After losing their leader, the greenskins fell into chaos. Some fled back to the Border Princes without looking back, while the remaining greenskins split into factions. Some wanted to keep fighting, some wanted to compete for leadership, and others simply wanted to retreat with their tribes.
When the dwarf armies appeared, the greenskins' morale finally collapsed. As the High King and the Everpeak army arrived from the east, the greenskins scattered and fled back to their desolate lands.
The human army was too exhausted to pursue the fleeing greenskins. Despite hours of bloody battle, the greenskins still had enough stamina to escape, while the utterly exhausted Imperial soldiers, many of whom were dehydrated and physically drained, gave up the chase and focused on tending to the wounded and checking on their great and admirable Emperor, Karl-Franz.
The Nuln Ironclads, under the command of Jubal Falk, fired one last volley at the fleeing greenskins, while the Black Guards, elite veterans with ample nutrition, focused on maintaining their formation.
"Damn it! Don't run! Come back and fight fair!"
The Everpeak army was still entering the battlefield when the greenskins fled. High King Thorgrim Grudgebearer, seated on his throne, watched the greenskins scatter and his beard bristled with anger. He brandished his axe, Gromril, and ordered the dwarfs to pursue.
However, the distance was too great, and the dwarfs were too slow. Their short legs couldn't keep up, and they could only watch as the greenskins ran further away. Aside from the fastest Slayers and cannon crews, who managed to achieve some results, most of the dwarfs returned empty-handed from the pursuit.
"Godfather! Godfather!" Frederik galloped over on his purebred elven steed, Voltaire. The young baron saw the emperor standing motionless and quickly grabbed his arm. "Godfather! Are you okay?"
"I… am… fine…" The emperor struggled to utter these words. Ghal Maraz fell from his hand, and he leaned in to whisper in his godson's ear, "Call Ludwig… to support me… I can't move!"
"Grandpa Ludwig, come quickly!" Frederik immediately called for the emperor's standard-bearer. The white-bearded old man, a Saint-level warrior, was already covered in blood. If the emperor had lost the duel, Frederik was certain that Ludwig would have fought to the last.
Similarly, Theodor Bruckner, the Nuln Supreme Judge and the Countess's personal champion, quickly stepped forward to support the emperor. If Frederik had been in danger today, the judge would have fought to the death.
But this day was a day of victory!
The Imperials watched as the greenskins came like a tide and left like one. The failures and humiliations of the past were finally washed away, just as they had been over two thousand years ago! At Black Fire Pass! Under the greenskin tide, the emperor led them to an epic victory!
"It seems that today, Sigmar was with you, Karl," High King Thorgrim Grudgebearer said, seated on his throne under the protection of the Eternal Guard. He asked with concern, "You've ascended to the Saint level? For a human, that's quite an achievement. How do you feel?"
"I'm fine, ouch…" The emperor was supported by two burly men like a cripple. The Reiksguard quickly brought a stool for the emperor to sit on, but even then, Karl-Franz nearly toppled backward.
"Hey! Are you okay?" Thorgrim was startled. The High King ordered his dwarf warriors to set the throne down and hurried over to check on the emperor.
A few minutes later, Thorgrim finally relaxed. "His internal organs are bleeding, his thigh bone is fractured, his shin bone is cracked, and he has twelve bruises. Fortunately, it's nothing serious. Reiksguard, take care of your emperor. We dwarfs will handle the警戒 and battlefield cleanup."
With that, Thorgrim reached out to pat the emperor's shoulder but hesitated, afraid he might break him. In the end, he simply nodded. The Eternal Guard immediately formed a protective circle around the emperor, and Thorgrim turned to organize the dwarf army for battlefield cleanup.
The dwarfs, frustrated at not gaining enough glory, grumbled as they moved across the battlefield, ensuring every greenskin corpse received a final hammer or axe blow to the head.
Meanwhile, Frederik finished his tasks and returned to his godfather's side.
The cost of divine possession was immense. Even though it lasted only a few seconds, the emperor's physical potential had been completely drained. Both his mind and body had reached their limits. Soon, Karl-Franz was carefully placed on a stretcher by the Reiksguard, barely able to breathe. "Fred… how did I do? Did your godfather… perform well?"
"You were amazing, Your Majesty!" Frederik wiped away tears, gripping the emperor's hand with both of his. He pursed his lips. "I'm proud of you!"
"Then how do you think… I compared to your father?" Despite his weakness, Karl-Franz managed a smile.
"Well, I still think he's a bit better," Frederik said, finally smiling through his tears.
"Hahahaha! Cough cough~" Karl-Franz burst into laughter but quickly devolved into weak coughing. "As the saying goes, the third time's the charm."
"The third time?" Frederik was confused.
"Cough, let me tell you, Fred. During the duel just now, I was possessed by Sigmar," the emperor said weakly, murmuring. "I'll tell you, Fred, this was the third time in my life that I prayed to Sigmar with utmost sincerity. Indeed, the third time's the charm."
"..." Frederik gave his godfather a sidelong glance.
As the Emperor of the Empire, you've only prayed sincerely three times in over fifty years?!
If Grand Theogonist Volkmar found out, you'd be in big trouble!
As if reading Frederik's thoughts, the emperor continued with a smile, "The first time was when I was young, hunting with my father near Altdorf. Helborg was there too. We were ambushed by beastmen and nearly killed. I prayed to Sigmar with all my heart, and a group of wood elves suddenly appeared, raining arrows on the beastmen and saving us. That was the first time. As a child, I thought Sigmar's name wasn't very useful."
"The second time was during the election for emperor. I was trailing Todbringer 8 to 4, and the situation was dire. The throne had been in our family for three generations. I tried to seek the support of the three major cults, and the Cult of Sigmar was undoubtedly the most influential. If I could convince Volkmar, I'd have the support of the other two cults as well." The emperor's face showed a nostalgic expression. "I pretended to pray, but I was actually seeking support. Grand Theogonist Volkmar questioned me, saying he couldn't remember the last time I had prayed in a church. I was ashamed because I never went to church to pray."
"Then, just before the second round of the election, I was nearly assassinated by a group of Tzeentch cultists. It was Volkmar who saved me with his hammer. Ironically, the assassination attempt convinced the Grand Theogonist that I was the rightful emperor, and he began to support me."
"The third time's the charm," Frederik murmured. At that moment, cries of grief came from outside. The young baron excused himself and hurried out.
The Eternal Guard made way for Frederik.
The soldiers of Averland were weeping. Their Elector Count had been found.
Marius Leitdorf miraculously still had a faint heartbeat, but his injuries were severe. Twelve ribs were broken, his spine was fractured in two places, his internal organs were bleeding, and shards of bone had pierced his nerves. One broken bone had even punctured his stomach. Such injuries would have killed a normal person ten times over, but Marius was clinging to life through sheer willpower.
In this state, everyone believed Marius was beyond saving. Indeed, the Elector Count was in immense pain, barely holding on through sheer determination.
The Golden Fleece Knights surrounded their Elector Count, preparing to offer their final respects and blessings to the man who had brought both glory and trouble to Averland. Balthasar Gelt attempted to use his alchemy to heal Marius, but after a couple of tries, he gave up. Marius was too severely injured; he would die before the process could complete.
"Wait!" Frederik pushed through the crowd. The young baron shouted, "He can still be saved!"
"What?!"
"I have wine made from the sap of the World Tree of the wood elves!" Frederik pulled out a flask of wood elf berry wine.
This was the last of four flasks given as an apology by the wood elves during the Morgiana incident. The other three had been used in various events, and this was the final one. Before Frederik had set out, Leon had personally handed it to his eldest son. Without hesitation, Frederik brought out this life-saving item.
"Quick!" The crowd forced Marius' mouth open and poured the wine down his throat.
The Elector Count coughed a few times as the life energy of the wine enveloped his body, stabilizing his injuries. However, Marius' wounds were too severe. The wine could heal his damaged tissues but couldn't restore him to his original state. At best, they would end up with a paraplegic, brain-dead "recovered" man who couldn't care for himself. Marius' vocal cords were completely destroyed; he couldn't speak.
Like many disabled soldiers after a war, he could be "cured and discharged," but only in the sense that his wounds had healed.
In short, the berry wine could "heal" but not "regenerate," and even that was less effective on humans than on wood elves.
"How can this be?!" It seemed the wood elf berry wine wasn't as miraculous as they had hoped. Frederik pursed his lips, his expression shifting.
"Rather than this, it's better to prepare for the end. I believe Lord Marius wouldn't want to live like this," High King Thorgrim said to Frederik. "Today, the dwarfs will lose another friend, but such is life. It must go on."
"No!" Frederik's expression changed repeatedly.
Marius had no wife, no heirs. If the Elector Count of Averland died here, the position would be vacant, and the great noble families of Averland would compete for the title, potentially plunging the province into civil war!
Father had said that the End Times were approaching. At this critical moment, the greater good had to be prioritized. Averland's grain was vital to the Empire. Moreover, compared to Stirland, Averland was better positioned to protect the Moot and deal with the undead of Sylvania!
After much deliberation, Frederik finally made his decision. The baron reached for the raven feather on his chest.
This feather contained the power of Corvus Corax, the Primarch of the Raven Guard. Corax had imbued this relic with his "miracle."
You'll understand, won't you, Uncle Corax?
Without further hesitation, Frederik placed the feather on Marius' chest.
A miracle occurred.
Under the heavens, the black-and-white power of the Warp flowed into Marius' body, forming a gray-white supernova at his chest. A single drop of Corax's blood seeped into Marius' chest, and a microcosm of billions of ravens formed thunder and fire, enveloping the Elector Count.
Ten minutes later, Marius Leitdorf, Elector Count of Averland, the Mad Count, rose unharmed—even stronger than before—amid the cheers of the crowd. The Elector Count looked at himself in disbelief, running his hands over his body until he confirmed he was truly healed.
High King Thorgrim's jaw dropped. The dwarf High King thought to himself, This is the benefit of having a bunch of demigod uncles, huh?
Belegar always thinks Leon is the one benefiting from their friendship, but in reality, it's the other way around. Leon's brothers are all demigods, and their collective power far surpasses Belegar's so-called treasure vault of Karak Eight Peaks.
The Elector Count of Averland looked at Frederik with a complex expression. Marius touched his throat, his voice slightly hoarse. He took his runefang, The Mother's Lament, from the hands of his weeping Golden Fleece Knights and said to Frederik, "To die gloriously in battle, wrapped in a horse's hide, is the highest honor for a warrior. You shouldn't have taken that from me, little lion."
"For a warrior, yes. But you're more than just a warrior," Frederik said, regretfully watching the raven feather turn to ash and disappear. But Leon's eldest son had no regrets. "You're an Elector Count first. You still have much to do, Uncle Marius. You can't rest yet!"
"Little lion, I owe you my life," Marius said quietly.
"You all owe my godfather your lives," Frederik said, looking up at the sky. "All of you."
After the Third Battle of Black Fire Pass, Karl-Franz's fame soared to new heights. Every Imperial citizen knew of this epic champion's duel. Though the details were exaggerated and embellished, everyone believed that Karl-Franz becoming emperor was Sigmar's will. On this day, Sigmar had been with every citizen of the Empire.
Frederik, the son of the Countess of Nuln, also gained immense glory. The Nulners, who had performed exceptionally in the battle, mocked the Reiklanders as useless for failing to protect their emperor, forcing him to duel. At the same time, they began openly discussing Frederik's potential to inherit the throne. This was tacitly approved by the Imperial authorities. The emperor and his godson's greatly enhanced authority also meant that Karl-Franz's long-planned tax reforms and the permanent ban on feuds between Elector Counts were now possible.
It seemed that a new round of political turmoil and reshuffling in the Imperial court was about to begin.
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Meanwhile, as the Third Battle of Black Fire Pass ended in an epic victory, in Bretonnia, Leon finally received the package from Lustria—a repaired and modified Sun Engine sent by Fulgrim.
Along with it came a notice to prepare for an expedition to Albion.
Leon began gathering the kingdom's armies in Couronne, preparing for a summer campaign to Albion.
But before that, the King of Bretonnia decided to personally visit the headquarters of the College of Magic in Magritta.
He planned to bring Veronique and the entire College of Magic on the expedition.
At the same time, the king had some matters to discuss with his chief lady-in-waiting.
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