Kingdom Building Game: Starting Out With A Million Upgrade Points!-Chapter 117 : War Part Thirteen

Serilda, once a proud knight commander, now lay broken, fingers twitching uselessly. She clenched her teeth, struggling to form words, but in the end, her pride crumbled.

"W-We yield…" she whispered hoarsely, her voice barely audible. "We… can't win."

They lay there, their strength drained, their spirit shattered. The two warriors now reduced to nothing but battered, bloodied figures begging for mercy.

And still—Utilia did not stop.

"Surrender?" she said, her voice filled with amusement. "Unfortunately the emperor didn't tell me to take in any captives."

BOOM!

She struck again, and again, and again. Each impact drove their bodies deeper into the crater forming beneath them, the battlefield becoming an unrecognizable ruin of shattered rocks and blood-soaked earth.

The once-flat terrain now had trenches carved from sheer force, the ground itself reshaped by her fury.

By the time she finally stopped, the world around her was silent—except for the slow drip… drip… drip of blood from the paws of her Eidolith.

With them dealt with, Utilia exhaled sharply and retrieved her Sacred Eidolith.

The colossal bear dissolved into swirling crimson energy before flowing back into her body, leaving only a suffocating silence in its wake.

She stood over them, victorious.

Utilia exhaled sharply, rolling her shoulders. The battlefield was utterly unrecognizable—scarred with deep craters, shattered ice, and molten earth, bloody bodies and broken siege weapons.

With a satisfied grin, she turned on and began making her way back toward the Berserk Knights, who were watching from a safe distance.

"We're done here," she said, cracking her neck. "Let's head back."

The squad exchanged glances, then Daric was the first to speak up. "Uh, Captain, did you really have to go that far?" He gestured toward the bloodied, ruined battlefield. "I mean, you could've just taken them out with a few solid hits."

Keth crossed his arms. "Yeah. You didn't need to turn them into a fine paste."

Rurik chuckled, shaking his head. "You know how she gets. No holding back once the thrill kicks in."

Utilia let out a scoff, waving a hand dismissively. "Tch. Stay off my case. I wanted to let loose a little." She shot them a smirk, red eyes still gleaming with adrenaline. "Not my fault they couldn't handle it."

Jarek sighed, rubbing the back of his head. "Right, right. We get it. You wanted to play with your food a little. Not gonna argue with that."

"Alright, Captain," Daric finally said with a chuckle. "We won't question your 'battle philosophy.'"

As they started making their way off the battlefield towards the walls that were behind Sylvana's shield, Grandul stretched his arms. "You think we'll get a celebration banquet for this one?"

"Most likely," Utilia replied. "The Emperor always rewards those who perform handsomely in battle." Her lips curled into a smirk. "And I'd say we performed damn well today."

The group laughed as they left behind nothing but ruins and the memory of their overwhelming victory.

.....

.....

Abaddon let out a slow, exaggerated sigh, shaking his head as he looked down at the broken warrior before him, Dagon.

His black and white eyes gleamed with amusement, the firelight reflecting off his sinister smirk.

"Is this it?" he asked, stepping over a charred corpse without a second glance.

He had made sure to make quick work of the forces that had ran earlier, burning them in adola flames, reducing them to ash.... It was not in his nature to leave any survivors, and of course he made sure to enjoy the symphony of their screams before ending their pathetic lives.

"All that bravado, all that fury—and now look at you."

His boot came down, pressing against the tip of Dagon's greatsword, forcing it deeper into the ground.

"Kneeling. Gasping. Pathetic."

Dagon clenched his jaw, his breath ragged as he gripped his weapon tighter. He wanted to rise, to swing, to do anything—yet his body refused.

Abaddon chuckled mockingly.

"Where is that fire from earlier, mortal?" He spread his arms, gesturing to the infernal wasteland surrounding them. "Not these flames, no. I mean the fire in your eyes." he pointed to his eyes, "the defiance in your voice—the foolish, laughable belief that you stood a chance against me."

He crouched slightly, bringing himself closer to Dagon's level, though there was no mistaking the sheer difference in power between them.

"You were so eager to fight before. What happened?" Abaddon tilted his head. "Oh, don't tell me. You thought you had a chance?"

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A slow, cruel grin spread across his face.

"You actually believed you could win, didn't you?"

Dagon's hands shook, his fingers tightening around his sword until his knuckles turned white. His pride burned hotter than the flames around them, but no matter how much he willed his body to move, he remained frozen in place.

It was due to Abaddon's miasma, as stated before by the system, the more he experts his power the more the world around him is brought to ruin, and fir a human that wasent wielding a divine arms, Dragon's strength was slowly eroded each time he and Abaddon clashed swords.

Abaddon let out a deep, theatrical sigh.

"Disappointing," he said, his tone dripping with exaggerated pity. "And here I was, hoping for something entertaining, but I guess I am to blame for placing my expectations far too high."

He tapped his foot against the flat of Dagon's blade, tilting his head.

"Are you done embarrassing yourself, or are you going to struggle a little longer? I do enjoy watching insects squirm."

Abaddon stepped back, his smirk never wavering as he spread his arms wide in an almost welcoming gesture.

"Come on now, get up," he said, his voice lilting with condescension. "Don't you at least want to die with the pride of a warrior?"

Dagon's breathing was heavy, his body screaming in protest, but he refused to remain kneeling like some broken wretch. His grip tightened around his greatsword as he gritted his teeth, forcing his legs to move.

One foot planted.

Then the other.

With a guttural growl, he pulled his weapon from the scorched earth and pushed himself upright, standing once more before his tormentor.

Abaddon's grin widened, and he let out a slow, mocking applause.

"Ahh, there it is!" he exclaimed, his voice thick with amusement. "That stubborn little ember still flickering in your chest. You can do it, mortal. Come on—entertain me a little more."

He tilted his head, golden eyes gleaming with cruel delight.

"Who knows?" Abaddon mused. "Maybe if you struggle hard enough, you'll even make me break a sweat."

He chuckled, rolling his shoulders as he casually flexed his fingers, as if this were nothing more than a mild inconvenience.

"Now," he said, taking a step forward. "Let's see if you can actually hit me this time."

Dagon exhaled sharply, steadying his stance despite the agony coursing through his body. His grip on his greatsword tightened, and he locked eyes with Abaddon, his expression grim but resolute.

"Fallen One…" he said, his voice low but firm. "Are you open to making a deal?"

Abaddon's smirk didn't falter, but there was a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. He cocked his head slightly, amused.

"Ohhh?" he purred, crossing his arms over his chest. "And what, pray tell, do you mean by that?"

Dagon didn't respond immediately. Instead, he straightened up, ignoring the burning pain in his limbs. He raised his sword, gripping it with both hands.

"A moment, please."

Then, with a powerful swing, he roared, "Dimensional Slasher!"

A rift tore open in the air before him—a jagged cut in reality itself, dark and pulsing with unstable energy. The battlefield trembled slightly at the sheer force of the technique.

Abaddon arched an eyebrow, his smirk deepening.

"Flashy," he mused, unimpressed. But then—

His expression subtly shifted.

Something changed.

A sensation, faint at first, pricked at his senses—an energy he had not expected. His amusement wavered for just a moment as he narrowed his eyes, sensing something interesting.

Dagon reached into the rift and pulled something out.

An object.

It pulsed with a divine aura so potent that the very air seemed to vibrate around it.

The moment it was revealed, Abaddon's eyes widened, his arrogance was gone, instead he had a look of genuine suprise.