Return of the General's Daughter
Chapter 86: A Battle With Death

Chapter 86: A Battle With Death

Within moments, only one Zuran soldier remained standing.

Their leader, disarmed and bloodied, was half-kneeling on the ground. His right leg still had three arrows buried deep in the flesh, the wounds seeping crimson into the dirt. Yet, despite his battered state, he glared at Lara with pure, seething hatred.

"You will pay for this!" he spat, his voice hoarse with rage. "I will make sure you regret ever being born!"

Lara snorted. "Bold words for a man already half-dead." She took a step closer, her presence casting a shadow over him. "Tell Turik that he should never make the mistake of stepping onto Northem soil. If he does, he’ll regret it far more than you do right now."

"How dare you talk to our General like that .... Ahhh!"

The man’s words died in a strangled cry as Aramis stomped on the Zuran leader’s wounded foot. A fresh wave of agony surged through him, his entire body seizing. For a split second, his vision blacked out.

He barely managed to choke back a scream before slumping forward, feigning unconsciousness.

Lara sneered. "Coward."

She drove her foot into his stomach with a brutal kick. This time, he actually fainted.

Her gaze flickered to the lone standing man in the distance. Unlike the others, he was unscathed. Something about his face tugged at her memory.

Bener’s voice broke the silence. "That’s Captain Merlin Norse. My cousin. He was taken hostage by the Zuran soldiers."

Lara’s expression remained unreadable. "Captain." The word sounded almost mocking, but she had no time to question his presence now.

Asael was still fighting for his life.

"Aramis, stay here with them. I’ll go check on Asael. We need to get him to an infirmary—immediately."

She turned to leave, but Aramis followed.

"My mission is to guard you, Kane. There are five of them. If you want, we can go back together."

"Bener, go with them. The lieutenant is seriously injured. We will catch up with you. We will bury Denzel first." Berlin said in a melancholic voice.

Bener just nodded and hurriedly followed Lara and Aramis.

...

Inside the temporary infirmary at the MarNubes camp, Lara sat on the cold ground, watching over Asael’s deathly pale form.

His breathing was shallow, his body motionless on the makeshift bed.

When she unwrapped the bandage to check on the wound, she realized that the wounds were too deep and the knife had damaged his large intestine.

But how? There were no proper tools. No sterile environment. Her heart pounded. If she hesitated, he wouldn’t last the night.

Lara took a deep breath, forcing calm into her trembling hands.

"Brother! You cannot die. You have to survive. I am your sister, Lara. I did not die. I survived. So you must survive as well." She repeated the words she whispered to his ears earlier.

The words spilled from her lips like a prayer—a desperate mantra.

Determined, she turned to Bener and Aramis. "No one enters this tent until I come out."

They both nodded, understanding the gravity of her request.

Lara meticulously disinfected everything she could. She cut her clean blanket into half with a sharp knife and fashioned a crude surgical gown—a rectangular piece of cloth with a hole for the neck and a belt around her waist.

Months ago, she convinced her master to have a blacksmith forge her a pair of forceps—one to hold tissue and another to suture wounds. She used them to suture wounds on the internal organs of the prey that were still left alive after a predator’s attack. Many of them died but a few lived.

They would have to be enough.

She had no surgical gloves, so she scrubbed her hands thoroughly before beginning.

As the operation began, she repeated her mantra. Brother, you cannot die. You must survive. I am your sister, Lara. I did not die. I survived. So you must survive as well. Over and over, her voice barely above a whisper.

Time blurred.

Sweat dripped down her brow. The dim lantern cast flickering shadows on the tent walls.

Finally—after what felt like an eternity—she was done.

Lara cleaned the wounds and carefully applied the ointment Alaric had given her. A rare and expensive medicine meant only for her.

But Asael was her brother.

She could not deny the fact that the man was her sibling, that she was tied to him by blood. No matter how much she tried to convince herself that she was merely a wandering soul in a foreign body, unaffected by his fate...and his death had nothing to do with her, she still felt devastated when she saw him earlier, so severely wounded.

Then, the devastation was replaced by rage, so raw that her assassin’s instinct just came alive.

When they carried Asael to the camp, she saw the looks on Aramis, Bener, and the others’ faces. Curiosity. Questions. A silent demand for answers.

How could she be so skillful on the battlefield?

She ignored them.

It was not the first time she took a life. She had her first kill when she was only thirteen. It was supposed to be still the age of innocence, but her father was so cruel that on her thirteenth birthday, he had her kill his enemy with a gun.

It was her birthday, Christmas Eve, and she killed a man. Though the man deserved to die, it was still a life, and she was still a child.

Tears streamed down her face. That experience had scarred her for life, something that she wanted to forget.

After that day, she remained in her room for three days without eating. Her nights were filled with nightmares, the scene of the blood sprayed, some of it reaching her face. The way her hands had trembled as she pulled the trigger. She thought she would go mad.

But her father was ruthless. He had her hooked to an IV, then coldly told her—

"If you keep refusing to eat, I will kill your horse and your dog. Choose."

And she had chosen.

Not because she wanted to live, but because she didn’t want the innocent to die because of her weakness.

How could he be cruel? How could a father do that to his daughter?

"Lara, how can you carry out our revenge if you do not harden your heart? You have to be ruthless. You should not waver when a situation like that arises. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Daddy. I understand!" she said, her eyes cold and soulless.

"Good!" He reached out to tap her on the shoulder.

It took Lara a lot of effort not to recoil from his touch.

Lara closed her eyes and opened them again.

’Lara Starr died. I am no longer that person. I am now Lara Norse. The only daughter of Odin Norse, the great general of Norhtem.’

She took a shaky breath, pushing away the ghosts of her past.

Her gaze softened as it landed on Asael’s still form. His breathing was steady now, but his hand was ice-cold.

She reached out, wrapping her fingers around his, trying to transfer what little warmth she had left.

"Brother," she whispered, voice raw, "I am your sister, Lara Norse. I did not die. I survived. You must survive. I still have to know what it’s like to have an older brother." She recited, this time louder and clearer.

She closed her eyes, exhaustion finally creeping in.

For now, she would wait.

For now, she would hope.

And for the first time in a long time, she dared to believe in something other than vengeance and hatred.