The Throne of Blood

The battlefield was silent.

The last cries of the fallen had faded, replaced by the eerie whistle of the wind over corpses. Blood soaked the ground, staining the once-green plains in deep crimson. The banners of Raegath lay trampled, their symbols of pride reduced to torn rags.

At the center of it all stood Valtherion, his greatsword Hellrend resting against his shoulder, dripping with fresh blood. His armor was stained, his cape tattered, but his expression? Unbothered.

He surveyed the kneeling knights of Raegath, their weapons cast aside in surrender. Their king, Lucius, lay lifeless behind him, his severed head resting in the dirt like an afterthought.

This was the moment everything changed.

Valtheria had won.

And now? It was time to claim his throne.

The Aftermath

The war camp of Valtheria was alive with celebration. Soldiers drank, sang, and boasted about the battle, some reenacting the moment Valtherion single-handedly tore through the Raegath cavalry.

"You should've seen him! He just—bam! Split that knight in half like it was nothing!"

"Tch, that's nothing. His Majesty caught a sword with his bare hand! And then used it against the poor bastard!"

The admiration in their voices was undeniable.

Valtherion, however, was sitting in his tent, leaning back on a throne-like chair while Isabelle and Elyndra stood by his side.

"You barely broke a sweat," Isabelle muttered, crossing her arms. "Not even a scratch on you."

Elyndra smirked. "I think he enjoys making a mess."

Valtherion shrugged, a lazy grin forming. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

Isabelle sighed, rubbing her temples. "You are a damn battle freak."

The way he fought today… the way he laughed in the middle of a battlefield… It was like he lived for war.

And that truth terrified her.

"Enough about that," Valtherion said, waving a hand. "We have bigger things to discuss."

He leaned forward, his golden eyes gleaming.

"Raegath is gone. Valtheria now controls their land. But…" His grin widened. "There's still work to do."

Elyndra raised an eyebrow. "You're talking about the capital, aren't you?"

"Exactly."

The Raegath royal capital still stood, its walls untouched by war.

It was the final piece of the puzzle.

And tomorrow, it would fall.

March to the Capital

The next morning, the Valtherian army stood assembled. Thousands of soldiers, armored in black and gold, lined the roads leading to Raegath's capital.

Banners of Valtheria fluttered in the wind. The soldiers, hungry for more battle, eagerly awaited the next command.

At the front, atop a black warhorse, Valtherion sat like a conqueror. His bloodstained cape draped over his armor, Hellrend resting at his side.

The gates of the capital stood in the distance, tall and mighty. The city's defenders stood behind them, trembling in fear.

They had heard the stories.

They had seen what Valtherion did to their army.

And now?

They were next.

Valtherion raised a single hand.

A moment of silence.

Then—

"Advance."

The ground trembled as thousands of soldiers marched forward.

The capital of Raegath… would fall today.

The Siege Begins

"Hold the gates! Do not let them pass!"

The Raegath soldiers stood firm, their shields raised, their hands shaking.

A horn blared from the walls. Archers took their positions, mages began chanting spells, and ballistae aimed at the incoming army.

This was their last stand.

The Valtherian army did not stop.

The first wave charged forward, shields raised.

Arrows rained down.

Some fell, but the rest kept moving.

BOOM!

A fireball exploded in the middle of the charge, sending soldiers flying. But they did not stop.

At the center of it all, Valtherion walked.

Not ran.

Not charged.

He simply walked.

Arrows deflected off his armor. Fireballs vanished before touching him.

He smiled.

"Pathetic," he muttered, raising his greatsword.

With a single swing—

BOOM!

A shockwave tore through the battlefield, sending debris and soldiers flying.

The gates of Raegath's capital trembled.

The defenders stared in horror.

One man.

One damn man did that?!

Valtherion tilted his head, mocking them.

"Was that your best?"

He vanished.

Before they could react—

CRASH!

The front line of Raegath's defenders was wiped out.

Valtherion ripped through them like a demon, his sword carving through metal and bone.

Blood sprayed across the walls.

The gate captain watched in terror.

"This… this isn't war."

"This is a massacre!"

The Fall of Raegath

The gates finally crumbled.

The Valtherian army poured into the city.

Defenders screamed as they were cut down. Citizens fled in terror.

The capital of Raegath was falling.

And at the center of it all, Valtherion laughed.

Bodies surrounded him, his armor drenched in blood.

"Come on!" he bellowed. "Is this all you weaklings can do?!"

A knight charged at him from behind.

Bad move.

Without looking, Valtherion swung his blade backward—slicing the knight clean in half.

The remaining soldiers threw down their weapons.

It was over.

The capital of Raegath had fallen.

Valtherion stepped forward, staring at the massive palace gates.

His grin widened.

"Time to claim my throne."