Chapter 255 – The Battle for Frontier City Akela (3)

Chapter 255

The Battle for Frontier City Akela (3)

Date : Day 18 of Firstthaw 1024 Aethellgard Concord Year.

The smoke from the bombardment hadn't cleared yet.

It hung over the plain in thick gray sheets and drifted slowly toward the Akela River. It carried the smell of burned grass, scorched flesh and wet, freshly torn earth. 

On the hill beyond the smoke, the Goblin Chieftain's horn sounded again, low and long. The goblins answered the same way they had during the bombardment. Loose squads broke from the mass one after another and loped down the slope in a ragged queue—hundreds of goblins at a time, rusted steel glinting through the haze. Behind them, thousands more stayed spread across the hill, waiting their turn.

In the second wall, two hundred and fifty defenders watched it come.

Nobody cheered this time. Nobody spoke at all. Shields were raised a little higher and grips tightened on hilts and spear shafts. 

Somewhere on the left flank, someone was murmuring a prayer to Luminara under his breath, over and over. 

Hyoren stood at the center of the line with Dawn Breaker in his right hand and Étendard Sacré du Lys in his left. The white banner hung still in the windless air. He watched the flood draw closer and felt the ground start to tremble beneath his boots.

This is where it really starts…

Hyoren steadied his breathing and prepared his own skills.

He didn't reach for everything he had. A battle like this would last for hours, and every drop of Aethell he wasted now was one he wouldn't have later.

I need to conserve my Aethell… Only what matters…

He poured Aethell into both weapons.

"Magic Blade."

A thin, shimmering layer of Aethell coated Dawn Breaker's white blade and the spearhead of Étendard Sacré du Lys. The edges seemed to sharpen before his eyes. The metal hummed faintly in his grip.

Enchant Maledict won't matter much against goblins that die in one or two hits… And Accel Zone… The line isn't moving… We're holding…

He skipped both.

Instead, he turned inward, toward the Dark Aethell resting within his core, and reached for his newest spell.

"Mist Dispersion!"

A dark mist bled out from his body. It curled around his armor and limbs, thin and smoky, clinging to him like a shadow given form.

Through the mist, he felt the spell settle into place. Twenty percent of the force of any attack that struck him would be turned back—redirected into the enemies around him. Those closest, within a meter or two, would take the full brunt of it. Beyond that, the reflected force faded quickly, and it vanished entirely past five meters.

Without a shield, this is my defense... And in a melee this crowded, it might be more useful than a shield…

Around him, the line prepared as well.

To his right, Fits ran his hand along his thin greatsword. Golden light crawled over the blade until it shone like a sunbeam. Beside him, the dwarf woman raised her shield and slammed her hammer against it once. Runes along its rim lit up. The Lion-clan Beastkin scout simply rolled her shoulders, a dagger in each hand, her tail twitching low behind her.

To his left, Killa's pitch-black scythe began to glow with a faint, dark red sheen along its edge. Jackey crouched, and his body tensed as Physical Enhancement surged through his muscles—his breathing deepened, his tabby cat tail went rigid. Beyond them, Jigor's round shield brightened with a pale, steady glow.

All along the second wall, other lights flickered on. 

Swords wreathed in flame. Spearheads crackling with wind. A magic swordswoman near the back of the left flank murmuring a protective barrier over the adventurers around her. On the right, Yugold's knights lowered their spears in perfect unison, shields locked, and a faint sheen of Aethell ran along their steel. Among them, the Templar Knights' entire bodies glowed with the soft golden radiance of Light Magic, so bright they looked like statues of gold.

Then the ground began to shake.

The goblins were coming.

They poured across the ruined plain in a snarling tide—around the chasm, over the craters, through the black ash of the burned grass. Rusted blades and crude spears raised. Red eyes. Yellow fangs. The guttural roar grew louder and louder until it drowned out everything else.

Hyoren didn't wait.

"Here they come! Defend this place with everything you have!"

And then the two armies collided.

The sound was like nothing Hyoren had ever heard. Steel against steel. Steel against bone. Hundreds of shields struck at once in a single deafening crash, and the second wall shuddered along its entire length.

A Goblin Warrior lunged at him first, swinging a crude axe at his head.

Hyoren raised Étendard Sacré du Lys. 

CLANG!

The spear's head caught the axe and the white banner snapped above them. In the same motion, he drove Dawn Breaker forward. The blade slid through the goblin's chest and out its back.

SQUELCH!

The sword's tip was still pointed forward. Hyoren didn't waste it.

"Shadow Bloom."

A tiny orb of darkness formed at the tip of the blade.

WHOOSH!

It blossomed. A fan of dark energy swept across the goblins behind the dying Warrior. More than ten of them were hurled backward, shrieking, clawing at their blinded eyes, falling beneath the feet of their own kin.

The space they left lasted less than a heartbeat.

Another ten goblins surged in to fill it.

They don't stop… They don't even hesitate… The Leadership Aura is indeed so troublesome…

He ripped Dawn Breaker free and swung it in a wide arc.

"Sweeping Slash."

The blade arched wide.

SQUELCH!

A line of goblin heads left their shoulders. Blood sprayed across Hyoren's face, hot and stinking. He didn't blink.

A goblin leapt at him from the left, rusted dagger raised. Hyoren thrust the spear.

SQUELCH!

The spearhead punched through its throat mid-leap. He flung the body aside.

A Goblin Fighter's spear struck his Mithril-alloy Chainmail. The mist flared around him. The blow landed hard, but not as hard as it should have—and the two goblins standing closest to the Fighter jerked backward as if struck by an invisible hammer, crumpling to the ground.

Mist Dispersion is working…

He gritted his teeth through the pain and swung again.

"Sweeping Slash!"

SQUELCH!

More goblins fell. 

Their bodies piled in front of him—one on top of another, a growing heap of twisted green limbs and spilled entrails, slick with blood. The goblins behind clambered over the dead to reach him. Their claws slipped in the gore. Their feet sank into the bodies of their own kin.

And still they came.

Hyoren's face hardened into grim determination. He planted his boots and kept swinging.

***

On his right, Fits fought like a storm of light.

His thin greatsword moved in long, sweeping arcs, each swing trailing a flicker of golden light. Every cut was clean—a goblin's arm, a goblin's head, a goblin split from shoulder to hip. Then he planted his feet, raised the blade high, and brought it down with all his strength.

BOOM!

A shockwave of golden light burst outward along the ground. A whole cluster of goblins was flung backward, tumbling and broken.

Beside him, the dwarf woman held his flank like a rock. Goblins tried again and again to slip around Fits' wide swings, and every time she met them. 

Her shield slammed into one and sent it sprawling. Her hammer caught another under the chin. She hooked a third with the rim of her shield and dragged it straight into Fits' next swing.

And the Lion-clan scout was a blur of motion.

She darted between the goblins, never in one place for more than a breath. A dagger slipped between ribs. Another opened a throat. She ducked under a swinging club, rolled, and came up behind a Goblin Warrior to drive both blades into the back of its neck. Then she was gone again, dancing into the next gap.

Further right, Yugold's knights held like a single creature of steel.

"SHIELDS! HOLD!"

The knights braced as one. Goblins slammed into the wall of square shields and bounced off.

"THRUST!"

Fifty spears lunged forward between the shields at once, punched through green flesh, and withdrew. Goblins fell in rows.

"SHIELDS!"

The wall closed again.

Among them, the Templar Knights shone like small suns. A goblin's rusted blade struck one of them on the shoulder and simply glanced off the glowing armor. The Templar drove his sword through the goblin's chest without breaking stride.

***

On Hyoren's left, Jackey was a whirlwind.

The Bloody Axe swung in a brutal arc.

SCREEECK!

The Goblin Fighter in front of him lost its head. Jackey grinned through the spray of blood.

"Whacking skulkers on the right!"

His tabby cat ears twitched.

“Whacking skulkers on the left!”

He flicked his left wrist.

"Precision Throw!"

The Blackmaw Tomahawk spun through the air.

SWOOSH!

It flew over the heads of the front ranks and buried itself in the skull of a Goblin Lord standing near the back, mid-bark, waving its squad forward.

SCREEECK!

The Lord toppled. Jackey didn't even watch it fall. He held out his empty hand.

"Return!"

The black axe snapped back into his grip.

"Eat this, skulkers!"

He dropped low, both axes spread wide.

"Whirlwind Slash!"

WHOOSH! WHOOSH! WHOOSH!

Jackey spun forward like a living blade, carving into the goblins in front of him.

SCREEECK! SCREEECK! SCREEECK!

Goblins fell all around him in a spray of blood.

"WOHOO! Dead skulkers everywhere!"

But he kept spinning. Kept charging. And when his whirlwind finally stopped, he was no longer on the line.

He was deep inside the goblin horde. Goblins closed in from every side. 

Jackey swung left.

SCREEECK!

Then his right hand moved.

SCREEECK!

But for every goblin he cut down, two more pressed in. A rusted blade grazed his arm. A crude club glanced off his shoulder. The circle tightened.

"Jackey!"

Hyoren started forward. But before he could move—a small figure blurred past him. A flash of milky white hair. A pair of small, curving horns.

Killa.

She tore into the goblins around Jackey, her enormous black scythe swept back over her shoulder, its blade glowing dark red.

"Reaper Slash!"

She swung it in a wide, horizontal arc.

SCREEECK!

The scythe passed through a whole ring of goblins at once. Heads and arms flew. Bodies collapsed.

She didn't stop. She twisted on her heel and swung again.

"Reaper Slash!"

SCREEECK!

Another line of goblins fell. A small clearing opened around Jackey—just enough room to move.

Killa planted the scythe's butt in the earth. Her chest was heaving, and her black eyes blazed.

"Jackey! You're overcommitting! Fall back! Please!"

Jackey stared at her.

For a moment, he didn't move. Killa. The person he had avoided for months. The person he had told goodbye. She had just pulled him out of a closing ring of blades.

But this was a battlefield.

He leapt backward, clearing the corpses, and landed back in his place on the line. Killa followed, her scythe sweeping behind her to keep the goblins at bay.

She shot him a glare as she reset her stance.

"You always do this. Charging in like an idiot."

Then her voice softened, just slightly.

"But don't worry. I've got your back."

Jackey's tabby cat ears twitched.

For a heartbeat, he remembered. Two kids on Golden Cat Plateau, fighting monsters together on the edge of the village. Him charging ahead. Her dragging him back by the collar. Laughing.

He buried the memory as quickly as it came. He still couldn't forgive her.

But he admitted it.

"Sorry. Won't happen again."

Killa only let out a breath through her nose. Then she turned and raised her scythe toward the next wave.

And the two of them fought together.

Whenever Jackey pushed too far forward, Killa's scythe swept in beside him, clearing the goblins trying to cut him off. Whenever a goblin slipped past Killa's wide swings to strike at her flank, the Blackmaw Tomahawk spun into its skull before it could reach her. They moved without speaking, without even looking at each other, as if they had done it a thousand times before.

They hadn't reconciled. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

But years of fighting side by side had left something behind. And today, on this battlefield, Jackey was at least trying to set his grudge aside.

A few steps away, Jigor caught Hyoren's eye. The dwarf had seen it too. Neither of them said a word. They simply exchanged a glance—and both of them smiled.

Then the moment passed.

A Goblin Warrior lunged at Hyoren, and he turned to meet it.

***

The battle raged on.

All along the line, the second wall bent, buckled, and held.

On the left flank, a red-haired figure cut through the goblins like a scythe through wheat. Fiona's greatsword swept in massive arcs, each swing taking down four or five goblins at once. She roared as she fought, and the adventurers around her roared with her.

A few steps from her, Ronald took a goblin's charge full on his broad shield. He didn't give an inch. He shoved the goblin back, then drove his sword through its gut.

"Slow and steady! Hold the line!"

Not everyone was so steady.

A Copper-rank swordsman on the left flank went down with a goblin spear through his thigh. He screamed as three goblins piled on top of him. The adventurer beside him hacked desperately at them, shouting for help.

"WOUNDED! WE NEED HELP HERE!"

From behind the line, two Iron-rank adventurers sprinted forward with a stretcher. Among them was a young woman with a round shield on her arm, her face pale but set. Reon. She threw her shield up as a goblin lunged at the stretcher, knocked it aside, and the other two hauled the screaming swordsman onto the canvas and ran for the gate.

The ground in front of the second wall had become a carpet of corpses. 

Goblins stood on the bodies of goblins to reach the defenders. The grass beneath was gone, churned into a black, red mud that sucked at every boot. The air was thick with screaming and snarling, with the clash of metal, with the coppery stink of blood. Somewhere, a man was sobbing for his mother. Somewhere else, someone was laughing hysterically.

Hyoren swung Dawn Breaker. Thrust with the spear. Swung again.

Beside him, Jigor raised his glowing shield over a stumbling Iron-rank adventurer who had lost his footing in the gore, taking a goblin's axe blow meant for the boy's head. He shoved the goblin back with a roar and crushed its skull with his hammer.

"On your feet, lad! You're not dying today!"

And still the goblins came, pouring down from the hill without end.

***

Meanwhile, the archers and mages on the wall weren't silent either.

Elise stood on the watchtower beside the gate, flanked by two archers from other parties. All three carried longbows, so they'd been given the same post: the highest point on the wall, where their range mattered most. Behind them, a Wood-rank girl knelt beside a stack of crates, her arms full of arrow bundles. Her knuckles were white around the cloth ties. She was ready to resupply any of the three the moment a quiver ran low.

Elise's emerald eyes swept across the battlefield below.

Moonveil Bow glowed a soft green in her hands. She had activated Enchant Magic : Wind before the first squad reached the line. Wind Aethell flowed through the silver wood and curled around the arrow nocked against the string, waiting.

She watched the goblins pour into the second wall, squad after squad, and studied the ones barking orders at the back.

For now, the attacking commanders are only the Goblin Lords… The Chieftain is keeping its casters back to protect the main army. And most of its Archers are still guarding the river flank…

She narrowed her eyes.

I don't need Charge Arrow… or even my Sacred Wind.

Enchant Magic : Sacred Wind was her trump card. It drained almost all her Aethell in a single shot, so it wasn't something to waste on goblins. Even an ordinary Charge Arrow would be overkill for the squads hitting the line.

She drew the string back to her cheek.

Enchant Magic is already enough. It makes my arrows fly farther, faster and straighter.

She loosed.

SWOOSH!

The arrow streaked across the battlefield, trailing a thin ribbon of green.

On the left flank, Fiona had pushed too far ahead of her adventurers. Her greatsword was buried in a goblin's ribs, and a Goblin Lord was raising its jagged cleaver behind her, ready to bring it down on her neck.

SQUELCH!

The arrow punched through the Lord's temple. It toppled sideways before the cleaver ever fell. Fiona ripped her sword free, glanced back at the corpse, then up at the watchtower, and raised her blade once in thanks.

Elise was already nocking the next arrow, her eyes scanning the line.

The middle…

She found the white banner first. Hyoren stood at the center of the line, spear and sword moving in steady rhythm, a dark mist clinging to his body. Goblin corpses were piling in a heap at his feet.

Hyoren is fine on his own…

Further left, a Goblin Lord had cornered a Copper-rank swordsman against a pile of bodies. The young man's shield was cracked down the middle, and his arm was shaking under each blow.

SWOOSH!

SQUELCH!

The Lord dropped with an arrow through its throat. The swordsman stared at it, then scrambled back toward the line.

Elise's gaze slid back to the center.

A small figure with a massive black scythe was sweeping in beside a tabby Cat-clan Beastkin, clearing the goblins that tried to cut him off.

Jackey is being covered by Killa…

Her lips pressed into a thin line. Whatever was going on between those two, it could wait. She turned her bow toward a Goblin Warrior circling behind a Bronze-rank adventurer.

SWOOSH!

SQUELCH!

The Warrior fell face-first into the mud, an arrow sticking out of its back.

Jigor's glowing shield was holding firm. Fits' golden blade flashed in wide arcs beside him.

Jigor and Fits are fine too.

She glanced toward the right flank.

Yugold's knights held their wall of square shields in perfect order. Spears lunged out between them, withdrew, lunged again. The Templar Knights shone like small suns in their ranks. Fewer squads were throwing themselves against that side, since most of the goblins had massed toward the north.

They're disciplined. And there's less pressure there.

She shifted her aim to the left again.

I'll focus on supporting the left flank.

After that, she didn't stop.

Draw. Loose. Nock. Draw. Loose. Green streaks rained down on the left flank one after another, each finding a Lord, a Warrior, or a goblin about to bring a blade down on an exposed back. 

Beside her, the other two longbow archers kept up their own steady rhythm. 

Behind them, the Wood-rank girl darted between the three, pressing fresh bundles into their quivers before anyone had to ask.

Between shots, Elise glanced north.

In the next watchtower, close to the cliffs, Cathy was crouched behind the parapet, firing her compact short bow as fast as she could draw. Her arrows only reached as far as the fighting directly below her.

Cathy's short bow doesn't have the range for distant targets. She can only support the adventurers on the left flank directly.

Moonveil Bow was different. It was a longbow, built for distance, and the silver wood carried her Wind Aethell like water through a channel.

She raised her gaze beyond the fighting, toward the hill, to see what was coming next.

Then her emerald eyes stopped.

Huh…?

Among the next squads loping down the slope, there were new shapes. Thin goblins in tattered robes carried crooked staves topped with bone and feathers. Others had crude short bows slung over their backs.

Goblin Shamans. Goblin Archers.

They were moving down alongside the charging squads.

There weren't many of them, still only a scattering compared to the Lords and Warriors. But Elise knew exactly what they meant. Once those Shamans reached casting range, their spells would fall on the defenders in the middle of the melee. Once those archers took up position behind the squads, arrows would start hitting the second wall from the side the defenders couldn't watch.

They were going to change the battlefield.

Elise swung Moonveil Bow toward the hill.

I need to prioritize those archers and Shamans…

She focused on the nearest Shaman, and her stomach tightened.

But they're farther away than anything I usually shoot at… With Enchant Magic, my arrows could fly almost a kilometer. But my aim… I've never trained on targets more than three hundred meters away.

She drew the bowstring back to her cheek anyway.

But I have to try. I have to stop them before they reach the line…

She glanced along the wall.

The other archers were firing as fast as they could, but their arrows dropped onto the front of the melee. Their range was even shorter than hers. The mages were sending spell after spell into the plain, but without ritual Branch Magic, their range was limited too. Nobody else could reach the hill.

It has to be me.

She poured more Aethell into the arrow. The green glow around the arrowhead thickened and began to hum.

"Charge Wind Arrow."

SWOOSH!

The arrow tore away from the string, faster and heavier than before, and streaked across the plain toward a Shaman that had already crossed half of it. It was about six hundred meters from the wall.

THUD!

It struck the ground a few meters short and threw up a spray of black ash. The Shaman flinched, then kept walking.

Elise gritted her teeth.

One more time…

She nocked again, adjusted her aim higher, and held her breath.

"Charge Wind Arrow."

SWOOSH!

THUD!

This time it buried itself in the dirt just beside the Shaman's feet. Closer, but still a miss.

Her hand trembled on the string.

What should I do? If that Shaman reaches the frontline, its spells will hit the defenders…

She thought of the young Copper swordsman with the cracked shield. Fiona, too far ahead of her line. Hyoren, standing in the very center of it all.

Then a familiar voice echoed in her mind, calm and steady. She had first heard it on the grassland, long ago, when a lone Green Wolf broke through the Ward Stones and everything she knew about monsters crumbled. Hyoren's words had pulled her out of her panic that day.

And at the briefing before this battle, the same words had been written on the very first page.

The black-haired man’s voice was clear in Elise's mind.

“Improvise. Adapt. Overcome.”

Elise exhaled slowly.

Hyoren always says that. I need to do it too.

She closed her eyes for a moment and reached for her Aethell Core. Then she did what she had done once before—she poured her Aethell straight into her eyes, forcing it, pushing her sight past where it wanted to stop.

When she opened them, the world sharpened.

The edges of the battlefield stretched. She pushed further, and further still, her temples beginning to throb. Slowly, the blurred figure on the plain gained shape: tattered robes, a crooked staff, the feathers bound to its tip, bony shoulders hunched as it walked.

She could see the Shaman clearly now.

Elise drew the string back once more. This time she didn't aim for the head or the heart as she usually did. At this distance, she couldn't afford to gamble on a weak point. She aimed for the center of its torso, the largest part of the body.

"Charge Wind Arrow."

SWOOSH!

The green arrow crossed the plain in a blink.

SQUELCH!

It struck the Shaman squarely in the chest. The power behind the charged shot blew a fist-sized hole clean through its body. The staff slipped from its fingers, and the Shaman crumpled into the ash and didn't move again.

Elise let out a shaky breath. The Aethell drained out of her eyes, and the world snapped back to its normal size.

Her shoulders rose and fell, and sweat beaded along her brow. Holding that sight had cost her far more than a single shot should.

Then a voice resounded in her mind.

"Sharpshooter Aim - Skill Acquired."

Elise blinked.

The Voice of Aethell had answered her effort with exactly the skill she needed.

She lifted Moonveil Bow again and called on it.

"Sharpshooter Aim."

This time there was no strain. Her vision simply magnified, smooth and steady, as if she were looking through a lens. The hill seemed close enough to touch. She could see a Goblin Archer fumbling with its bowstring, and the yellowed fangs of the Shaman walking beside it.

She drew.

"Charge Wind Arrow."

SWOOSH!

SQUELCH!

The Goblin Archer was flung backward with an arrow buried in its chest.

She nocked another, shifted half a breath to the right, and loosed.

SWOOSH!

SQUELCH!

The second Shaman fell.

One corner of Elise's mouth curled upward. She brushed a damp strand of silver hair from her cheek and nocked the next arrow.

"Improvise. Adapt. Overcome."

***

Below the watchtowers, the mages along the wall were bombarding the plain.

They didn't aim at the melee itself. With so many defenders tangled among the goblins, a stray spell could kill as many allies as enemies. Instead, they targeted the squads still charging across the middle of the plain, trying to thin them before they reached the second wall and ease the pressure on the line.

Fireballs arced through the air and burst in plumes of flame. Waterballs slammed into charging goblins and knocked them off their feet. Wind Slicers sheared through running legs. Earth Spikes erupted from the ground in the path of an oncoming squad, impaling the front row and tripping the ones behind. Spell after spell, element after element, they fell across the plain in a ragged, ceaseless rain.

Oria worked just as hard.

The small elf stood at the battlements with her Azure Wand extended, the tremble in her hands now steady. She swept it across the plain.

"Aqua Cutter!"

A thin blade of pressurized water sliced through three running goblins at once. She twisted her wrist and called down another spell.

"Waterfall!"

A torrent crashed down from above onto the next squad and drove it flat into the mud.

Then she turned toward the Akela River.

"Elsylua! Attack at will!"

The water spirit rose from the river's surface, her translucent form shimmering in the light. She raised her arms.

WHOOOSH!

A Hydro Pump blasted across the bank and slammed into a squad mid-charge, scattering goblins like leaves in a storm. Elsylua didn't wait for an order before the next one. 

She couldn't unleash her strongest attack—the goblins were deliberately keeping their distance from the river, well beyond the reach of another Flash Flood—but she was far from useless. Hydro Pump could still reach the squads that strayed closest to the bank, and she kept firing at them.

Further along the wall, Reinora and Dennis had dragged themselves back to the battlements.

Both were still pale. Reinora leaned heavily on her staff. Dennis's lanky frame swayed with every breath. But they could stand, and they could still cast.

Dennis pointed his slim dark-wood wand at a squad crossing the middle of the plain.

"Explosion."

BOOM!

A burst of fire and force tore through the goblins and flung bodies in every direction. It was nothing like the multiple explosions of Infernal Constellation, but it was enough.

Beside him, Reinora raised her staff. Wind and water answered her in turn, and blades of air and lances of water lashed out across the plain.

Neither of them could cast Branch Magic again today. Their Aethell Reserve simply wouldn't allow it.

At the center of the wall, Baron Guts sat with his back against the battlements, his red-orb staff laid across his knees. His black-red robe was soaked with sweat. His breathing came in ragged, heavy gasps. He needed about two more hours before he could even think about another Branch Magic.

But his eyes never left the battlefield.

A little way from him, Arianna stood with her hat brim pulled low and Quadraflux Weaver raised. Noctynara's Lament hung dark and silent at her throat. In about an hour, she would be able to cast Earth Fissure once more. Until then, smaller spells would have to do.

She leveled her staff at a charging squad.

"Fire Javelin!"

A spear of flame lanced across the plain and pinned a Goblin Warrior to the ground. 

Arianna was already shaping the next one without seeing it.

***

Time passed.

Hyoren drove the spear through another goblin's throat, kicked the body off the spearhead, and looked around.

The corpses had piled up into a wall of their own.

They lay in front of the second wall in heaps, green limbs tangled with green limbs, rusted blades still clutched in dead fingers, faces twisted in their final snarls. In places the pile came up to Hyoren's waist. The stench rose off it in thick, hot waves of blood, opened bowels and churned mud.

But the goblins hadn't slowed their charge.

Squad after squad kept coming down the hill, and when they reached the line, they didn't go around the dead. They climbed them. Claws dug into the backs of their fallen kin. Feet sank into soft bellies and slipped on spilled entrails. They scrambled over the mound and threw themselves down at the defenders from above.

All along the line, the defenders were giving ground. Nobody gave the order. It just happened. A step back here. Two steps there. Shields that had been planted firmly an hour ago now shuffled backward through the mud, a few meters at a time. They couldn't fight properly with the corpses piling up in front of them. The footing was treacherous, the angles were wrong, and every goblin that came over the top had the high ground.

A Goblin Warrior leapt from the top of the pile toward Hyoren, axe raised over its head.

Hyoren caught the axe on the spear's shaft, twisted it aside and drove Dawn Breaker up under its ribs. The weight of its fall nearly tore the sword from his hand. He wrenched the blade free, then jumped back a few steps to put space between himself and the mound.

His shoulders throbbed.

It was a deep, grinding ache, built up from a thousand swings and thrusts and parries. He had recast Mist Dispersion three times already. The spell had softened the blows that got through, but softened wasn't nothing. He rolled the shoulder once and felt it protest.

He used the brief gap to assess the battlefield.

It's only been about an hour… But it feels like an eternity…

He looked behind the line.

The Wood-rank and Iron-rank adventurers with stretchers were running back and forth far more often than they had at the start. They dashed in whenever someone fell, hauled the wounded onto the canvas and ran for the gate, where the healers waited in the medic tent. Then they came back for the next one. Their faces were gray. Their hands were red to the wrists.

Hyoren had been keeping count without meaning to.

Twenty… maybe twenty-five sent back so far...

And only about half of them had returned to the frontline.

He watched a stretcher pass behind him. The adventurer on it wasn't moving. One arm dangled over the edge and swung with each step the bearers took. Nobody was pressing a hand to a wound, and nobody was shouting for a healer.

The rest are either too badly wounded to fight… or…

He didn't need to finish the thought—they were dead.

His jaw tightened, and he turned his eyes to the right flank.

Yugold's knights still held their square-shield wall. Their thrusts had slowed and their shoulders sagged under the weight of their armor, but the formation hadn't broken. The Templar Knights still shone among them, their golden glow a little dimmer than before. Most of them were still on their feet. Exhausted, but fine.

Around him, the people closest to him were holding too.

Fits wiped blood from his eyes with the back of his wrist, his golden blade dulled to a faint flicker. Jigor's shield bore fresh gouges across its face. Jackey had a shallow cut along his arm, and Killa's white hair was streaked with someone else's blood. All of them were covered in scratches and breathing hard. Empty potion vials lay in the mud around their feet. They had already drunk to close their wounds and kept fighting.

The wounded who were being carried away were almost all adventurers. The ones without the training or the gear to last an hour of this.

Further down the left flank, a red-haired figure was still swinging her greatsword in wide, brutal arcs. Fiona was still strong. Her voice still carried over the noise, rallying the adventurers around her. But even from here, Hyoren could see it creeping into her eyes. 

The heaviness between swings. The half-second she took to breathe before the next one.

A few steps from her, Ronald still stood like a rock. His broad shield was dented and smeared with gore, and his gray-streaked hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat. 

He took another goblin's charge full on the shield, grunted, shoved it back and cut it down. His movements were slower than they had been an hour ago. But the Ironclad Guardian’s leader hadn't given a centimeter more than he had to.

Hyoren's gaze lifted to the wall.

On the watchtower, Elise was still drawing and loosing without pause. Each green streak reached far out across the plain to drop a Shaman or an Archer before it could get close. Her chest rose and fell heavily between shots, but her aim never wavered.

Along the battlements, Oria swept her Azure Wand across the plain, sending blade after blade of water into the charging squads. Out on the Akela River, Elsylua's shimmering form kept firing Hydro Pumps at any goblin that strayed too close to the bank.

And a little way from Baron Guts, Arianna stood with Quadraflux Weaver lowered, no longer casting. Her breathing had steadied. The color had returned to her face. She was almost recovered, ready to unleash another Earth Fissure the moment the order came. Her light-blue eyes kept flicking from the battlefield to the second wall, to the white banner at its center. She was waiting for his command.

Hyoren looked out past the corpses, at the goblin army.

In one hour… we've only killed about a thousand...

His gaze climbed to the hill.

Thousands of goblins still stood there, spread wide, unhurried, waiting their turn. Squads kept breaking off from the mass and loping down the slope, one after another, like grain poured slowly from a sack that never emptied.

We'll exhaust ourselves before we can move to phase four…

The realization settled cold in his stomach.

The Chieftain truly wants a battle of attrition… It knows our weaknesses…

He ran the numbers again, hoping they'd come out differently. They didn't.

Even if Arianna and Baron Guts unleash their Branch Magic again, it'll only kill another twelve or thirteen hundred at most…

He ran the rest of the numbers.

Seven thousand left… We've already passed the minimum for phase four…

But he didn't move.

If I charge now, with half their army still standing and that Chieftain still adapting… with everyone this tired…

It would be suicide.

Five thousand… That's what we need… Two thousand more…

And the people standing on this line—bleeding, breathing hard, slipping in the gore—were the ones who had to make up the difference.

Hyoren tightened his grip on Dawn Breaker and Étendard Sacré du Lys until his knuckles ached.

Then the comm tool in his ear crackled to life.

Baron Guts' voice came through, rough and urgent.

"Field commander! EMERGENCY!"