Asher squinted, his expression hardening. The regeneration wasn't the surprise—General Clegane had briefed him about it. No, it was their sheer battle experience that rattled him.
Even he paled in comparison.
But that was where it ended. In strength, speed, durability—and especially in armor—he held the upper hand. Only a fool would forget that.
With a powerful step forward, Asher swung his sword with crushing force. It collided with the Immortal's blade. The parry failed—his raw power knocked the sword from the soldier's grasp.
The Immortal barely had time to raise his shield before Asher's sword punched through it, metal shrieking as it tore through the other side—and exited through the soldier's throat.
Asher wrenched the blade free and, with a brutal follow-up swing, cleaved off the Immortal's head.
The corpse staggered, then crumpled.
Another attacker came from behind.
Asher shifted to the side just in time, but a jagged earthen spike shot up from the earth, impaling his side and lifting him off the ground. He grunted—but didn't fall.
Still unbalanced, he raised his shield to block the incoming blow, then twisted off the spike and surged forward, decapitating his second attacker in one smooth motion.
"Remove their heads!" he bellowed, his voice cracking through the chaos like thunder.
He turned—and his pupils quivered.
His men were losing ground.
The Grand Aegis were being overwhelmed. The Paladins still held firm, but they were too few. Their line, though glowing like a blade in darkness, was bending under the weight of numbers.
"Don't let them cross!" Alec's voice rose from the maelstrom as he swept his spear in a deadly arc, felling three soldiers in one savage motion.
But the wall had already broken.
The gateway had flooded with light infantry, following in the wake of the Immortals like carrion after a beast. The Immortals tore through whoever stood before them—except for the Paladins. Even then, more were joining the fray, surrounding the holy warriors.
With a growl, Asher stomped the earth.
A burst of frost exploded beneath his feet.
Jagged ice surged upward, freezing around the legs and waists of dozens—mostly Immortals—immobilizing them just long enough for nearby soldiers to strike.
"Go for the necks!" he shouted again, cutting down two more in a single stroke.
He blinked, realizing—he had been pushed outside the gate. Behind him, the enemies were already pouring into the courtyard.
At its edge stood Alec.
He trusted Alec well enough to leave that battlefield to him.
Alec was a Lord Commander after all!
Asher whirled back into motion, fighting with balance, but every blow backed by the weight of a collapsing mountain. None could block. None could parry.
Each swing broke blades or split bodies.
Farther back, Alec's grip tightened on the handle of his massive tower shield. His eyes, hidden beneath the visor of his great helm, narrowed. Before him stood hundreds of Immortals—those who had broken through the Paladin line.
He raised his shield.
The cry thundered from his chest.
In a heartbeat, the Grand Aegis soldiers formed up, shields locked, knees bent, braced for impact.
The Immortals crashed into them like a black wave.
And just as the Immortals surged forward—spears greeted them.
Dozens of spearpoints lunged from behind the shield wall, targeting the gaps beneath their helms.
The sickening sound of steel punching through flesh. A handful dropped instantly, skewered at the base of the skull. Those not stabbed were flanked by Grand Aegis at the sides, their heavy weapons swinging in with brutal precision.
Blood splattered against shields.
Though the Grand Aegis Heavy Infantrymen held firm, even they began to falter.
The Immortals were relentless—unfeeling machines of war—and they were backed by the tide of House Wyvern's light infantry, halberds glinting beneath bloodied banners.
The shield wall buckled.
And still, the enemy pressed on.
As the last ranks strained under the pressure, Alec roared above the clamor, "Hold! Even in death!"
His voice hit them like a jolt of lightning.
Suddenly, the Grand Aegis fought back with a fury bordering on madness. They surged like cornered beasts, each movement fueled by desperation and unbreakable loyalty.
One soldier was struck—his shoulder pierced by a halberd's bite. He winced but didn't fall. Instead, he looked to his comrade behind him, nodded once, and stepped forward, breaking the line.
His steps were bold, deliberate.
With a fierce thrust, he punched a hole clean through the skull of a Wyvern infantryman. Before he could recover, an Immortal moved in like a wraith, stabbing the back of his knee.
The Aegis soldier grunted—but didn't fall.
Instead, he seized the Immortal by the helm, lifted him off the ground with a primal roar, and slammed his skull into the cold stone beneath their feet.
A brutal crack echoed.
The soldier, still kneeling, chuckled behind his helm. "For the Duke…" he whispered, then rammed his spear through the Immortal's temple.
He swayed, blood trickling from his side.
A halberd-wielding Wyvern soldier rushed in—aiming to decapitate him.
But before the blade could fall, a tower shield slammed down between them, knocking the halberd aside.
The attacker fell with a gurgle.
A white cloak billowed past him.
The wounded soldier blinked, then grinned.
Alec didn't look back. He stared ahead like a lion unleashed. "Attack! Full charge!"
At his command, the Nubis Heavy Infantry—six thousand strong—erupted from hiding.
Steel thundered. Boots pounded stone.
They stormed into the courtyard in an unstoppable wave, cloaks flaring behind them like banners of vengeance.
The soldiers of the united army—already worn thin from clashing with the unyielding Grand Aegis—barely had time to react.
And by the time they did…
From the ramparts above, the Dark Skies unleashed a storm of arrows.
Feathered death rained down.
Below, the courtyard had become a furnace of steel and screams. The Nubis Heavy Infantrymen pressed in from one side, a tidal surge of discipline and strength. On the other, the Grand Aegis Heavy Infantrymen—towering, bloodied, unrelenting—crushed inward with brute force.
The courtyard was a slaughterhouse.
Caught in between, the soldiers of the United Army fought like drowning men in rising waters.
A horn blared in the distance.
It echoed across the battlefield, cutting through the clang of steel and the dying screams like a divine decree.
The banner of retreat had been sounded—from the rear of the United Army's camp.
For a breath, the world paused.
Some of the soldiers froze, others hesitated, confused. The line began to fray.
Panic rippled through the United Army ranks as the truth settled in.
Some threw their weapons aside, trying to flee through the gates they had so desperately forced open. Others never made it past the wall of heavy infantry tightening around them.
The courtyard became a grave.
And from the walls, the Dark Skies did not stop.
The arrows fell like the judgment of a god.