Chapter 225 — The Strike Force
The morning air in the Hollow carried a tense clarity, the frost of early spring still clinging to the trees and grass, yet the scent of smoke and charred earth lingered from the previous night's skirmishes. Lyria stood at the edge of the forest, bow in hand, her gaze sharp and unwavering. Every arrow loosed from the treetops had found its mark, every trap had caught an enemy soldier off guard, and every hidden strike had sown confusion and chaos among the Iron Brand's forces.
Kael moved beside her, his eyes tracking the retreating enemy, assessing the battlefield with meticulous care. The enemy had faltered under Lyria's strategy, their formations broken, morale shaken, and their advance halted entirely. Smoke rose from scattered fires, the groans of wounded men and the distant howl of fear-stricken beasts carrying on the wind.
"They didn't anticipate the precision," Kael said, voice low but firm. "Every flank collapsed at exactly the points we expected. Your plan worked, Lyria. Near flawless execution."
She allowed herself a faint smile, not celebratory, but satisfied. "Near flawless. Nothing is ever perfect, Kael. They'll regroup eventually. We only delayed them."
Kael nodded, his jaw tight. "And that delay gives us an opportunity—one we cannot waste." He gestured toward the council hall, where the leaders of the Hollow were gathering to assess the outcome. The mood inside was electric, a mix of relief and lingering anxiety. Reports of the enemy retreat filled the room, and murmurs of success buzzed through the chamber, but Kael's presence drew immediate focus.
"We've bought ourselves time," Kael began, his gaze sweeping over the council members. "But time alone won't win this war. The Iron Brand is formidable, their numbers vast, and their cruelty… well, we've seen what they're capable of. Patience can only take us so far. We need to strike decisively."
Thalos leaned forward, eyes narrowed. "Decisively? You mean counterattack? We've barely stabilized our defenses, Kael. If we leave the Hollow, even in a small force, we risk losing what we've built."
Kael's expression hardened. "Leaving the Hollow is not the goal. Striking where they are weakest—inside their own ranks—is the goal. We caught them off guard once; we can do it again, but only if we act now, while their retreat is disorganized."
Rogan slammed his fist onto the table, anger and excitement mixing in his voice. "Finally! Someone thinking offensively. The Iron Brand won't hesitate to crush our people if we don't show them what we're capable of."
Fenrik frowned, shaking his head. "This is reckless, Kael. A small strike team—how many are you thinking?"
Kael's eyes narrowed, unwavering. "Six. Six warriors, each chosen for their skill, their ability to operate independently, and their loyalty. This team will infiltrate their lines, disrupt command, and eliminate their leaders. End this war before it fully begins. We got lucky with their retreat. Luck is not a strategy, it's a moment. And this is our moment."
The room fell silent, the weight of his words sinking in. Lyria's eyes widened slightly, caught off guard. "Kael," she said, voice a mixture of shock and cautious excitement, "you want… us? You're sending yourself into the heart of the enemy?"
Kael's gaze met hers. "I lead. I do not send others to die in my stead when I can act myself. You, Lyria, will be at my side. Fenrik, Rogan, Thalos, Varik—they will join. Each of you is essential. Together, we can end this before it escalates beyond control."
A collective murmur rippled through the council. Some members paled, the risk palpable. "Six against an entire army?" one council member said, voice trembling. "You'd be annihilated before even reaching their command!"
Kael's tone was calm, but every word carried the weight of authority. "We're not walking blindly into their army. We strike at the core, the leaders, the command. Disrupt them, fracture their forces, and force them into chaos. If we wait, if we hesitate, they'll regroup, come back stronger, and their wrath will be uncontainable. Our walls and traps are strong—but not strong enough to withstand a full force assault. We act now, precisely, and with purpose. The Hollow survives not by waiting, but by acting decisively when opportunity presents itself."
The council debated fiercely, voices rising and falling. Questions about risk, morality, and strategy volleyed back and forth. Kael allowed them their discourse, knowing that the act of discussion would temper fear and allow reason to surface. After nearly an hour, the council reached a reluctant consensus. The strike team would be deployed.
Kael turned toward the group, his decision final. "Then it is settled. The team will consist of me, Varik, Rogan, Fenrik, Thalos, and Lyria."
Lyria's jaw dropped, a mix of shock, pride, and restrained exhilaration crossing her features. "Me… with you? In the heart of their lines?"
Kael stepped closer, lowering his voice. "You're the best strategist we have, Lyria. Without you, this plan fails. And I do not leave my most trusted allies behind."
She blinked, slowly nodding, her composure returning. "Then we will see this through. Together."
Kael moved to the center of the room, drawing the attention of his strike team. His voice rose, carrying both authority and inspiration. "Today, we do what many would say is impossible. Today, we strike into the heart of an enemy who believes themselves untouchable. They believe our walls, our traps, and our people are weak. They are wrong. We will show them the cost of their arrogance. Each of you has fought for this Hollow, bled for it, and survived because of your skill, your cunning, and your loyalty. Today, we take that loyalty and skill into enemy lines. Today, we take the fight to them, and we show the Iron Brand that no force in this world, no cruelty, and no darkness can crush what we have built. We are six, but we are unstoppable together. And when they see us… they will remember the Hollow, and they will fear it."
A shiver of anticipation ran through the room. Fenrik's hand tightened on his sword hilt. Rogan's grin was sharp, eager for the battle to come. Varik's eyes burned with determination. Thalos nodded once, calm but resolute. And Lyria… she stepped forward, meeting Kael's gaze, her eyes glinting with fierce readiness.
Kael's words had not just rallied them; they had fused them into a single force, a strike team capable of shattering an entire army from within.
The council watched in awe, some in fear, some in admiration. They knew the Hollow's survival rested on these six. And they knew, when the time came, their enemies would wish they had never underestimated them.
Kael turned to Lyria, voice low but firm. "We leave at first light. Every preparation must be complete. Rest tonight, sharpen your weapons, your minds, your instincts. Tomorrow, we make our move. And we succeed—not just for the Hollow, but for every person under its protection."
Lyria's lips curved into a small, determined smile. "Then let's make sure they never forget what it means to cross us."
Kael's hand briefly touched the hilt of his Magisteel sword, the black flames and shadows coiling within as if acknowledging the gravity of what was to come. The team would need every ounce of skill, cunning, and strength. And Kael would ensure that, whatever happened, they would emerge victorious.
The Hollow would strike.
And the Iron Brand would soon learn the price of their arrogance.