“Let’s go!” Novia shouted, standing atop the city wall, a machete raised in her hand. His red eyes, bloodshot and weary, betrayed the fact that he hadn't rested for two days.
“King Novia! The orcs are attacking the western wall!” Maple shouted breathlessly. He gripped the long sword at his waist, a reminder of the ongoing chaos. “The King has already led his troops to reinforce it. We’ll need you here!”
“Don’t worry,” Novia replied, casting a quick glance at the exhausted Maple. “The elves are tougher than you think.”
The din of battle echoed from the western wall. Defenders clad in dwarven-crafted iron armor struggled to rain arrows down upon the invading horde.
An alarmed cry shattered the air as a half-orc, weighed down by a sack of dirt, was struck through the chest by an armor-piercing arrow. It staggered two steps forward before collapsing, the sack tumbling to the ground beside it.
“Boom!” The arrowhead split the orc's skull, spattering brain matter across the muddy ground, a gruesome reminder of the brutal reality of war.
“Hmmm…” Chaos erupted as a half-orc’s flying axe soared through the air, embedding itself in the body of a nearby soldier. The dark energy radiating from the impact sent the unfortunate man crashing to the earth, his body torn apart by the violence of combat.
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“Orc warriors! The professionals are here!” White Wing’s voice trembled with a mix of dread and alertness as he surveyed the fray. The flying axe had turned his stomach.
“Do they think us mere soft persimmons?” James’s face darkened as he gritted his teeth in frustration.
“Keep firing! We can’t let the orcs breach the moat!” Maple shouted, his voice firm as he intercepted another axe aimed at James.
“Shu~” At Maple's command, the barrage of arrows intensified, raining down with renewed vigor.
Suddenly, Maple’s heart sank. The moat below had been breached, revealing a “path” spanning less than ten meters.
“Suppress them! Don’t let them get through!” James too noticed the dangerous gap, urgency surging in his voice.
“Don’t fear sacrifice! Push forward! We must hold the city!” the half-orc commander roared, sensing the relentless drive of his men as they clawed their way toward the widening breach, blood staining the river a dark green.
“Damn it! Maple, we need to disrupt their advance!” James shouted, horror creeping into his voice as the orc ranks edged ever closer.
With every frantic heartbeat, the gap widened and deepened, the orcs pressing forward relentlessly.
“Ha!” James let out a war cry, unleashing a sword-like beam toward the encroaching orcs, but it was Maple’s determination that shone through the chaos. Realizing that arrows alone couldn’t hold back the tide, he made a fateful decision.
With resolve etched upon his face, he leaped down from the city wall, his intent to block the advancing horde.
“Flame slash!” Maple called out. His long sword arced through the air, a wave of scorching flames bursting forth, forming a blade of fire nearly three meters long that cleaved through the orcish ranks.
“Knights! Follow me! We must suppress them!” James commanded, pain and doubt fighting in his heart as he summoned the knights from the depths of the city.
“Boom!” The heavy sound of shields and swords clanging filled the air as the knights of Los Saint Neil City descended, ready to fight.
“For the glory of the knights! Charge!” they rang out, their voices a chorus of determination amidst the carnage that threatened to consume them all.
In that moment, under the impending threat, the fate of the city hung by a thread, and the soldiers prepared to face their destiny, united in their stand against the encroaching darkness.