Chương 240: 240：Deputy Border Commander

An armor-piercing heavy arrow, utterly saturated with berserk wind magic, rested taut against the string. A miniature, rapidly spinning azure cyclone gathered wildly at the arrowhead.

"Die." Soren released the bowstring. A deafening, explosive crack violently shattered the roar of the storm! SWOOSH! The armor-piercing arrow flew like a thunderbolt, instantaneously piercing the heavy curtain of freezing rain. Its terrifying velocity actually carved a brief, visible vacuum trail through the mid-air moisture. Down below, Bloodskull had just opened his massive, bloody maw to bark an order when an overwhelming, suffocating sense of lethal crisis violently locked onto him.

But his colossal, multi-ton frame simply did not possess the microsecond reaction speed required to evade. SQUELCH-BOOM! Propelled by an absolutely unrivaled penetrative force, the wind-infused heavy arrow flawlessly threaded the microscopic gap between Bloodskull's helmet and his neck armor, skewering straight into his skull! The very instant the arrowhead breached the bone, the highly-compressed wind magic violently detonated.

The Orc Centurion's brain matter—a beast whose hands were thoroughly soaked in human blood—along with an entire half of his hardened iron helmet, was instantly blasted into a gruesome, red-and-white mist of gore! Bloodskull's colossal, headless corpse stood rigidly in place for a single second before violently collapsing. With a heavy, muffled crash, it slammed into the swamp, kicking up a massive spray of putrid, blood-soaked mud. Absolute, dead silence fell over the entire valley.

Whether it was Isabella, whose blade was pressed tightly against her own throat; Carter, who was pinned face-down in the muck; or the remaining two hundred Black Iron Orcs... every single soul was paralyzed, utterly shell-shocked by this sudden, unimaginably devastating sniper execution.

"The... the Centurion is dead?!"

"It's human heavy infantry! Run!" Deprived of their supreme commander in a microsecond, the psychological defenses of the Black Iron Orcs instantly, violently collapsed. They looked up in absolute terror at the high ground, seeing the rows of suffocatingly oppressive, Black Steel-clad elites preparing to crank the mechanical winches of their heavy crossbows once more. Any lingering courage the Orcs possessed entirely evaporated.

"KILL!" At the bottom of the slope, his face completely caked in blood, Commander Carter tapped into an explosive surge of survival instinct. He violently shoved the headless Orc corpse off his back, snatched up an iron sword, and ruthlessly hacked into the backs of the routing Orcs:"Counterattack! Slaughter every last one of these beasts!"

Caught between Soren's devastating high-ground suppression and the desperate, pincer-like counterattack from the Ironpeak Duchy's remnants, the once-ferocious Orc squadron suffered a catastrophic rout. They discarded their helmets and dropped their heavy axes, frantically trampling over one another. Over two hundred Orcs unleashed shrieks of pure terror as they scrambled pathetically toward the deepest, fog-choked depths of the Misty Swamp, leaving behind a sprawling carpet of fresh corpses.

The battle concluded with terrifying, absolute efficiency. As the torrential rain slightly eased, Soren calmly slung the [Windwhisper Bow] back over his shoulder. Flanked by Renn and Lyra, and escorted by the unified, thundering footsteps of his Black Steel vanguard elites, he slowly descended the slope, stepping into the devastated, blood-soaked battlefield.

In the muddy depression, the surviving Ironpeak soldiers leaned heavily on each other, gazing up at this incredibly mysterious, overwhelmingly powerful rescue force with eyes filled with absolute, profound reverence. The hand holding Isabella's shortsword was still violently trembling, the thin line of blood on her neck already washed pale by the rain. She stared at the imposing, ruthlessly cold young commander draped in a black cape standing before her.

It felt entirely surreal, as if she were trapped in a fever dream. Clutching his shattered ribs, Commander Carter stumbled forward and dropped heavily to a single knee in the freezing mud. His voice was thick with endless, boundless gratitude:"Ironpeak Duchy, Commander of the 3rd Heavy Armor Company, Carter! I offer my absolute deepest gratitude for Your Excellency's life-saving grace!

If you hadn't intervened in time, not only us, but the highly classified secrets of the Duchy would have been entirely buried by those beasts!" Isabella also hurried forward, executing a flawless, incredibly deep noble bow:"Thank you for your righteous intervention. May I have the honor of knowing Your Excellency's name, and which defensive line you serve? The Ironpeak Duchy shall permanently engrave this debt into our history!"

Looking at the two battered, mud-soaked officers before him, Soren's mind was incredibly clear. He knew instantly: This was the absolute perfect window of opportunity to deeply penetrate and manipulate the high echelons of the Ironpeak Duchy! Stolen novel; please report. A faint, exceptionally charismatic smile touched Soren's lips. Resting a single hand on the hilt of his fine-steel sword, he announced with resonant authority:"Vice Commander of the Crimson Moon Knights, Lord of Greywater Village. Soren."

"S... Soren?!" The moment that name left his lips, both Carter and Isabella sucked in a sharp breath of freezing air. Their faces instantly contorted with absolute, entirely uncontainable shock. As a high-ranking intelligence officer, Isabella knew that name all too well! It struck her ears like rolling thunder! The peerless warlord who utterly annihilated two thousand elite Orcs with zero casualties? The man who violently uprooted Bloodfang Fortress?

The phantom who severed the head of the Blood Province Governor's blood-nephew, Mogg?! The living legend who even the supreme Emperor of the Holy Halycon Empire had personally, highly praised as the ultimate vanguard against the Orcs?! He... he was actually the young, supreme commander standing right in front of them who had just snatched them from the jaws of death?!

"So it is Lord Soren, whose name shakes the entire world!" The profound respect in Carter's heart instantly mutated into absolutely fanatical worship. He wished he could physically bury his forehead into the mud. To base-level frontline soldiers, Soren's combat record wasn't just impressive; it was an insurmountable, god-like miracle. Isabella was equally overwhelmed by profound shock and reverence.

She bowed deeply once again, her tone now possessing an incredibly deferential respect: "To be saved by Lord Soren personally... it is the absolute greatest honor of my life." Soren's gaze swept across the surroundings. Of the thirty-odd surviving Ironpeak soldiers, nearly every single man was heavily wounded. Some had their intestines literally spilling out of their abdomens, desperately holding themselves together with scraps of muddy cloth.

In this freezing, filthy swamp, without access to premium medical treatment, these wounded men absolutely would not survive the night. The modern military doctrines of saving the wounded and utterly buying an army's absolute loyalty instantly flashed through Soren's mind. His brows knitted together slightly as he took the initiative:"Commander Carter. Intelligence Officer Isabella. Your unit has suffered over fifty percent casualties, and every survivor is critically wounded.

In your current state, you absolutely cannot make it out of the Misty Swamp's outer perimeter alive." Soren raised his hand, pointing decisively toward the east, setting his unbreakable terms:"The territory of Greywater Village is just ahead. We have impregnable defensive lines and warm, stilted cabins. But more importantly, my camp is fully stocked with exorbitant [Battlefield First-Aid Potions] and a high-tier, wide-scale hydrotherapy mage."

"If you trust me, I invite you all to accompany me to Greywater Village to receive full medical treatment and recuperation. Once your critically wounded are out of danger, you may begin your journey back to the Ironpeak Duchy." Hearing the words "Battlefield First-Aid Potions" and "Mage," hot tears instantly spilled from Carter's eyes, mixing heavily with the freezing rain. He had entirely believed his heavily wounded brothers were destined to die a slow, agonizing death in this mud.

He never in his wildest dreams imagined that a titan like Soren would willingly offer such incredibly precious, astronomically expensive resources to save them.

"Lord Soren's magnanimity knows absolutely no bounds! I, Carter, on behalf of my dead and living brothers, kowtow to you!" Carter slammed his head heavily into the muddy water, weeping tears of absolute gratitude as he accepted the lifeline.

"There is no need for such formalities. The human defensive line is one unified family." Soren waved his hand, immediately displaying his flawlessly efficient, utterly cold-blooded command artistry:"Renn! Take a squad and help them support the wounded! Lyra! Sweep the battlefield! Strip every single piece of heavy weaponry and Black Iron armor off those Orc corpses! Leave absolutely nothing behind!"

"Yes, My Lord!" While the Misty Swamp was battered by relentless, freezing rain and choked by the thick stench of blood and rotting mud... In stark, entirely sickening contrast, the Royal Capital of the Silvermoon Kingdom was currently immersed in an atmosphere of extravagant, absolute tranquility. Deep within the vaulted secret chamber of Supreme Command, imported, smokeless incense wood from the southern Elven forests burned quietly in the hearth, releasing a faint, luxurious aroma that soothed the nerves.

Crystal chandeliers cast a soft, warm glow over the intricately woven velvet carpets and the massive, gold-inlaid oak table. The Prince Regent sat comfortably in a high-backed chair. He gently swirled a goblet of premium, blood-red wine. Standing to his left was the Minister of Military and Political Affairs, Duke Fernando, draped in opulent silk robes. Standing to his right was the veteran of the pragmatic frontline faction, General Rodman, his face heavily weathered and his armor visibly aged.

"Regarding that young man who has quite literally authored miracles in the mud..." The Prince Regent took a delicate sip of his wine and gently set the goblet down.

"Slaughtering the Oracle of the Blood Province. Severing the head of the Governor's blood-nephew, Mogg, with a single strike. He even caused the Emperor of the Holy Halycon Empire to express profound astonishment." The Prince Regent tapped his index finger against the armrest, leaning forward slightly: "Supreme Command has deliberated extensively over the past few days. We have officially finalized the commendation proposal for Soren."

Hearing those words, a slight twitch rippled across old General Rodman's heavily wrinkled cheeks. He couldn't help but straighten his spine, his face entirely unable to hide his intense, burning expectation. He knew perfectly well that this wasn't just a reward for Soren personally; it was an absolute, necessary answer to the hundreds of thousands of frontline soldiers currently using their own lives to plug the defensive lines! The Prince Regent stood up.

Clasping his hands behind his back, he paced slowly across the extravagant secret chamber. His tone was haughty, dripping entirely with the arrogant air of a monarch bestowing charity upon a peasant:"I have decided to make an extraordinary exception. I am elevating Soren to an exceptionally rare, high-ranking position: Deputy Border Commander of the Silvermoon Kingdom!"

The moment those words left his mouth, the massive secret chamber fell into a dead silence, the only sound being the soft crackle of the hearth fire. Old General Rodman's eyes bulged violently. His breathing hitched for a half-beat, entirely unable to believe his own ears. Deputy Border Commander! That was an official, highly authenticated Kingdom-level Senior General title! Once bestowed, Soren would legally step onto the absolute fringe of the Silvermoon Kingdom's highest military decision-making echelon!

He would immediately enjoy the purple-gold sash and the absolute privilege of exemption from kneeling—rights exclusively reserved for the highest echelons of nobility!

"Your Highness! You... you actually..." Rodman's voice violently trembled. He understood better than anyone just how earth-shattering this leap in status truly was. One had to remember: merely two or three months ago, during the catastrophic Battle of the Storm Rift Valley, Soren was nothing but a completely worthless, disposable recruit—cannon fodder meant to simply absorb Orcish arrows!

From an absolutely penniless grunt, in the incredibly short span of a few months, his progression had violently skyrocketed, catapulting him directly to the rank of a Kingdom-level Senior General!