Chapter 19

Siege

Middle Earth Month, 14th day, 17.00

A sharp noise penetrated Gazef's ears. A large boulder, the weight of which was probably too great to be calculated by a lackluster intellect as his, struck the walls of Gelone's fortress.

Although the fortifications, enhanced with some third-tier spells, managed to withstand the impact, a violent tremor propagated through the walls, momentarily knocking some of the sentries posted off balance.

'This has been going on for days now. Soon, morale will reach rock-bottom.'

If the soldiers in his unit continued to maintain some control, the same could not be said for much of the militia employed by the Draconic Kingdom.

But Gazef did not feel like condemning them. It was now a week into the siege, and their fighting spirit was beginning to thin. Although the actual assault had yet to be launched, the constant blows from the siege machines were relentless. Sooner or later, they would be able to break through their defenses, and the battle would ignite.

"Look at those deviltries! We should attack now and get rid of them before they cause major damage." Cerabrate was on the verge of bursting. Pointing to some trebuchets clearly visible from their elevated position, the Holy Knight suggested lightning-quick action to avert the danger.

It would have been a good plan, were it not for ...

"It would be suicide. Look at those trenches," Slaine's captain had drawn attention to some rudimentary pits, placed a few kilometers from the fortress, right between the citadel and the siege machines. "If we were to charge, we would find ourselves mired in who knows how many traps, at the mercy of the demihumans army. We will be wiped out in minutes."

"Tsk," the Crystal Tear leader gritted his teeth in obvious frustration. "What do you propose to do, then? Let them keep bombing us until they kill us all?"

"Keep a cool head," Gazef urged him. "So far, the projectiles they are throwing at us have had little effect. It's just a tactic to intimidate our troops."

The wobblers the Beastmen were operating might have looked threatening at first glance. But there were several problems that the enemy army had not taken into account.

"To the best of our scouts' knowledge, after using Magic Eye, the number of their siege machines is not very high, on the contrary. They probably didn't have time to build more, worried about starting the siege as soon as possible," the former mercenary began to explain. "When I was part of venture companies, I saw my fair share of sieges. The demi-humans can rely on physical capabilities superior to us, it is true. But it seems that, at least as far as our enemies are concerned, their scientific and mathematical knowledge, necessary to aim shots accurately, is in short supply."

Indeed, of the shots fired very few had come close to the target. Most of them had flown over their heads, only to end up beyond the fortress, or had ended up traveling only a few meters, not even coming close to grazing the fortifications.

Obviously, there had been some damage inflicted. But so far nothing too serious. Although not for long, they could still have held out. Conversely, if they became impatient, they would have been mowed down very easily.

"I suppose in our misfortune, there lies a modicum of luck," pondered Cerabrate, smoothing his unkempt beard. "I have heard that beyond the nation of Argland lie numerous non-human nations with a high level of technology."

"Yeah," Gazef found himself agreeing. "I'm sure there are magics that can help adjust the trajectory of the wobbles. The fact that our opponents do not seem to know them is a small miracle. Nevertheless..."

"What's bothering you?" asked Cerabrate, noting his frowning expression.

"The empire's reinforcements have yet to arrive. With their cavalry, we could have launched a cross-attack, maybe even burned their supply stores."

"Lilianne still hasn't told you?"

"Told me what?"

"The reinforcements were intercepted," the Holy Knight explained. "It seems that this is not the only demi-human army laying siege to some fortified cities. We only heard the news a few hours ago."

"You mean that this massive army, which we estimated to reach thirty thousand, is not the only one attacking the Draconic Kingdom?" The situation was much more critical than they could have ever hoped for. And the number of men they could count on was absolutely insufficient.

"The queen also requested the help of some workers. Under the leadership of Blazing Crimson, they are trying to hold off one of the hordes heading right for us."

If the adventurers were not the shining example of loyalty, the workers represented an even more unreliable extreme. The queen, it was clear, was left with very few options. Gazef dared not even imagine what condition the royal finances were in.

"We may have to withdraw. Reorganize with the rest of the army and mount a defense toward the capital."

"No," Slaine's captain was enveloped in a feeling of despondency. The ways out of that endless tunnel were getting thinner and thinner. "If we tried to escape, we would not only give way to our enemies. But we will also give them an important strategic position. Remember what General Barca told us. If Gelone's fortress were to fall, at least a third of the Draconic Kingdom territory would end up in the hands of these Beastmen."

Cerabrate unsheathed the trusty shining sword. If the weapon could have uttered a word, it would probably have invoked a blood demand in order to feel satisfied.

"Then we shall mount a defense worthy of being immortalized in the works of the bards! We will achieve eternal life with our deeds and the queen... What the hell was that!?"

Another shot. One of the side walls had almost been hit squarely, but the bullet had stopped a few meters from it, crashing to the ground.

"Looks like they're adjusting their aim. Or maybe they're just lucky."

"Bah! I'm going to see how my companions and other adventurers are doing. What are you doing, Gazef?"

The man did not hesitate for a moment before giving his answer. "I'm coming, too. I want to check that Iovino and my troops are ready. An attack could come at any moment."

The former mercenary returned inside the citadel. The various guards and militia, by now the only inhabitants left inside, were trying to muscle each other out, aware of the impending battle. A torrent of men whose flow could find no clear direction moved through the streets of the citadel.

The worry, seeping through the air like a ruthless toxin whose poison gave little chance of escape, was counterbalanced by a faint awareness that they were the last line of defense against a merciless fate.

In other situations, it would have been fascinating to observe how everyone tried to empower themselves in their own way.

Sorcerers and adventurers endlessly checked and rechecked their equipment, their potions, their trusty weapons, companions of countless feats. Maintaining control over what was at hand was a relief to souls in tumult.

Some bards strummed old and familiar songs of dragons and knights. The warmth of those old stories was like the cozy fire of a fireplace after a cold winter day.

Others displayed new creations, hoping they would stand the test of time, while some curious people listened raptly to those words and notes that seemed to lift a weight from their hearts.

What cannot be said and what cannot be kept silent, music expresses.

A group of clerics preached the word of the Gods, their voices resounding with the intensity of cathedral bells. In that mournful air, the tolling of their exclamations brought a faint light into mind-numbing darkness.

"Fear not, for the Gods protect us!"

"The righteous will be rewarded in heaven!"

"The sacred mission entrusted to you proves that you are the chosen ones!"

"Humanity bends, but does not break!"

Everyone in that place had a reason for which to put their life on the line. A loved one, a sense of duty that defied all logic, or simply a hunger for wealth and notoriety.

Gazef observed the emblem of the fire goddess embroidered on his armor.

'What am I fighting for? Unlike them, I have no friends and family I want to keep safe. Nor a nation I love and want to protect. I thought the Theocracy and this faith could give me the answers I was seeking but...'

As he listened to those fervent sermons, he could not help but reflect on his past. Strange. It seemed like the life of another man.

'... I am still empty.'

Foolishly, he had thought that the 6 Gods might bring relief to his spirit, tried by an endless quest that had never ended. But the only thing he could carry within him was blood. The blood of all those he had killed.

He was not a hero. He was an executioner.

"Sir Stronoff," a voice he now knew all too well distracted him from his thoughts. "Something seems to be troubling you. Can I be of any help?"

Wrapped in a robe as black as night, a man whose every single step stood for safety. He carried a book of rosaries with him, whose pages were flipped with speed by his fingers as steady as steel.

"Captain Luin," Gazef never expected that small offer of help. Relations with the Sunlight Scripture captain up to that point had been cordial, but mostly cold and lacking in true respect. "I was just concerned about the progress of the battle."

"I see. In truth, I feel the same right now." Usually, his interlocutor's tone exuded unparalleled arrogance. But this time it seemed to be devoid of all malice and superiority. Could it be that he, too, was in turmoil over the siege? "But we have nothing to fear. The Gods guide our hands, just as a loving parent guides his child as he takes his first steps."

"I wish I had your faith, captain," Gazef replied, realizing soon after that to the ears of such a devout man those words would have sounded like profanity.

But Nigun did not comment on that lack of faith; on the contrary. In an understanding, almost fatherly kind of voice, he simply stated. "It is not only by faith that battles are won, that you should know better than me. Don't be afraid! Doubt is a fundamental part of achieving wisdom."

"I confess that I sometimes wonder if there are other ways besides war to conduct relations with nonhumans."

"In a perfect world, this would be possible." The Sunlight Scripture captain closed his eyes, in complete concentration. "But, unfortunately, the world we live in does not allow us to indulge in such reveries. Humans are weak; there is no other way to describe us. Of all the races that populate this world, ours is one of the most disadvantaged. Our physiques are frail, we have not been blessed with special abilities, except in very rare cases, and we age quickly, too quickly."

"Is that why you fight?" Gazef asked, with a note of curiosity. "To protect the powerless? All this blood, all these struggles that never seem to end. How long has this crusade been going on? In some cases, like the invasion that hit this kingdom, it is justified by the logic of preservation. But is this true of all relations with all other races? Will we fight eternally as long as we or they remain?"

"Sir Stronoff," Nigun's black eyes sparkled with a ferocity and passion that would have put even the bravest heart in awe. "Each of us is called upon to make a choice. If I had to exterminate countless villages of demi-humans or other creatures to save the life of an old man on his deathbed, rest assured that I would let the blood and tears of those creatures bathe my entire body. These are the beliefs of the Slaine Theocracy. Everything is for humanity. We sacrifice ourselves, to ensure that a better tomorrow can welcome our loved ones!"

That self-sacrifice, that unwavering faith in one's mission, as robust as the roots of an age-old tree that even the strongest of cataclysms cannot bend. That was the goal for which, throughout a lifetime of straggling and constant searching, Gazef yearned.

"I am sorry if my skepticism causes you disgust. To a man of faith like you, my words border on blasphemy, I presume."

"Don't worry about that," Nigun tried to hearten him. "A skeptic joining a believer is something as simple as the law of complementary colors. What we miss attracts us. No one loves the light like the blind man. The toad always fixes his eyes on the sky; why? To see the bird fly."

"And do you think one day I will be able to fly, too?" Gazef asked, the doubt in his heart not yet withered.

"Some thoughts are like prayers. There are times when, whatever the position of the body, the soul is on its knees. Your soul, Sir Stronoff, is now in supplication. And as a follower of the Six Great Gods, I can do nothing but try to bring you comfort."

Nigun pulled out an old rosary, worn by time and those calloused hands that had evidently flipped through its beads more than once. "Knowing that I fulfill the will of someone above me gives me strength. Some, or perhaps it would be better to say many, outside the Theocracy cannot understand our sacrifice. But I can only feel compassion for them. It is not for everyone to be fortunate enough to be part of a project much bigger than themselves."

The sun was setting, and the night was beginning to begin its reign. A member of Sunlight Scripture approached the duet. He was so quiet that even Gazef did not notice his presence.

"Captain," he said, addressing Nigun. "Everything is ready. Soon the assault of the Beastmen will begin."

"They want to attack at night, then?" Thanks to their developed senses, the demi-humans enjoyed a considerable advantage during the dark. "Sir Stronoff, I must go now. I trust our talk has brought a modicum of relief."

"It has been very informative," replied the Slaine warrior. "Are you sure, then, that the assault will start tonight?"

"Yes, their siege towers are now ready. In a few hours, our walls will be under attack."

"I see," Gazef merely replied. "Much sooner than I expected, I must admit."

"Your men are ready, aren't they?" Nigun had returned to his usual unyielding manner. It was amazing how his body seemed more solid than the fort's towers themselves. "This will be our only chance."

"Certainly. You have nothing to fear."

"Perfect. I'll go make the final arrangements. I trust you will do the same."

And having said this, quick as a cheetah, the Sunlight Scripture captain disappeared into the crowd like a whisper in the wind.

The former mercenary also wasted no time, trying to rejoin his unit as soon as possible.

The fatal hour was about to begin.

Middle Earth Month, 14th day, 22.00

'What am I doing here?'

Lilianne shot another arrow, hitting the throat of a ferocious feline-looking man-beast.

"Lilianne, are you all right?" Imilcone asked her. His breath was getting heavy by now, and from the way he could barely stand, it was evident that his energy was failing him.

"Yes, but be careful. They don't seem to be diminishing one bit."

The assault had begun not even an hour ago, but it was evident that the Beastmen had an overwhelming advantage. The disparity in numbers was simply too much.

"[Fire-Arrow]" Crystal Tear's arcane caster cast his spell. His flaming projectile struck straight at a styx preparing to strike from behind his teammate. The demi-human's deer antlers immediately caught fire as he began to struggle in pain.

"I am in your debt," Lilianne thanked him sincerely. Drops of sweat, evidence of her fatigue, pivoted her forehead. "I do not see Cerabrate, where has he gone?"

"Do you not see him? He is the one fighting like a demon amid that encirclement."

The walls still held up to the onslaught, mostly thanks to the Theocracy's paladin units. The Draconic Kingdom militia and adventurers, on the other hand, had focused on the enemies who had managed to reach the inner area of the fort.

Crystal Tear was located in the central part, the one with the largest number of Beastmen. The battle had been raging for minutes now, and fatigue was beginning to set in. Many groups from the lower ranks of the guild had littered the streets of the citadel with their corpses.

The numbers in the enemy ranks, on the other hand, were showing no signs of diminishing.

Cerabrate and members of Wings of the Basilisk, a group of adventurers of mithril rank, were virtually surrounded on all sides by a large group of horuner and armat.

As Imilcone had reported, the Holy Knight was fighting like a demoniac. Blood decorated his armor, once gleaming as the most precious gold, like a medal of valor.

A lightning slash, which could have been compared to a thunderbolt in the sky, sliced cleanly through two of the horuner's hooves. Their insides once again painted the figure of the Holy Kingdom champion with a scarlet color.

"Let's go too!" Lilianne urged her companion to take part in the battle.

She and Imilcone continued to give support to their leader, while the Beastmen focused their attention on the latter. Instinctively, they realized that he was the most dangerous of all the humans there. Or perhaps, they had simply counted the number of corpses looming at his feet.

Cerabrate kept moving like a madman. With his two companions covering his back, he could give vent to all his impetus. Fast as a thunderbolt, he continued to slash and break the demi-human guard. The air itself seemed to be cut by his sword, which was coated with a dazzling light.

They continued like this for several minutes. The Holy Knight seemed to know no fatigue, thanks in part to the magical items he was equipped with, which relieved his exhaustion. By now, the woman had lost count of how many of those horrible creatures she had felled. But their numbers, strangely enough, seemed to be increasing, not diminishing.

Theirs, on the other hand, were growing fainter and fainter. Crystal Tear continued to resist, and so did Wings of the Basilisk and Roar of the Manticore. However, they were the exception, not the rule.

Countless bodies of adventurers of all ranks mingled with the corpses of Beastmen. United together, in that unclean hovel it was almost as if there were no differences between the races. Left to their own devices, in no time the differences that had sparked that battle would disappear and nothing more would remain but a distant memory of a dastardly conflict.

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'We are adventurers, we should not be participating in a war.'

She fired another arrow. And another killing was added to her list. If only it had made a difference.

She was tired, too tired. Why had she started all this? For the glory? The money? Altruism? Sense of duty? Revenge? What was the right answer?

Now everything seemed devoid of any meaning.

Blood began to drip from her face. An enemy slinger must have managed to hit her full in the forehead. Yet she felt no pain. Only weariness.

"Don't get distracted, Lilianne! Or they will overwhelm you!" Imilcone tried to bring her back to normal. The enchanter was now on the verge of collapse, more than her. If he still had any mana left, it would be comparable to a drop in a now-empty jar.

It was not fair! It was not fair! She was an adamantium rank! She could not collapse so easily.

But her breathing was becoming muffled, her legs were on the verge of collapsing, and the enemies in front of her seemed to be growing more and more. Even her quiver was almost empty. A couple of shots, at most.

Only Crystal Tear was standing now. The corpses of the other adventurers laid their gaze on the woman as if they were calling out to her, 'Your turn will come soon.'

Ah, death. For the life she had chosen was a trusted companion. Always by your side, never letting go. Watching, in silence, her every step, her every move. And Lilianne had accepted it. She knew that one day the lady in black would touch her, too, with her love-filled hands.

But only now did she realize that what she had tried to rationalize all her life, what her logic had tried, foolishly, to lock away in a casket far from her mind had now been opened. And he had poured its contents, overflowing with anxieties, fears, and despair, entirely upon her.

The rancid smell of a Bafolk's breath was so close as to be asphyxiating. A blow from the club nearly struck her in the back of the head. But the ranger was quicker, and using the short sword she always carried, she swiftly slit the Beastman's throat.

'I can't continue like this.'

For every one of those horrors she killed, a second one popped up. Now here came ten. No, twenty. No, thirty.

'Didn't we have a secret plan to repel them? Was letting us all die their great stratagem?'

Lilianne cursed everyone. The Draconic Kingdom. The Slaine Theocracy. The Beastmen. No matter how irrational and stupid, the adventurer just needed to find someone to pour out that frustration she was feeling at that moment.

The ranger made her way through the enemies, wounding and striking as many as she could. Her left arm was now full of wounds, and she was certain that one of her ears had been cut off. But she continued to flail about like a fury. If she was going to die, she might as well do it by giving it her all.

She managed to wriggle out of the three armat blockades, gaining precious breath. The woman exhaled and inhaled deeply, praying that that futile gesture could bring her back to full strength.

'Imilcone...'

It was then that she realized what had happened to her comrade. His head had been skewered on a pike, and from his now lifeless eyes the only plea she could read was 'why me?'

'Rest in peace, old friend.'

Lilianne did not even have time to allow herself to become despondent, so desperate was the situation. She sneaked into an alley of the citadel, trying to avoid the enemy troops, who by now had taken control of all the main streets.

'The walls must have fallen at this point. And Cerabrate, where has he gone?'

There was no need for her to mull it over too much. After sneaking around for a few minutes, the girl popped into a small square where she found her leader.

The Holy Knight had rallied the last survivors, mounting what was, from any point of view, a desperate defense. He had been encircled and seemed to be in the middle of a... duel?

His opponent was a wolfman with dangerous air and a larger and more massive stature than ordinary ones. A Beastman lord, probably. The bloody sword he wielded and Cerabrate's severed arm made it obvious who had the advantage. They had probably staged that little show to humiliate the champion of the humans and break down the morale of those still resisting.

The demi-humans shouted and cheered on their champion, longing for a display that would entertain them.

'As if they needed all this to humiliate us even more...' Thought the ranger.

Crystal Tear's leader continued to fight like a lion, banging out blistering blows, hoping to at least bring home his rival's head as a trophy.

His valor was undeniable. Following his example, the survivors attempted to emulate their hero's ardor. Adventurers of the lowest rank and ordinary militia fought with a fortitude that was rarely possible to see on the battlefield.

'I wonder if they would continue to show such courage if they knew the real reason why Cerabrate fought so ardently.'

His comrade's 'tastes' were not exactly a secret, but neither were they something exactly on everyone's lips.

If she had to be honest, Lilianne found her reasons for fighting the Holy Knight absolutely disgusting, and if there was a better alternative, she would not have hesitated to switch teams to avoid dealing with that lolicon.

But when it came to directing a fight, very few could boast Cerabrate's skills. There was a reason he was considered the champion of the Draconic Kingdom. In all those years, his number of victories against Beastmen had been an almost unattainable goal for everyone else.

Yet, looking at him now, dripping with sweat and blood as he could barely parry his rival's blows, all his flaws were coming to the surface. He was no longer the shining knight who stood up for the weakest, but just a sleazy, overly arrogant pervert who was about to get what he deserved.

Yes, there was no doubt about it. Cerabrate was going to die there, like the most common of soldiers.

But was this what she desired? Without him, the Draconic Kingdom would have lost one of the few weapons at its disposal against the invasion.

Lilianne was an adventurer. She had chosen that profession to chase glory and power. Now, she could do nothing but curse herself.

'I have only one arrow left.'

If she had helped her leader, she would have died. Of this, Lilianne was sure. The demihumans would soon discover the alley she had taken refuge in and it would not take them long to overwhelm her.

The woman gripped her bow.

Perhaps she would make it out. If she had not encountered too dangerous enemies and had waited until night there was little hope of escape.

The ranger aimed at the wolfman's neck.

Lilianne had already made her decision.

"[Focus]" With the last remaining ounce of energy she activated the martial art.

Cerabrate was about to be pierced. The demihumans were roaring in ecstasy. She fired the arrow. The world for a moment stood still.

The ranger prayed. When was the last time she had done this?

The shot hit the target squarely, which began to stagger in pain. Cerabrate lived up to his nickname of "Fierce Flash '' and in a heartbeat sliced off the beast lord's head, which fell a few feet away from him.

Everyone, men and Beastmen alike, stopped. No one could understand what was happening. Only the Holy Knight was quick enough to take advantage of the situation.

Then some zoastia began to scream. They had noticed her. But it didn't matter. Cerabrate had rounded up the survivors and managed to back away toward one of the fortress towers. Her task had been accomplished.

'Maybe dying is not so bad after all.'

She could no longer even hold her sword. But she was satisfied nonetheless. Finally, for once in her life, Lilianne felt she had made the right choice.

The Beastmen were now only a few steps away. Soon it would all be over. Except...

An hour ago

As the Sunlight Scripture member had reported, the assault started that very night. It was unusual that the enemy had decided that very moment to launch the attack. If they had waited a few more days, they could have counted on even less resistance.

Perhaps there was a design behind it that he could not understand, or perhaps the Beastmen had simply grown tired of waiting and decided to give in to their instincts so they could bask in the blood of battle.

They were just brutes devoid of intellect, weren't they? That was what the Theocracy preached.

"Captain," Iovino's voice distracted Gazef from his thoughts. "The siege towers are approaching. What shall we do?"

There was only one answer he could give his second.

"The only thing we are capable of doing. War."

He arranged the archers on the western walls. A cloud of flaming arrows fell on the attackers. Some of the siege machines caught fire as the stench of burning began to waft through the air.

But it was not enough to stop the march.

If the humans knew how to shoot arrows, the Beastmen knew how to shoot darts. In the air some aarakocra, bird-like men, began to tower over the walls, hurling their crossbows at the archers arranged on the walls.

The direction of the battle immediately changed in the sky, with both enemy forces trying to eliminate each other.

"They are almost here," Iovino reported. The paladin was already ready to give battle. He would not have to wait much longer.

"Okay." Gazef breathed deeply, the towers now attached to the walls. "Let's get started."

Hundreds of Beastmen of the most disparate species began to pour like a flooded river on their soldiers. Their war cries rang like drums in the men's ears, trying to convey terror among their ranks.

But the paladins of the Theocracy were no ordinary men. To those who stood in defense of humanity, those sounds were just silly noises devoid of any relevance.

"Okay, into position! Let's show them what we're made of!"

Hearing his orders, his unit stood like a fortress, shields side by side. Hordes of demi-humans swooped down on that impenetrable formation, foolishly hoping to overwhelm it, but found themselves easily mowed down by Slaine's soldiers.

"Keep it up! Go, go!" The former mercenary's shouts gave vigor as his men continued to defend the walls with as much strength as they could.

For the moment their position held, but soon the numerical disadvantage would be felt, and by that time they could no longer rely on their narrow position to hold out.

'I hope the others can hold out a little longer.'

There were not enough men from his unit to place them on all sides of the citadel. He had therefore opted to divide them into two groups, one on the western side and one on the northern side where he believed attacks would be concentrated.

For the moment, his intuition seemed to have proved him right. Their units continued to hold out, thanks in part to the support of the adventurers who had remained in the town. Most of them had decided to leave Gelone, frightened by the large army that was preparing to attack them.

Gazef did not condemn them for this. But he was grateful that some of them, whether out of a sense of duty or for money and fame, had decided to stay.

'Cerabrate is leading them, there should be no problem on that front.'

The key thing was to have confidence in his comrades and to focus all his attention on his area of responsibility. If he got distracted because he was worried about something he was not currently in control of, he could have made a fatal mistake.

"Up!"

A volley of darts thrown by the Beastmen tried to hit part of his unit squarely in the air. But his men were prepared, and they raised their shields with speed, repelling that shower of shots.

"Captain, let's counterattack!" Iovino charged with a handful of soldiers, breaking through the enemy lines. Like a storm, Slaine's men began to reap casualties as the clang of metal from swords and spears composed a symphony of death.

"[Holy Strike] [Holy Ray]."

The paladins seemed to be unstoppable, their skills shining on that starless night, as the white light on their weapons clashed with the dirt and blood of the unfortunate who faced their fury.

Gazef felt a strange feeling pervade him. Pride. Now that he saw his men spitting blood and giving effort to all their energy to fight, he felt his doubts begin to dissipate.

The captain of Slaine began to throw himself into the fray. He would never admit it to anyone, too humble to brag, but there was a reason he had become the captain of that unit.

Gazef was strong. Strong as few were. Seeing him fight was like watching the performance of an outlier. His every lunge was precise and ruthless. Every parry was perfect, every counterattack calibrated to the right moment.

"Charge!"

For a moment, the Beastmen thought that the one in front of their eyes was not a human, but a lost lord of some species infusing their ranks. For some of them, it was their first encounter with the natural instinct which is fear. The less brave tried to run away, being skewered by the spears of the human soldiers, who certainly did not miss that moment of distraction.

The frenzy of the fight was beginning to work its way into the former mercenary's mind. Now there were no longer the ideals of Theocracy or the defense of humanity at stake. But something more primal. It was life or death. Nothing more, nothing less.

It was no longer a battlefield. But an operating table. And he was the surgeon.

In his hands, the sword was like a needle, able to penetrate every crevice of the demi-humans' armors with extreme accuracy. They would collapse after tasting his delicate touch, unable to do anything to stop him.

"Captain, together!"

Iovino stepped behind him. The two were a natural team. After one struck, the other was already ready to launch a second attack.

Dozens and dozens of enemies fell to the ground as if bowing before their skills.

"Come on, come on. Let's keep fighting!"

Gazef incited with as much breath as he had in his body. Every second of that battle seemed interminable. Fatigue was beginning to seep through his men.

They had lost their initial charge, and now things were beginning to get difficult. For every soldier they lost, their position began to creak.

One minute subjected their bodies to unprecedented tension. And the clock kept running its hands faster and faster.

The Beastmen, on the other hand, seemed to be endless. Two or three fallen in their ranks were nothing, and their advance continued undaunted.

They were losing, there was no other way to define the situation. Before long, they were down to less than half. They continued to fight fiercely, sure. But for how much longer?

"We won't be able to defend the walls much longer," Gazef said, addressing his second. "Iovino, gather the survivors and head for the main tower. You will give support to General Barca."

"But then we will be trapped." The narrow corridors of the towers could have brought them an advantage only if they had remained at full strength. After a long assault, they would be left only as cornered rats.

"Trust me, you remember that plan we higher-ups studied, don't you?" Iovino nodded as he sliced an armat that had gotten too close. "The show will start soon. Now go, I'll cover for you."

"But so, you-"

"Go, I said! This is an order!" When had he ever been so authoritarian in his life? Had he finally learned how to play the role of the leader? "Don't worry, I still have a potion and a lot of energy to spare. If anyone has a chance to get out of this alive, it's me."

His deputy did not seem convinced. Perhaps it was because he understood that Gazef for one did not believe those words. But an order remained an order. And the men of the Theocracy are not known for their insubordination.

"I hope to see you alive again, captain."

Gazef did not reply. What could he possibly have said at that moment?

'To perish protecting one's subordinates. That doesn't sound like a bad death.'

Perhaps that was the answer. A glorious death after securing what he cared about. Ironic that he had gotten there at the very end of his journey.

But Gods can be capricious, making available to us what we have sought all our lives only when it is no longer useful to us.

How many were hurling themselves at him? He couldn't even count them anymore. But he pushed them back. Even as his muscles screamed ragged cries of pain, even as his synapses begged him to end the torment, he would not give up. No, because that's what heroes do.

When it all seems over, they completely reverse the outcome.

Not that he felt that way. The words of praise addressed to him always sounded devoid of real value, an empty rumbling that loomed meaningless in his mind.

But now he felt he could begin to give himself a moment's peace. It really did not matter whether he was a hero, a champion, or whatever other terms they had invented to define him. He was fighting to protect something feeble.

Wasn't that enough? And if the answer was no, to hell with it. He would have lived, and died, following his ideals, no matter how foolish they might have been. He was a simple man. And simple philosophies suited a stupid like him.

"[Body Strengthening] [Focus Battle Aura]."

The martial arts enveloped him as he continued to strike. Gazef felt his blows getting weaker, more inaccurate. He could not continue much longer.

"[Mental Enhancement]."

The former mercenary concentrated, ignoring the pain. It was easy, yes, easy. He gritted his teeth as an armat turmoil tried to overpower him. They thought of capturing him so easily? What a joke!

He stepped back and drew his fencing again. His sword had seen more blood in an hour than an ordinary man sees in a lifetime. Was he innocent?

He cut off the head of a horuner. How much blood had he spilled? Could he truly call himself without sin?

"[Flow Acceleration]."

Here the doubts came back to assail him again, relentlessly. All that death, all that blood. That was the life he had decided to follow. Why?

Because wielding a weapon was the only thing he knew how to do. Even though he hated it, even though he would much rather have been limited to competing only in sports tournaments or friendly matches, the God of War called him to himself as a proud father.

This was what he was born for, after all. A farmer's life, a happy family, and a quiet old age did not suit someone like him. Perhaps it was for the best.

His bones were beginning to creak, his muscles twitching giving rise to forms of pain he didn't even know he could feel. He kept fighting as his senses lost focus. His vision blurred; his sense of smell was lost in the smell of corpses that now seemed a natural part of the landscape. Fingers trembled, barely managing to keep a firm grip on the sword.

"[Instant cou...] Argh..."

He had been struck. A spear had penetrated his chest, causing him excruciating pain.

'That's all right, I'm satisfied.'

He could no longer even stand upright. A wolfman's hatchet was ready to put an end to him. By now the demi-humans had conquered most of the fortress.

He smiled. The plan had succeeded, now he could only rest in peace. He only hoped that Iovino and the others had managed to get to safety.

After closing his eyes, he waited in silence for the end. Nothing. Death was stranger than he thought. No, he wasn't dead yet. Strange.

Gazef opened his eyes and the only thing he saw was his assailant torn apart by the flaming swords of angelic figures and a figure shrouded in black who laid a hand on his shoulder in a gentle manner.

"Good work, Sir Stronoff. We'll take it from here."

Before he lost consciousness, the only thing Gazef noticed was the strange crystal in the hands of the Sunlight Scripture captain.

Middle Earth Month, 14th day, 22.30

The past few weeks had been tiring for Nigun and his men. Going back and forth relentlessly throughout the Draconic Kingdom, with few moments of rest, taking the utmost care not to run into too large a group of Beastmen.

And all this for what? To bring as many demihumans' corpses as possible to the acolytes of the end.

He was a scripture captain, not a man of toil. But it was his job to overlook that. The mission took precedence over any frivolity.

'Now Khajit, show me the fruit of your labor.'

From his high position, he could see the light of the stars and moon reflecting on the citadel. By now, much of it had been taken over by the Beastmen, who poured into its streets like an infestation of cockroaches.

"Horuner with their infernal stench. Styx with their graceless horns. Zoastia, devoid of any form of grace. Wolfmen, just overgrown dogs. Armat, filthy rats. Stone eater, of limited intelligence. And all the other species that make up this disgusting rabble, your time has come. You will soon regret turning against us humans!"

Their enemies thought they had now won as they besieged the last fortifications where the survivors had gathered. Nothing could have been more wrong. The trap had been sprung.

Various types of undead began to emerge from the dungeons of the fortress. In addition to those of the lowest level, such as skeletons and zombies, there were creatures of quite a different caliber such as grave keepers, plague bombers, organ eggs, wraiths, and, above all, the reanimated bodies of the raw materials that Nigun had graciously granted to his fellow citizens.

Taken by surprise, the rival army suffered a severe backlash as the hellish horde swarmed upon them.

Indeed, the number of undead controlled by their necromancers was far greater than would normally have been expected by even some of the most experienced lich.

But the Theocracy's resources far exceeded those of ordinary countries. Judging the situation risky, and to prevent the collapse of one of the few neighboring human kingdoms, a kingdom over which they had great influence to boot, the High Council had given Nigun two secret cards.

The first of these was now in Khajit's hands. A crystal that contained magic that surpassed common logic. Their researchers had spent the past decades and countless resources to develop that seventh-level spell. But now their hard work was bearing fruit.

The Beastmen's coveted prey had become their prison. Locked within the citadel walls, there were few escape routes for the enemy army, which found itself completely surrounded.

It had been a gamble on their part, but they could not afford to waste such a powerful spell without ensuring the greatest number of casualties among the invaders.

Waiting until the last minute when most of those inferior beasts had gathered in their streets had been the only plan with which they could ensure adequate carnage.

Certainly, many valiant men had died. But theirs had been a sacrifice that Nigun had willingly offered. After all, most of the Theocracy's soldiers had survived and it had been mostly foolish adventurers and Draconic Kingdom soldiers who had perished in the assault. Nothing too important was lost.

"These demi-humans are tougher than I expected."

As much as it annoyed him, he had to admit that the Beastmen fought valiantly. After an initial lurch, their lords had recovered some sort of order, bringing their soldiers into a defensive position.

But the undead were not the only part of the plan they had hatched to cleanse those lands of that garbage.

"Ian," activating the [Message] spell, Nigun contacted his second, who had brought half of the Sunlight Scriptures to the northern walls. "Here we have eliminated all the enemies, how does it proceed from you?"

"There are no more foes on the walls, no more birdmen in the sky. Our angels had no trouble doing a clean job." His vice-captain's tone was strangely serious. Even a man as jovial as he was could not help but be stunned at the sight.

Yes, because by now that fortress had become a macabre stage where cries of despair and screams of pain had found a suitable place to perform.

But it would not be enough; going on at that pace they would inflict a serious blow, of course, but they would not achieve the absolute victory they desired.

And this is where Sunlight Scripture would come in. For much of the siege, they had remained hidden in the main tower under the guise of protecting General Barca. But now that the enemies were exhausted and busy surviving against a tireless enemy, their angels could have brought down God's judgment on them.

Nigun prayed. Alah Alaf and his siblings were to be worshiped on such an auspicious day. The warmth of prayer brought serenity to that cold night when the divine will was about to be fulfilled.

"Go on the attack!"

With a flex of his arm, he gave the signal. The feathers of the archangel flames vibrated in the air, as the Theocracy's operatives began to unleash their magical repertoire to put even more pressure on the Beastmen.

Magic arrows, fireballs, lightning, and an assortment of the most disparate spells began to fall like raindrops on the streets.

"Wonderful, stupendous, magnificent!"

He felt his body quiver in excitement. Was it the angels singing that heavenly symphony just for him?

So many nonhumans were exterminated, and so many good deeds were accomplished. His eyes grew moist. What a fool. It was a delightful sight, but there was no need to be moved. Not yet.

It was time for the final touch. A small detail that would immortalize that moment as a masterpiece in the history of the human race.

He clutched in his hands the crystal that had been handed to him. The second secret weapon he had been entrusted with.

The magical object began to glow, with a light that would put the firmament itself to shame.

"Come, Dominion Authority!"

At his invocation, the energy of the crystal began to be released as he summoned the messenger of the deities to that earthly plane.

After the legendary angel was summoned, the area was bathed in holy white-blue light while a slight fragrance was brought to the air. Its head and body were obscured and covered with numerous glowing feathered wings and decorated with royal tablets. At the front of its head, a glowing divine magic circle emitted a glazing light.

"Observe," he said, addressing his men. Although their heads were covered by the hoods they used to wear, Nigun was sure that wonder was present on their faces. "This is the power we have been granted!"

The angel was waiting for his order. It would not have been kind to let a legendary creature wait.

"Holy Smite!"

At his command, the sky shattered as a celestial glow hit a group of unfortunate demihumans.

Ash, only that remained after the attack.

"Did you see?" He couldn't stop laughing. "What an overwhelming force!"

By now the Beastmen were in disarray. That last enemy had broken their last hopes. Some tried to flee, being unceremoniously mowed down by the Scriptures.

Others tried to resist, but by now the balance had shifted sharply in favor of humanity. Undead and angels did not take long to wipe out the last bit of resistance.

They had won.

'Now, let's put an end to this.'

Although they had eliminated the enemies inside, there still remained the remaining soldiers outside. The enemy general most likely stood among them.

"They are fleeing, captain." One of his men placed his attention on a barely visible dust bowl looming on the horizon.

"Cowards." It was the only thing the Sunlight Scripture captain managed to say.

But his words did not reflect his actions. With a nod from him, the mass of angels, Dominion Authority included, set off in pursuit.

Nigun waited. And waited.

Suddenly, a slight migraine. He felt he was losing his balance. One of his subordinates caught him just in time before he fell to the ground.

"What happened, sir?"

"The Dominion Authority," he said, his face distraught with anger. "They eliminated him."