Thud!
Artarox fell to the ground lifeless. Even in death his eyes were open, and disbelief could be seen in them.
Alec brandished his spear, turned, and lifted it towards the sky.
He coldly scanned the chaotic battleground. His gaze alone made some barbarians fall to their knees.
“Your chief is dead!”
Hearing that, the remaining barbarians split into two; some ran while some submitted. Those that ran were slain by Paul and his archers, while those that submitted were gathered together.
Some elite Desolate Wolves stood around their comrades who had transformed into statues. With Artarox’s death, they became still.
The 7-foot-tall elite Desolate Wolves in fighting stances and their shields before them were a striking sight that would marvel anyone, noble or commoner.
Unfortunately, to those watching, it was a sad sight. These men were once their comrades.
Clip Clop!
The sound of the horse made some men give way, allowing Asher on horseback to reach the front. He looked at the soldier that was turned into a statue without an expression.
“How many did we lose?”
“11. Your Lordship.”
“11 knights! That’s…!” Someone amongst the average Desolate Wolves hissed. Although he stood at the back of the gathering, Asher’s ears were sensitive enough to catch it.
About 4000 barbarians were slain, yet only 14 Ashbourne knights were slain by the chief of the tribe.
This proved how formidable the Ashbourne knights were, but Asher still considered it a loss.
“Rename this forest, ‘Guardian Forest.’ Hunt down those barbarians to the last of them and slay those that refuse to submit.”
Turning to a barbarian on his knees, Asher questioned him with a deep, almost emotionless tone.
“Where is your tribe?”
Shakily, the man pointed toward the north. “O… over there.”
His Tenaria tongue wasn’t fluid, but it was understandable by a guru like Asher. He knew both the old and new Tenaria tongues and was an apex expert at both of them.
“Lead us.”
With that, the barbarian led them away from the battlefield toward the valley. After they left, all that remained were corpses, stone rubble, and 11 tall, exquisitely armored stone soldiers in fighting stances.
Just the sight of them was inspiring, intimidating, and undoubtedly magnificent.
After a while, the troops arrived at the outskirts of the tribe. When the women in the tribe saw the thousands upon thousands of men clad in plate armor and their men tied at the front, they opened the gates without hesitation.
Asher ignored every other thing and entered the chief’s tent. His eyes were like those of an eagle as he scanned the large tent.
There were heaps of different stuff covered in beast fur, but after opening them, he discovered none of them was important. Read new chapters at freewebnovel
When he almost gave up, he looked at the ceiling and saw a yellow animal skin with strange, soft, glowing writings stuck to the ceiling just above the fur bed.
“Is that a magic scroll?”
Swoosh!
He leaped, tore the animal skin off the ceiling, and landed with a light thud. In the process of landing, he squished the animal skin, and it burst into golden fireflies.
So the moment he landed, there were fireflies all around him, so much that he couldn’t see.
Before he could react, the fireflies stuck to his armor, phased through his armor, and entered his skin!
He felt hot for a brief moment.
“What in the world… that’s not how a normal magic scroll works; is it a binding scroll?”
While he pondered, a sudden piece of information popped up.
Empyrean Sigil Stomp!
This was the name of the magic scroll. It was for those from the sacred grade upward. Something like this could not have found its way here if it wasn’t through a merchant long ago or a thief.
The barbarian chief couldn’t master it because it was above his rank.
Feeling a sudden instinct, Asher lifted up his right leg and, with great force, slammed it back to the ground.
Boom!!!
A tremendous shockwave, which would be seen like a great ring-like dust wave, spread out, pulling out tents and throwing anything that was 200 yards around him.
Asher looked down and saw a massive crimson sigil of House Ashbourne. The image of a howling wolf head drawn exquisitely on the ground.
Looking at the sigil that covered a large space of 100 yards and the destruction caused by the stomp, Asher blinked twice.
This skill wasn’t simply a skill but also something so iconic. The moment he used it, anyone that saw would know the lord of the northern wastelands had been there.
It had become a war signature that might announce his name greatly.
Cough! Cough!
Coughing, Nero and some King Swordsmen made their way towards him.
“Your Lordship, are you hurt?!” Nero shouted.
“Are you?”
Asher asked back as they were the ones in pitiable conditions.
[Ding! Congratulations, Host, for conquering the forest of horrors and renaming it the ‘Guardian Forest.’ Would you like to upgrade this small town into a tier one town? Yes or No?]
‘Do it.’
Swoosh!
Brilliant white lights shot from the ground into the sky, blinding everyone. When it died down, Asher found himself in a clean small town with wooden walls, wooden buildings, and a small barrack.
Although the streets were not paved, they had no grass on them and were neatly connected.
In the middle of the town, which was the town square, was a stone monument with 11 Ashbourne Knight statues around it.
Written boldly on it was: The Guardian Knights’ Rest.
‘Thanks.’
He had to appreciate his system for at least showing emotions, even though he had no idea if it had one.
“Your Lordship, how did you do this?” Alex pointed at the sigil on the ground. It was too big to be ignored.
After the soldiers marveled at the town’s new look, they gathered around it.
“A magic skill.”
Asher replied lightly.
Alex blinked.
Asher turned to him. “You know you’re not allowed to get jealous. Not everyone has wings like you and your son; neither can we fly.”
Alex coughed as he had to swallow whatever he was preparing to say.