“Roll the stones! Load the Piercing Army Arrows! Don’t be stingy—give them a brutal welcome!” Medith watched Hexclaw Legion soldiers sprinting like scattered wolves, her voice edged with urgency.

“Rolling stones—!”

“Piercing Army Arrows—ready—!”

At the order, the waiting mercs moved like a loosed spring. In under ten seconds, they heaved waist-thick boulders and hurled them like thunder into the packed, fleeing ranks.

Whooom— White Piercing Army Arrows tore the night like ivory comets. In a blink, they hit Hexclaw soldiers only meters away. The first impact didn’t even scuff the shaft; raw penetration and a shockwave lifted the man backward like a leaf on a gale.

Thud— The dozen behind him convulsed and dropped, blood streaming from ears and noses, dead before they hit the ground. The rippling force plowed a straight furrow, then finally fell in a shower of shards.

Whooom—

Whooom—

Death kept falling like a monsoon. In barely a minute they loosed more than ten volleys. At near-zero range, the Piercing Army Arrows hit their theoretical peak, the cramped corridor turning into a perfect killing flume.

Hexclaw’s armor shrugged off ordinary blades like rain on stone. Even weapons blessed by Impado needed work to bite. Ostos had hated spending gold on Capital Grade Armor, so only fifty thousand suits existed at first.

Paris took office and doubled that in months. Now almost the whole Royal Capital fought in that armor, their survival thick as bark. If they truly grew Regido, that terrifying “spear,” the end would be unspeakable.

On the wall, four needle-topped watchtowers spat green-lit arrows like viper tongues. Those “bunkers” became a waking nightmare for Hexclaw’s rank and file.

The Lina Sisters’ arrows pierced like drill-bits, their angles sly as fox-fire. Each shot reaped a straight line on a single ladder, easily ten lives with one pull.

Iling’s shots lacked the sisters’ raw punch, but the archers around her swelled in strength like a tide under the moon. Her sector was even harder to climb. The Lina Sisters were only two, two lines at most; Iling’s dozen loosed in volleys, and soldiers on seven or eight ladders dropped like dumplings from the sky.

It all flashed by in less than two minutes. Hexclaw climbed without fear and bled for it. Two hundred dead, more, in a handful of rounds. The losses went beyond expectation. Clive clenched both fists, ideas swirling like crows in a storm.

In under five seconds, he gritted his teeth and ordered a temporary retreat. Under one last rain of arrows, Hexclaw pulled back, caught breath behind a shield wall. The battlement answered with eerie restraint; they stopped firing, not wasting a single shaft.

The two sides stared across the gap like duelists at dawn. The ground lay sown with bodies, shattered stone, and snapped arrows. Some armor was smashed to slag. Some corpses looked untouched, but under their helms, faces were ruin and blood.

“Something’s off! Something’s off! Why’s this so hard?!” Clive paced like a caged bear. Harrison and Manto frowned in the rear. “Medith isn’t simple,” Manto muttered. “She counted us again.”

Their original plan was simple: ignore everything, force the ladders. Ride momentum and fear like a wave and break the line at once. That’s why they abandoned the gate assault.

But Medith read it. She laid counters early and waited. If she’d guessed wrong and they’d rushed the gate, she wouldn’t have stacked troops on the wall. Their intent was sharp and narrow: hit the climbers and their ladders. The rest could dance.

“Damn it, how does she choke us at every turn?” Manto flashed back to Sia City, where their overwhelming edge still got flipped by her. If not for his last-second bait-and-switch, he would’ve lost everything.

Harrison felt less nostalgia and more heat in the chest. “It’s too late to switch to the gate. Morale will crack, the line will wobble. With Clive’s experience, he can’t smother Medith. If she jumps out with Magic Breaker, we’re done.”

“Manto, you’ve got miles on you. What’s the move?”

Harrison already had a plan, but he wanted a second drumbeat. “Tch. If she won’t budge, fine. Bring up the Blackblood War Chariot. Sight the watchtowers. Those female Sprites are sniping from there. Smash the towers and the wall falls like rotten wood.

“Have the archers keep shooting. Even weak pressure is pressure. Their armory burned. They can’t have much left. Seven to ten more volleys and they’ll be down to bare bowstrings.”

Harrison nodded, satisfied the wind blew the same way.

“Roll up the Blackblood War Chariot. Haul the last six special Bonecrusher Arrows. Let Medith taste the bite of her own design.” Harrison’s smile was cold. She’d proposed the original improvements. Calling them hers wasn’t wrong.

...

Boom—

Boom—

Unlike the front, the flank opened at full gallop. Erig and two knight-captains shattered Magic Breaker early, then drove their warhorses like battering rams, crashing the gate again and again.

The defenders fought to block, but high-tier Magic Breaker made ordinary physical resistance feel like straw in a river. Milia saw it. After two volleys, she stopped wasting shots on Erig.

She turned on the flanks. Up front, cavalry hurled long spears from iron-hard, lightning-fast mounts, needling the formation. Five hundred braced the main gate with hurdles and beams, wary as night watchmen. The other five hundred manned the wall.

They split the work like a clockwork line. Archers, supply runners, shieldmen, throwers—each took their role. Someone fell, someone stepped in, no slack, no lag.

But under a sea of men, their reach was little more than a ripple. This wasn’t like before. These were elites. Even arrows kissed by Impado didn’t strike deep.

Most shafts were ordinary besides. Medith had eaten the lion’s share of resources. All they could do here was slow the break like hands on a leaking dam.

Boom—

Boom—

“Ah—”

Crack—

Clatter...

The iron-and-stone peel, the defenders’ ragged screams—Milia knew those sounds like winter wind. She shut her eyes. Erig moved like a blade through grass. Power gaped like an abyss they couldn’t bridge. At this pace, the gate would fall in under five minutes.

And the other side looked close to breaking too...

...

Whoosh whoosh whoosh whoosh—

Arrows of death scythed down from the sky, flames licking like hungry tigers, the air sour with fire-oil, their passage screaming.

“Hmph.” Medith snorted, cool as frost. Sais, who’d been idly loosing beside her, caught the cue. She slapped the earth with a slender hand. A whirlwind lifted her like a crimson leaf over a black lake.

Her ruby eyes flashed against the abyssal night. Twin blades of black light snapped from her forearms. A flash of cold, and several slashes, tinged with green, streaked for the endless rain of fire above.

Both sides moved like lightning. In a breath, they met. Sais’s blade arcs looked too narrow to cover the sky—but just as steel kissed flame, the slashes pinched tight, then braided into a net.

The net’s shape hinted at a single letter—an M, woven in light. Whether for Medith, or that other M, only Sais knew.

A beat later, the white-green net detonated. A supernova bloomed, a visible ring surging outward. The blade gale mulched everything it touched, turning the volley into a rain of embers.

Harrison’s eyes went cold. “Ignore her! Keep shooting!”

Whoosh whoosh whoosh—

Another storm fell. Sais’s lip curled, mocking as a fox. She spun on a toe and flung a moon-fox slash. Impado arrows hit that curve and crumbled like paper—touch and gone.

This time, not every shaft got caught. A handful fell inside the keep. No casualties—shieldmen had braced early, heavy shields like turtle shells in surf.

The ricochets hurt their own more. Strays, knocked down by the passing blade wind, fell into friendly ranks like sleet.

Wave after wave. Five volleys, over a thousand arrows, and not a scratch landed. That single red-lit silhouette stood like a moving fortress, the air around her as sealed as city walls.

Sais showed only a hint of fatigue...

...

Erig looked up at that figure, a slit of anger under his black-helmed brow. These Sprites grew like wind-fed fire. Last time, she lost steam after a few blasts. Now she blocked a thousand Impado arrows without a gasp.

Only ten months had passed, and he barely knew them anymore. “You all must die.” Murder pulsed off him. He slammed the gate with fresh, crushing force...

...

“Stop! Don’t waste another! That damned woman—when I catch you, you’ll beg.” Harrison ground his teeth. In his mind, Sais had died a thousand times. He’d heard orthodox magic was fearsome. He’d seen plenty.

But one person holding back a war-level arrow rain—first time. She felt trained for the wide field, every move a sweeping, long-range art.

“Bring up the Blackblood War Chariot! Even if she blocks, she can’t block all of it. All aim for the watchtowers—the two on the front flanks, fifty meters out. Three carts, fire together! She can’t stop both waves alone!” Manto’s shout was sharp with urgency.

He feared what she’d be after a breath to recover. Who knew how far these Sprites had evolved? If she sprouted wings, he wouldn’t be surprised.

Grrk-grrk-grrk... groooan— Heavy axles chewed the earth. Three tall, iron-black chariots rolled out like storm clouds. Bonecrusher Arrows already nocked. If you looked close, green light ran along each shaft like poison in a vein.

“!” Sais and Medith fixed on them. The sight struck their hearts like thunder.