Translator: AnubisTL
In response to Solgorn's words, the vast majority of warriors, their will to resist long broken, threw down their weapons in a desperate bid for survival. They crashed to their knees on the blood-soaked earth, burying their heads in the dirt.
The few stubborn fools, brainwashed by family honor and clinging to a futile last stand, met their inevitable fate.
Cold blades fell without mercy, hot blood sprayed, and their severed heads rolled across the ground. Warm blood trickled across the earth, pooling into streams of crimson, each one emitting a pungent, metallic stench.
Garos observed closely, silently counting the captives until he tallied around several dozen.
These survivors, however, were not merely lucky.
Most were the elite of the private army, the battle-hardened veterans who formed its backbone, along with a few mid-level bosses who had miraculously escaped death.
Garos spared the lives of these men not because of the Flower Knight's pale plea.
Long before leading his army into battle, he had already planned for the aftermath. He knew that living, valuable prisoners could sometimes be more useful than cold corpses, especially when those prisoners included three high-ranking bosses: a rune knight, an alchemist, and an Abjurer.
The Albert Family must have spent generations accumulating genuine wealth and countless resources to cultivate such a trio of top-tier specialists. Their former Marquis Patriarch had been a great general, and the family's foundation far surpassed that of ordinary Earl families. Without such a legacy, they could never have raised such a formidable private army.
Only now do we truly have the leverage to negotiate, Garos thought to himself.
He knew better than anyone that negotiations were never about eloquence, but about the chips each side held and the power behind them. The Ironforged Tribe had proven their strength through a decisive victory. From this day forward, the Albert Family would be like a man sleeping on thorns, unable to rest or eat in peace.
It should be noted that Garos was naturally suspicious and insecure.
Garos instinctively favored the complete annihilation of all enemies, uprooting them entirely to prevent future threats.
Indeed, the Albert Family's core foundation, cultivated over many years, lay in the south. Their influence was deeply entrenched, primarily among the Ironforged Tribe in the Sierre Wilderness. For the time being, Garos's reach was too limited to uproot them completely.
He could tolerate the Albert Family's continued existence on the map for now.
But given Garos's nature, once he amassed sufficient power or discovered a way to strike a fatal blow across geographical boundaries, he would hesitate not a moment to utterly eradicate this persistent foe, pulling them up by the roots.
Not long after,
The clamor of the battlefield fell into complete silence, leaving only the pungent stench of blood and smoke hanging in the air.
Whether prisoners or corpses, the alchemy-forged armor and fine weapons that once adorned the Albert Family's private army were meticulously stripped away by the Ironforged Tribe warriors, leaving nothing untouched.
The battlefield was efficiently cleared by the tribal warriors. All valuable supplies were collected and categorized, while useless debris was gathered for disposal.
Dozens of dejected, expressionless prisoners, bound in chains, were forced along the road back to Creekwood Town under the threat of the warriors' sharp blades.
When several dragons soared overhead, their wings casting a shadow like a vast, dark cloud over the town.
When the captured private soldiers and mountains of blood-stained armor and broken weapons were displayed before the townsfolk.
Only then did the residents truly grasp the Ironforged Tribe's terrifying power.
Those who had lived for years in the chaotic Scaly Earth Rift Road knew of the long-standing feud between the Ironforged Tribe and the Albert Family.
They all understood:
The Ironforged Tribe's retaking of the Scaly Earth Rift Road would inevitably provoke the Albert Family's retaliation, sooner or later.
And now, this long-anticipated retaliation had ended in an undeniable, crushing defeat.
The Ironforged Tribe, which had vanished for over twenty years, had returned with even greater ferocity and might than before.
Compared to the several dragons that had just swept through the sky, exuding profound dragon might, the young green dragon that usually resided in Creekwood Town and managed its daily affairs now seemed as fragile as a meek hatchling.
The townsfolk suddenly realized that the juvenile dragon was likely just a minor boss within the massive dragon pack, far from its true core strength.
How vast was the dragon pack's real scale?
What they had witnessed was likely just the tip of the iceberg, a mere fraction of their true capabilities.
As the residents of Creekwood Town grappled with a complex mix of shock, awe, and the reassurance of having such powerful protectors, time quietly passed, bringing them to several days later.
The armor and weapons used by human warriors were fundamentally incompatible with the physique of the Ironforged Tribe's burly and towering familiar warriors. Forcing their use would be counterproductive.
Melting all the equipment down in the furnace to be reforged as raw materials would consume the tribe's blacksmiths' precious time and energy.
After weighing their options, the Ironforged Tribe made a decision.
And so,
The blood-soaked adventurers of Creekwood Town were astonished to discover:
In the center of the town square, armor shimmering with alchemical runes, finely crafted fine steel spears gleaming coldly, and rune-inscribed battle blades etched with energy patterns... these exceptionally high-quality weapons and armor were openly displayed on stalls, each with a clear price tag.
Although most of the equipment bore scars from the brutal battles, with gaps and varying degrees of damage, their prices were adjusted accordingly, making them exceptionally affordable.
The adventurers' purchases were only a small fraction of the total. The true bulk buyers were the major merchant guilds that plied the Scaly Earth Rift Road.
With tensions rising within the federation and conflicts brewing, high-quality weapons and equipment had become scarce, commanding exorbitant prices and selling out as soon as they became available—a seller's market with no unsold inventory.
And so,
The adventurers secured the arms they desperately needed, while the merchants reaped their profits.
The Ironforged Tribe, meanwhile, gained wealth and resources.
These glittering gold coins wouldn't be hoarded by Garos for mere admiration.
Like a rolling snowball, they would be continuously transformed through ongoing trade into the tribe's most vital strategic resources: sturdy alchemy workshops rose from the earth, imposing fortifications were erected to guard key passes, and watchtowers pierced the sky along the front lines. These efforts allowed the Ironforged Tribe to sink deeper, more stable, and unshakeable roots into this hard-won, treacherous land.
(End of the Chapter)
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