NTR: Barbarian Harem Conquest

Elven scouts poured off the gangplanks behind her while Firlia drew her longbow to its maximum limit, sending silver-tipped shafts straight through the brass breastplates of Menual captains attempting to rally the broken line.

Arrows whistled past Kane’s ears as the retreat devolved into a chaotic meat grinder, leaving the wetland choked with splintered towers and abandoned halberds.

Out in the wider river channels, sixty Menual blockade ships recognized the shoreline collapse.

Mercenary captains shouted over the din, ordering their rowers to backwater furiously as they tried to turn sixty ponderous wooden hulls inside a narrow waterway.

Oars tangled and snapped against riverbanks while rudder chains screeched under the sudden strain.

’They want to retreat into the deepest estuary,’ Kane calculated, wiping a splatter of swamp water from his jaw as he strode toward the shoreline.

’If those sixty ships reach the open coast, they can regroup and bombard our supply lines for weeks. Not happening.’

Reaching the water’s edge, he reversed his grip on Mjoldr and drove the ancient handle straight down into the riverbed.

[Title Authority Invoked: Sovereign of the Black Tides]

[Target: Western Delta Tributary]

[Effect: Aquatic Manipulation - Reverse Current active for 30 Minutes.]

’Reversing a river takes more than brute strength; it requires spatial alignment,’ Kane analyzed as the water bubbled around Mjoldr’s shaft.

’The System recognizes my naval title as a localized territorial claim. As long as my boots touch the basin, the current obeys my vector. The Menual rowers are fighting against the actual planet right now.’

River water stopped flowing toward the ocean instantly.

An unnatural, swirling undertow gripped the channel as the incoming tide savagely reversed its course.

Swells pushed backward with terrifying momentum, catching the sixty Menual ships mid-turn.

Prows slammed into adjacent sterns while iron rudders snapped under the opposing torque, dragging the blockade into a self-inflicted wooden bottleneck.

”Ram them now!” Kaelia’s voice broadcast through the communication crystals.

Forty blackened Milfheim galleons rode the reversed surge, driving their brass prows ruthlessly into the trapped enemy hulls.

Because Kane’s no-surrender directive remained active on the faction ledger, white flags fluttering from Menual masts earned zero hesitation from the Bloodfang gunners.

Ballista bolts tore through crowded oar-benches while boarding swarms cleared the decks with unyielding efficiency.

Seraphine joined the boarding action on the lead line-breaker, her black leathers allowing her to vault over a barricade of supply barrels.

She disarmed a Menual lieutenant with a quick twist of her wrist, sending him tumbling over the railing into the swirling undertow.

”Clear!” Seraphine called out, waving her silver blade toward the adjacent hull.

By mid-morning, the river basin held zero fighting men.

Thora strode out onto a stacked pile of shattered iron shields near the dockyard, her hazel eyes bright with triumph as she leaned her chin against the handle of her axe.

”That makes sixty ships turned into firewood before the sun even hits its peak, Chief,” Thora laughed, gesturing toward the smoking river.

”Brak is already asking if we can salvage the Menual brass for new arrowheads. I told him to wait until the bodies float clear.”

”Tell him to strip everything useful,” Kane replied smoothly, walking up to bump his hip warmly against hers. ”We earned the salvage.”

Footsteps squelched through the marsh behind them.

Seraphine approached with her fitted leathers slick from river spray, her silver hair tied back with a simple leather strap.

She slid her broadsword into its scabbard with a definitive click before stopping at his right shoulder.

”The delta belongs to us now, Kane,” Seraphine noted, her irises fixed on the southern horizon.

”Our scouts checked the perimeter. The road to the Emperor’s palace gates is entirely open.”

”You look like you are already spending the Emperor’s gold, gladiator,” Seraphine added, catching the calculating gleam in his eye.

”I figure we need a proper throne room once we settle down,” Kane teased back.

”Something with better ventilation than the northern fighting pits.”

”As long as the mattress is wide enough for all of us, build whatever you want,” Thora interjected with a feral grin.

’Open roads mean fast marching,’ Kane processed, letting his gaze travel up the paved highway stretching out of the wetlands toward the towering white domes of the capital.

’The Emperor sitting on his marble throne thinks distance protects him. He reckons his inner city walls make him untouchable, but stone crumbles just like iron when you hit the foundation.’

Reaching out, his calloused palm caught Seraphine’s waist, pulling her flush against his ribs while his left arm gathered Thora against his opposite shoulder.

’Once this southern crown breaks, I am finished holding lines for Elven Queens or Milfheim Empresses,’ Kane vowed silently, his ambition burning hotter than the midday sun.

’I spent all this time fighting in someone else’s arena, but the board changes today. Soon, the Menual empire will fall, and after that, I will wage my own empire across these territories. No more contracts. Just my sovereign flag.’

Blue text flickered directly across his field of vision as the System finalized the engagement audit.

[Urgent Faction Quest Complete: The Delta Siege]

[Menual River Blockade: Eliminated]

[Reward: +20,000 Bloodfang Reputation | Unspent XP Stored]

[Current Status: Staging Area Secured. Final Sector Unlocked: The Marble Canopy.]

”Look at that renowned jump,” Thora said against his bicep, reading the floating notification.

”You are going to have every mercenary guild from here to the northern wastes trying to pledge their swords by next week.”

”Let them apply,” Kane rumbled.

Stepping away from his partners, he walked over to a broken Menual imperial standard half-buried in the reeds.

He crushed the gold-plated eagle emblem beneath his boot sole, running his thumb along the razor edge of Mjoldr as his gladiator instincts locked onto the city towers ahead.

”Get the boys organized into a marching column,” Kane ordered coldly, his voice carrying the chilling stillness of an approaching executioner.

”We don’t need the ships for the next part. We walk right through his front door.”