Shadowed Gaze: The Highserk War Saga - Chapter 47

Justan, a 10-man team leader of the Felius soldiers, was tying planks with coarse ropes, lost in thought.

Among the northern nations, many wield power, but the Kingdom of Felius, inheriting half the territory of the former Kingdom of Canoa and holding the Duchy of Mayard under its umbrella, should have been a country sufficient to aim for hegemony. That dream was crushed in the decisive battle at Aidenberg against the Highserk Empire, where the brother of the King of Felius, Winston Felius, along with the top brass of the field army, were entirely lost.

Afterwards, the formation of a four nation alliance pushed back the Highserk army, but it suffered a major defeat at the Sarajevo Fortress. Moreover, a great rampage in the Demonic Territory reached inside Felius itself. Now, with over 100,000 monsters attacking the central royal castle, its fall was only a matter of time. Justan, a member of the royal guards who supported the peace within the castle, had confidence backed by practical experience and a patriotic heart worrying for his country. That is why he realized that things were heading towards an end.

Orders for a desperate defense and thorough resistance were repeated, and no reasonable orders were given. The King, who needed to boost morale, hadn’t shown himself to the public or the troops since the great rampage. Justan was prepared to sacrifice his life for the country. Yet, knowing the end of the country was near, his resolve faltered. Tormented by conflict, Justan took action. Evacuation by land was already impossible.

Cities were often built near rivers, and the capital was no exception. A vast canal, capable of accommodating large ships, connected it to Lake Selta. It was an option that could not be ignored. The problem was that the riverboats for river transport had all departed, and no barges or fishing boats remained in the capital. What Justan aimed for was a hidden liaison boat, known only to the royal guards.

The boat, stocked with food and capable of carrying over 30 people, was disguised as a pier and a fisherman’s hut. There were adequate guards, but with Justan’s groundwork, they became companions in escape, and those who hesitated were given a choice: escape together or die. That no one had to be forced was a stroke of luck for Justan.

“Sorry, I made you wait!!”

Panting, one of his subordinates burst into the hut. He should have been away to pick up his wife, two children, and parents, but Justan noticed that they were short in numbers.

“What happened to your parents?”

“They were… the werewolves…”

“I see… I’m sorry to hear that. The monsters already got in the city.”

“It’s too late to evacuate. The walls have been completely breached, and the monsters are breaking down the doors of the houses.”

Even now, the roars of monsters and the screams of the citizens were intermingling, the frenzy drawing closer to the pier.

Those gathered were soldiers, their families, and neighbors. Since they could not fit on the boat, they dismantled planks from the pier and abandoned houses to construct a makeshift barge. There were concerns about its strength, but Justan had to hurry to set sail.

It wasn’t just the monsters. Humans in a crisis would do anything to survive. Even Justan, who had decided to serve the nation loyally, knew this.

“Float the barge. We’re leaving immediately.”

The makeshift barge, though crude, floated on the water with cargo and people aboard. The liaison boat, shedding its disguise, leapt into the canal.

The barge, tied with ropes, was towed away from land. In minutes, the liaison boat came into view of the people.

“There’s a boat. There’s a boat!”

“Hey, let us on!”

“Wait, please, I beg you!”

“I have children. Please, I have children!”

The opposite bank was filled with people seeking salvation, swelling to several times the capacity. If they approached the shore now, what would happen was not hard to imagine. Everyone turned their faces away, not uttering a word.

“….Keep the course as is, head straight for Lake Selta.”

He gave the clear order. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. Justan was the one who proposed to abandon the citizens they had protected and flee.

The cries of the people attracted not a miracle, but destruction. The monsters, welcoming fresh prey with joy, began a massacre.

Sobs, screams, and cries, those pushed out tried to swim across the canal, but exhausted, they sank.

Minutes later, only the sniffling sounds from inside the liaison boat could be heard. The sounds from the other bank had ceased.

Whether it was due to the distance or because there was no one left to make a sound, Justan did not know.

◆

“Damn it, hold it, hold it back! They’re going to break through!”

“Hnn, ughhh!”

The sound of scraping and banging on the door echoed through the room. King Felius, seeing the commoners who had gathered seeking shelter, couldn’t fully grasp the reality of the situation.

He knew it rationally. He had had opportunities to hear directly from survivors and through legends about the dangers of the Demonic Territory. He had even thoroughly read the history books of countries that had fallen before.

Yet, he had underestimated the great rampage, choosing revenge against the detested Highserk Empire, which had killed his brother and ravaged his land.

As a king, he was far from second-rate, perhaps even third-rate, having prioritized his personal grudges and led his country to ruin.

He suddenly realized, even if this was recorded in history, it would not be in the chronicles of Felius, but rather in the annals and libraries of other nations.

“I don’t want this. I don’t want to be eaten by monsters!”

A grown man panicked, covering his ears. A girl, not even ten, cried out hoarsely.

“Maybe I never truly saw my people. Were the numbers reported in the documents this horrific?”

He had always left the war efforts to his brother, and on the rare occasions he went to the battlefield, he only watched from a distance in the main camp.

He wasn’t cut out to be a king. If his brother had been born first, the fate of the country might have been different.

An infant cried for its mother, and a severely wounded soldier sobbed. This was the end of a country destroyed not by humans, but by monsters.

“Ah, ah, the door’s breaking, it’s breaking!”

“Someone help, push back!”

The battered door reached its limit and blew off its hinges.
“All hail Felius!”

The few remaining guards leaped into the sea of monsters, swinging their swords with all their might, but only managing to delay the inevitable breach slightly.

With jaws agape and claws bared, the hungry monsters flooded into the room.

“He-heeelp!”

“Let go, n-nooo! GaAaAaAah…”

Limb by limb torn apart, torsos crushed, the beloved commoners were trampled underfoot. Massacres occurred in war, but not the systematic extermination of women and children.

He should never have brought monsters into human wars. King Felius, engulfed in shadow, regretted this as a warm sensation and stench filled his hand. It was a ghoul of once a loyal guard.

“Huaaah… Kiiiinng?”

In such a short time, he turned into a monster. It was no longer the Kingdom of Felius, but the Demonic Territory.

King Felius lacked even the strength to draw his short sword at his waist, and not a single one of his guards remained. Only the ghouls, once his guards, stood there.

He had heard tales of skeletons serving loyally even in death, but the ghoul before him was different. And rightly so; he thought, mocking himself, for there was no worth in serving him even after death.

As death loomed, there was no one to witness King Felius’ final moments. Blood and spit splattered on his face.

“I’ll be waiting for you. Highserk!”

As the monster’s jaws loomed before him, King Felius cursed, despising himself for being so rotten to the core, and as unbearable pain engulfed him, his vision faded to darkness.