Volume 2 chapter 36
The Old Mountains.
The Prague River, a watery vein pulsing across the northern continent, stretched for thousands of kilometers. Normally, it would flow northeast into the Demon Realm, but the Old Mountains, a branch of the Dragonspine range, forced it eastward toward the Maurice Empire.
At this moment, Eleanor stood atop the Old Mountains, looking down.
The river, thousands of meters wide, was severed by an earthen wall rising over a hundred meters high. A massive barrier lake swelled in the valley, its surface dark and foreboding.
On the banks, 20,000 Fire and Ice Demons cast spells in unison.
Frost met flame in the air, condensing into torrential rain that relentlessly raised the water level.
Meanwhile, 10,000 Rock Demons worked frantically to reinforce the dam, struggling to keep the earthen wall—less than ten meters thick at the crest—from collapsing under the immense pressure.
Despite their efforts, cracks appeared constantly as the water rose. Though the Rock Demons patched them instantly, the structure was groaning. It was a tower teetering on the brink of collapse.
"Almost there... just a little more!"
Eleanor gripped her sword, her knuckles white. She looked toward the direction of the fortress.
"Hold on... Luna!"
BOOM!!!
A Fortress Gun shell punched through the Alliance's Sky Curtain and landed squarely in the middle of a Mage Legion. The mages, packed tightly for formation casting, were decimated. Dozens were vaporized instantly, hundreds heavily wounded. The legion collapsed.
But the Alliance army had closed to within ten kilometers. The final minefields were cleared. The path was open.
It was time to charge.
However, just as the Grand Magi dispersed the Sky Curtain to unleash their knights, they saw the gates of Talisk Fortress swing open.
"CHARGE!!"
Luna rode out first, leading a Charge Formation of merely a thousand Shock Troopers, hurtling straight toward the massive Alliance army!
Earlier.
Luna stood atop the battlements, her silhouette cut sharply against the storm-dark sky, gazing down at the thousand-strong Shock Troop arrayed below.
“Everyone,” she called out, her voice steady but heavy with iron. “You can see it for yourselves. The Alliance is already at our doorstep. They have come for this fortress, and they will not stop.”
She paused, letting the distant rumble of marching armies seep into their bones.
“Our artillery is limited. Our walls are strong—but not strong enough to stop all of them.”
Her eyes swept across the ranks. She saw it clearly: fear trembling beneath armor, hesitation gnawing at resolve, the instinct to retreat battling against smoldering fury.
“You know this already,” Luna continued, her tone slow, deliberate, cutting through the wind. “If they break through Talisk, there is nothing behind us but open land. A straight road to the City of Darkness. No walls. No choke points. No second line.”
Her fist clenched.
“We are the last shield.”
A murmur rippled through the formation.
“Is there… is there really no other way?” someone whispered.
“There is no other way,” Luna answered instantly, her expression turning cold as stone. “If we let them form up and charge, the fortress will fall. And when it does—our homeland falls with it.”
She raised her arm and pointed toward the distant sea of banners and steel.
“Therefore, we strike first. Before they organize. Before they advance. We disrupt their formation.”
A voice cracked with disbelief. “Charge? Are you serious?! A thousand of us against three hundred thousand?! Against an army led by six—no, twelve Ninth-Rank Knights?!”
“Yes,” Luna said simply. “We charge.”
Her face did not waver.
“The disparity in power is obvious. But choice has nothing to do with it. We have none.”
She inhaled sharply, then shouted, her voice blazing with fury.
“Look at them! Do you think they will spare us? Today they don’t just want this fortress—they want to tear open our rear lines! They want to march unopposed and butcher our families!”
SHING!
Steel rang as Luna drew her sword, its edge flashing coldly. Her eyes burned.
“So tell me—will you wait behind these walls until they collapse and die squealing like livestock? Or will you die standing, weapons in hand, protecting your kin?!”
Weapons tightened in trembling grips. Teeth ground together. Some faces hardened with savage resolve. Others still stared ahead, hollow and hopeless.
Seeing this, Luna roared again.
“You saw Eleanor take thirty thousand troops and leave the city!” she shouted. “But do you know why?”
Her voice cracked like thunder.
“She went deep into enemy territory to divert the Prague River! To break this siege before it fully forms!”
“She has been gone for six days!” Luna screamed. “If we hold today, they will never come again! The diverted river will become our moat—our wall!”
“They risked encirclement. Risked annihilation. Risked never coming home—just to buy us this one chance!”
Her sword trembled in her grip.
“And now you ask me if there is another way?!”
“NO!!”
A demon roared, his face twisted with adrenaline.
“I’ll die fighting!” another shouted. “I’ll never run!”
“Commander! Lead us!”
“Death is just death!!”
“We’re not cowards!!”
“Fight them!!”
The roar of a thousand demons exploded into the sky. Weapons were raised. Breastplates beaten. Fear was drowned beneath fanatic resolve.
“Good.”
Luna looked down at them—and finally, a wild, arrogant smile broke across her face.
“Today,” she declared, “many of us will die. I will likely die too.”
Silence fell.
“But—”
Her gaze burned as she carved their faces into her memory.
“Even if we bleed ourselves dry… we will stop them at the gates! We may fall—but our brothers will remember us! Her Majesty will remember us! History will remember us!”
“OOOOOOHHHHH!!!”
Now.
Luna leapt from the battlements, leading the thousand demon knights in a suicidal charge. Dense mana condensed around her, wrapping her form in shimmering force—but it could not silence her voice.
“Everyone!” she cried. “This is a moment for history!”
Her blade rose.
“LET US—CHARGE TOWARDS DEATH!!!
______________________
BOOM!!!
Behind them, the Fortress Guns thundered, their fire precise and relentless, forcing the Grand Magi to divert attention. At the same time, a single cannon tilted skyward.
A specialized shell screamed upward.
At ten thousand meters, it detonated—blossoming into a massive, blood-red firework that stained the heavens.
“Not good—something’s wrong!”
An Alliance Ninth-Rank Knight saw the signal and went pale.
“What is that?! What happened?!” another shouted.
“I don’t know—but do you think they fired that just for spectacle?! Something’s changed!”
“A Seventh-Rank commander leading a single regiment dares to charge us?” a knight snarled. “They must have a trump card!”
“Facing twelve Ninth-Rankers without fear…” another whispered. “…could the Demon Lord have arrived?”
The moment the name was spoken, panic rippled through the high command.
Clyris.
The name alone was terror incarnate. With the Eight Saints heavily wounded, no one in the Alliance could match her. Even the thought made hearts clench.
“N-no… that’s impossible,” someone stammered. “Isn’t she still engaged with the Western Army Group at Picars?”
“Fool!” another snapped. “Picars is only dozens of kilometers away! Do you think distance matters to a Saint?!”
As the commanders hesitated, Luna’s charge closed the final kilometers.
Like a blade plunged into flesh, she pierced straight into the Alliance formation.
The vanguard shattered.
Then the Mage Legion broke.
Hastily erected barriers burst apart like paper windows beneath her spearhead.
“Retreat! Retreat immediately!!”
At last, a Ninth-Rank Knight screamed the order.
The moment one squadron turned and ran, collapse followed. Under Luna’s relentless assault, an orderly withdrawal became a screaming rout.
“Hold formation!” a Grand Magus shouted from the sky. “Even if the Demon Lord is here, we have twelve of us! She can’t kill us all before reinforcements arrive!”
“Then who’s volunteering to die first?!” an Elven Grand Druid snapped.
“We already lost five Ninth-Rank Elven Warriors at Vanguard Citadel!” another Elf roared. “How many more do you want dead?! Do you want our last two Grand Magi and final warrior wiped out too?!”
The memory of that catastrophe—five Elven champions vaporized in an instant—still bled fresh. Five thousand years of history screamed at them not to repeat the mistake.
The Elves were done.
“Enough,” another Grand Magus said tightly. “We pull back. If the Demon Lord is truly here, priority is warning the rest of the Alliance.”
“…Agreed.”
The first Grand Magus clenched his teeth, rage simmering.
“But damn it,” he muttered. “A mere Seventh-Rank demon dares flaunt her power before me.”
He raised his staff, locking onto Luna as she carved through the chaos—then hesitated. His own troops were too close. One spell would slaughter allies by the hundreds.
With a snarl, he lowered it.
At last, several Eighth-Rank Human Knights remained behind, grimly forming a rearguard as the Alliance army began its retreat.
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