CHAPTER 353: CHAPTER 352: TERMS OF POWER

Hadric froze and the tent fell into silence. His eyes widened until they almost seemed to pop from his tired face. "What did you say?" he stammered. "A Magic Circle Seven? You mean to tell me I’ve been unknowingly hosting a high-rank mage from the Aetherborne Empire under my territory?"

"Senior, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner," Lumberling said. "Their identities could bring complications if revealed. But I promise you, they mean no harm."

Hadric’s jaw tightened, his expression darkening. "I’m not welcoming them again," he said coldly, trying to steady his tone. "This matter ends here..."

"Senior," Lumberling interrupted firmly, his gaze locking onto the Duke’s. "Their identities don’t matter right now. You and your men are bleeding out there, and the next attack will finish what’s left of you. But with their help, it doesn’t have to end that way. They’ve already agreed to lend their strength."

Hadric stared at him, silent for a moment. Then, slowly, his gaze turned toward the elves standing behind Lumberling.

Aurelya’s golden eyes met his without a hint of warmth. Vaenyra’s presence was calm yet heavy, her very stance carrying quiet authority. The air grew tense, Hadric felt it press against his skin. A subtle hum filled the tent as both Aurelya and Vaenyra released a portion of their power.

Mana and killing intent rippled like heat from a forge, shaking the candlelight.

Hadric swallowed hard. His breath hitched slightly as he whispered, almost to himself, "A Knight... and a Mage..." His body trembled faintly, not from pain, but from the sheer pressure they gave off.

"Senior," Lumberling said softly, his voice almost casual, as if the tension didn’t exist. "Don’t worry. They won’t harm you. You can trust them."

Hadric slowly exhaled, still unable to hide the bead of sweat that rolled down his cheek.

"Oh, right," Lumberling added, glancing toward the elves with a faint grin. "They did have one condition for helping, Senior."

Hadric blinked, trying to compose himself. "A... condition?" he asked carefully.

"They are interested in the Hadric Cultivation Art," Lumberling said calmly.

Hadric’s expression darkened. "No," he said at once, his voice sharp like a blade.

"Senior," Lumberling pressed, stepping closer. "Don’t waste this chance. I begged them multiple times before they even agreed to listen. They were reluctant, but now they’re willing to help. We can’t throw this away."

Hadric shook his head firmly. "The Hadric Cultivation Art will not be handed over. It’s the legacy of my lineage, the core of my strength. I can’t, I won’t share it."

A low hum filled the tent as Aurelya’s aura flared, golden threads of light rippling across her form. The pressure was suffocating, enough to make the candles flicker and the air grow heavy. Hadric instinctively reached for his sword, but stopped halfway, his hand trembling slightly.

Lumberling raised a hand toward Aurelya, his tone calm yet pressing. "Senior, your city... your people. Do you really want them to die? This is the only way. Without their help, we’ll be crushed."

Hadric clenched his jaw, glancing at the elf whose eyes glowed faintly.

Then Vaenyra stepped forward, her steps graceful yet firm. Her long blue hair swayed gently as her calm, commanding voice broke through the silence. "We don’t ask for anything else," she said. "All we want is access to your knowledge, your books, your scrolls, your manuals about cultivation and martial arts. That’s all."

Hadric’s eyes narrowed, his fists tightening. "This is my life’s worth of research and hard work..."

"And all of that will be buried here," Aurelya replied coldly. She crossed her arms, her golden eyes narrowing. "Don’t worry, once you’re all gone, we’ll just find it out ourselves." Then she leaned forward slightly. "But if you’re not that foolish, then accept our condition. In exchange, we’ll defend this place and your people from those savages outside."

Hadric’s jaw clenched. The weight in her words pressed harder than her aura.

Before he could speak, Lireath stepped forward, her tone gentler. "We’re not your enemies, Duke Hadric," she said with a soft smile. "If we meant to harm you, we would have done it the moment we met. We only wish to help you protect your people."

The tent grew quiet. Hadric leaned back slowly, his expression relaxed just a little. After a long pause, he turned to Lumberling. "You’re telling me these three... will stand beside us? Against the Vikings?"

Lumberling nodded firmly. "That’s right, Senior. They’re not just strong, they’re trustworthy. And with them, we might finally have a real chance to win."

Hadric let out a slow, steadying breath, his gaze heavy. "I... for this time only, I’ll agree."

A small smile tugged at Lumberling’s lips. "You made the right choice, Senior."

.....

A few days later, the morning sky was gray, heavy with clouds. The forest beyond the walls stirred restlessly, the faint rumble of marching feet echoing from afar.

A scout burst through the camp gates, panting and pale. "They’re here!" he shouted. "The Vikings, they’re marching again!"

The Duke’s men stirred into motion at once. Horns blared, carrying across the entire camp. Drums followed, marking the call to arms. Soldiers rushed to their posts and archers lined the walls.

Within the command tent, Duke Hadric stood silently for a long moment. Then, with his sword in hand, he stepped out into the open. The men stopped what they were doing and turned toward him. Even with his left arm gone and bandages covering his wounds, his presence was enough to steady them.

He raised his sword high, his voice cutting through the wind. "Men of Stonepalm Duchy!" he roared. "Before us stands an army that knows nothing but blood and conquest. They have burned our homes, slaughtered our kin, and now march again to finish what they started!"

The men tightened their grips on their weapons, their trembling slowing as his voice carried.

"This is our last stand," Hadric continued, his voice resolute. "No reinforcements will come. No heroes from the capital will save us. We are all that remains between our people and those beasts beyond that ridge!"

He looked around at them, soldiers, knights, martial artists, each one exhausted but unwilling to run.

"If we must fall," Hadric said, his voice softening, "then we fall as warriors. We fall as protectors of this land. We fall knowing we gave everything we had!"

He raised his blade once more. "To your stations! For your families! For Stonepalm Duchy!"

The camp roared in unison. "For Stonepalm Duchy!"

Moments later, the horns of the Vikings echoed back in reply, savage and mocking. Across the fields, the enemy emerged from the forest like a tide of darkness.