In mere days, the demon forces completed their siege towers and trebuchets. Then, without warning, a massive stone crashes against the city’s walls. The impact sends tremors through the stone, but thankfully, it crumbles without leaving a breach.

The soldiers on watch duty sound the horn, its mournful wail echoing through the city. Moments later, the walls swarm with archers and spearmen, including myself. My hands tremble slightly as I grip my spear tighter.

It’s clear Alfred has chosen to forgo the starvation strategy, opting for a direct assault instead. As Henrik predicted, Alfred’s impatience is both a vice and a weapon.

A second stone arcs through the air, crashing into the same section of the wall as before. Once again, the stone shatters upon impact, leaving the wall intact but visibly stressed.

This pattern repeats over the next few hours, the relentless barrage testing the wall’s resilience. Each strike chips away at its integrity, the sound of stone meeting stone echoing through the city like a death knell.

Then, abruptly, the trebuchets fall silent. For a moment, an eerie stillness blankets the battlefield.

Suddenly, the demon army begins to move. Siege towers creak forward, their forms casting long shadows in the noonlight. Behind them march foot soldiers in disciplined formation, and in the distance, a battering ram begins to roll toward the gate.

At Henrik’s command, our archers unleash a storm of arrows. The shafts whistle through the air, descending upon the advancing demon troops. Despite the onslaught, their strict formation and raised shields minimize their losses.

Yet, a few figures fall, their lifeless bodies crumpling to the ground. The sight sends a chill down my spine. This is what death looks like—not a distant concept, but a stark and brutal reality lying motionless before me.

I glance at David, standing rigid beside me. His eyes, once filled with youthful optimism, are wide with shock. The ever-cheerful boy from yesterday seems to have vanished, replaced by someone grappling with the harsh truths of war.

The moat we labored to dig is now filled with jagged wooden stakes, designed to make crossing as difficult—and deadly—as possible. Despite this, the demon soldiers carry long planks, laying them across the moat to form makeshift bridges.

Our archers maintain their relentless assault, and demon bodies start piling up at the edge of the moat. Some stumble into the pit, impaling themselves on the sharpened stakes below.

The siege towers and battering ram halt just short of the moat. The planks are too unstable to support their massive weight. In response, demons leap into the moat, braving the spikes to construct supports beneath the planks, inching closer to breaching our defenses.

Henrik steps forward, extending his hand toward the nearest siege tower. From his palm erupts a massive blue flame, engulfing the structure in an instant. Shock ripples through both sides of the battlefield—no one but me, Laura, and Hubbert knew Henrik was a mage.

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The agonizing screams from within the inferno pierce the air. Demon soldiers trapped inside the tower writhe in flames, their burning bodies tumbling into the now-blazing moat below. The fiery display is mesmerizing, but the horror is undeniable.

Despite the chaos, some demons manage to cross the moat, carrying ladders to scale the walls. This is where we step in. Our job is to push the ladders—and the demons climbing them—off the wall, fighting for every inch.

A ladder slams into the wall near me and David, the sound of its impact drowned out by the chaos around us. We rush to push it off, struggling against its weight and the momentum of the demon climbing it. The soldier's horned silhouette grows closer with each second.

When he’s within reach, I lash out with a swift kick, striking him square in the chest. His body tumbles backward, disappearing into the burning moat below. The flames consume him entirely, their crimson glow hiding any trace of his fall.

For a moment, everything slows. The weight of what I’ve done settles over me like a leaden shroud: I just killed someone.

There’s no time to dwell. Shouts ring out from the edges of the wall as more ladders appear. We scramble to kick them down, their awkward positioning making the task nearly impossible. Then I see him—a lone demon who’s managed to climb the wall. His small horns curve toward us, his expression gleaming with determination.

We ready our spears, standing shoulder to shoulder as we were drilled. The demon, wielding an axe and shield, glances down the wall, his expression betraying fear. He realizes he’s alone up here—a lone soldier in enemy territory.

“Fight, boys!” I shout, my voice steady despite the chaos around us. They had unanimously chosen me as the leader just moments ago. There’s no room for hesitation now.

I step forward, a spear gripped tightly in my hands. My blood pounds in my ears, adrenaline coursing through me like fire. The cacophony of battle below fades into the background, the clamor of danger sharpening my focus.

This is it—our first real fight.

I jab at his torso, but he steps back. My reach grants me an advantage, and I press it. A few quick jabs force him to dodge, each one making him stumble further. He’s off balance now—open. I seize the opportunity and aim for his neck.

My breath catches as the spear connects. Blood trickles steadily down the shaft as the demon drops his weapons, clutching at the spear's tip embedded in his throat. He’s choking—his life slipping away before my eyes.

A surge of adrenaline overtakes me. I scream, driving the spear in deeper. He gurgles, collapsing to the ground, his body writhing. Without hesitation, I strike again and again, the spear piercing his neck until the movements cease.

I pull back, gasping for air, my hands trembling. Turning to my group, I find them frozen, their faces a mix of awe and horror. For some reason, I feel no guilt—but a strange feeling of triumph.

The horror stretches on endlessly, each moment feeling heavier than the last. My spear pierces through more demons, and the others do the same. Blood coats our armor, faces, and hands—its metallic scent clinging to the air. The chaos is relentless, screams rising as the fire below dwindles, revealing the full carnage of the moat.

Then, without warning, a deep rumble tears through the battlefield. A massive stone roars through the air, crashing into the wall with a deafening explosion. Dust and debris fly as humans and demons alike are crushed beneath its devastating impact.

I stagger, the ground beneath me trembling. Cracks race through the stone. The section of the wall groans, shifting beneath my feet. Panic sets in as realization dawns

There is a breach in the wall.