Chapter 151: The Commander of the First Watch

Because of the school Encrid had created, the Wall had gained nearly one hundred new cultivators.

It was a remarkable increase, but at the same time, it was also not nearly enough.

There were still only around nine hundred cultivators among the eleven thousand people on the Wall, and most of them had only one Star. Only around a hundred could truly be considered strong enough to have a major impact on a siege of this scale.

And among those hundred stood the nine men and women who commanded the Watch.

The Watch commanders.

For years, the soldiers of the Wall had known their names, obeyed their orders, and heard stories about what they could do.

Now the Wall was finally seeing why those nine people had been given command.

The northern Wall stretched for two hundred kilometers and had four major gates: one at the western end, one at the eastern end, one at the center, and the main gate where the largest exit of the fortress was located.

The western gate was held by Garrick Dane of the First Watch.

Dane was fifty-one years old.

He had awakened only one Star in his life.

His Golden Star had reached the Grand Master Realm, and it had remained there for eleven years.

He had tried to advance beyond it.

For years, he had cultivated, trained, searched for better methods, and spent more time in meditation than he cared to remember.

Eventually, he had stopped trying.

Not because he was weak.

Because he had accepted that this was as far as he would go.

But that had never stopped him from becoming strong.

Dane stood on the western parapet with a poleaxe in his hand.

The weapon was nearly nine feet long, with a broad axe head on one side and a heavy spike on the other.

A soldier beside him looked down at the mass of Roamers below.

"Commander."

Dane did not look at him.

"What?"

"There are too many of them."

Dane glanced over the edge.

There were.

The Roamers had covered the ground beneath the Wall. Bodies were already piled against the stone, and more creatures were climbing over them.

Dane adjusted his grip.

"There are always too many."

The soldier swallowed.

"Then what do we do?"

Dane finally looked at him.

"The same thing we have always done."

A Rackhorn climbed over the bodies below. Its horned head rose above the edge.

Dane waited.

The creature pushed one foreleg onto the stone. Then it raised its head.

Dane swung his weapon.

- Poek!

The poleaxe came down and split the Rackhorn’s skull, and the creature disappeared over the edge.

It didn’t go alone, though, as its heavy body struck another Roamer on the way down.

That Roamer lost its footing and fell as well.

Dane did not even look over the edge.

"Hold your position."

Another Rackhorn was climbing.

-Kwang!

Its forelimb came over the stone.

Dane stepped forward and brought the poleaxe down at the joint.

Its bone cracked and the limb separated. The Roamer lost its grip and fell forty feet into the mass below.

A young soldier stared at him.

"Commander, how did you-"

"Don’t watch me."

Dane raised his weapon again.

"Watch the edge."

The soldier immediately turned.

A Grinner leaped toward the parapet.

The young man thrust his spear.

The point struck the creature in the mouth and drove through its skull.

The Grinner fell.

The soldier stared at his spear.

Dane nodded.

"Good."

The young man’s face changed.

"Thank you, Commander."

"If you have time to thank me. You’d rather kill the next one."

There was nothing particularly beautiful about the way Dane fought.

A Swordmaster would not have admired it.

There were no elaborate techniques.

No sweeping movements.

No dazzling displays of Star Energy.

Even the Golden Star inside Dane’s body was barely visible.

He used it almost entirely to strengthen his muscles. His arms became stronger. His legs became stronger. His grip became stronger.

His body became harder to move.

That was all.

Dane had never developed a great Star Ability.

He did not need one.

He had spent thirty years learning how to stand in one place and refuse to move.

Another Roamer climbed.

Dane killed it.

Another came.

He killed that one too.

Then a Talljack appeared.

The soldiers around him stiffened.

"Talljack!"

Dane looked over.

The creature was already climbing.

"Spears down!"

Six soldiers thrust at once.

The Talljack caught two spearheads with its hands and pulled.

One soldier nearly went over the edge.

Dane stepped in.

His poleaxe struck the Talljack’s wrist.

The creature released the spear.

"Again!" Dane shouted.

The soldiers thrust together.

This time, the Talljack fell.

A cheer rose from the parapet.

Dane immediately turned.

"Don’t celebrate!"

The cheer died. He pointed his poleaxe toward the mass below.

"There are another thousand behind it."

The soldiers looked. Another wave was climbing.

Dane’s voice remained calm.

"So kill them too."

The soldiers raised their weapons.

The fighting continued.

Every time a Roamer reached the parapet, Dane was there.

Every time a soldier stumbled backward, Dane stepped forward.

Every time a Talljack reached toward the stone, Dane’s poleaxe was already moving.

"Hold!"

His voice carried over the western gate.

"Hold your position!"

A soldier shouted back.

"We’re holding!"

"Then hold harder!"

The men around him fought harder.

The sight of their commander standing at the very edge of the Wall, refusing to retreat even when the Roamers climbed over one another to reach him, spread through the western section.

Men who had been afraid began to fight.

Men who had been exhausted found another reserve of strength.

The Watch commander was standing there.

If Garrick Dane could stand there, then so could they.

That was the real strength of a commander.

Not the number of enemies he could kill.

The number of people who could keep fighting because he was still standing.

The fighting continued through the night. The moon disappeared behind clouds.

The blue lamps burned along the Wall.

The killing ground became difficult to see beneath the smoke, dust, and bodies.

Dane’s arms grew heavy.

His palms split.

Blood ran down the haft of his poleaxe.

But the western gate held.

At the first light of dawn, the Roamers finally pulled away from that section.

Not because they had been defeated.

There were simply too many bodies beneath the Wall for the next wave to climb efficiently.

Dane stood among the soldiers.

For several seconds, nobody spoke.

Dane wiped the blood from his hand with a piece of cloth and looked down at the bodies.

Then he looked back at the soldiers.

By the time the sun rose over the Wall, Garrick Dane had personally killed more than two hundred Roamers.

Two hundred.

And throughout the entire night, he had not taken a single step backward.

✦ ✦ ✦