I Reincarnated as a Prince Who Revolutionized the Kingdom

February 16, 1696.

The jungle night was eerily silent, save for the distant crackling of torches atop the fortress walls. General Armand Roux stood at the edge of a ridge, peering down at the enemy stronghold through his spyglass. Between the twin mountains, carved into the rock and reinforced with sharpened wooden barricades, stood the heart of the rebellion—the fortress of N'kosi.

Through the scope, Roux could see warriors patrolling the walls, their movements careful but unaware of the Elysean forces lurking beyond the treeline. From this distance, it was clear that they were prepared for a siege. The outer defenses were thick, the main gate reinforced with massive wooden beams, and additional guard towers lined the cliffside paths. The enemy expected an attack, but they didn't know when it would come.

Lowering the spyglass, Roux turned to Captain Étienne Giraud. "The fortress is well-defended. We'll take heavy losses if we strike head-on."

Giraud nodded grimly. "We need an opening."

"We have one." Roux glanced at Chief Ibara, who had been crouched nearby. The tribal leader had provided vital intelligence on the fortress's weaknesses. "Your men found the hidden passage?"

Ibara nodded. "It leads beneath the fortress, an old escape tunnel long abandoned by my people. It will take you inside."

Roux turned to Giraud. "Take a unit of forty men and our best infiltrators. Get inside and open that gate. The rest of us will wait for the signal." Stay connected via My Virtual Library Empire

Giraud saluted. "Consider it done."

Roux took a deep breath, then turned back to the jungle. His army—just under 700 men, bolstered by Ibara's warriors—lay in wait. This battle would decide the fate of Elysea's expansion into the heart of the continent.

And they would not lose.

Giraud led his team through the dense undergrowth, moving swiftly but cautiously. The tunnel entrance was hidden behind a collapsed section of rock, overgrown with vines and foliage. Ibara's scouts had cleared it just enough for them to squeeze through.

Inside, the air was damp and musty, the walls of the tunnel slick with condensation. The passage sloped downward before opening into a narrow corridor, just tall enough for them to crouch-walk.

Ibara whispered, "We are close. The chamber ahead connects to the lower storage rooms."

Giraud raised a fist, signaling for silence. They reached a wooden door at the tunnel's end. Pressing his ear against it, he could hear muffled voices—guards stationed on the other side.

He turned to his men and signaled.

Two Elysean soldiers stepped forward, blades drawn. With practiced precision, they pushed the door open just enough to slip inside. Within seconds, the dull sounds of choking and a brief struggle echoed through the corridor.

A moment later, the door opened fully.

The guards were dead, their bodies slumped against the walls.

Giraud and his men slipped inside. The fortress was waking up to the sounds of war horns, signaling that their forces outside had been spotted. There was no more time for stealth.

"Move," Giraud whispered. "We need to get to the gate."

They pressed forward, cutting down any guards they encountered, using the chaos of the fortress's sudden alert to their advantage. The sounds of cannon fire outside shook the stone walls, debris falling from the ceilings.

Then, they reached their destination.

The gate controls were housed in a small tower near the entrance. The mechanism was a large wooden crank, secured with iron reinforcements. A handful of guards stood watch.

"Take them," Giraud ordered.

The Elyseans surged forward, gunfire echoing through the chamber. Within moments, the guards were dead.

Giraud grabbed the crank and pulled.

With a heavy groan, the fortress gates creaked open.

Outside, Roux saw the gates swing open and didn't hesitate.

"Charge!"

The Elysean army surged forward.

Artillery roared as cannons sent shells crashing into the fortress walls, tearing gaps into the defenses. Gatling guns unleashed suppressive fire, cutting down warriors along the battlements.

The first wave of Elysean infantry stormed through the breach, bayonets gleaming in the firelight. The enemy fought desperately, their spears and muskets flashing in the chaos, but the disciplined formations of the Elyseans overwhelmed them.

Inside the fortress, warriors scrambled to regroup, but the infiltrators had already sown confusion. Giraud and his men held their position at the gate, picking off defenders as the main force poured inside.

Roux stormed through the breach, his saber flashing as he cut down an enemy trying to flee. He moved swiftly, his eyes scanning for the central stronghold.

N'kosi would be inside.

***

The great hall of the fortress burned, its walls splattered with the blood of fallen warriors. The heavy scent of smoke and death filled the air as the last defenders stood their ground. At the far end of the chamber, atop the stone steps leading to the central throne, N'kosi stood like a figure carved from iron. His dark eyes burned with hatred, his muscles tensed, his obsidian-tipped spear clenched in his fist.

The warlord's personal guard flanked him—hulking warriors clad in hardened leather and bone-plated armor, their shields painted with the symbols of their ancestors. Their faces were streaked with war paint, their weapons raised in unwavering defiance. They knew they would not survive this night. And yet, none of them fled.

General Armand Roux stepped forward, his saber slick with blood, his uniform tattered from the battle outside. He could not understand the words N'kosi shouted, but he didn't need to. The warlord's stance, the fury in his eyes, the way his grip tightened on his spear—Roux understood the message clearly.

There would be no surrender.

The two men locked eyes, an unspoken understanding passing between them. This was the end.

N'kosi roared, the sound raw and primal, echoing through the burning hall. He slammed the butt of his spear against the stone floor, and his guards, driven by a final surge of rage, charged.

Roux barely had time to react before one of the warriors lunged at him, swinging a curved blade. He parried the blow with his saber, the force of the impact rattling his arm. Another enemy came from the side, a massive warrior wielding a club reinforced with iron spikes. Roux twisted away just as the weapon crashed down, splintering the floorboards where he had stood a second before.

The chamber erupted into chaos. Elysean soldiers stormed in behind Roux, meeting the warlord's personal guard in brutal close-quarters combat. Giraud fired his revolver point-blank into an enemy's chest, sending him sprawling backward. Ibara and his warriors crashed into the fight with their own blades, hacking and slashing as the defenders fought like cornered beasts.

Roux ducked beneath another swing, then drove his saber upward, piercing his attacker's gut. The warrior grunted, blood gurgling from his lips as he fell. But there was no time to rest—N'kosi himself was coming.

The warlord surged forward, spear aimed directly at Roux's heart.

Roux barely managed to twist aside, the blade slicing through the air inches from his ribs. N'kosi was relentless, striking again and again, forcing Roux back with each powerful thrust. The general barely kept pace, dodging and parrying, but he knew he couldn't keep this up forever.

N'kosi was fast. Too fast.

A sharp pain lanced through Roux's arm as the warlord's spear grazed him, slicing through his coat and drawing blood. Roux hissed, gritting his teeth as he fought to keep his footing.

He needed an opening.

Giraud, spotting the struggle, aimed his revolver. The shot rang out, striking N'kosi's shoulder. The warlord staggered, but instead of falling, he turned to Giraud with a look of pure fury.

With a guttural growl, N'kosi hurled his spear.

Giraud barely had time to react before the weapon buried itself in his side.

The captain gasped, blood bubbling at his lips as he stumbled backward, his revolver slipping from his grasp.

Roux's eyes widened in shock—but that was his opening.

With a roar, he lunged forward, driving his saber deep into N'kosi's chest.

The warlord's breath hitched. His body jerked as the blade sank past flesh, past bone, into his heart. His eyes, once burning with fury, flickered with something else—shock. For a brief moment, he seemed almost confused, as if he had never truly believed this moment would come.

Then, with a final exhale, he collapsed.

The chamber fell silent.

The last of N'kosi's guards, seeing their leader fall, hesitated. Some fought on in blind rage, only to be cut down seconds later. Others dropped their weapons, their will to fight shattered.

The battle was over.

Roux pulled his saber free, watching as the warlord's lifeless body slumped against the stone floor. Blood pooled beneath him, soaking into the cracks. The self-proclaimed immortal, the so-called chosen warrior of the gods, lay dead at his feet.

Outside, the Elysean flag was already being raised above the fortress walls. The fortress of the rebellion had fallen.

And they cheered.