That night, a large ceremony was held. The few remaining altar servers were dressed in dark gowns, their expressions solemn, as if dark clouds were floating above their heads.
They buried the deceased altar servers and soldiers who had fallen victim to the brutality of this accursed world—a world where men who were supposed to be protectors of the realm were corrupted by darkness and evil.
These were soldiers who had been reshaped, trained, and raised from the ashes as symbols of hope, yet they had become armored figures who brought only chaos.
Roy wore his Black Templar armor; his seven-foot-tall figure towered above the massive crowd. It was not for fashion, but a symbol that destruction was imminent.
The people formed a large circle outside the Holy Ministry, where dozens of coffins had been arranged in neat rows, lying beside prepared burial holes. Deep inside Roy's hooded helmet, he was exploding with rage, inwardly cursing the Western Kingdom for the disaster they had left behind.
Yom Euni was no less devastated. Her eyes swelled with tears as she held Roy's hand—not as a flirtation, but as an act of comfort. Her usual sweetness was gone, replaced by the coldness of revenge.
"Sisters, why must you fall into the world's cruelty?" Yom Euni sobbed silently, tears pouring down her delicate face as she wiped them with her sleeves.
Bah Long, now the Minister of the Civil Ministry, stood with dozens of other ministers. They held their torches high as a signal to begin the burial. Prayers were spoken in silent whispers, faint sobs could be heard from the elderly and the parents of the deceased, and a silent tension of vengeance hung in the air.
As the people of Zudrath City began the burial ceremony, another scene was unfolding inside King Gob Som Cena's palace.
---
Deep inside the Western Kingdom's palace, the three-hundred-pound King sat casually on his throne. His mouth moved lazily as he munched on roasted meat. Beside him sat his forty-year-old Queen, while palace guards stood unmoving on each side.
Before him knelt the Grand Marshal, Ahn Dey.
"Speak," King Gob Som Cena said, his mouth stuffed with meat as he chewed lazily.
"Reporting to your Highness," General Ahn Dey replied, his voice loud enough to echo across the room.
"The campaign to wipe out the Southern Army at Hubog City was a success, and the defense of Lomban Town was also a grand victory. However, Lieutenant Tor Phe was killed in battle."
Silence followed.
The General looked at the King expectantly, waiting to see if this gluttonous ruler would show even the slightest trace of disdain or grief that such a capable commander had died to protect his land.
Instead, King Gob Som Cena waved a hand lazily. His expression was cold yet calm, as if such news were not worthy of his Majesty's sadness, nor did he truly care about the matters of the Southern Kingdom.
"I have heard your report. You may go," the King said dismissively. His face was still smeared with grease as he continued eating with enthusiasm, his appetite matching his massive frame.
Ahn Dey cursed the gluttonous King inwardly. He exited the palace at a hurried pace, not even offering a formal salute or a proper bow; he simply stood up and walked away from the throne room.
Back at the military barracks, Ahn Dey sat angrily behind his desk, his face buried in his hands as he sighed deeply.
"That fat King... the only thing he knows besides how to govern the realm is eating," Ahn Dey muttered, cursing the King with open hatred.
Just as he sank deeper into his thoughts, the sound of hooves thundered outside his tent.
Gar Do and Bho Thong suddenly barged inside, wide smiles on their faces and excitement visible in their eyes. They performed a one-knee bow toward Ahn Dey and offered a respectful salute.
Gar Do raised his chin confidently.
"This is Commander Bho Thong," Gar Do said, gesturing toward him. His voice was calm yet firm. "He is the one who led the campaign toward Hubog City."
"You summoned me, Grand Marshal Ahn Dey," Bho Thong said, his posture straight and refined.
"You said you encountered a city that is not part of our territory?" Ahn Dey asked, frowning deeply as he clasped his hands.
"Yes, General. But they also claimed they are not part of the Southern Kingdom as well," Bho Thong replied casually.
"Explain."
"When I emerged victorious from the battle of Hubog Town, we immediately marched back toward the Western Kingdom.
However, when our rations ran out, we discovered that the villages surrounding Hubog Town—all the way to Korokoro Town—had been abandoned."
Bho Thong recounted the scene, his expression shifting in a way that captivated Ahn Dey's curiosity.
"We suffered starvation and exhaustion on our way back. But just as all hope was lost, we stumbled upon a city called Zudrath City.
The leader of that city fed our fifteen thousand troops for days without skipping a single meal. They even provided us with provisions that could last until our safe return to the Western Kingdom."
Ahn Dey listened with a calm expression, his gaze piercing.
"So you are saying there is a city with an abundant supply of food, and they are not part of our Western Kingdom?" Ahn Dey asked. His voice was low and his eyes narrowed, as if he were trying to see through a lie.
"Yes, my lord. The leader of that city is particularly rich; he must have someone powerful backing him."
A sudden silence filled the room as Ahn Dey narrowed his eyes even further, calculating.
"Our army is currently lacking food," Ahn Dey said finally, his tone firm.
Gar Do and Bho Thong immediately looked down, already aware of the dire situation.
Ahn Dey immediately stood up, his expression turning serious as he ordered the generals.
"Assemble the army, we march toward that city at once."
And so, the army of the western kingdom began it's bustling work, soldiers packed their armor and weapons, while some packed food and tents.
Then, the army marched toward Zudrath City, at the head, was none other than the Grand Marshall himself.