Kingdom Building Game: Starting Out With A Million Upgrade Points!

Adrian exhaled, his breath misting in the frigid air. His mind raced through possibilities. He had the advantage in numbers, but Garik was a seasoned warrior—a damn seven-star knight.

If they had others waiting in ambush within the gorge, this escape could turn into a slaughter.

Evelyne's voice cut through his thoughts. "My dear, we must move."

He glanced at his wife, her grip on Lysara tight. His daughters were frightened but silent, trusting in their father's command. He couldn't afford to hesitate.

Garik chuckled, shaking his head. "If exile were what the emperor intended to use to keep the nobles in line, he would've been walked all over by now."

His smirk faded as he lifted his sword, its steel gleaming in the moonlight. "Orders are orders, Lord Adrian. No one except you and your beautiful daughters may leave here alive."

His gaze hardened. "And of course, you're welcome to join the rest of your family—after you're taken to the capital and pay for your treason with execution."

Adrian cursed under his breath.

Ian, still seething from their retreat, gritted his teeth. "We should have fought in the keep. We should have died with honor!"

Adrian wheeled his wolf around and grabbed his son's cloak, yanking him close. His voice was low and sharp. "Then you would have died a fool."

Ian flinched but held his father's gaze.

Adrian released him and turned back to Garik, shifting in his saddle. "Very well." His hand moved to the hilt of his sword. "If you insist on standing in my way…"

Adrian's grip tightened on his sword as Garik took a measured step forward, his presence alone suffocating. The mountain wolves beneath the Adrian knights snarled, their breaths misting in the cold air, sensing the tension thickening like a storm about to break.

"Clear a path!"

Adrian barked. His knights spurred their wolves forward, the powerful beasts lunging through the snow toward Garik.

The seven-star knight exhaled slowly and moved.

In an instant, his blade was a blur. The first knight came at him with a downward strike, his wolf's claws kicking up a spray of frost. Garik sidestepped the swing, pivoted, and drove his sword through the knight's ribs, steel piercing chainmail like wet parchment. He wrenched the blade free just as another came from his right, trying to flank him. With a swift motion, he ducked beneath a sweeping axe, then flicked his sword upward in a precise arc—severing the knight's arm clean off. The man barely had time to scream before Garik twisted and cut through his throat.

"Lionel! Handle the young ones!" Garik called over his shoulder, his voice level, almost bored.

Lionel, standing farther down the gorge, swallowed hard and drew his blade. He was younger than Garik but no fool—he knew his superior didn't need help against mere nobles. This was more of a slaughter than a battle.

The wolves snarled and snapped at Garik, trying to protect their fallen riders. One lunged, its jaws wide, fangs aiming for his throat. He sidestepped again, twisted his sword downward, and ran the wolf through the chest. It yelped, blood staining the snow beneath it as it collapsed.

Another knight charged at him from behind. Without turning, Garik angled his blade back, impaling the attacker through the gut without looking.

Lionel hesitated. Watching Garik fight was like watching a reaper at work—every movement was efficient, deadly, final.

But then Ian, filled with reckless fury, broke ranks.

"Damn you!" Ian roared as he charged, his wolf sprinting straight toward Lionel.

Adrian's heart clenched. "Ian! No!"

Evelyne gasped, her grip on Lysara tightening.

The boy had no strategy—only blind anger. And Lionel saw it.

With a steady breath, Lionel raised his sword, aura flaring along the steel's edge. As Ian came within range, he slashed downward in a precise strike, cutting deep into the wolf's front leg. The beast howled in pain, stumbling mid-charge. Ian was thrown from the saddle, hitting the ground hard, snow bursting around him as he groaned in pain.

Before he could rise, Lionel was already on him, planting a boot firmly on his chest and pressing his blade against the young noble's throat.

Garik finished the last of the knights with a swift decapitation before turning to the scene before him. He flicked blood from his blade and strode toward Lionel, looking down at Ian with an unimpressed gaze.

"Finish him," Garik ordered, his voice carrying no emotion.

Lionel stiffened, his grip on the sword tightening. "But… he's just a boy."

Garik exhaled sharply, turning to his subordinate with a mixture of disappointment and patience. "Imperial law, lad," he said calmly. "In place for centuries. There's a reason our ancestors made it this way."

Lionel glanced down at Ian, whose face was frozen in a mixture of rage and fear. The boy was young, barely a man, and yet he carried himself with the stubbornness of a seasoned warrior. Lionel hesitated.

"Do it," Garik repeated. "Or do you doubt the wisdom of our forebears?"

Ian growled, struggling beneath Lionel's boot, but the weight kept him pinned. He wasn't strong enough to break free, and both men knew it.

From atop her wolf, Evelyne turned to Adrian, panic in her eyes. "We must do something!"

Adrian's jaw clenched. He couldn't afford to lose Ian. Not like this.

With a swift motion, he pulled the reins of his wolf and surged forward, his remaining knights close behind.

If they were going to die here, they would not go quietly.

Garik sighed, his expression unreadable. "Stubborn fool," he muttered before raising his sword once more.

"Lionel, deal with the boy. I'll handle the rest."

Lionel hesitated, his blade still pressed against Ian's throat. His fingers tightened around the hilt, his mind racing. The young noble beneath him stared back, defiant even in the face of death.

Ian gritted his teeth. "Do it, then! Prove you're nothing but your master's dog!"

Lionel's grip wavered.

Garik, noticing the hesitation, turned sharply. "Do not hesitate, Lionel. If you can't do it, I will."