TGS - Chapter 147
Chapter 147: Stained
The Sanur King was a warrior, without a doubt.
A few years ago, even if the Sanur King couldn't have defeated Alyuin, he could have at least managed a clean retreat. But now—even the youngest of his ten sons was old enough for the battlefield.
Time is impartial; it spares no mortal.
It had left the Lord of Digebia aged and weary, and it had sent the foreign king into decline. Physical frailty was one thing, but the psychological toll was more significant.
The Princess's blade pursued him relentlessly, each strike aimed to kill.
His initial ambition gradually faded, replaced by a rising desire to retreat that he had suppressed in his heart. The Sanur King's face betrayed no fear; he appeared enraged, not yet pushed to his limit. But his movements did not lie—his saber spoke of his timidity.
Alyuin keenly sensed this change. Her eyes remained cold and sharp, but the corners of her lips slowly curled into a smirk of undisguised mockery.
"Clang—"
The longsword slashed down at an angle. The Sanur King hastily brought his saber up to block, gritting his teeth, unwilling to reveal his powerlessness.
Alyuin pressed her blade closer, an icy glint in her eyes concealing a flicker of madness. Bathed in blood, she looked all the more terrifying. "It's only been a few years..."
"Hamonge, you've long since ceased to be my match."
Hamonge was the Sanur King's name. He glared furiously, but he could indeed feel his strength failing him.
Veins bulged on the hand gripping his saber, trembling under the Solancian princess's power, as if it would give way at any moment.
"Damn you!"
Hamonge tried to kick her away to gain a moment to recover, but Alyuin spun nimbly aside.
"Of course..." Her longsword swung down, giving him no room to breathe. "You never were!"
Hamonge did not fall to that blow, but he was close. A fear deeper than his competitive spirit or his dignity as a Sanur warrior surged within him.
I'll die if this continues.
The scimitar he had barely managed to raise could be knocked from his grasp, and an unarmed man would be dead in the next instant. He couldn't turn and flee, either; the moment he showed his back, the princess would cut him down.
I am the king, Hamonge told himself.
To prevent the Sanur from losing their leader, I must not die here. This isn't fleeing; it's a strategic retreat—
But how could he break away from such an onslaught?
Just then, a color different from the black, silver, and reddish-brown of the battle entered the corner of his eye. It was the white of coarse linen, the common attire of Solancian civilians.
An herb gatherer lay on the ground. He had been lucky enough not to be trampled to death in the fighting, but his arms and legs were injured. He was struggling to crawl away from the battlefield on one hand and his knees.
Hamonge's eyes lit up.
Seizing the moment Alyuin ducked to evade an attack from a Sanur soldier behind her—and dispatched him with a backhand strike—Hamonge thrust his scimitar into the herb gatherer's back. He skewered the man on the tip of his blade and lifted him up like a human shield.
"Cover me! Retreat!" Hamonge yelled. "We're leaving—"
Hearing the command, the Sanur soldiers rushed to escort their king, even if it meant turning their backs on the Solancians they were fighting.
But in that brief instant, perhaps not even half a second, Alyuin charged forward without hesitation.
She didn't hesitate, as if she hadn't even seen the person he was holding up. Her sword flashed, slashing across with the force of a thunderbolt.
Hamonge's mouth fell open.
The weight in his hand suddenly lightened. At the same time, a thin line of blood appeared on his own neck.
They were close enough that the gush of blood from the herb gatherer's neck sprayed like a fountain, spattering the princess's cheeks.
This battlefield had no place for mercy. Besides... Alyuin lowered her gaze slightly, ignoring Hamonge's resentful stare. Her eyes were fixed on the Solancian citizen.
Besides, he was already dying.
The Sanur King's thrust, born of habit, had pierced the man's heart.
Across from her, Hamonge was a beat too slow in clutching his throat. He swayed on his horse, a bloody gurgle escaping his lips.
This sudden turn of events shattered the Sanur's will to fight. Some rushed desperately toward their king, while others, seeing the tide had turned, decided to flee.
Alyuin did not stop the enemy from retrieving Hamonge; he couldn't be saved anyway. She simply continued to swing her longsword, her movements ruthless and efficient, as if she knew no fatigue.
One objective was complete. It was time to carry out the second: kill more of the Sanur.
The tide of battle had turned completely. The enemy began to rout, and the Solancian cavalry gave chase, cutting them down.
The grass and trees along the road, the rugged mountain rocks, the ochre ground of the valley—all were stained an indelible crimson. Severed limbs, corpses, and fallen warhorses lay where they fell, piled like grave mounds.
The pursuit continued for some time, the trail of blood and mangled limbs stretching deeper into the valley until it came to an abrupt end where the terrain began to rise.
At the head of the Solancian soldiers, Alyuin raised her sword arm to the side, signaling a halt to the pursuit. She was like a barrier they would not cross.
The Solancian cavalry halted behind her. Though their eyes were red with the bloodlust of battle, though they were swept up in rage and victory, they still obeyed the princess's command without a single extraneous movement.
"That's enough. We'll pursue no further."
Alyuin said, her cold gaze fixed ahead. The scattered Sanur fled in a panic, spurring their horses in every direction until they vanished into the deep woods.
The princess flicked her longsword, shaking off droplets of blood. They fell to the ground like beads, but thicker, dried stains remained on the blade, making it seem as if it had been forged from crimson steel.
Her long neck was bowed as she seemed to be lost in thought. Her expression held little of the joy of victory—of course, her contemplation might have simply been a way to cool her overheated blood and nerves after the slaughter.
Finally, Alyuin spoke again, issuing her command. "Let's go. Send word to Etrich City. We're returning to clean up the battlefield."
As the column turned, Alyuin, who had been at its head, now found herself at the rear. She did not urge her horse forward to retake the lead, but let it walk at a leisurely pace.
She removed her helmet and touched the stray locks of hair at her temples. They were matted with sticky, half-congealed bits of blood and flesh. She looked as if she had bathed in a pool of blood.
Lotus was at once captivated by the blood-stained, cruelly bizarre beauty of the sight, and possessed by the urge to summon a torrent of water to wash her clean on the spot.
Perhaps a water goddess was bound to be something of a clean freak.
Just then, Alyuin looked over. The divine power imbued in the lenses before her eyes allowed her to clearly see the river goddess's spiritual form.
She was as pristine and pure white as ever, utterly spotless. Even moving through the battlefield, the color and stench of blood could not stain a god's soul.
Lotus waited for the princess to ask about the box.
Who would have thought that the first words out of Alyuin's mouth would be, "Can I stain you?"
...What kind of question was that?
Lotus looked at her, carefully and cautiously.
Perhaps because her own thoughts were no longer as simple as they once were, the first idea that popped into her head was even more suggestive than the question itself—
But one look told Lotus she had likely read too much into it.
The moment the words left her lips, Alyuin seemed to realize something was amiss. She averted her gaze and smiled apologetically.
The princess said, seemingly at ease, "If Priestess Muya heard that, she'd probably ban me from the temple in Kadera for life."
Lotus watched her, a thoughtful expression on her face.
Her gaze lingered for so long that Alyuin grew uneasy. After all, Lotus regarded everything with a certain detachment. A stare this deep and prolonged... was she displeased?
It made sense. What god would tolerate such a thought from a believer? Even from one she favored, it was going too far.
After a long moment, Lotus let out an almost inaudible sigh.
Confirming that the soldiers were all focused on the road ahead, Lotus slowly floated closer. Her eyes, as clear as the pale blue sky behind a snow-capped peak, perfectly reflected the blood-drenched princess.
Her spiritual form solidified in an instant for a brief but tangible embrace.
The crimson of blood transferred between them, from the armor that still seemed to hold the warmth of flesh to the divine body pressed against it. The scent of blood hung in the air. It was like catching a blue heron that had flown from afar, or perhaps like the heron using its own pale blue-and-white wings to absorb and capture the other.
Lotus lowered her head, resting her pale chin lightly on the princess's hair, heedless of the blood that stained it.
"You've done so well, Alyu," she said, her voice as soft as a sigh. "When this is all over, I'll tell you everything, all right?"
Alyuin froze, but Lotus had already straightened up and returned to her spiritual form.
In truth, the stains wouldn't have remained on her spiritual form—what mark can be left upon a soul? But Lotus used her divine power to preserve them, like decals affixed to her spiritual body.
She turned to see the princess's eyes sparkling.
Then she considered her own current appearance. Feet off the ground, covered in blood... she must look like a genuine vengeful spirit.
Lotus: "..."
The Goddess of the Yilu River's expression remained unchanged as she maintained her elegant, gliding float. "After the battlefield is cleared, let's go to Etrich City to bathe and rest."
Alyuin replied cheerfully, "Alright—"
Lotus could almost picture the lilting, wavy line of her trailing note. "...Tone it down a little."
Alyuin: "Mhm, as you wish."
Hoofbeats echoed on the blood-soaked ground, carrying them forward.
The Battle of the Xitings Mountains.
This is what later generations would call this mountain pass ambush, a feat of astonishing insight and execution.
As many scholars would later agree, it was not a decisive battle. It would not be listed in popular history books like Ten Decisive Battles That Changed the World. But without a doubt, it was a beautiful victory.
Some battles make a person's name immortal; other battles become immortal because of a person.
Which was the Battle of the Xitings Mountains?
People held different opinions, but regardless, both would be remembered.
Southern Solancia, in the skies over the coast.
"—Weak humans. Useless things," the Sanur Wolf God cursed. It wasn't the first time he had said it. "A waste of my divine power!"
The so-called protective divine power could only ward off a single fatal blow—otherwise, it would be a get-out-of-death-free card for mortals. But to sense his power dissipate only for the man to die moments later truly infuriated the god, who could only curse him as a waste.
The Goddess of the Mind smiled. "At least this mortal's death won't have too great an impact, will it?"
"He was the king of the Sanur! No impact? Hah! The mortal leader is dead, and I'm still here wasting my time. Perseus, when in the world are we going to break through this barrier?"
The Goddess of the Mind shook her head. "The Sanur have ten princes, every one of them younger and stronger than the king."
"Nine now," the Wolf God added sullenly.
The Goddess of the Mind's smile did not falter. "Very well, nine."
The Wolf God turned his head away and asked again, "It makes no difference—when can we attack the barrier?"
"Wait."
The Goddess of the Mind raised her hand, pointing to where the sea met the land.
That was Bananna, a major coastal city in southern Solancia.
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