The Failed Revenge on K88

The attack against the TFI training bases began before sunrise and ended before any reinforcements had a chance to react. The younger cavalrymen barely had time to put on their armor, the archers never reached the towers, and the instructors died protecting recruits who had not yet learned how to fight. The reports reached Phantom like blades, each one describing a part of the destruction, each line carrying the echo of screams no one had time to record. The loss was enormous.

Phantom did not need orders. He did not need advice. The moment he saw the HVL banner among the ruins, he decided he would personally return the attack. Not for honor. Not for politics. But because every fallen recruit represented a future he had failed to protect. And Phantom did not forgive such failures, even when they came from his own hands.

The journey was silent. The wind brought no answers, only memories of burned grounds and young soldiers who would never join the army. When Phantom arrived in the valley of HVL, he found a kingdom that was organized and calm, almost comfortable for a region that had caused so much devastation. It was an insult to see them standing safe while TFI counted bodies. Phantom breathed deeply, feeling the anger settle in the right place within his mind. He was not there to destroy a kingdom. He was there to settle a debt.

The placement of the castles was solid, with Jane Cotton and Agratzis controlling the inner routes. Both were known for coordinating precise attacks exactly like the one that had destroyed TFI’s training grounds. Phantom observed each of them as if he could already see the battle reports forming before the fights even began. After a few minutes, he stepped down from his white wolf and moved forward without hurry. Revenge did not need to be fast. It needed to be accurate.

The first attack against Jane Cotton was supposed to be simple. Phantom attacked with full force, expecting to break the defense easily, but instead, he found resistance far stronger than expected. His soldiers fell quickly, and even though he won, it felt like a partial defeat. The report showed 2.5 million enemy casualties, but also more than 321 thousand losses of his own. The victory brought no relief. It brought frustration. And Phantom realized HVL had prepared something deeper than it appeared.

He did not give up. He reorganized his troops, adjusted the formations, and launched the second attack. The impact was still heavy, but this time more controlled. He eliminated 3.5 million enemies but lost 211 thousand men in the process. It was less, but still too much. Phantom felt the war slowly wearing down his patience, as if HVL was pulling pieces of his spirit with every attack. Still, he pushed forward.

In the third attack, Phantom controlled the field better. He stopped acting on impulse and began moving his troops with measured discipline. This was the cleanest attack against Jane Cotton, with 3.1 million kills and only 61 thousand losses. For the first time since arriving in HVL, Phantom felt he was regaining momentum. But the emotional weight was already accumulating like iron on his shoulders.

The final blow against Jane Cotton came almost without emotion. Her defense was weakened beyond repair, and Phantom ended the siege quickly, killing 866 thousand troops while losing nothing. He watched the flames rise from the broken towers and felt no pride, no triumph. The fall of Jane Cotton was necessary, but empty. HVL had taken too much from him before collapsing.

Then came Agratzis.

The most dangerous target. The one truly responsible for guiding the attacks against the TFI training bases. Phantom studied the castle for a moment before attacking. Deep inside, he knew this would be the most expensive battle. But he did not imagine how much it would cost.

The assault began strongly and fell into chaos quickly. Agratzis’s defenses were sharp and aggressive, and Phantom saw his men dying in numbers that made him clench his fists. He defeated 1.8 million enemy troops, but lost 440,734 of his own. It was a silent massacre. There was no tactical mistake; only the harsh truth of a battle that, even when won, demanded more than he was willing to pay.

Phantom stepped back as the smoke rose from the broken walls. He could keep going. He could destroy the rest of the kingdom. He could force HVL to beg for mercy. But for the first time in a long while, he understood that moving forward would only destroy what remained of his army. He had won… but at what cost?

He climbed back onto his white wolf, looked at the soldiers who were still alive, and saw in their eyes the same exhaustion that weighed on him. The war was won, but there was no triumph. Only pain, exhaustion, and the bitter sense that HVL had achieved what it wanted: forcing him to fight until nearly breaking himself.

As he left the kingdom, Phantom looked back only once. The towers burned behind him, but his heart did not warm. Some victories are not victories. They are reminders that even the greatest warrior has limits.

And that day, HVL discovered exactly where Phantom’s limits began to hurt.