"Kill—!"
Boom! Boom! Boom!
With the first rays of dawn, war drums thundered fiercely from both sides, signaling tens of thousands of soldiers to collide violently once again, tearing into each other with primal ferocity.
In a battle where hundreds of thousands clashed, the few hundred Shirou had killed the previous day were merely a drop in the ocean—utterly insignificant.
Every second, hundreds, even thousands, died on this battlefield. Shirou's personal kills went unnoticed by messengers who passed news between commanders.
He had briefly considered pretending to be a corpse, but it was pointless.
These armies were already fighting atop piles of the dead. Beneath their feet were no longer snow-covered fields but mounds of enemy and ally corpses alike.
Pretending to be dead would simply lead Shirou to be trampled to death.
Yet this senseless slaughter, driven purely by a desire for survival, didn't last long.
An intense chill suddenly swept in from behind him.
It emanated from a strikingly beautiful woman with long, icy-blue hair and a perfect figure. Dressed in the standard uniform of an imperial general, she wielded a slender Western sword.
Suddenly, she leapt gracefully into the air, the surrounding atmosphere instantly condensing into deadly icicles.
In the blink of an eye, a shadow fell over the battlefield as countless icicles filled the entire sky.
"You're kidding…"
"How… how can someone have such overwhelming power?!"
"What have we even been fighting for all this time?"
Before the icicles could even fall, the fur-clad warriors facing her trembled uncontrollably, their weapons slipping from their shaking hands.
Clang!
As the first weapon fell to the ground, more and more soldiers threw down their arms and knelt, surrendering in despair.
"We surrender! Please, spare us!"
"I'm sorry! Don't kill me!"
In this corner of the battlefield, the warriors saw no glimmer of victory. Only deep regret and overwhelming despair filled their eyes.
They realized clearly that even sacrificing their lives wouldn't inflict the slightest harm upon this woman.
Yet she showed no mercy. Icicles denser than rain plunged toward the kneeling soldiers, tearing through the air with brutal force.
"Damn you—!"
At that very moment, a furious roar erupted from behind her. A lightly armored man gripped his longsword tightly, muscles coiled like springs as he propelled himself forward.
BOOM!
With a ground-shaking kick, he burst forth like a golden meteor, slicing through space itself with unstoppable momentum, his sword poised to pierce her chest.
Crack! Crack!
Everywhere the golden comet passed, the earth fractured violently. Even the very air groaned under the immense pressure, creating a piercing, bone-chilling screech.
Within a blink, the sword was mere inches from the woman's chest.
Yet, utterly unbothered by the sudden attack, she calmly raised a finger to her lips.
"Shh—"
Had it not been for her terrifying power, anyone might've found her gesture captivating.
"The real show hasn't even begun yet."
With those words, overwhelming killing intent burst forth from her body. An icy, azure glow surrounded her, illuminating the entire area.
A translucent cage of ice instantly appeared, locking the attacking warrior's sword mere inches from her body, frozen completely.
His hand trembled, wedged helplessly between the cage's icy bars, the blade unable to advance a single inch.
"Now, watch closely as your beloved people perish."
Her lips curled into a cruel, mocking smile.
"No! Please, no!"
"Run! Run away!"
"Your Highness! Prince Numa Seika!"
Witnessing the prince's capture, the soldiers' morale collapsed instantly, their faith shattered.
Previously, they surrendered under the pressure of certain death, clinging desperately to life only because they still trusted their prince to save them and lead them to victory.
But now, apart from a scattered few who fled, most merely knelt frozen on the ground, watching blankly as countless icicles pierced their chests, lacking even the instinct to resist.
Hundreds died helplessly beneath the icy assault.
Prince Numa Seika watched the massacre, eyes bloodshot with rage and despair. His nails dug deeply into his palms, droplets of blood dripping onto the pure white snow, leaving trails of crimson. Yet he was utterly powerless—now nothing more than a captive.
An ambush had been his only conceivable chance to kill this Imperial general.
As the revered prince of the Northern tribes—known for his unbeaten record with a spear and exceptional tactical brilliance—he commanded unwavering loyalty, steadily advancing southward to invade the crumbling Empire from fortified strongholds.
But despite his careful plans, he had underestimated one crucial factor.
Though the Empire in the south was deteriorating rapidly, its founder had created forty-eight legendary Teigu, artifacts of incomparable power that served as cornerstones of the Empire's strength.
Each Teigu wielder had the power of an entire army.
The isolated Northern tribes and rebellious southern clans had rashly raised banners of rebellion, but even Numa Seika's careful strategies couldn't bridge the vast gulf in power between ordinary soldiers and the Imperial Teigu wielders.
In the three days since the Empire's Teigu users joined the battle, over a hundred thousand had died at their hands alone. Numa Seika had been desperate, unable to devise a plan to counteract these overwhelming foes.
He'd had strategies prepared against the Three Beasts, the Empire's infamous generals, but he knew mere numbers were meaningless against this woman.
Even if he threw his entire army at her, he doubted they could even slow her down.
Thus, Numa Seika disguised himself as an Imperial soldier and followed her movements, coordinating carefully with his advisors to maintain the illusion that he remained at headquarters.
Over recent days, the Imperial general had slaughtered relentlessly, day and night, rampaging from east to west, south to north. Even after both sides retreated, she boldly raided their encampments alone.
Finally seeing signs of her exhaustion, Numa Seika had attacked—partly because he sensed vulnerability, partly because he could no longer watch his soldiers being helplessly massacred.
Though he'd constantly told himself to endure, waiting patiently for an opportunity to strike, the sheer scale of the slaughter had driven him to act impulsively.
But clearly, the general had anticipated his plan.
Otherwise, she couldn't have reacted instantly to his ambush, casually trapping him and regarding him with open disdain.
Numa Seika glared hatefully at his enemy—the Empire's supreme general, its strongest warrior, and the embodiment of cruelty:
Esdeath.
As if sensing Numa Seika's hatred, Esdeath briefly glanced his way. But her gaze swiftly moved on, dismissing him like a pebble along her path.
Turning back toward the battlefield, already decided overwhelmingly in her favor, something suddenly caught her interest.
"[Sword Breathing—Thunder Form: Thunderclap and Flash]!"
Clang! Clang!
A red-haired youth moved like golden lightning across the battlefield, wielding a strange, eastern-style sword, rapidly deflecting icicles aimed at the helpless soldiers behind him.
"Run! Now!" Shirou roared desperately at the shocked soldiers, continuing to streak through the battlefield, leaving trails of sparks and thunder behind.
"Oh?" Esdeath's lips curled upward in fascination.
"Is that one also from your Northern tribes?"