Lord Summoner's Freedom Philosophy: Grimoire of Love
Chapter 357: The War of Nobles (End) The Quick End

Chapter 357: The War of Nobles (End) The Quick End

The first thunderous crash of the battering ram against the gates echoed through the still night air, a sharp, decisive sound that signaled the beginning of the final assault. The soldiers manning the ram strained with each swing, their muscles taut as they threw their weight into the motion, driving the thick wooden beam against the iron-reinforced doors. Sparks flew, and wood splintered, but the gates held—for now.

Lyan stood at the forefront, his gaze fixed on the stronghold with cold determination. The air around him buzzed with the tension of impending battle, and his warriors were poised, ready to strike the moment the gates gave way. The flames from nearby torches cast flickering shadows on the ground, dancing like specters over the armored figures that awaited his command.

"They’ll break soon," Wilhelmina said, her voice steady, her staff crackling with magical energy as she prepared for the next stage of the assault. Her eyes scanned the walls of the stronghold, watching for any signs of movement. "Once we’re inside, their defenses will crumble."

"Be ready," Lyan responded, his tone calm but firm. He raised his hand, signaling his archers and mages to advance. The steady hum of energy filled the air as the mages stepped forward, their hands glowing with arcane power, and the archers notched arrows, waiting for the call to fire.

The soldiers atop the walls of Hektor’s stronghold moved nervously, clearly aware of the futility of their situation. They were outnumbered, outmatched, and surrounded on all sides. Still, they stood their ground, loyal to their cowardly lord, who had retreated to the safety of his chambers. Arrows rained down from above, but they were few and far between, an act of desperation more than a coordinated defense.

With a final resounding crash, the gates groaned and splintered under the relentless pounding of the battering ram. The wood buckled, and the iron reinforcements twisted, giving way at last. The gates burst open, and Lyan’s forces surged forward like a tidal wave, their armor gleaming in the torchlight as they charged into the stronghold.

"Archers, fire!" Lyan’s voice boomed across the battlefield, and the sky lit up as hundreds of arrows arced through the air, raining down upon the defenders on the walls. The soldiers atop the battlements scrambled to take cover, but many were cut down where they stood, their armor no match for the precision of Lyan’s trained marksmen.

"Now!" Wilhelmina’s voice rang out as she lifted her staff, her magic surging forward in a brilliant flash of light. Lightning crackled from her fingertips, snaking across the walls and striking the guards with deadly precision. They collapsed in heaps, their bodies convulsing as the energy coursed through them. The mages behind her followed suit, unleashing torrents of fire and ice, their spells crashing against the stone walls and turning the battlements into a cauldron of destruction.

Inside the gates, the chaos was immediate. Lyan’s soldiers stormed through the entrance, their blades flashing as they cut down the defenders with ruthless efficiency. Alice led the charge, her sword carving a path through the enemy ranks, her movements swift and lethal. She fought like a whirlwind, each strike measured and precise, dispatching enemies with cold precision. Beside her, Emilia swung her greatsword with devastating force, cleaving through armor and bone with ease. Every swing of her massive blade sent shockwaves through the ground, toppling anyone unfortunate enough to be in its path.

"They’re breaking!" Surena called out, her daggers glinting as she darted through the chaos, striking with deadly accuracy. Her lithe form moved like a shadow, slipping between enemies and cutting them down before they could even react.

Raine and Ravia loosed arrow after arrow, each shot finding its mark as they picked off enemy soldiers from a distance. Their eyes were sharp, their movements fluid, as they provided cover for the advancing troops. Josephine, her face set in a cold mask of fury, unleashed blast after blast of arcane energy, sending soldiers flying through the air with the force of her spells.

Lyan moved through the battlefield like a force of nature, his massive glaive cutting through the enemy ranks with brutal efficiency. His strikes were swift, powerful, and relentless, leaving no room for counterattacks. Soldiers fell before him like wheat before a scythe, their bodies crumpling under the weight of his blows. He moved with purpose, his eyes focused on the stronghold’s inner keep where he knew Hektor was hiding.

"Lyan! The side entrance is clear!" Alice called out, her voice cutting through the din of battle.

Lyan nodded sharply, his gaze shifting to the side entrance that Alice had fought to secure. "Take your team and push through," he commanded, his voice firm. "I’ll deal with Hektor."

Alice gave a sharp nod before rallying her team and charging toward the entrance, her sword flashing in the dim light as she led the way. Emilia, Surena, and the others followed close behind, their weapons raised as they pushed deeper into the stronghold.

As Lyan advanced toward the inner keep, he could feel the tide of the battle turning. Hektor’s forces were crumbling, their will to fight shattered by the overwhelming might of Lyan’s army. The soldiers who remained were either fleeing or surrendering, throwing down their weapons and begging for mercy.

But there would be no mercy for Hektor.

Lyan reached the doors of the inner keep, his heart pounding with the weight of the moment. He could feel the presence of the cowardly lord inside, cowering behind his remaining guards. With a single swing of his glaive, Lyan smashed the doors open, the wood splintering under the force of his blow.

Inside the dimly lit chamber, Hektor stood with what remained of his personal guards. His once grand armor, now dented and stained, clung to him as though even it had lost its will to fight. His face was a mask of fear, pale and drawn, his eyes wide as they flickered between Lyan and the door behind him. There was no escape. The proud, arrogant lord who had once commanded fear and respect in his lands now appeared small, insignificant, a shadow of the man who had once ruled with such force.

Lyan stepped into the room, his presence overwhelming. His dark cloak flowed behind him, and his massive glaive rested easily in his hands, still gleaming with the power that had felled so many of Hektor’s men. His voice was low, cold, and final as he spoke. "Hektor. It’s over."

Hektor flinched at the sound of Lyan’s voice, his heart pounding in his chest. His eyes darted toward the handful of guards still standing by his side. Their faces were grim, their hands shaking as they gripped their swords. But even they knew the fight was over. Lyan’s soldiers had already swept through the stronghold, cutting down anyone who dared stand in their way. These men were simply delaying the inevitable.

"Protect me!" Hektor shouted, his voice cracking with desperation. "Do your jobs, defend your lord!"

But his guards didn’t move. Their loyalty had limits, and facing down Lyan Arkanium Evocatore was beyond what they were willing to sacrifice. One by one, they stepped back, lowering their swords. Hektor’s face twisted in disbelief as he watched his last line of defense crumble before him.

"L-Lord Evocatore!" Hektor stammered, his voice shaking as he took a stumbling step back. "Please, we can negotiate. There’s no need for more bloodshed." His words were frantic now, almost pleading. "I have wealth! I have lands! You can take it all! Just... just let me live."

"There’s nothing to negotiate," Lyan replied, his gaze unwavering, his eyes burning with cold fury. "You brought this war upon yourself. You abandoned your son. You betrayed your people. And now you’ll pay the price."

Hektor’s face contorted in terror as the realization of his fate set in. His breath came in shallow, panicked gasps, his hands trembling as they clutched at the air, trying to find something—anything—that could save him. His once booming voice, the voice that had commanded armies, had now been reduced to a pathetic whimper.

"N-No, please!" Hektor’s voice cracked again, his knees buckling as he sank toward the floor. "Lord Evocatore... think about it! Wealth! Land! Power! I can offer you more than you’ve ever dreamed of! Just spare me... I beg of you."

Lyan stepped forward, his expression unchanged, his eyes dark and unforgiving. "I already have everything I need."

Hektor’s desperation turned ugly as he scrambled on his knees, crawling toward Lyan, his hands outstretched in a final, pitiful plea. "Lord Evocatore! Please... I’ll give you anything! My influence! My estates! I’ll be your loyal servant! I’ll do anything you ask, just—"

Lyan’s gaze hardened as he raised his glaive, the weight of the weapon steady in his hands. "You have nothing left to offer."

Hektor’s eyes widened as the blade of the glaive gleamed in the flickering torchlight. "No! No, wait—!"

With a swift, merciless motion, Lyan brought the glaive down. The blade cut through the air with a deadly hiss, and the final scream that tore from Hektor’s throat was short-lived, silenced almost instantly as the blade met its mark.

The room fell into an eerie silence. The only sound was the faint crackling of the torches on the walls and the distant echoes of battle still raging outside. Hektor’s body slumped to the ground, lifeless, his once proud form now nothing more than a broken shell.

Lyan stood over him, his breath steady, his glaive gleaming with the same cold efficiency that had ended so many lives that night. His eyes lingered on Hektor’s fallen body for a moment, taking in the end of the man who had caused so much pain and suffering. A man who had betrayed his own son, his own people, for the sake of his ambition. Now, there was nothing left of that ambition. Only silence.

Wilhelmina stepped into the room, her eyes drifting over Hektor’s lifeless form. "It’s done," she said quietly, her voice laced with a mixture of relief and grim satisfaction.

Lyan nodded, his gaze still fixed on the man who had once been his greatest enemy. "It’s done," he echoed, his voice soft but firm.

For a moment, the weight of victory settled over them. The war that Hektor had started, the bloodshed he had brought upon his own people, was finally over. But as Lyan looked out over the battlefield, his eyes scanning the fallen soldiers and the smoldering remains of the stronghold, he knew that this was just one battle. There were still challenges ahead, still enemies lurking in the shadows.

But for now, Lyan had won. And that was enough.

As the soldiers outside began to cheer, their voices carrying through the night air, Lyan turned his back on Hektor’s body and walked out of the inner keep. The war was over, and Hektor’s reign of fear and cowardice had come to an end.

But as Lyan strode toward the gates, the weight of the battles yet to come lingered in his mind. The road ahead would be long, but he had faced worse. He would face whatever came next with the same strength and determination that had brought him this far.