A bright moon hung high above.

Instead of its usual gentle white light that pour down onto Gaia, it had been stained red tonight.

The soil below was soaked with blood and small mounds of corpses littered the battlefield.

The Snowdrifts tread upon the scorched land with shattering breaths and limbs shaking with exhaustion.

The unceasing killing had taken a toll and over five hundred had fallen during this time. Their enemies fared much, much, worse with more than ten thousand lying dead all around.

It was a spectacular result, all things considered.

Their foes gave them a wide berth, frightened yet not daring to leave.

The stench of death and blood was enough to make veteran warriors cry.

In the past two days, the enemy had learnt just how formidable are the young leaders of the Snowdrifts; their age unbefitting their strength.

Nine captains, Lucas, Gigas, Watts, Lee, Sasha, Silvers, John, Long, and Lan Lei from the Resounding Thunder family, each led a team to cut down their enemies.

Lux Cixton, Tommy Styrkur, Alan Walker, held down a front apiece and prevented the enemy reinforcements from overwhelming their position.

Luciette, Alucard, and Kairos led small groups that decimated scores of barbarians. Using the feint retreat tactic – springing unexpected attacks then luring enemies into heavy fire while constantly moving - their attacking abilities caused their enemies to pale in fear.

The fifteen disciples under the lead of Ah Gui, Ah Pui, and Selena, assassinated enemy Chiefs silently.

Jim brought chaos in the form of poisons, traps, and hidden weapons, wherever he went, his flying daggers rained down on all who tried to run away from him.

The Fiend Edge - a long spear, looking immaterial and dimly glowing - hovered around, striking down all who dared to challenge him as the saboteur crossed the battlefield.

Von Cixton bombarded where the enemy were the densest like a fearsome Ki Cannon that caused the stoutest hearts to quiver, and Edward sniped down the heavily armored as though they were naked.

Besides them, the support staffs were working just as hard behind the scene and their importance cannot be underestimated.

In charge of equipment were the two members of Alucard’s team, Fauna the inscriptionist and Flora the blacksmith.

Lugh was in command of the medics.

Lastly, Leaf, Snow, Small, and Smaller, were responsible for coordinating every team in battle. The timing to attack or retreat depended on them and any mistake is paid in blood, but they delivered with perfection.

Against this group, the barbarians finally realised that the small fries can only become landfill no matter how many are sent against them.

In order to stop the Snowdrifts, the Frosthral could only send in the generals and high rankers.

But when thousands of A and S rankers charged them, their enemies returned into that infuriating formation, the Grand Bagua Array.

The force of every attack was transferred down the rank and file and eventually dispersed, or worse still, the impact was sent back to the attackers.

In the end, their commanders were forced to trade lives for lives.

When in combat, the barbarians feared nothing.

They would walk into a blade to tear out an eye from their foes. Plenty had died without leaving so much as a scratch on the Snowdrifts and through the deaths of their brothers, they went mad with bloodlust.

Tearing and clawing their way through, a hundred died to kill one.

The Snowdrifts acted quickly. When so many sacrificed themselves to get them, Kairos immediately dispersed the Healing Mists.

It acted as a coagulant agent, infused with static electricity that would be attracted to the skin.

Made from materials thick with Wood and Water Elements, it encourages healing rapidly while stopping blood loss.

Those badly wounded was quickly moved deeper into the array, and Kairos at the Formation Heart would collect them into the now enlarged Crystal Valve. There were plenty of space after it has increased ten times from a hundred square meters to a thousand square meters.

Besides the central area that is cordoned off for sealing the devil in Princess Relestia, the rest of the training ground is used to perform emergency medical aid for the injured.

In this place that had been turned into a hospital, Helena worked ceaselessly with a group of medics and herbalists that had been brought in from the Gilded Snow. Their Unknown Flame Sovereign flaring up once in a while to form pills or healing salves.

Afterwards, Xuan Xian and her team of clothiers quickly helped by stitching up wounds.

Laksa is at one side, making emergency medical rations, energy infusion solutions and anti-impurities liquid, with his station chefs rushing around to pass down the items.

Their team become hugely popular amongst doctors, nurses, and patients alike. The Venomancer in their group was especially well-liked. His technique to quickly identify poisonous compounds and create antidote caused him to be pulled over by different medical emergencies, leaving him with no spare time at all.

Siegfried is present as well. The blacksmith aided in the cleanliness maintenance of the medical tools as well as crafted any equipment that was needed.

As a master smith, he could inscribe basic elemental runes on the things he make that could create life-saving effects. Like the heart resetting electric pulsators, searing rod to close irregular wounds, or the quick-freeze blood clotting pincers.

The other common elements, Fire, Metal, Wood, Water, Earth, and Wind, could all be used to heal as well. It was all about creativity and the things required in sudden situations.

Helena, or in fact, just about anyone, could send in a tool they imagined that could work and Siegfried will deliver it with perfection.

Lastly, the thick Heavenly Energies in the air caused a great benefit to anyone in the place, even for those flogging around to save others, they found themselves filled with endless stamina.

In this manner, the number of dead was minimised to a mere five hundred.

Unfortunately, the day is far from over and the situation hasn’t improved.

“I… I can’t feel mine arms. They gotten themselves sliced off?”

“Idiot, ack’s scale cuirass’ dented twas all.”

“Phew, was worrying how I’d hold mine woman after this.”

“Your foot’s gone tho’.”

“Tis’ okay, so long I’ve mine arms.”

“Ack ain’t fooling me. Twas got no woman.”

“I’ve got! Mine woman beautiful like spring’s kisses!”

“Ack’s mother?”

“Ack wanna have a go right now?”

“I surrender. Ain’t got no more strength to hold me blade.”

“Me too.”

The battles raged without signs of stopping, and Kairos kept on encouraging his soldiers, “Stay alive! When morning comes, we can rest all we want!”

Right now, victory, honour, money, or even hope, have become meaningless words to them, but ‘rest’ sounded like sweet nectar.

They’re so tired that even dying doesn’t sound that bad if it could grant them relief.

The soldiers gathered the last of their stamina and faced their foes.

They were drained mentally and physically, moreover their Ki is running low despite taking recovery pills every now and then.

It isn’t that they don’t have enough to spare, knowing that it is deadly to be thrifty on recovery items.

The problem lies with pill poisoning. After taking any drug in excess, the body forms a resistance to it and the effect becomes weaker over time.

Unless it causes a change to the flesh, like how the Yggdrasil Fruit widened one’s meridian channels, the lowered drug efficiency is normally not permanent so long they remove the leftover residue in their bodies.

Healing salves causes almost no build-up resistance while Ki recovering pills are very mild drugs.

But, after fighting for forty eight hours, the amount of inner energy they recover each time has become little and the effect will continue to worsen.

They had little time to rest and the next wave of attackers soon came.

A rankers led the charge, while S rankers grouped up and searched for the leaders of Snowdrifts in the resulting chaos.

This round, Kairos was the one who attacked the enemy’s leader, the enemy ranks fell in his charge like waves breaking against a cliff.

He homed in on a SS ranker to face him openly and defeat him in full view of the other northerners, only then will he destroy their morale further.

His Swallow made quick work of anyone who tried to block his way, the blades on either end were like scythe reaping barley.

The Double S ranked Barbarian Lord had a fearless grin on his face when he saw the boy as his challenger.

“Well met. You seemed to be a worthy foe,” the muscle-bound giant said.

“Well met,” Kairos replied politely.

“Say, boy, do you prefer the hammer, sword, or spear?”

Kairos took a look at the barbarian having a War Hammer by his side and promptly summoned a blacksmith’s hammer in his hand.

It was an excellent chance to test his skill against a hammer-user.

The two faced each other intensely and seconds ticked by slowly.

The soldiers from both armies stood by watching quietly, fearful that even a breath might disturb the two leaders in their fight.

The Barbarian Lord smiled politely then he bowed ever so slightly at his opponent. It was a respectful gesture that demands reciprocation from a fellow warrior.

Kairos relinquished the honour that the barbarian asked and bend his upper body forward while clasping a fist in hand.

When he did so, action ensued swiftly and unexpectedly like a thunder bolt on a clear day sky.

The Barbarian Lord turned and fled in the opposite direction, a path long cleared out by his men showing that he had planned for this ahead.

He threw his weapon away and a flying War Hammer was aimed at Kairos’ head as the other warriors closed the gap.

Those expecting a glorious battle between the champions of the two groups were shocked utterly.

Kairos slowly raised a hand as the hammer’s head landed in his grasp as though the Barbarian Lord was passing him a tool.

Then the young Earl of the Astroire house charged with a hammer in each hand.

His steps were like bolts of lightning that smashed onto the ground and cracked the floor.

His figure flickered and disappeared as he shot forward like a shadow.

The barbarians in his way guarding their commander heard a faint whisper, the last thing they heard, “Sixty-four Fiend Slaying Strikes!”

Dual-wielding hammers of different weight, Kairos launched himself into a flurry of smashes.

People were sent cannoning in his wake, mowing down those that were caught in the path.

Under his breath, Kairos counted his strikes steadily, “One, two, three…”

He struck down the grown warriors like they were blades of leaf while leaving small craters with every step he took.

Several breaths later, the Barbarian Lord felt his hair stand as a thick smell of ozone flooded his nose.

The crackling of electricity announced the arrival of the dreaded slayer.

There were no rewinding images of his life, nor the coming of deceased loved ones to guide him away.

*CRAAAAACK*

A loud, disgusting, wet, sound later, and his vision turned dark.

He wasn’t dead yet.

The first hit caused instant unconsciousness, but a person at his rank is far sturdier than that. Not many could reach Peak SS in their lifetime.

He recovered a split second later and activated a lifesaving treasure. Metal creeped onto his skin like vines growing onto an abandoned house.

A second strike come faster than one could blink, then a third, fourth, and fifth hit.

Every hit caused him to blackout. Though he recovers quickly, each subsequent strike sent him deeper into oblivion.

The squall of hammer falls rained down on the stout commander.

As an External Martial Artist, like many of the Frosthrals, he sustained hit after hit and even instinctively tried to get back on his feet to run away.

“… Sixty-three, sixty-four!”

There were no reverberations in the air, nor cracking ground and shattering booms.

What there were was an occasional spark when metal struck metal, accompanied by the sound of armour falling apart.

The Barbarian Lord who was cased in thick metal and had a durable body that reached Peak Double S rank through physical training, had been stripped down with every hit.

At the final blows, the muscle-bound man finally conceded, falling heavily to the ground like a broken trunk of an old tree. His armours lying around him in scraps.

Including Yfirmaour, this is the third Barbarian Lord. He had two good examples of what happen to Barbarian Lords, unfortunately, he did not stay far enough and could not run in time.