Between flashes of spears, the two had already exchanged dozens of blows, striking and counterstriking in a flurry of steel. For a time, neither side could gain the upper hand — it seemed a stalemate.
However, Aldon knew very well — he had lost. Completely and utterly.
Even with the Bloodburn Secret Art activated, even after forcibly increasing his strength, he was still being overwhelmed by Arwin's relentless assault. If the fight continued like this, within a few dozen more exchanges, he would inevitably be knocked from his horse.
And worse still, the Bloodburn technique didn't last long. His defeat was only a matter of time.
As expected, after just a few more rounds, his warhorse stumbled for a brief moment, throwing his posture off balance.
Arwin seized the opening instantly — with three swift strikes, he swept his spear across and sent Aldon flying from his saddle.
As he was flung through the air, Aldon felt no fear — only confusion and disbelief.
What kind of joke is this? How could anyone in the Mandrake Principality be this powerful?
Even after going all out, I still can't beat him? How does that make sense?
With a heavy thud, Aldon crashed to the ground and lost consciousness.
Meanwhile, on the rest of the battlefield, the outcome was hardly different.
Even with every enemy using the Bloodburn technique to temporarily boost their strength, there was still an entire tier of difference between them and the undead heavy cavalry.
At best, the knights' superior numbers allowed them to hold out briefly. But as the battle dragged on, the result became inevitable — the human soldiers grew weary and made mistakes, while the skeletal knights fought with perfect, tireless precision, their movements mechanical and merciless.
There was simply no way the humans could win.
Once Arwin finished with Aldon and rejoined the main fight, the battle turned into a one-sided massacre.
Before long, Arwin returned to Hel's side, dragging Aldon by one hand.
"My lord, mission accomplished. The entire camp is now under our control.
This is their commander — I figured he might know something that would interest you, so I brought him back alive."
"Good work, Arwin."
Hel nodded, studying the unconscious red-haired man. "Hmm… red hair? Looks like a member of the Mandrake family. Wake him up."
"Yes, my lord."
Arwin replied, then promptly began slapping Aldon's face — smack, smack, smack! — until his once-handsome features were swollen beyond recognition.
The sharp pain did its job; Aldon's eyes fluttered open.
"Where… where am I? Wait—black hair?
You! You're that little bastard from House Austin!
What are you doing here?
You led these people here, didn't you? You dare betray House Mandrake?! How dare you—"
Hel didn't bother listening to his ranting. She stepped forward and pressed her boot down on his chest, speaking coldly:
"First of all, you should know this — Hel Mandrake is dead.
The one standing before you now is Hel Heim.
Secondly, as a prisoner, you don't have the right to shout at me.
I'll ask, and you'll answer. If you understand, nod your head."
"You're dreaming, you damned trai—"
He didn't get to finish.
Hel crouched down and raised her delicate hand toward his forehead. With a small twisting motion, a faint, bluish soul-shade was pulled out from the top of his head.
"Honestly, I really don't like using Soul Search," she muttered.
"I'm not like Sebas, after all. I haven't fully become one of the undead…"
As she spoke, glowing sigils spread across the back of her hand. Streams of memories began flowing from the translucent spirit into her mind.
It was like watching an entire movie of Aldon's life unfold in seconds.
When she was done, she stuffed the spirit back into Aldon's body and sighed, rubbing her temples.
"Ugh… I swear, this is why I hate using that spell. My head always hurts afterward — feels like I actually grew a brain or something."
She shook off the pain and turned her gaze toward the camp.
From Aldon's memories, she had learned that aside from the 300 knights, the camp also housed about 300 miners and 100 overseers.
There had originally been more, but several months ago, an anomaly was discovered in Mine No. 3. Viscount Gray had taken some guards and miners to investigate it. Aldon and his men were ordered to stay behind to protect the secret of the mithril mine.
That "anomaly" in Mine No. 3 piqued Hel's curiosity — but that could wait.
For now, she needed to deal with the remaining 400 people in the camp.
Soon, Hel stood atop a high platform at the center of the encampment. Below her, hundreds of people were kneeling — miners covered in filth and exhaustion, and overseers who looked far cleaner and more well-fed.
"All overseers — leave none alive. Drag them out and execute them.
That one, that one, and those others — take them too."
Hel's cold gaze swept across the crowd as she gave her orders.
Immediately, the skeletal heavy cavalry stormed into the kneeling mass. Within moments, the overseers were dragged out like sacks of grain and thrown outside the camp.
From there, the waiting undead finished the job — screams echoed briefly, then silence.
Listening to the dying cries outside, Hel's lips curved slightly. Her goal was accomplished.
Though she called herself the Little Western King, she wasn't someone who killed indiscriminately.
She only slaughtered her enemies — and those who conspired against her.
As for the innocent townsfolk and her future subjects, she had no intention of wiping them out.
After all, she wasn't a monster.
So she decided to give the remaining miners — those who hadn't yet betrayed her — a chance to live.
The earlier executions of overseers and spies from other factions had served their purpose: kill the chicken to warn the monkeys.
Judging by the terrified silence before her, it worked perfectly.
Now that the warning was delivered, it was time to start painting a prettier picture — to promise them hope.
The only problem was that Hel had never been a boss in her previous life, so she wasn't particularly good at "selling dreams."
Luckily, she had a little help — her handy ability, the [Blood Servant] trait.
So yes, when all was said and done, Hel still stuck to her usual methods:
Those she could control — she controlled.
Those she couldn't — she killed.
And then she raised the corpses as undead to strengthen her army.