Only scattered figures remained at the foot of the slope, some still writhing and groaning with fatal wounds.
On the hillside above, however, three Ironborn were still capable of fighting.
Two of them had been stunned by the terrifying power of the heavy arrows. Their movements were sluggish, and Jon led his men to surround them at once.
The last one was the largest and most ferocious of the three.
His face was splattered with the blood of his companions. He swept his gaze across the area and quickly realized that the soldiers before him were from Deepwood Motte.
"Haha, what rotten luck. I never thought you'd actually find us!"
The Ironborn ship captain gripped a double-bladed battle axe and stared viciously at Galon, who stood some distance away watching the fight.
"Fuck!"
"Even if I die, I'm taking one of you with me!"
With a furious roar, he swung the heavy axe and lunged at Galon like a charging bear.
"Protect the lord!"
Jon's heart jumped. He immediately directed the remaining soldiers to move in, while Mihawk ordered his men to aim their heavy arrows at the Ironborn captain.
"Stand back!"
Galon shouted sharply, his voice steady and commanding, leaving no room for doubt.
There was no fear in his eyes. He drew the greatsword at his waist and strode straight toward the Ironborn captain.
In the blink of an eye, just as the axe blade was about to crash down with overwhelming force, Galon swung his sword and met it head-on.
Clang!
Galon braced himself and caught the axe blade solidly, even forcing it back with room to spare.
The Ironborn captain's eyes bulged. He gritted his teeth and pushed desperately against Galon's sword, shock rising in his heart.
'Who is this man?'
'How can he have such monstrous strength?'
Realizing he could not continue the contest of brute force, the battle-hardened Ironborn captain suddenly twisted his axe aside.
Galon's greatsword slashed across his face, carving a bloody gash down to the bone, but he did not hesitate.
"Hah!"
A savage grin spread across his blood-soaked face. The heavy axe howled through the air as he hacked straight toward Galon's chest.
But the instant he moved, Galon had already judged the direction of the attack through the instincts granted by the greenseer bloodline.
He stepped back lightly, narrowly avoiding the blow.
The axe struck empty ground in front of him, sending dirt and grass flying.
Seizing the opening, Galon stepped forward and swept his greatsword across.
Slash!
With a scream, the Ironborn captain's right leg was severed in a single stroke.
He could no longer keep his balance. His left leg stumbled, and he collapsed onto the slope.
Yet even as he fell, defiance flashed in the Ironborn captain's eyes. With a final surge of strength, he hurled his battle axe.
The spinning axe tore through the air, heading straight for Galon's head. But if its owner was no match for Galon, how could the axe be?
Galon raised his sword and casually knocked the axe aside.
He stood in place, looking down at the fallen man, and asked coldly, "Who sent you ashore at Sea Dragon Point?"
The Ironborn captain clutched his severed leg and lay on the ground in silence.
Seeing this, Galon swung his greatsword again and cut off the man's remaining leg.
A piercing scream echoed across the hills.
Galon stared at him without expression. When the screams weakened slightly, he asked again, "Are you going to speak or not?"
The Ironborn captain croaked weakly, "What is dead may never die."
Those words instantly jolted the two Ironborn still surrounded by Jon's men. They exchanged a glance and shouted together, "What is dead may never die!"
Weapons in hand, they attacked at the same time.
Caught off guard, Jon nearly took a blow.
Furious, he immediately led his men in a counterattack. In just three exchanges, the two Ironborn were beaten into grave injuries.
Seeing this, Galon shook his head. He knew there would be nothing to learn from them.
He looked at Jon and ordered, "Give them a quick end."
At his words, Jon waved his hand. His soldiers stepped forward in silence and thrust their blades into the three men's hearts.
In moments, all three were dead.
Mihawk then led the archers back to Galon's side.
Galon scanned the surroundings and issued another command. "Clear the battlefield. Check for any survivors."
"Yes, my lord!"
Mihawk led his men down the slope to inspect the bodies.
Jon walked up beside Galon and muttered bitterly, "These Ironborn really are fearless. Not a single one tried to surrender."
"They are," Galon replied, somewhat regretful. Even now, he still did not know what their true purpose had been.
Were they a forward attack aimed at Deepwood Motte, or had they simply come ashore temporarily?
As Galon wiped the blood from his blade and pondered this, a sharp cry came from one side.
"My lord! There are survivors!"
On the slope, an archer pointed desperately toward the coast.
Galon's heart tightened as he snapped his head around.
In the distance, several Ironborn dressed the same way were scrambling out from behind low bushes on the far side of the hills, clutching their trousers in panic.
Clearly, stomach trouble had driven them off to relieve themselves, allowing them to narrowly escape the initial attack.
Now, seeing their companions lying dead, the survivors were terrified out of their wits. They stumbled and ran desperately toward the place where they had come ashore.
"Stop them! Don't let them reach the sea!"
Galon roared.
Mihawk reacted instantly. "Piercing arrows, long range! Piercing arrows, long range!"
The archers once again raised the terrifying new bows. Bowstrings drew taut like full moons, and arrows screamed after the fleeing figures.
At the same time, Jon led his men charging downhill, cutting across to intercept the escape.
But the distance was too great, and the Ironborn were running at full speed. Even with the new bow's power, accuracy dropped sharply.
One arrow tore through an Ironborn's thigh.
He screamed and collapsed.
Another arrow grazed a man's shoulder, ripping away flesh and spraying blood.
Seeing the remaining two crest the hill, Mihawk immediately led his men in pursuit.
Fearing an ambush, Galon followed close behind and warned, "Stay alert. Watch for traps!"
Mihawk's heart tightened, and he ordered the archers to slow their pace, while Jon led the charge ahead to clear the way.
But Galon's concern proved unnecessary.
When they chased the Ironborn over the last hill and saw the sea just ahead, it became clear that only this small group had come ashore.
"Fire!"
"Fire again!"
Seeing there was no ambush, Mihawk immediately gave the order from the hillside.
The last two Ironborn let out desperate roars for survival.
They threw themselves at a small boat, shoved it into the shallows, scrambled aboard, and began rowing frantically.
More arrows rained down like deadly hail.
Arrows thudded into the sides of the boat with dull thumps. One even buried itself deep into the leather armor on a rower's back, tearing open a wound that gushed blood.
Yet he stubbornly refused to fall.
Caught between arrow fire and crashing waves, the small boat lurched out of the shallows and struggled toward the open sea.
At last, the boat carrying the two blood-soaked survivors vanished miserably over the horizon.
Galon stood on the hillside, watching the distant speck disappear. There was no frustration in his eyes, only a deep, heavy gravity.
One Ironborn ship had slipped away.
That meant the trouble was far from over.
"Pass the word. Finish clearing the battlefield."
Before long, the group completed their work and returned once more to the pine forest.
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