mongolian archers themselves.

Once the giants—standing over four meters tall—had cleared a path, the Artican soldiers advanced. Men and women, clad in gleaming armor and wielding swords, fought with deadly precision. They cut down the Mongols one by one, their skills far surpassing those of the average warrior.

It didn’t take long for the slaughter to break the morale of the once-proud army of 10,000. Panic set in, and despair followed.

“This shouldn’t be happening…” the kneeling man murmured, tears streaming down his face as the screams of his men echoed around him. “How…”

Suddenly, a massive impact struck the ground near him. He was one of the last standing men, still clinging to his role as commander, but the battlefield had devolved into a chaotic hell. He no longer had control—he had even given up trying.

The object that landed near him was a giant arrow with a cylindrical attachment, its fuse burning down.

He barely had time to react before it exploded. The blast engulfed everyone around him, sparing no one. The heat scorched his skin as he was hurled backward, rolling across the ground. The unbearable pain from the searing heat was more than human flesh could endure.

As he lay there, his body broken and burned, he stopped caring about the agony. All he wanted now was to die.

But his eyes remained fixed on the green flames still burning ahead of him. Even through the pain, he couldn’t look away when a figure emerged from the curtain of fire.

It was a man clad in samurai armor—brighter and more magnificent than any he had ever seen. Following closely behind him was a giant white wolf, a monstrous creature also clad in armor like the man. The wolf moved purposefully, searching for enemies to strike down.

“Monsters… They truly are monsters,” the Mongolian commander murmured. He saw the man, completely unbothered by his presence, sprint forward with an agility that no one wearing such armor should possess. The wolf followed its master closely, and the last thing the commander saw was the massive paws crushing him as the beast trailed behind the armored man, ending his life.

Jon had stopped staying behind his men and joined the fray himself. He cut down every enemy that dared to face him, wielding two katanas with deadly precision. His giant wolf fought alongside him, taking down foes with brutal efficiency. Nearby, a young woman in armor forged from Valyrian steel fought as well—Arya. Jon had crafted the armor specifically for her, and she wielded Dark Sister for the first time in a battle of this scale. She cut through enemies with ease, surrounded by royal guards who ensured nothing would happen to her.

Jon eventually broke away from the group, advancing further into the battlefield and cutting down enemy after enemy. By the end of the battle, they had killed over 8,000 Mongols, while the remaining 2,000 scattered, fleeing for their lives.

“It seems it’s over…” Jon remarked as he watched his men celebrate their overwhelming victory. Their losses were minimal, a testament to the strategy and preparation Jon had put into the fight. He returned to his wolf, whose jaws were still stained with blood from the lives it had claimed, standing protectively behind Jon throughout the battle.

“Let’s move on,” Jon commanded, beginning to regroup his men.

Before departing, he sent a letter back to Yin, warning that 2,000 Mongols were fleeing into the forests and could pose a threat to nearby villages and farms. He urged them to take precautions while he and his forces continued toward the capital.

The samurai accompanying the Articans now looked at Jon with a mixture of awe and fear. They had never seen anything like this before. While some disapproved of the use of wildfire in combat, they couldn’t deny its devastating and deadly effectiveness. They chose not to voice their opinions in front of the Articans, shaken by the sight of 2,500 men annihilating an army four times their size. The way Jon had anticipated the enemy’s movements and set his trap, waiting for them to fall like rats into a snare, was beyond anything they had ever witnessed. The mythical rumors surrounding Jon Artica only grew stronger.

At last, Jon ordered the group to resume their journey. However, he wasn’t willing to let the surviving enemies wreak havoc. Desperate and defeated, the Mongols could still resort to raiding and killing innocent Yi-Ti villagers. To prevent this, Jon left some of his giant wolves, along with other animals under his control, to hunt the fleeing soldiers.

The Artican group continued their march toward the capital, but for the surviving Mongols, the nightmare wasn’t over. In the following days, animals began hunting them down relentlessly. It became clear that the terror of the battlefield wouldn’t end until the last man was dead. Jon had spared none.

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Raccoon Here:

Importante about time-skip: I’m considering placing a time skip here or in the next chapter. I plan to skip ahead a few moons, rather than detailing Jon’s battle with the Mongols from start to finish. Instead, I’ll jump to the end of the battle, using flashbacks to summarize what happened. I believe the arc will flow better this way.

However, I’m unsure if I should dedicate an entire chapter to Jon meeting the emperor’s family or if I should incorporate those moments into reflective flashbacks within Jon’s thoughts.

For those wondering how long this arc will last, it will be quick, as there will be a timeskip, and it will conclude in chapter 200.

The Mongols can be described as the people of Jogos Nhai.

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