Boulders and stones rained down from above.
The enemy had already reached the mountaintop.
The Northern soldiers, struggling to walk on the slippery slopes, had no way to dodge. The ones who got hit screamed as they tumbled back down the icy paths, disappearing into the snow below.
Blood mixed with ice.
Lucian, who had been stationed at the base camp, watched as injured soldiers were dragged back, covered in wounds, frostbite already setting in.
This was his first time witnessing war up close.
The screams. The sight of men shivering from shock as their blood froze in the snow. The hopelessness of falling soldiers who knew they would never get up again.
And yet, there was no fear in his heart.
Only determination.
Lucian didn''t have a sword in his hands, but he refused to be useless. He worked tirelessly—moving injured soldiers, fetching supplies, distributing food, and patching wounds with trembling hands.
And still, the battle raged on.
The Duke gritted his teeth, realizing that if they kept charging blindly, they would all be slaughtered.
“HOLD POSITION!” he commanded.
The soldiers took cover behind the massive rocks that shielded them from the enemy’s attacks. The Duke’s piercing gaze studied the enemy formation.
He needed a plan. Fast.
The storm was their greatest enemy, but it could also be their greatest weapon.
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Then, after hours of waiting—the storm slowed.
The wind weakened. The snowfall became lighter. And at that moment, the enemy, believing they had stalled the Northern Army, relaxed.
That was their fatal mistake.
“NOW! WE STRIKE!”
The Duke’s voice roared through the battlefield.
His soldiers rose from behind the rocks, their morale ignited by his command.
Like demons emerging from the snow, they charged forward.
The enemy, caught off guard, tried to regroup—but it was too late.
The Duke himself led the charge. His sword cut through the enemy ranks with terrifying speed. He moved like a blizzard-given form, unstoppable and merciless.
Lucian watched from below.
For the first time, he understood.
This was not just a battle.
This was survival.
By the time the enemy realized what was happening, the Duke had already reached the top.
The enemy panicked—and then retreated.
The Northern Army had reclaimed their position.
The Duke surveyed the bloody battlefield.
He knew the storm would return soon, and climbing the mountain again would be impossible.
“MOVE THE BASE CAMP UP HERE,” he ordered. “WE STAY ON HIGH GROUND.”
It took three days for the entire army to relocate. The harsh snowfall made it nearly impossible to move, but they pushed through.
At last, they settled in.
That evening, a rare peace filled the air. The storm had quieted, and the sky was clear for the first time in weeks.
Thousands of stars sparkled above them like an endless ocean of light.
The soldiers sat around fires, talking, laughing, and breathing for the first time since the battle began.
For a moment, it felt like they were just men under the night sky—not soldiers preparing for another war.
Even Lucian, exhausted from working all day, found himself drawn to the mesmerizing sky.
It was beautiful.
But he was alone.
Even in the light of the stars, Lucian’s world was filled with shadows.
Some soldiers glanced at him from a distance but did not approach.
The commoners feared that speaking to a noble—even a fallen one—might bring them trouble.
The noble soldiers ignored him completely as if he didn’t exist.
Lucian sat in silence, watching the stars.
No one spoke to him.
No one asked how he was.
Just like always.
For the first time since he arrived in the North, he realized something.
Even though he had fought alongside them, even though he had worked to save their lives…
He was still an outsider.
And in the middle of the endless white snow beneath the vast ocean of stars, he had never felt more alone.