Chapter 1983 - First Gate (1) (2/2)

The Mortal Alliance army could only be described as an amoeba eating its food. It ebbed and flowed with ease, biting off portions of the Ragnor army and conquering them piece by piece.

All the while, 'Commander' Ragnor was throwing a fit.

He tossed his amber haired beauty aside, not caring for even a moment that she lost consciousness banging her head against the floor. He stood and screamed at the top of his lungs, admonishing his warriors for being useless, but that only made the situation worse.

For the Thralls of the army, they knew that today would likely be their last day. They had little more status than a slave to begin with, just what would that commander do to them when they returned? If they returned at all? Would they too become like the amber haired woman?

At the very least, they should die on the battlefield, right?...

They remembered memories of their childhood, when their parents would tell them tales of Valhalla. If they died a warrior's death, they'd be able to go there, right? The mighty Gods of their past, their ancestors of old, they wouldn't forsake them like the Ragnors had, right?

Maybe that was all some of them needed. A faint hope, a light at the end of the tunnel. Their lives were holding on by the thinnest of strings imaginable.

It was then that a shocking thing began to occur across the battlefield. Tens of thousands, even hundreds of thousands of Thrall began to seemingly give away their lives.

Some 'accidentally' let their weapons fall, others pushed forward valiantly, leaving the front line of their army so far behind that the fell under a sea of piercing weapons, and some simply stared off into space, light smiles on their faces as their lives were ended one after another.

Bjorn was absolutely appalled by what he was witnessing. This wasn't the first time such a thing had happened on a Ragnor battlefield, but it had been so long since the last.

'The last time this happened… The Dukes and Duchesses…'

They were tired of giving up their lives, tired of being commanded to do what their superiors didn't dare to do.

The ironic part? After the Dukes and Duchesses returned to their lands, the Thralls were punished once more, as though their Emperor God Clan was blaming them for their own failures.

The current Emperor… Emperor Odin the Sixth… He was rotting their Empire from the inside out.