Chapter 234: Evacuation
Isolde, a Marshal in the army, was a product of the Eryndral Empire dynasty. She had risen through the ranks, placing trusted subordinates in positions of merit after the Prince Regent's retirement. Now, her high status—legitimate daughter of the Duke of Blackmoor, granddaughter of General Garrett Sharp, protégé of Doug Becker, and a County Princess—led many to question her actual skills.
Soldiers believed her martial arts knowledge to be rudimentary. Overestimating herself, she arrogantly challenged a Master’s degree holder, causing widespread embarrassment. They even averted their eyes, ashamed of their Marshal's perceived folly.
However, Isolde's immediate attack stunned everyone. Instead of relying on agility, she used brute strength against Gerald, a strategy deemed foolish by those familiar with martial arts. Gerald, sneering, assumed a quick victory. He planned a simple block, push, and sweep; but Isolde, utilizing his own force, redirected her attack, striking his chest and sweeping his legs simultaneously. Before he could recover, a flurry of punches landed on his chest, ribs, and abdomen. Even the village chief, initially scornful, was shocked by her speed and power. Her ability to deliver punches and kicks with such speed and balance—while maintaining her own—convinced him of Gerald's imminent defeat.
Gerald countered fiercely, unleashing a vicious assault. Each blow held the power to knock Isolde unconscious. Expecting her to rely on agility to evade the attack, everyone was surprised by her head-on confrontation. Isolde met each blow with strength, pushing Gerald back several steps with each counterpunch. Just as Gerald prepared another counterattack, the village chief intervened.
"Stop!" he shouted. Gerald, unwillingly, glared at him. "I haven't lost yet."
"If you keep fighting, you'll lose all face as a Master's degree holder," the village chief calmly replied, approaching Isolde. He carefully observed her, noting her sharp appearance and confident demeanor during the fight. His initial dismissal shifted; he saw a capable person, a true general.
His attitude softened. "A bet's a bet. Since my people lost, we'll leave. You're a County Princess, right? You have great skills, and I respect you."
Isolde's soldiers cheered, saluting their Marshal. For the first time, they witnessed her true skills, understanding why the Royal Court had chosen her. Isolde, relieved, emphasized the urgency of their departure. Time was running out.
"Since that's the case, we shouldn't waste any more time. Let's leave immediately," Isolde stated seriously.
The village chief gave orders: "Everyone, hurry up and pack your things. Gather here in 15 to 30 minutes to leave together. If anyone has raincoats, take them. Make sure to carry the food. Don't bother with anything else. After the storm, we'll return."
Isolde knew he still underestimated the situation, merely honoring the bet. Lives were the priority. The villagers, skilled martial artists, were gathered within the allotted time, carrying food, bedding, and children. The area was packed, awaiting departure.
The rain intensified, extinguishing many torches. Isolde shouted over the storm, "We need to leave now! Whether you believe it or not, this place is about to collapse. Don't stay any longer. We have to get out as quickly as possible!"
The group began its descent, the villagers guiding the soldiers down the mountain. Isolde carried a five-year-old whose parents struggled with their other children and belongings. Soldiers helped carry supplies; Isolde secretly instructed them to salvage what they could. The evacuation became a frantic flight, the few remaining lamps barely illuminating the path.
Exhausted from days of travel and unfamiliar with the path, Isolde slipped several times, but held the child securely.
"My mom said you're a bad person, that you want to make us leave. But I don't think you're a bad person," the boy, Damon, suddenly spoke.
"Damon, don't say things like that," his mother scolded, embarrassed.
Isolde smiled, wiping the rain from her face. "You're called Damon? Damon, I'm not a bad person, and I'm not trying to make you leave. This place really isn't safe anymore."
A man's voice countered angrily, "Our ancestors have lived here for hundreds of years, and we've never had any problems. We've survived all kinds of storms. What's there to be afraid of?"
Isolde remained silent; she knew time would prove her right. No one could easily abandon their lifelong home.
After five miles, exhaustion set in. The village chief suggested seeking shelter to wait out the storm.