Chapter 648: The King Advances

Across the narrow road, royal guardsmen planted their heraldic pavises into the packed gravel, watching for approaching silhouettes.

The guards tightened their shield straps and opened a narrow lane for the last civilian runners before the King stepped to the front.

The King stood at the forefront of the royal formation, his golden mantle pinned back to free his sword arm.

In his right hand he held the ancestral blade of the realm, its polished fuller reflecting the flickering torchlight.

Twenty radiant Shards orbited his crown like miniature stars, shimmering with the absolute apex of mortal cultivation.

For twenty years, foreign envoys and Underworld priests claimed that mortal kings existed merely to collect tithes for distant thrones.

They whispered that mortal blood lacked the divine lineage required to stand against the incarnate wills of heaven.

Tonight, upon this narrow mountain road, the sovereign of the realm intended to prove those ancient lies hollow.

"Marshal Thenn is advancing through the gully," General Roderic reported, stepping to the monarch’s side with a drawn saber.

"He brings four hundred elite halberdiers... intending to strike Lord Hajin’s rear while the main storm engages the span."

The wind from the northern peaks whipped down the causeway, rustling the silk banners of the royal guard.

"They will find no open road through this valley," the King answered, his deep baritone resounding with royal authority.

"Clear the causeway and fall back to the palisades... this duel belongs to the crown!"

"Your Majesty, let the front rank take the initial charge!" the general protested, bowing with urgent loyalty.

"A king who hides behind his men when an invader marches on his realm is no king at all," the monarch declared.

The veteran guardsmen looked upon their sovereign with fierce reverence, locking their shields into defensive chevrons along the embankment.

The King stepped past the shield wall, walking onto the open gravel road as the enemy column crested the ridge.

Leading the hostile formation was Marshal Thenn, an embodied warlord clad in segmented armor and horned helmet.

Thenn wielded an eight-foot war halberd, its crescent blade humming with discordant choral resonance that distorted the air.

"Mortal king!" Thenn called out, his voice vibrating with the unnatural power of the Choral Incarnation.

"Yield this northern passage to the divine choir... or watch your kingdom burn to ash!"

"My kingdom was built on the blood and sweat of living men," the King answered, raising his blade to eye level.

"Not on the hollow promises of parasitic gods!"

Thenn surged forward with terrifying velocity, driving his halberd in a vicious diagonal cleave aimed at the monarch’s neck.

The King did not retreat, channeling his twenty Shards into a blinding shockwave of pure royal sword aura.

The two blades collided with an ear-splitting crack that blew the fog twenty yards back into the gully.

The King absorbed the immense impact through his balanced stance, shifting his weight to parry the heavier polearm aside.

He stepped inside Thenn’s reach, executing a classic royal riposte that severed the defensive plating over the marshal’s shoulder.

Thenn snarled in pain, sweeping the butt of his halberd around in a savage blind strike aimed at the King’s ribs.

The monarch leaned beneath the whistling timber haft, his ancestral sword flashing in an unbroken sequence of three strikes.

His first blow sheared the iron socket of Thenn’s weapon, snapping the eight-foot halberd completely in half.

The severed pieces of the halberd clattered against the packed gravel, rolling into the dark drainage culvert below.

His second strike pierced the marshal’s breastplate, destroying the core conduit that channeled the Incarnation’s power.

His third blow sent the pommel of his sword smashing into Thenn’s helm, shattering the horned crest into shards.

The defeated marshal collapsed onto the causeway flags, coughing black ichor as his choral aura unraveled into gray smoke.

Seeing their commander struck down, the enemy halberdiers broke ranks in sheer panic, fleeing back toward the northern hills.

The royal archers loosed a single disciplined volley into the fog, accelerating the retreat of the scattered enemy halberdiers.

"Victory for the King!" the royal guardsmen roared in unison, surging forward to secure the causeway perimeter.

The surviving royal guardsmen tended to their wounded comrades by the smoky light of resin torches, securing the northern causeway.

Far across the southern valley, a single sapphire flare rose above the civilian evacuation road, signaling Didi’s unbroken perimeter.

General Roderic walked up to the monarch, offering a linen cloth to wipe the ichor from the royal blade.

"The northern flank is completely secured, Your Majesty," the general reported, bowing with profound respect.

"Shall I dispatch a royal courier to order Princess Didi’s detachment to withdraw behind our lines?"

The King looked out toward the southern flare, watching the soft blue light illuminate the distant evacuation road.

He remembered the young girl who once hid behind nursery curtains, trembling at the sound of royal heralds.

Back then, the court whispered that her gentle nature was a flaw that would leave her vulnerable to ruthless politicians.

Now she stood as an independent commander, guarding the vulnerable with her own six Shards and unyielding moral conviction.

She did not seek the throne, she did not demand titles, and she needed no royal armies to justify her sovereignty.

"No," the King answered softly, sheathing his sword with a slow, deliberate motion.

"She chose her own field and she bears her own banner."

"A true sovereign does not demand obedience from those who defend the helpless with their own hands."

"We hold this causeway until dawn... and let the princess hold her road."

The general bowed solemnly, understanding the profound respect that the father was granting to his daughter’s independent strength.

General Roderic saluted crisply, turning to direct the watch rotations and relief posts along the western earthworks.

The causeway stood quiet beneath the watchful eyes of the royal guard, who held the passage with unbroken vigilance.

Around the watchfires, the wounded guardsmen shared cups of warm cider and dried venison, their morale soaring in the night air.

The King walked among them, placing a reassuring hand upon the shoulders of young conscripts and seasoned veterans alike.

"Rest well tonight, soldiers of the crown," he told them, his eyes gleaming with pride beneath his silver brows.

"Tomorrow, we witness the birth of a free kingdom that kneels to no false heaven."

High above the northern causeway, the celestial broadcast interface glowed with an avalanche of admiring messages.

[ Seoul_Tactician: "THE KING PERSONALLY SLAYING MARSHAL THENN! Twenty Shards on full display, peak mortal supremacy!" ]

[ StarlightScholar: "’A king who hides behind his men when an invader marches is no king at all!’ Absolute chills!" ]

[ IronVanguard: "Didi and the royal guards won their own front. Hajin did not have to run over there!" ]

[ HearthKeeper: "The King heard Didi say no and let her choose her own route. She earned that!" ]

[ ShadowMage44: "A standard bearer is coming for Didi’s civilian lane. Get those families farther back!" ]

The King stood silently upon the causeway parapet, his golden mantle rustling in the cool mountain wind.

"Post a watch at the lower turn," the King told his captain. "A sealed gate means little if they circle behind us."

The northern gate was sealed, his soldiers stood proud, and the final trial of the realm moved toward the dawn.