The battlefield was silent. The blood of the Order soaked the ground. Severed limbs, crushed skulls, and broken weapons lay scattered across the ruins. The air was thick with the iron stench of death.

  Yulong stood in the center of it all, his breathing heavy, his hands still twitching from the raw power that had coursed through him. His body was drenched in blood—none of it his own. His eyes, still burning with hatred, stared at the corpses like they weren’t enough. Like nothing would ever be enough.

  Aelric stepped forward, calm, composed, unshaken by the carnage. His golden eyes studied Yulong carefully. He had seen powerful warriors before. He had seen men consumed by vengeance. But Yulong was something different. His rage had transcended human limitations.

  Aelric had made up his mind.

  “Yulong.” His voice was steady.

  Yulong didn’t respond at first. His hands clenched. His entire body was tense, as if he were still ready to kill.

  Aelric continued, “You despise the Order. You wish to destroy them.”

  Yulong finally turned his gaze to Aelric. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes—his eyes held nothing but pain.

  “I don’t wish,” Yulong said. His voice was hoarse. “I will.”

  Aelric nodded. “Then join me.”

  Yulong’s shoulders tensed.

  “I’ve seen what they’ve done to you. I’ve seen how they’ve broken you.” Aelric’s voice remained unwavering. “But you are not broken, Yulong. Not yet. You still fight. You still rage.”

  Yulong scoffed, his voice dripping with bitterness. “You think I can be anything other than a monster? Do you have any idea how many innocent people I’ve killed? How many families I’ve destroyed with my own hands?”

  Aelric didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

  Yulong’s breath caught in his throat.

  “It wasn’t your fault.” Aelric’s words were firm, absolute. “The Order made you into this. They twisted you, forced you to kill. But you—” He pointed at Yulong’s chest. “—you are still here. If you were just a monster, you wouldn’t hate yourself for what you’ve done.”

  Yulong clenched his fists. “It doesn’t matter. Right or wrong—none of it means anything anymore.”

  “It does,” Aelric said. “If it didn’t, you wouldn’t be standing here.” He took another step forward. “Join me, Yulong. If we can stop the Order, we can change the world. We can create a world where children don’t have to suffer the way you did. Where there will never be another man forced to bear your pain.”

  Yulong stared at him, something flickering in his expression—doubt, hesitation.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Aelric held out his hand. “Entrust your life to me. You won’t carry this burden alone.”

  Yulong looked at Aelric’s hand.

  He thought of his wife.

  His son.

  His village.

  He reached out.

  And grasped it.

  Aelric’s grip was firm. Certain.

  And for the first time in years—

  Yulong felt a shred of something other than rage.

  Something small.

  Something like hope.

  The Order is not eternal. It will change. Join us.

  The message was carved into wooden signs, painted across banners, and written in blood across ruined battlefields. The severed heads of the fallen Order soldiers were impaled on wooden stakes, driven into the ground at every village they passed.

  Fear spread.

  But so did something else.

  Hope.

  The Order had stood unchallenged for generations. It was an unbreakable force, an undeniable power. But now, for the first time in history, someone had defied them.

  And won.

  Aelric stood before the people of the first village. And he spoke.

  “You were born free. And yet you live in chains.”

  His voice was strong, carrying over the hushed crowd.

  “Every day, you work. You obey. You suffer. You do not think. You do not feel. You do not dream.”

  He spread his arms, gesturing to the faces before him—faces filled with hunger, exhaustion, and quiet resignation.

  “Tell me, is this life? Is this freedom?”

  Silence.

  Aelric’s voice hardened.

  “You eat scraps. You live in fear. You bow your heads and call it survival. But what is survival worth if it means spending your entire existence as a prisoner?”

  His golden eyes scanned the crowd.

  “Do you want your children to grow up the same way? Do you want them to inherit your chains? Do you want them to suffer, to bow, to starve—just like you?”

  Murmurs rippled through the crowd.

  Aelric took a step forward.

  “We have slain the Order’s men. We have proven that they can bleed. That they can fall.”

  He pointed to the impaled heads.

  “Look at them. The Order tells you they are untouchable. That they are eternal. That no one can oppose them.”

  His lips curled into a smirk.

  “They were wrong.”

  A hushed silence.

  And then—

  “Join me.”

  Aelric’s voice rang out, clear and commanding.

  “I do not care if you are old. I do not care if you are young. I do not care if you are man or woman. If you have the will to fight, stand with me.”

  The crowd shifted. People exchanged uncertain glances.

  Aelric’s voice softened, but it did not waver.

  “If we fall, we die. If we do nothing, we still die. But if we fight—” He lifted his chin. “Then we decide how this world changes.”

  A single man stepped forward.

  “I will fight.”

  A woman followed. “Me too.”

  A young boy—barely fifteen. “I don’t want to live like this anymore.”

  One by one, they stepped forward.

  Aelric smiled.

  The Order’s greatest weapon was fear.

  But now, the people were no longer afraid.

  Village after village, Aelric and his forces moved. The message spread like wildfire. Every village they passed, they left their mark—the Order’s soldiers displayed in brutal warning, but also a promise. The Order was not untouchable.

  More and more people joined.

  Some were weak.

  Some were old.

  Some had never held a weapon in their lives.

  But they came.

  An old man, trembling, barely able to hold a rusted sword. “I don’t have many years left, but I’d rather die standing than live on my knees.”

  A young mother, holding her child close. “If I die, at least I’ll die knowing I fought for her future.”

  A crippled farmer, his hands calloused and worn. “They took everything from me. My wife. My land. My son. I have nothing left to lose.”

  Aelric accepted them all.

  He did not need warriors.

  He needed believers.

  And now, he had them.

  Belmar awoke in darkness.

  The subspace prison.

  His body ached. His wounds burned.

  And then he realized—

  He was not alone.

  A voice spoke from the shadows.

  “So. Another one.”

  Belmar’s breath hitched.

  He recognized that voice.

  The previous prisoner.

  A former high-ranking Order officer.

  Belmar clenched his fists.

  He had always believed in the Order’s power.

  He had always thought himself safe.

  But now—

  For the first time in his life—

  He wondered if the Order truly was eternal.

  Chapter 24 ends