The Shadow of War (Part 2)

"WE ARE BEING ATTACKED!"

The warning split the air, and chaos erupted around me. My heart pounded against my ribs, each beat a drum of rising panic. My throat went dry. My breaths came short and uneven. The fear wasn't new—I'd glimpsed war's horrors from a distance when I first arrived in this world.

But now, there was no distance. Now, I was standing at its threshold, and it was swallowing me whole.

"GET READY FOR BATTLE!"

Before I could react, the sky darkened. Arrows rained down in deadly waves, slicing through the air with a chilling hiss. The pristine snow turned red as bodies collapsed around me. The metallic tang of blood filled my lungs, mingling with the agonized screams of the wounded.

I hate this world. I hate Isekai!

Then came the sound that drowned everything else—the unmistakable clash of steel.

The warriors surged forward, moving with terrifying precision. At the front of it all was him. That prince. Cutting through the battlefield like a storm made flesh. Every swing of his blade sent enemies crumbling, his presence a force of destruction and command.

The ground trembled with each collision of metal. The battle had begun in full.

I had always admired strong women in stories, fascinated by their courage. But I am not Mulan or Merida. I never wanted to be. What good was bravery here? I wasn't a warrior. I wasn't a hero. If I could trade places with some delicate noblewoman far from this nightmare, I would do it without hesitation.

"ARROWS COMING!"

The warning jolted me. I threw myself to the ground, pressing into the freezing snow as another volley soared overhead. Thuds followed—the sickening sound of bodies being pierced.

I cracked one eye open and saw them—the warriors forming a shield wall, unwavering even as arrows clattered against their defenses. They protected those behind them without hesitation.

Shame coiled in my chest. I crawled toward their formation, slipping into the center like a child hiding behind adults. My gaze darted around, taking in the bloodied swords, the splintered shields, the warriors barely holding themselves together.

What am I even doing here?

The battle raged on, suffocating, inescapable. Everywhere I turned, there was violence—bodies falling, warriors pressing forward, swords clashing. My legs trembled beneath me, barely able to support my weight as the warriors shifted formation.

I should be grateful I was still standing—

Clang!

"Or maybe not," I muttered weakly as a knight in tattered armor rushed toward me, sword raised.

"I'm not your enemy!" My voice cracked as I stumbled backward, but my red armor screamed otherwise.

He didn't hesitate. He struck fast, forcing me into a clumsy block. The impact rattled my arms, nearly knocking me off my feet. He came at me harder, relentless, each blow chipping away at what little defense I had.

A man's strength is no joke.

My arms ached, trembling violently under the pressure. Just when I thought I was finished, a blur of red slashed into my vision.

With a swift, brutal motion, my attacker crumpled, blood blooming across the ice.

The warrior who saved me—red-capped and sharp-eyed—spared me a brief glance before vanishing back into the chaos.

I didn't even get a chance to say thanks.

My legs moved before my mind could catch up, carrying me away from the worst of the fighting. I ducked behind a mound of snow, heart hammering so hard it drowned out the world. My body shook uncontrollably, adrenaline surging through me in waves.

What was all that training for if all I can do is hide? Call me a coward, but I am not your everyday war girl!

Peering from my makeshift shelter, I took in the battlefield.

It was worse than I imagined. Blood pooled across the snow, dismembered limbs scattered like broken dolls. The cries of the dying wove through the clash of steel, creating a twisted symphony of agony and triumph.

Bile rose in my throat, a suffocating sickness clawing at my insides.

I wanted to run. But where? Death was everywhere. One wrong step, one mistake, and I'd be next.

My only hope—the Homonhon Empire, the myths and histories buried in scrolls—had better be worth this nightmare. If I survived this war and it turned out to be nothing but stories and lies, I swear, I would burn those scrolls to ash.

Clang!

Something heavy flew past me, landing with a sickening thud just inches from where I crouched.

I knew what it was before I even looked. My body froze, heart stalling mid-beat. Dread clawed up my spine, wrapping tight around my throat. I didn't want to see it. I didn't want to confirm what my gut already knew.

Something heavy flew past me, landing with a sickening thud just inches from where I crouched.

I knew what it was before I even looked.

My body froze. My heart stalled mid-beat. Dread clawed up my spine, wrapping tight around my throat. I didn't want to see it. I didn't want to confirm what my gut already knew.

Please don't be a head.

Please, not a head…

I exhaled in relief, my entire body trembling as I realized the object that had flown past me wasn't a severed head—just a dented metal helmet, ripped from some fallen knight. It clattered to the ground beside me, harmless now, though the fear still clung to my skin like ice.

I stayed frozen, curled up in my hiding spot, muscles locked tight as I strained to listen. The chaos had quieted here, a temporary lull in the storm of battle. But I couldn't let my guard down—not when I was still trapped in the middle of a warzone. The air was thick with the stench of blood, so heavy it twisted my stomach into knots.

"Damn, he's a monster," I whispered.

From where I was crouched, I could see the prince cutting down the last of the enemy soldiers. He moved like flowing water, each strike precise, effortless. Even as he wiped the blood from his face, his expression never changed.

I didn't know if I should feel relieved or terrified. The only reason I was still breathing was because he had killed almost everyone near me. That thought alone made my stomach churn. I buried my face in my knees, letting the snow soak through my clothes.

I felt... empty.

I had only wanted to buy a nice pair of shoes. That was all. I had been sitting at home for weeks, overworked, exhausted, and just looking for a small piece of happiness. Now I was here, choking on the smell of death, trying not to die in a world that wasn't mine.

The life I wanted to return to felt impossibly far away.

Why am I even trying to survive?

Tears stung my eyes. I let out a shaky breath, forcing myself to swallow them down. Crying wouldn't help. I slapped my cheeks lightly, shaking my head.

'Get it together.'

I forced myself to think—really think. I had to figure something out.

Then, something clicked.

The battlefield, the bodies, the blood-soaked snow—this scene… I had seen it before.

My breath hitched.

No. Not in real life. In a story.

I racked my brain, trying to remember. It had been a twisted novel, where the main character kept reliving the chaos she had unknowingly set into motion. She had clawed her way through the madness, finding small hints, hidden threads that eventually led her to a way out.

If this world worked like that… there had to be an escape.

In those stories, there was always something—a necklace, a ring, an ancient relic, something that unlocked the path home. But I had nothing. My bag, my shoes, everything I had when I arrived was gone. Desperation clawed at my throat as I scanned the battlefield, searching for any kind of sign.

'Please, please, let this be like a story. Let there be a way out.'

Maybe there was a hidden door. Maybe there was some clue I had missed. My eyes darted upward, searching the sky, as if a glowing portal would suddenly appear. I even jumped a little, half-expecting to stumble into some invisible tear between worlds.

But there was nothing.

No secret passage. No magic key. No escape.

This isn't a story.

This is real.

"So, you managed to dodge death, but you're still crazy in the head, huh?"

The prince's voice cut through my frantic thoughts, sharp and unimpressed.

I barely had time to flinch before he tapped the hilt of his sword against my skull—not hard enough to wound, but enough to sting. I winced, the sharp pain grounding me, dragging me back into the freezing, blood-soaked reality I couldn't escape.

His gaze was as cold as the snow beneath us.

"Leave the bodies. We move forward," he commanded.

He didn't wait for a response.

Turning, he called out to one of his warriors. "Pierce, leave your group to clean up this mess."

Then, with effortless grace, he mounted his horse. His eyes flickered over something—maybe the remains of the battlefield, maybe me—but he didn't linger. Without another word, he led his remaining men forward, deeper into the heart of the empire.

And I… I had no choice but to follow.