The Ambush Nest - Invading K137

Snow fell slowly as Phantom crossed the unfamiliar territory. The wind moved without strength, almost lifeless, and the frozen plains stretched as far as he could see. The silence felt unnatural. Even after so many battles, there was something about that place that pressed on his chest, like an invisible hand warning him to turn back. But Phantom had not followed rumors for weeks just to retreat now. He came because the trail of clues kept pointing to this kingdom, a place where the GEA alliance had built something unusual. A structure designed to lure invaders and crush them when they stepped too deep into its center.

Scouts called it many names, but one term echoed louder than the others.

The Ambush Nest.

A formation of cities and paths built not to protect, but to deceive. To attract. To corner. To punish curiosity with destruction. Phantom knew very well what such a place could do, yet something felt wrong. If the Nest worked properly, there would be patrols, organized towers, reinforcements, and movement. Instead, everything looked frozen. Everything was too still.

He advanced until he finally saw the heart of the structure. Three castles stood in a nearly perfect line, covered in frost, abandoned by sound and life. There was no smoke from chimneys, no movement behind windows, no soldiers on the walls. They waited like statues carved from ice.

Phantom stopped on a ridge and studied the first fortress. It was old, solid, but its defenses were not what they should have been. The commander’s name shimmered faintly above the inner gate: Hodor. A strategist known for predicting enemy movements, a man who helped design the Ambush Nest. Yet the Nest around him was broken. Weak. Exposed. It looked like someone had interrupted the construction or forced Hodor to defend before the trap was ready.

Phantom did not hesitate. His army moved behind him like a single shadow sliding over snow. When he gave the command, the first attack fell with brutal force. The walls cracked like thin glass. Hodor lost 7.1 million troops in the opening blow.

Phantom stayed cold and precise. He launched the second attack before Hodor could regroup. Another 3.7 million soldiers were swept away. The defensive core of the Ambush Nest was collapsing faster than it had ever been built.

The third attack tore through the final resistance. 2.5 million more fell. Hodor was gone, and with him, the mind that once orchestrated the Nest.

Phantom looked over the ruins, but instead of satisfaction, he felt a strange heaviness. The wind changed direction as if carrying a warning. He sensed movement far away. Not enemy reinforcements. Not soldiers. Something faster. Something deliberate.

A thin trail of snow lifted into the air, marking footsteps that did not belong to him. Someone was approaching the Ambush Nest from a distance. Another invader. Another hunter. Another presence drawn to the same broken fortress.

Phantom tightened his grip around the hilt of his blade. If this stranger reached the targets first, the message Phantom intended to send would lose all meaning. He had to finish before the unknown warrior closed in.

That was when he saw the second fortress. Its walls shimmered with ice, its towers half lit by the pale sun. The name floated above its gate.

Amelinda.

She did not look like part of the original defense. She seemed like a late arrival, perhaps a commander meant to assume control of the Ambush Nest after Hodor. Maybe she received a signal. Maybe she came looking for him. Maybe she was part of a reinforcement team that never fully assembled.

Phantom moved without wasting a breath. His army surged forward, hitting the fortress with a thunderous impact. Towers collapsed in a chain of falling stone, and the city crumbled under the pressure. When the dust settled, 9.1 million soldiers were gone.

Then silence returned. Not peaceful silence, but watchful silence. Phantom walked slowly through the ruins of the two fallen cities. Snow drifted over broken gates and shattered weapons. The air felt heavy, as if the ground itself was holding its breath. Every step Phantom took echoed between the ruined walls as though whispered eyes followed him.

The Ambush Nest felt alive.

He reached the center of the structure and noticed something carved into the snow. Footprints. Fresh footprints. They were not his, and they were not from the soldiers he had fought. They were deliberate, sharp, and recent. Someone had stood exactly where Phantom stood now. Someone who waited there long enough to leave a clear imprint before vanishing into the frost.

Phantom crouched and touched the frozen trail. The prints told a story. They belonged to a single person, not an army. The steps were light, precise, calculated. This stranger did not come to conquer the Nest. He came to observe. To watch Phantom destroy it. To study the method of every attack.

The realization settled on Phantom like an iron weight. The other invader was not a rival. He was a shadow following his path. Someone testing the distance between them. Someone learning how Phantom attacked, how he reacted, how he killed.

The Ambush Nest was not a trap for soldiers. It was a beacon. A silent signal sent to whoever pursued Phantom through kingdoms and ruins. Phantom rose slowly, the wind brushing against his cloak. He looked at the gray sky and understood the truth he had been avoiding.

From this moment on, any invasion could be his last. Any kingdom could hide the observer. Any battle could turn into a real ambush. The Ambush Nest was not the end. It was only the beginning of the hunt.