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Chapter 16: “The Wolf Breaks the Ice”

Rikuya, Serika, and the Final Battle of the North

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The enemy waited behind frozen ridges, flanked by shattered towers and thick forests.

They outnumbered Rikuya’s forces nearly two to one.

And still, he didn’t retreat.

He stood on the frontline in black armor, cape torn by storms, face hard as the frost beneath his boots.

Beside him, Serika adjusted her gauntlets, her shoulder wound still bandaged.

> “If we fall,” she muttered, “we make it a story worth dying for.”

Rikuya said nothing.

But the fire in his eyes was louder than any war cry.

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The signal was given.

The last charge began.

Swords clashed like thunder. Arrows screamed. The mountain shook.

Rikuya fought like a shadow set ablaze—fast, merciless, surgical.

His blade moved like winter wind. His horse cut through the line like a ghost.

And then—

> He dismounted.

Walked into the bloodied field alone.

Toward the enemy general.

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The man towered in spiked black iron, axe heavy with names.

But Rikuya didn’t blink.

They circled.

Then clashed.

> Steel against steel.

Fire against frost.

Will against legacy.

The fight lasted seven minutes.

Seven minutes that changed everything.

Because when the dust settled—

> The enemy general fell.

And Rikuya still stood.

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The enemy line shattered like glass.

Their men broke and scattered.

> The North was his.

For the first time, the war drums fell silent.

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That night, beneath aurora-lit skies, the soldiers chanted one name:

> “Rikuya! Rikuya! Rikuya!”

He stood at the edge of the battlefield, armor soaked, eyes unreadable.

Kael approached him, eyes wide with awe.

“You won.”

Rikuya didn’t answer.

Just looked out into the falling snow and whispered—

> “Then why does it still feel like I lost something?”

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Behind him, Serika watched silently.

And in a distant palace far to the south, Yume felt her heart beat out of rhythm, as if somewhere, someone had called her name—

And never said it aloud.

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