I Was Mistaken for the Reincarnated Evil Overlord

The northern wind changed.

It wasn't just cold, it was sharp. Biting. Like something had torn the warmth from the world and left a jagged hole in its place.

And with it came the smell.

Smoke. Burned wood. Flesh.

Darin sat astride his warhorse, newly gifted by the Gallikarn, and blessed by two witch-elders, whatever that meant—and stared down the narrow valley path before them.

They'd officially crossed into the Icefang Cliff territories that morning. The elevation had risen, and the temperature had plummeted. The trees here were brittle and grey. The sky above was cloudy, and the sun filtered through like a guilty afterthought.

Steve, somehow already adapted to the cold, had taken to walking beside the group with his wings wrapped around his body like a fuzzy cloak, head occasionally peeking out to glare at passing squirrels.

Grumble, of course, rode on Reeka's shoulder like a crown. She had been oddly protective of him since the "Shadow Beast chose his bride" incident. Her presence alone now inspired reverence from the Gallikarn women, and barely contained jealousy from their male counterparts.

Vincent rode beside Darin, arms crossed and unusually quiet.

Grull, the massive cyclops walking beside the vanguard, sniffed deeply.

He frowned.

"I smell blood," the giant rumbled, sniffing the air again. "Old… faded. Days old. But lots of it."

Darin exchanged a glance with the Sorceress, who was walking beside him. Her eyes narrowed.

"Scouting unit," Darin called, his voice steady despite the chill. "Push forward. Look for ruins. Keep tight formation."

The fedora-wearing scout gave a short nod, signaling to his team. Within seconds, they vanished between the trees like ghosts.

It didn't take long.

Just past midday, the lead scouts returned, stone-faced and blood-spattered.

"We found a village," one of them said.

Then he paused.

"No, not a village. What's left of it."

The company veered to the east under Darin's command, weaving through the narrow mountain paths until the burnt remains of a settlement came into view.

They all stopped.

Houses were razed to splinters, blackened frames still smoldering despite the snow. Blood stained the snow crimson across the paths. Bodies, both human and demihuman, lay in crumpled heaps. Some frozen. Some half-eaten.

A grim silence settled across the soldiers.

The gallikarn warriors, walking in tight ranks behind them, let out low, mournful clucks. Even Vincent didn't crack a joke.

"What kind of beast does this?" one of the mercenaries whispered.

"A hungry one," Alvin muttered. He crouched beside a body, brushing snow away from a gaping wound. "This wasn't just pillaging. They tore through here like a swarm."

The Sorceress knelt beside another fallen figure—a demi-human boy, his small hand frozen in a half-reach toward a charred doorway.

"No survivors?" Darin asked.

"None that we can see," the Sorceress answered quietly.

Grull shifted his weight uneasily, sniffing again.

"More blood ahead. Faint. Fresh."

Darin turned to the scout. "How long to the nearest town?"

"Four hours at forced march. Less if we push harder."

"We push," Darin said at once.

His eyes locked on the smoking ruins one last time.

"We're not letting this happen again."

They marched on.

Hours passed, and more ruins followed, abandoned outposts, broken watchtowers, crushed roads. Signs of battle were everywhere, but something was wrong with the scale. The destruction was surgical, like a knife had carved out pieces of civilization and left only fear behind.

After hours of tense movement, the mountain path widened. Trees gave way to steep cliffsides. And then, at last—a town appeared in the distance.

It was nestled against the base of a glacier-fed river, surrounded by spiked wooden barricades.

Smoke billowed above the rooftops.

Not from chimneys.

From fire.

The town was under siege.

Darin's eyes widened as he took in the scene.

Dozens of raiders flooded the outskirts, green-skinned orcs, nimble goblins scrambling over walls, and worse.

Far worse.

Four wendigos towered above the rest, gaunt, fur-covered monstrosities with elongated limbs and glowing blue eyes, their breath forming clouds of steam as they shrieked and slammed into stone walls with unnatural strength.

But that wasn't the only surprise.

Among the defenders of the town, Darin spotted it.

Not just humans.

But Gallikarns.

Hundreds of them.

Chickenmen, feathers stained with blood, wielding strange crescent-bladed spears and curved bows, fighting back-to-back with human soldiers in what could only be described as an act of desperation.

They were surrounded on all sides.

The defenders were losing ground fast.

Darin blinked. "Wait. Gallikarns are defending the town?"

The scout nodded. "Looks that way. It's chaos out there."

Vincent whistled. "Now that's new. Birdmen with a backbone."

Alvin smacked him on the shoulder. "Shut up and focus."

Darin exhaled slowly and turned to Grull. "Think we can break their line?"

The cyclops grunted. "If I hit it hard enough."

Darin raised a hand, signaling the halt.

All around him, the company stopped—knights drawing weapons, mercenaries checking straps, witches whispering pre-battle incantations.

He turned to his trusted circle: the Sorceress, Grull, Vincent, Alvin, and the fedora-wearing scout. Steve stood nearby with narrowed eyes, low growls rumbling from his throat, while Grumble sat on reeka's shoulder, tail twitching.

"We need a plan," Darin muttered.

"I was wondering when you'd ask," the Overlord's voice said in his head, amused. "This reminds me of a siege outside the Ruby Spires. Similar chaos. Similar stink."

Darin muttered mentally, "You've seen this kind of battle before?"

"Oh, many times. You've got a ragged siege line, enemy spellcasters, disorganized defenders, and four wendigos. That's going to be the problem."

"Any advice?"

"Yes. Use the cyclops. He's massive, strong, and dumb enough to follow orders if you yell them hard enough."

"Fair."

"And split your forces. Divide into wedges. Have Alvin and Vincent break flanks—Grull leads a frontal assault to cause chaos. You enter during the mess and take out the wendigos with your elite fighters. As for those defending Gallikarns… if they're loyal, get them to hold the gate while you clear the battlefield."

Darin ran the outline quickly through his thoughts. It was insane. Bold.

Exactly what they needed.

He pointed at Grull. "You're going to punch the front gate. Literally. Knock it down and cause panic."

Grull grinned. "My favorite kind of plan."

"Alvin, Vincent, you two take the eastern and western paths, take one hundred men each with you. Clear the orc archers."

Vincent gave a mock salute. "With pleasure."

"Sorceress, support Grull's charge. Hit hard. Don't let the wendigos focus."

She nodded, eyes already glowing with gathering power.

Darin turned to the fedora wearing scout and Murgan. "You, the gallikarns and the scout devision are with me. We're going in dead center once chaos hits. Focus on the wendigos."

Murgan bowed. "The time has come, my lord. We strike as destiny demands!"

Darin sighed. "Yeah. Sure. Destiny."

He looked around at the assembled warriors. Two hundred of battle-worn with one hundred thirty gallikarns, fierce, and proven veterans. His army. His people.

And once again… the chaos of the north was theirs to confront.

He narrowed his eyes toward the smoke rising ahead.

"Let's move."