Strongest Radioactive System

Baron Geisler's Territory: The Alarm

Meanwhile, far from Volk's location, a low, ominous wail echoed across Baron Geisler's territory.

WHOOOOO-OOO! WHOOOOO-OOO!

The sound was unmistakable—a deep, resonating horn accompanied by the faint crackle of magical pulses.

The alarm's cry carried through every village, castle, and farmland under the Baron's jurisdiction.

It was not a sound anyone wished to hear.

Farmers in the fields froze mid-swing, their scythes hanging limply in their hands.

The women gathering water by the river dropped their buckets, watching the horizon with wide eyes.

Children playing near the gates stopped their games, their laughter silenced as the chilling sound reached their ears.

Inside the bustling markets of the main town, merchants paused mid-barter, their voices trailing off.

Customers turned their heads toward the towering bell tower in the center of the square.

"That can't be..." a merchant muttered, his voice trembling.

Another whispered, "The alarm... but that means—"

"The Baron," an older man cut in, his face pale. "Does it mean that the current Baron has fallen."

The wail of the horn reverberated even into the grand halls of Castle Geisler. Servants stopped their cleaning, their eyes darting to one another.

Knights training in the courtyard lowered their weapons, dread settling over their ranks.

"What's going on?" one young squire asked, his voice cracking.

"Quiet!" barked a senior knight, though his own face betrayed unease. "The Baron can't fall. He's... he's Geisler."

But even as he spoke, the truth weighed heavily in the air.

In a secluded chamber within the castle, the stillness of the Baron's private library was broken by the wailing alarm.

The room was lined with towering shelves of ancient tomes and scrolls, their spines cracked with age.

At its center stood an old man, draped in flowing robes, his long white beard nearly reaching the floor.

The wizard, Gerhardt, slammed the heavy tome he had been reading shut.

His gnarled hand clenched into a fist, and his brow furrowed deeply as he muttered a string of curses under his breath.

"That damned fool," he spat, his voice laced with both anger and frustration. "I warned him. I told him—never travel without more knights, especially not to those outskirts!"

Gerhardt paced the room, his ornate staff tapping against the stone floor with each step.

"What kind of creature could have done this?" he muttered. "An entire cavalry wiped out? Even Geisler himself?" His voice grew louder with each word.

He stopped abruptly, his sharp blue eyes narrowing. "Unless..." He slammed his staff down with a resounding CRACK.

"Could it be the Prince's meddling?" he snarled. "That boy would do anything to eliminate Geisler. Even hire... whatever did this!"

Gerhardt's mind raced, piecing together possibilities.

"But what if it wasn't the Prince?" he muttered. "What if... what if this is something worse?" His gaze drifted toward the nearest window, where the distant mountains loomed like silent sentinels.

"Some monstrous beast," he said softly, his voice trembling slightly. "Or..." His eyes widened.

"Don't tell me..." He gripped the edge of a nearby desk. "A monster?"

---

Gerhardt's face twisted in anger as he thought of the possibility. "If it's one of those savage monsters... then the Baron deserved it!" he hissed, his voice dripping with venom.

"That arrogant fool," he continued, pacing again.

"Always boasting about his prowess. Always underestimating the enemy. How many times did I tell him? 'Bring more knights, bring more mages,' I said. But no. He had to prove himself. Had to flaunt his strength."

Gerhardt shook his head, his long beard swaying. "And now look where it's gotten him. Dead. And his entire cavalry—gone. What a waste."

He paused, staring at the towering shelves of books around him. "If this is truly a monster... then we're not that much in danger if it's alone. But if it's enough to wipe out the cavalry that fast, it should be a whole lot of them…"

His words trailed off, replaced by a grim silence.

Suddenly, the door to the library burst open, and a young mage-in-training stumbled in, his face pale.

"Master Gerhardt!" the boy exclaimed. "The alarm—what does it mean?"

Gerhardt turned to him slowly, his expression a mix of anger and resignation. "It means, boy," he said, his voice cold, "that the Baron is dead. And that something far worse than him is now out there."

The young mage's eyes widened at Gerhardt's words. His voice trembled as he asked, "What should we do, Master Gerhardt?"

The old wizard turned, his gaze fierce and unwavering. He gripped his staff tightly, the gnarled wood thrumming with latent power.

"We prepare for war," he said firmly, his voice echoing through the library.

Hours later, the preparations in Baron Geisler's territory reached their peak.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

The once bustling villages and markets were now silent, save for the rhythmic clatter of armor and weapons.

The Baron's army, a formidable force of knights, foot soldiers, and mages, stood in perfect formation.

Rows of shields gleamed under the harsh sun, their polished surfaces reflecting the fiery determination etched on every soldier's face.

Their faces were masks of fury. Fury for their fallen leader.

Fury for their comrades who had perished.

Fury for the monster that dared challenge their might.

The knights stood in three solid phalanxes, their tall kite shields locked together like an impenetrable wall.

Each shield bore the emblem of House Geisler—a crimson wolf howling at the moon.

Behind them, rows of archers waited, their longbows strung with taut sinew, arrows knocked and ready to fly.

The mages were scattered amongst the ranks, their robes billowing in the wind, hands glowing faintly with magical energy.

Their faces were grim, their eyes fixed on the horizon.

The foot soldiers, armed with spears and swords, filled the gaps, their expressions hardened by years of battle.

Some muttered prayers under their breath. Others simply tightened their grips on their weapons, their knuckles white with tension.

At the forefront of the formation stood Gerhardt, his staff planted firmly in the ground.

The old wizard's piercing blue eyes scanned the gathered army, his face a mask of grim resolve.

He raised his staff high, and a pulse of magic swept over the soldiers, filling them with renewed vigor.

"We march," Gerhardt bellowed, his voice carrying over the assembled troops, "to avenge the Baron! To avenge your brothers! And to show the world that no beast, no savage, no monster, can stand against the might of House Geisler!"

A deafening roar erupted from the army. Shields clanged against swords, and the air vibrated with the sound of their battle cries.

"FOR THE BARON!"

"FOR OUR HONOR!"

"FOR VENGEANCE!"