Dominance of Viled Heart

Chapter 11 (Part 1)

After what felt like an eternity of trudging through dense forest, the trees abruptly gave way to an endless expanse of ice and snow. The stark contrast made my head spin. One moment, we were surrounded by towering trees and damp earth, the next, we were standing in a frozen wasteland. The sun glared down harshly, yet the wind cut through my cloak like a blade.

Wait—why is it snowing now?

The thought barely had time to settle before the commander’s voice rang through the cold air, sharp and commanding.

"Heads up, warriors! Any moment now, the battle begins. Keep your spirits high and show them the strength of the empire!"

"FOR THE EMPIRE!" The warriors' roar shook the icy ground, their voices thunderous with conviction.

I couldn’t bring myself to join them.

All I could think of was the end.

Please, just let this end.

My heart pounded against my ribs, each beat a drum of rising panic. My throat was dry, my breaths short and uneven. The fear wasn’t new. I’d felt it before, glimpsing the horrors of war from a distance when I first arrived in this world. But now, there was no distance. Now, I was standing at its threshold, and it was swallowing me whole.

"WE ARE BEING ATTACKED!"

The warning split the air, and chaos erupted around me.

"GET READY FOR BATTLE!"

Before I could react, the sky darkened with a rain of arrows. They fell in waves, slicing through the air with a deadly hiss. The pristine snow turned red as bodies collapsed. The metallic scent of blood filled my lungs, mingling with the agonized screams of the wounded.

I hate this world. I hate Isekai!

Then, the sound that silenced everything—the unmistakable clash of weapons.

The warriors surged forward, their movements precise, relentless. At the front of it all was him—Prince Michaelli, cutting through the battlefield like a storm given human form. Every swing of his blade sent enemies crumbling, his presence a force of destruction and command.

The ground shook with each collision of steel. The battle had begun in full force.

I had admired strong women in stories, always fascinated by their courage. But I am not Mulan or Merida. I never wanted to be. What good was bravery here? I wasn’t a warrior. I wasn’t a hero. If I could trade places with some delicate noblewoman, far away from this horror, I would do it without hesitation.

"ARROWS COMING!"

The warning jolted me. I dropped to the ground, pressing myself into the freezing snow as another volley soared overhead. The sickening thuds of impact followed—the unmistakable sound of bodies being pierced. I cracked one eye open and caught sight of the warriors forming a shield wall, their stances unwavering, protecting those behind them.

Shame coiled in my chest. I crawled toward their formation, slipping into the center like a child hiding behind adults. My gaze darted around, catching glimpses of bloodied swords, splintered shields, and men barely holding themselves together.

What am I even doing here?

The fighting continued, swallowing me whole. Every direction I turned, there was violence, bodies falling, warriors pressing forward, swords clashing. My legs trembled, barely able to support me as the warriors shifted formation. It felt like the ground itself was unstable, like everything could collapse at any moment.

I should be grateful I’m still standing—

Clang!

"Or maybe not," I muttered, my voice weak as a knight in tattered armor rushed at me, sword raised.

"I'm not your enemy!" My voice cracked, but my red armor told him otherwise.

He didn't hesitate. He struck fast, forcing me to raise my sword in a clumsy block. The impact rattled my arms, the force alone nearly knocking me off my feet. His attacks came harder, relentless, each one chipping away at what little defense I had.

A man’s strength is no joke.

My arms ached, trembling violently under the pressure. Just when I thought I was done for, a blur of red entered my vision. With one swift motion, my attacker fell, blood blooming across the ice.

The warrior who saved me—red-capped and sharp-eyed—spared me a brief glance before vanishing back into the chaos.

I didn't even get a chance to say thanks.

My legs moved before my mind could catch up, carrying me away from the worst of the fighting. I ducked behind a mound of snow, heart hammering so hard it drowned out the world. My body shook uncontrollably, adrenaline surging through me in waves.

What was all that training for if all I can do is hide? Call me a coward, but I am not your everyday war girl!

Peering out from my makeshift shelter, I took in the battlefield.

It was worse than I imagined. Blood pooled across the snow, dismembered limbs scattered like broken dolls. The cries of the dying wove through the clash of steel, creating a twisted symphony of agony and triumph. I felt bile rise in my throat, a suffocating sickness clawing at my insides.

I wanted to run. But where? Death was everywhere. One wrong step, one mistake, and I'd be next. My only hope—the Homonhon Empire, the myths and histories buried in scrolls—had better be worth this nightmare. If I survive this war, and it turns out to be nothing but stories and lies, I swear, I’ll burn those scrolls to ash.

Clang!

Something heavy flew past me, landing with a sickening thud just inches from where I crouched.

I knew what it was before I even looked. My body froze, heart stalling mid-beat. Dread clawed up my spine, wrapping tight around my throat. I didn't want to see it. I didn’t want to confirm what my gut already knew.

Please don’t be a head. Please, not a head.

But the battlefield was cruel.

Swallowing hard, I forced myself to turn, inch by inch, bracing for the horror waiting for me.