[Chapter Size: 4200 Words.]

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Thrid Person POV

Yi-Ti, 297 AC.

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The chaos on the battlefield was deafening at this moment. Flames burned in amethyst tones as men dressed in brown armor screamed in terror, desperately trying to contain the enemy. But they were too numerous, breaking through the defenses and starting to invade the army.

The worst was yet to come, as the ground began to tremble with the arrival of a row of giants in armor. Any arrows shot at them were stopped by their impenetrable armor. Soldiers wondered how these beings could even move under all that metal as they charged forward, raising their giant swords and cutting several men in half with a single swing, advancing relentlessly.

Right behind them came dwarves mounted on small animals, wielding hammers and crushing the skulls of their enemies without hesitation. Soldiers in the same armor, bearing the symbol of Ártica, followed swiftly, using their swords and shields to bring defeat to the enemy, cutting down anyone in their way without difficulty.

The opposing army descended into despair. It was not just the Articans facing the Mongols; samurai also led the people of Yi-Ti in four giant groups, advancing alongside the foreign allies across the battlefield. Even without the strength of Ártica’s armor or weapons, the samurai contributed with numbers and determination, strengthening the combat lines.

This continued for some time. The Mongols tried to fight back, but repeated defeats over the past moons had already weakened them. They were now only a shadow of the force they had been when they decided to invade Yi-Ti. Eventually, their army collapsed, and the survivors began fleeing eastward. Some men gave chase but ultimately allowed them to escape.

“It seems it’s over, Lord Shimura,” murmured Kin’emon beside him, his armor stained with blood. He elegantly sheathed his sword and sighed as he watched the remnants of the enemy army flee.

“Yes, we’ve finished our battle with a crushing victory,” Shimura replied, his disgust evident. “But there’s no sign of Khotun Khan. The coward still hides, along with Prince Momonosuke, held hostage.”

The men around them began clearing the battlefield, celebrating loudly. Giants at the front surrendered captured enemies, while Artican commanders led their troops across the bloody field.

In the center of the chaos, Jon Artica stood, cleaning his bloodied blades and listening to his men’s reports about the fight.

Lord Shimura watched Jon from a distance. He didn’t quite know how to define the foreigner who had initially come only to trade his goods but was now fighting alongside Yi-Ti, completely altering the course of the war. Since Jon had rescued the people of the province, he had proven to be an unparalleled warrior and an even greater commander. His blade skills were exceptional, but his ability to lead armies was even more remarkable. It was strange that the Shogun had granted this foreigner permission to lead the entire Yi-Ti army.

But now, Shimura recognized that Jon was not just an exceptional commander; he was a natural-born strategist. His ability to organize troops and plan battles seemed flawless, bringing victories even under seemingly unfavorable conditions. It was as if he could foresee the enemy’s moves before they happened, turning difficult battles into stunning triumphs.

The region’s inhabitants, as well as the soldiers themselves, had already given Jon many nicknames. He was called “Ōkuchi no Makami” and “Fuhai-Ō,” but there were also more mystical rumors. Many claimed he controlled wild animals, with his eyes constantly fixed on his enemies.

Lord Shimura, though initially skeptical, no longer doubted it. He watched the eagles flying in the sky, theorizing that Jon could intercept any enemy advance during the fight by having an aerial view of the battlefield and finding weaknesses in their defenses. His men, highly trained for this, responded to his shouted orders with precision.

Shifting his gaze from the eagles in the sky, he saw the giant wolves, bloodied, wandering the battlefield without attacking anyone else. It was as if they were waiting for orders from the King of Ártica himself.

“Let’s go,” murmured Kin’emon beside him, observing the battlefield. He knew that many doubted the powers of the foreigner Jon Artica, but he didn’t care. Perhaps, to Kin’emon, Jon really could control animals or use sorcery as some claimed, but one thing was certain: he was liberating the people of Yi-Ti from their current crisis. That was all that mattered.

The two samurai approached as Jon finished listening to the report.

“Understood. I want the troops reorganized after the area is cleared. Send groups to nearby villages and eliminate any Mongols in the area. I’ll guide them once they arrive,” Jon ordered. The man nodded and left quickly, leaving Jon free to turn to the two nobles approaching him.

All three wore samurai armor, but Jon’s was unique: made of Valyrian steel, it was a singular piece in the entire world.

“It seems we’ve won another battle, my lords. We’re cornering the enemy. Soon, he’ll have nowhere left to run,” Jon said as he looked around, observing the men shouting and celebrating.

“Yes, but we still need to capture Prince Momonosuke from Khotun Khan,” Shimura replied thoughtfully.

“That won’t be a problem much longer…” murmured Kin’emon confidently, as other samurai from different provinces, under the Shogun’s command, began to gather with them.

“Well, let’s return and discuss the next steps in the main tent,” Jon suggested. Everyone agreed and began leaving the battlefield, leaving the soldiers to handle cleaning the area and burning the enemy bodies.

They proceeded to the main camp, where a meeting was convened with the principal leaders: the four samurai commanders of their provinces, Jon Artica, his royal guards, as well as Artican commanders and a few Yi-Ti nobles. The atmosphere was tense, with everyone bloodied but focused.

“We have the last strategic point to trap them. They’re trying to maintain a siege at Higashi Fortress. We can’t miss this opportunity; otherwise, they’ll retreat to the north, and that will become a major problem. If the prince is still there, they’ll likely use him as a bargaining chip. We need to act before that happens, and I have a plan,” Jon declared.

The discussion continued, with each contributing to the plan. This could be the unique opportunity to defeat Khotun Khan and rescue the prince. In the end, Jon presented his final strategy, which was accepted without question. Until that point, his plans had been flawless, always leading to success with a 100% rate. It was no wonder he had recently become known as the “Warlord.”

When the meeting ended, Jon left accompanied by his royal guard, heading to his personal tent. Ghost was absent, as he was assisting the Artican men heading to nearby villages.

As he approached his tent, Jon could see that, even in his absence, the location remained heavily guarded by royal guards. The protection persisted, even when he was out fighting in the war.

He greeted the guards and entered alone. The richly decorated interior had everything a king would need. Spotting the ready bath, he moved toward it and began removing his bloodied armor.

“I heard you had a crushing victory in this battle. Let me help you with that,” a feminine voice echoed inside the tent.

Jon turned his face, noticing the woman who had been sitting and reading a book when he entered. She stood and walked toward him with a concerned look, searching for any injuries amidst all the blood.

“Yes, we’re finally ending this war. Soon, we’ll be heading home,” Jon said as she placed her fingers on parts of the armor he couldn’t easily reach, loosening it. She began to dismantle it skillfully, as if she had done this many times before.

“Are you hurt?” she asked.

“No, just a few scratches from fighting dozens of men, but the armor protected me well,” Jon replied as he removed the last pieces of armor and stepped into the bath, sitting in the water and relaxing.

The woman left the armor on the floor for others to collect later and approached him, crouching beside the bath. “Let me help you clean up,” she said, picking up a sponge with a special Artican cleaning product. Lathering it, she began washing Jon’s body. He closed his eyes, relaxing under her touch.

“When you talk about going home, I still wonder what Ártica is like. I try to dream of it, but dreams have become so much harder… after the first ones,” the woman said with a small, sad smile.

“I could talk endlessly about Ártica, as I have so many times before with you… and still, I wouldn’t be able to describe it perfectly,” Jon replied, gazing at the candles in the tent while feeling the sponge and the woman’s hands cleaning his body, removing the sweat and blood left from the battle.

“You miss home, don’t you?” the woman asked softly.

“Yes. We’ve been away from home for a long time. I want to return soon, and it finally feels like that moment is getting closer,” Jon replied, his voice calm as he relaxed in silence. The woman continued cleaning him carefully.

When she finished, Jon stood up, leaving the bath behind. He put on a light tunic for sleeping and turned his gaze toward the closed entrance of the tent. It was already nightfall, and through the eyes of distant animals, especially Ghost, he saw his men storming villages still occupied by Mongols. The enemy, trying to flee after their defeat, was quickly struck down, while the villagers—abused and oppressed—were being organized and aided.

“It’s almost over,” Jon murmured to himself.

“Why are you talking to yourself? How about coming to bed now? I’m waiting for you,” the woman called, breaking Jon’s train of thought. He looked at her standing by the bed, gazing at him intensely. Moving her hands to the straps of her dress, she let it fall to her feet, revealing her bare body.

Jon couldn’t deny the desire he felt upon seeing her. After an intense battle, all he wanted was to ease the weight on his shoulders and find comfort in the warmth of a woman. He accepted her invitation without resistance and approached her. As he drew near, he felt the heat of her lips and took her in his arms, laying her onto the bed. She surrendered to him completely, and the two spent hours together, consumed by their passion and carnal desire.

They paused briefly for dinner but soon returned to losing themselves in each other’s arms. They allowed no interruptions for the rest of the night. While soldiers celebrated victory throughout the military camp, Jon remained in that tent, listening to the Valyrian woman’s moans in his ear.

The following morning, Jon woke up with her in his arms, their bodies intertwined. She noticed his movement, opened her eyes, and turned her face toward him with a smile.

“Good morning, Jon,” she murmured.

“Good morning, Dani,” Jon replied, returning her smile.

He had found his relationship with his aunt Daenerys unusual at first, despite harboring unspoken desires for her. But during the campaign in the south, after she began accompanying him in the Yi-Ti war, everything changed.

She initially claimed she just wanted to be near him. Jon had been reluctant and wanted to leave her in a safe place with his other wives—after all, the battlefield was no place for a lady. But after her insistence and her promise to return to Yin after some time, he gave in. Jon couldn’t remember exactly how it happened, but after coming back from a battle, exhausted, she managed to seduce him. He was euphoric from victory, and the desire in her eyes left him vulnerable. She wore only a simple dress, which she allowed him to remove without resistance—she wanted this. Jon took her virginity that day.

Since then, Jon had shared his intimacy solely with her. Their relationship became discreet but obvious to some, particularly those who knew who she truly was. Arya, also involved in the army, suspected something but said nothing.

Jon kept Daenerys traveling with him, provided she stayed in the tent and didn’t interfere in military matters. To avoid complications, she used moon tea to prevent pregnancy—a precaution Jon insisted on. He didn’t want his aunt to bear his child amidst a war; that would wait for Ártica. He had already committed to marrying her on the first night they were together. She agreed to the arrangement without hesitation.

Now, that morning, as their mutual desire lingered, Jon spoke again. “Let’s have breakfast first before my meeting to move the troops,” he said, rising from the bed.

They ordered breakfast, and soon a plate was brought in. During the meal, Daenerys laughed at some of the stories Jon shared about his travels in the days leading up to yesterday’s battle.

Arya entered the tent at that moment. “You’re awake,” she murmured, looking at the two with a suspicious air. She sighed, as though already knowing what was happening. Arya’s gaze lingered intensely on Daenerys, far more than usual, but no one said anything.

“Good morning. Would you like to join us?” Jon asked, looking at her with calm and good humor.

“No, I’ve already eaten. I came here to let you know that the leaders are waiting for you to start moving the army,” she replied.

Jon nodded. “Well, I’ll be on my way then.” He stood up, and Dany followed suit. Jon approached her and gave her a kiss on the forehead, a gesture he often made, ignoring Arya’s sharp gaze. They left the tent together, with Daenerys staying behind.

“You’re sleeping with your whole family…” Arya muttered as she walked beside Jon.

“It happened… well, it doesn’t matter anymore,” Jon shrugged, wondering why Arya had been so bothered by Daenerys lately.

Jon walked through the camp until he reached the command tent, where the leaders were already waiting for him. There, they began discussing the next steps for moving the army toward the last strategic point, Higashi Fortress, located near the northern border.

The army soon began to mobilize, as Artican men cleaned the king’s armor before his departure and dismantled the tent. Daenerys, using a veil to hide her face, traveled in a wagon.

Thus, thousands of men advanced toward the final confrontation.

Meanwhile, Prince Momonosuke didn’t quite know what to make of the events of the past moons as he sat in his cell at Higashi Fortress. He had noticed the Mongols becoming increasingly agitated over the days and weeks, without understanding why.

Abruptly, they began moving him from his cell, taking him out of Kaneda Castle and transporting him in wagons. Since then, he hadn’t even known where he was, as the Mongols kept relocating him from one prison to another without offering any explanation. Despite being a prisoner, he could sense they were heading further east, and the apparent desperation among the Mongols surprised him.

After some time, Momonosuke learned that Yi-Ti had finally retaliated, starting to drive out the Mongols by defeating their forces and advancing toward the central province. This news filled him with joy, and he fervently wished for the complete destruction of his captors.

In the north, however, he knew the situation was different. It was the only point preventing Yi-Ti’s soldiers from advancing against the rest of the enemy army. Khotun Khan rarely visited him anymore, appearing only occasionally. To Khan, Momonosuke was a nuisance, but he couldn’t kill him—Momonosuke was still a bargaining chip.

Momonosuke knew little of the events unfolding. The Mongols avoided mentioning anything in his presence or that of the other prisoners. He only knew that a foreigner was involved, but the details were kept secret, or perhaps no one wanted to tell him.

Now, back in Higashi Fortress, he felt a growing anxiety.

“We’ll finally leave here tomorrow. We’ll escape this cursed land and return home…” one guard said to another near the prince’s cell.

“Yes… I heard they’re about a week behind us. We’ll flee once Lord Khotun Khan has sent part of the army to delay them…” the other replied, unaware that the prince was listening. Moments later, they shut the door, leaving the place completely silent once again.

“Damn… will I have to go to the north… to the Mongol Empire?” he muttered to himself, feeling a pang of shame.

If their escape plan was true, he feared what might happen if he remained a prisoner in enemy territory. Being used as a weapon against his father and Yi-Ti would be a fate worse than death.

As he stared at the ground, lost in thought, he suddenly felt something unusual. Lifting his head, he noticed a disturbing silence enveloping the area. Though he was the only prisoner there, the eerie stillness felt unnatural. He strained to hear something, anything, but no sound reached his ears.

His gaze fell on one of the windows in the room, where he could see the dark sky. Suddenly, a red glow emanated from outside, like flames illuminating the exterior of the castle.

Then, out of nowhere, screams shattered the silence outside. He began to wonder what was happening as chaos seemed to take over the fortress. He started hearing the clash of metal and the cries of more and more men.

Men began running down the prison corridors, flinging the door open and rushing toward his cell. They tried to unlock it in a hurry, their desperation evident. Though the prince didn’t know exactly what was happening, it became clear the fortress was being invaded somehow, filling him with hope.

But then, as Momonosuke watched the men shouting and fumbling to unlock the cells, their attention shifted to the corridor. Their faces turned to sheer terror as giant wolves appeared seemingly out of nowhere. The beasts attacked without hesitation, slaughtering the men with ferocity. Their screams echoed as the Mongols attempted to fend off the creatures, to no avail.

The prince backed away from the bars, watching in terrified awe as the wolves killed every last man. He stood frozen, his mind unable to comprehend what he was seeing. The wolves, towering at nearly one and a half to two meters in height, stood motionless in front of his cell. It was a horrifying sight.

The wolves stopped moving after the slaughter and fell into silence. Then, footsteps echoed down the corridor until a familiar figure appeared before his cell. It was Lord Kin’emon of Yin, accompanied by a strange man, clearly a foreigner. His lack of Yi-Ti’s characteristic almond-shaped eyes and the strange green circles within them marked him as an outsider. His striking armor and an unfamiliar emblem on his chest further set him apart.

“Prince Momonosuke!” Kin’emon murmured, relief evident in his voice.

“Lord Kin’emon! What’s happening?” Momonosuke asked, stunned, his surprise only growing at the sight of the unknown man beside him.

“We’re here to rescue you. We’ve infiltrated Higashi Fortress, and we’re getting you out,” Kin’emon replied. The stranger remained silent.

The man glanced at the wolves, which began to move again. They turned toward the prison door and vanished into the corridor. Watching them disappear sent a chill through Momonosuke. Everything felt surreal, but he said nothing.

“Let’s go. The wolves have cleared the way,” the stranger said calmly, leading the way forward. Kin’emon followed without question, keeping the prince close, helping him out of the cell as Momonosuke struggled to walk. They moved through the fortress corridors until they finally emerged outside, the stranger guiding them with unerring precision.

Momonosuke was taken aback by the scene before him. Outside the fortress, thousands of soldiers clashed in battle, with flames casting an eerie light on the chaos.

“What’s happening?” he murmured, visibly shaken.

“We’re destroying the last Mongol stronghold in Yi-Ti, Prince. We’ve defeated them, and now, with your rescue, we will restore the Empire to its former glory,” Kin’emon replied, carrying the prince over his shoulder as they moved through the chaos.

The stranger continued to lead the way through the fortress, seeming to know every detail of its layout. After some time, they stopped in a more open area. There, several men wearing armor with the same emblem as the stranger were gathered, holding their position.

In front of them stood another group, led by none other than Khotun Khan himself. The Mongol leader stood silently, waiting, his expression dark and brooding.

“I want three of you to escort the Prince of Yi-Ti out. The path is clear,” Jon instructed his men.

“Jon Artica, are you going to fight Khotun Khan?” Kin’emon murmured in disbelief. Even Lord Shimura, who had arrived at the scene, looked at Jon with concern.

“Yes. I’ll end this now, while you take the prince to safety. The victory is already ours,” Jon replied indifferently, shrugging as he walked past his men. Without hesitation, he advanced toward Khotun Khan, who had been waiting all along, as demanded before Jon went to rescue the prince with Kin’emon.

“So, you’ve accepted my challenge,” said Khotun Khan, a massive man, larger than Jon, holding a spear in his hands. His voice was laced with sarcasm and disdain.

Cornered, Khotun had proposed a duel: single combat. If he won, he demanded to be escorted out of Yi-Ti safely. Lord Shimura hesitated, and Kin’emon disliked the idea but left with the prince and the royal guards.

“Commander, you shouldn’t accept his challenge. He’s a coward!” Shimura declared indignantly. “I remember the first time he came to our country. One of our samurai challenged him, and he simply set him on fire before he could react. It’s not worth fighting this man.”

Jon merely shook his head, confident. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll handle him,” he replied, fully aware that Khotun Khan might use dirty tricks but undeterred.

Silence fell over the area. Everyone stepped back, leaving a clear space for the duel. Meanwhile, Kin’emon and the Artican guards escorted Momonosuke out of the fortress through the gate. The prince couldn’t see how the fight ended, but something in Jon’s gaze indicated that the outcome was already decided. Kin’emon and the royal guards trusted Jon to win, though the prince glanced back with lingering questions that would remain unanswered for now.

Jon faced his enemy for a moment, and Khotun Khan stared back into his eyes.

“You’ve caused us much trouble here, foreigner. At least I’ll take you to your death. You’ll regret ever coming to these lands,” Khotun said with a malicious smile.

Jon stood his ground, silent, as the Mongol leader remained in place, his soldiers watching and waiting for the fight to begin.

Without warning, Khotun grabbed a vial of oil from his belt and threw it to the ground, spreading it around himself and Jon. Quickly, he ignited the oil with two special stones, causing an explosion of flames. He was prepared to die but intended to take the foreign king—who had caused so many problems for the Mongols—with him.

Khotun understood that Jon was behind the strategies that had crushed his forces. His name was already known and feared even within the Mongol Empire, and the mere mention of him demoralized enemy armies. Khotun hoped that, with Jon eliminated, the Great Khan could regain control of Yi-Ti.

“Jon Artica!” Lord Shimura shouted as the flames began to spread, engulfing both Jon and Khotun in the Mongol’s underhanded ploy. It was a cowardly move, and Khotun Khan seemed willing to sacrifice his own life to kill the foreign king. He had no other way out—his army was defeated, and this was his final stand.

The fire spread rapidly, and Khotun, confident in his victory, began to scream in pain as his skin burned. Desperate, he swallowed poison to hasten his death. What he didn’t expect was the absence of screams from the other side. Instead, he heard steady footsteps approaching through the flames. Before he could react, his head was severed in a single strike by a katana that gleamed through the fire, forged of Valyrian steel.

“It’s a shame I have to give you a quick death, but I still need your head intact and not burned,” Jon remarked, holding Khotun Khan’s severed head by the hair. Despite his legs being engulfed in flames, Jon seemed unfazed. After all, he was a dragon.

Jon emerged from the fire, carrying Khotun Khan’s head. The flames licked at his armor, but he showed no sign of pain.

“It seems it’s over. Can someone at least throw some water on me?” Jon said calmly.

One of his men quickly responded, dousing him with water. Lord Shimura, stunned, watched Jon. He was still trying to process what he had just witnessed. Jon had displayed an ability never before revealed, something beyond common understanding—no one could resist fire like that.

Meanwhile, on the battlefield, the Mongols were being slaughtered, with only a few managing to flee. The fight was over. The invaders’ leader was dead, and the remaining soldiers simply dropped their weapons, acknowledging defeat.

Thus, the eastern province was fully liberated, with Jon Artica claiming yet another victory in his growing legend, far from his homeland.

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