Meanwhile, a third man was seated at the center of the table. He was a handsome and virile man with a weathered face of someone in their fifties, unable to hide the vitality and strength in his sharp gaze.

This was Count Chronos, Lord of the County of Solfosta, to which Argus was loyal.

"How many are there?" Chronos asked, his voice was cold and aged, but not weak.

"About 30,000, my Lord. They are slowly marching in our direction and should be here in no more than 4 days," replied the man to the left of Chronos.

Hearing the numbers, Chronos sighed heavily before asking, this time looking directly at the man on his right, "Has there been any response from the royal domain?"

The man stood up and looked at his lord with a strange look before finally speaking, "Yes, my Lord... we will not have reinforcements, we are alone."

Chronos' gaze trembled as he looked at the man with a strange expression. He asked, "Why?" His voice oscillated between anger and disappointment.

"There is another army, my Lord. More than 120,000 barbarians have been marching towards the city of Haurey for over a week. The Northern Consul himself is leading a force of more than 10 legions and a coalition of 70,000 ordinary soldiers. The royal domain is not in a position to send any soldiers towards Solfosta, my Lord," replied the man to the right.

"Are you telling me that there's a fucking army of 120,000 barbarians marching for over a week, less than 300 kilometers to our North, and we didn't know about it?" Chronos exclaimed, his voice already dominated by anger. "How the hell did this happen? Why didn't the royal domain contact us?"

"It seems that there has been a blockade, my Lord. Someone with power in the royal family wanted to make sure we didn't know anything until it was too late," replied the man to the left.

Hearing this, Chronos let out a long, melancholic sigh. He not only could imagine who was doing this, but he could also imagine why. He had been a great defender of the empire, submitting completely to the Kingdom of Melintor only after the imperial family had been executed.

The King of Melintor would have personally cut off Chronos' head if he had not been considered a hero by all the people of the kingdom and one of the main defenders against the barbarians of the northern tribes. However, now he had the perfect opportunity to do so, withholding information and leaving him unprepared, giving the barbarians a chance to cut off Chronos' head in his place.

"Have the barons responded to the call for war? How many soldiers do we have?" asked Chronos, as he tried to calm his simmering anger.

"Most of them have already responded, my lord. A total of 5,000 soldiers from dozens of baronies scattered throughout the county of Solfosta should arrive here by tomorrow evening. We haven't received a response from Vasbrusk yet, but I'm sure they'll respond soon. They should be able to send another 1,500 soldiers, and with our own personal army, we'll have 20,000 soldiers," one of the men replied.

Chronos let out a heavy sigh and waved the men out of the room. Then he leaned back in his chair, slowly closing his eyes as he questioned what the best course of action would be.

...

"Keep your stance wide, your arms should be extended, and your front foot should be firm but ready to move quickly if needed," Erik said. They were in the training room, in a scenario of individual combat. In front of the little boy, a small figure could be seen, a perfect copy of Asterios, holding an iron sword in his hands.

Asterios kept his left foot slightly ahead of his right foot, firmly gripping the sword with both hands in a defensive stance. The clone, on the other hand, had an open stance, ready to launch a quick offense at any moment.

This was the second day of Asterios training with Aether, and he could already be considered part of the emerging category. Although in his early stages, he could still move the little Aether in his body to his hands, increasing the strength of his grip and the accuracy of his attacks, albeit minimally.

With a nod from Erik, the clone rushed towards Asterios in a quick run, holding his sword with both hands, opting for an aggressive and direct attack. Then, the first attack came. The clone lifted his sword before delivering a powerful strike.

A tinkling sound echoed as the blades of the two swords collided. Asterios felt the power of that blow, his arms thrown back and slightly numb. He was the same size, same speed, and same physical strength as his opponent, but his use of Aether was still far inferior.

Unhappy with his failed attack, the clone continued with fast charges, trying to find any opening in Asterios' defense, who defended each of his clone's strikes precisely. He had not received great fencing lessons from his father, but the development of his Aether heart had improved greatly, not just his physical strength, but also his perception and reflex.

When the clone finally gave way a little, taking a few steps back, Asterios took the offensive. Using his left foot as a support point, he propelled his body forward, lifted his sword and swung it against the clone, who seemed unprepared and completely defenseless.

"But the clone didn't even try to defend Asterios' attack. Instead, he planted his feet on the ground and threw his body to the right, as Asterios' sword hit the ground beside him, missing his chest by inches. He didn't try to strike Asterios with his sword, realizing it would be parried by his opponent, who immediately tried to regain his posture when the attack failed. Instead, he used his left foot to stand his ground, while launching a kick towards the little boy's face.

Realizing the danger approaching, Asterios let go of the sword in his left hand and used his arm as a defense for the clone's quick and precise kick. He then received a cruel impact, even using his arms to defend his face, feeling a tremendous power and becoming a bit dizzy as he took a few steps back and retreated quickly. His vision was blurry, sweat was flowing down his face and staining his clothes, while his breathing was tense and irregular, showing his first signs of exhaustion.

His clone was not in a much better state. He looked at Asterios, his usually stoic and expressionless face showing tiredness and frustration. Then, with a shout, he advanced again towards Asterios. The little boy kept his posture firm and defended the first attack perfectly. The sound of metal and sparks generated by the collision of blades spread through the air.

Then Asterios tried to counter-attack. The clone's guard was now open, which gave Asterios confidence to advance with a quick and cruel thrust towards the clone's open chest. But again, he was tricked. The clone lowered his body in a strange movement and, with a quick low kick, hit Asterios' ankle, breaking his posture and throwing him to the ground.

Realizing the opportunity, the clone didn't hesitate. Quickly standing up, he threw himself against Asterios, who was still trying to recover from the fall. His blade smoothly passed through any attempt from the little boy to stop it, piercing his hand and neck. Asterios felt the throbbing pain of his opponent's sword in his throat. His eyes became unfocused and he could only let out a light groan as he drowned in his own blood.

But then, everything started to change in front of him. The battle scene slowly disappeared, returning to the dull room from before. The hole in his hand and neck had also disappeared, along with the pain. Only the cruel memory of dying terrified him.

"Remember, in a real battle, the rules of a fencing manual are just pretty words. Use whatever is necessary so that the body lying on the ground is your enemy's, not your own," exclaimed Erik forcefully, before continuing, "Get up, we still have a whole day of training ahead of us."

Asterios didn't question Erik's words. Slowly standing up, he watched the scenery change again in front of him, with determination in his eyes."

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