Volume 2 chapter 41
Abbys Fortress.
Like its sister strongholds, Abbys was built into a towering mountain range, choking a vital throat into the Demon Realm.
Because it hadn't been attacked in the initial phase of the war, its commander, Victor, had ample time to fortify his positions.
He constructed twelve 400mm Fortress Guns and thirty-eight 250mm Wall Guns. Outside the walls, he dug over a dozen trench lines and laid minefields stretching for kilometers, turning the surrounding fifty kilometers into a death trap designed to swallow lives.
The Alliance's Eastern Army Group had already been mauled at Laptara Fortress. They were the first to experience mass aerial bombardment, the first to face Fortress Artillery fire, and the first to clash with a Demon United Mage Corps.
They lost nearly 400,000 men taking Laptara.
With only 300,000 troops remaining to attack Abbys, they were cautious. Despite learning their lessons, their numbers were insufficient to even test the upper limit of the fortress's firepower.
After several probing attacks were easily crushed, they abandoned the option of a direct assault and called for reinforcements.
The Southern Army Group was generous, sending 300,000 troops to bolster the Eastern front, bringing the total attacking force to over 600,000.
Although this was still 300,000 fewer than the demon defenders, the quality gap was immense. The demons were mostly low-rank with a few mid-rank officers. The Alliance troops were mostly mid-rank veterans. In a pitched field battle, the Alliance would slaughter the demons easily.
Victor knew this. When Laptara fell and the siege of Abbys began, he abandoned any thought of meeting the enemy in the field. He turtled up inside the fortress, relying on trenches, mines, and artillery to wrestle the Alliance in the mud.
Furthermore, he and Hans, the Air Commander at Abbys, had learned from the disaster at Talisk. When conducting bombing runs, they not only sent heavy fighter escorts but also launched a fresh wave of fighters to cover the bombers' return leg, preventing enemy scouts from tracking them back to base.
This strategy worked. So far, only one of the six rear airfields—too close to the front lines—had been raided by Wyvern Knights.
But Hans was cunning. He built a new airfield elsewhere, then moved nearly a thousand anti-aircraft guns to the ruined one, camouflaging it to look active.
When the Alliance raided it again, they were taught a harsh lesson by a wall of flak. Leaving thousands of corpses behind, they fled in disgrace.
Now, the Alliance realized Abbys was a harder nut to crack than Laptara. They abandoned direct assaults completely, opting to encircle the fortress and starve the demons out.
Victor attempted breakouts, but the Alliance camps were spaced perfectly—close enough to support each other within fifteen minutes, but far enough apart that a bomber could only hit two camps at once.
The Alliance had learned not to bunch up, avoiding the meat-grinder battles of the past.
Thus, a strange, eerie calm settled over the battlefield.
The Alliance stayed in their camps. The Demons stayed in their fortress.
Separated by a hundred kilometers of no-man's-land, they stared at each other in a deadly stalemate.
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A week passed in the blink of an eye. The Alliance launched no major offensives across the entire front.
This lull tempted Clyris. But looking at the Alliance's loose yet mutually supportive camp formations, and sensing the aura of over a dozen Ninth-Rank powerhouses gathering, she forced herself to abandon any reckless thoughts.
"Sigh! There's no opening..."
Clyris punched the table in frustration, gritting her teeth as she stared at the passive Alliance army.
She knew what they were waiting for. The heavy losses from the initial assaults had scared them. They were waiting for the Saints to heal.
Once the Saints returned, Clyris knew she couldn't hold them off without the Demon God's blessing. Even the strongest fortress was like a mantis trying to stop a chariot before eight Saints.
But even if she attacked now, the Alliance gave her no opportunity.
Clyris studied the overall strategic map, frowning in thought.
Her eyes settled on the Eastern Front—Abbys Fortress.
The Alliance Eastern Army Group had lost one Ninth-Ranker taking Laptara. Two more died in subsequent assaults. Finally, four were killed in the massive ammunition depot explosion.
Starting with eighteen Ninth-Rankers, they were down to eleven. Even with the reinforcements of 300,000 Elves bringing three more Ninth-Rankers, they only had fourteen.
The Southern Army Group was in better shape. Even after losing six Ninth-Rankers and transferring four to the East, they still had twenty-two. They were the strongest force.
The Western Army Group was the healthiest. They hadn't faced a meat-grinder siege until Picars. Their twenty-four Ninth-Rankers remained intact until Marseilles' trench warfare killed one, the assault cost two more, and Clyris's night raid claimed another. They still had twenty.
Strategically, the weak point was the East.
But Clyris couldn't leave Talisk. She was facing the Southern Army Group—the strongest enemy force. The fortress defenses were still being rebuilt, and her troops were battered. If she left, the Alliance would storm the walls the next day.
The Next Day.
Clyris stood on the ramparts. The floodwaters outside had receded. The breach at the Old Mountains had been plugged.
Alliance Mage Legions were blasting the ground with fire magic, baking the mud into hard earth to pave the way for a new assault.
Perfect. Let Rowling greet those clustered mages.
Shortly after Clyris gave the order, 600 aircraft took off. Among them were 270 bombers.
RUMBLE...
Alliance Aerial Knights and over a hundred High-Rank powerhouses rose to intercept, but the demon fighters charged them fearlessly.
Like a swarm of smaller birds mobbing hawks, the 330 fighters tangled with the elite knights, buying precious seconds for the bombers.
Wings snapped. Planes exploded in mid-air, turning into fireballs.
But their bravery was not in vain. The bombers successfully dropped thousands of 1,000kg bombs onto the gathered Alliance forces. Several Mage Legions were vaporized.
Nightfall.
Rowling organized a second wave—a night raid.
Using intelligence from scout planes, the bombers flew to the approximate coordinates and dropped their payloads blindly.
She rotated the pilots, sending out the half that had rested during the day to ensure peak performance.
The bombing was effective again. But the Alliance learned quickly. They moved camp overnight. When the scouts returned in the morning, they found only empty, cratered ground. The Alliance had dispersed further away, forcing the demons to restart their reconnaissance efforts.
The only good news was that the enemy had retreated further from the fortress.
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Ironwood Territory. Ironwood City Plaza.
Charlo stood on the podium, looking down at the densely packed crowd. His expression was solemn.
Thousands of faces looked up at him with expectation. Outside the plaza, even more people craned their necks, their eyes filled with hope.
"Citizens..." Charlo's gaze swept over them. He saw their clean clothes, their healthy bodies, the light in their eyes.
"Five years ago, you arrived as the first batch of slaves in Ironwood. Over these five years, you have fully demonstrated your diligence and wisdom. Your loyal figures have left a deep impression on my heart."
Charlo took a deep breath, his voice resonating through the square. "Now, five years have passed. You have learned skills. You have saved money..."
A murmur ran through the crowd, but they quickly fell silent, lowering their heads. Even the onlookers outside sighed, the light in their eyes dimming as they anticipated the usual outcome: The Lord takes his due.
"But I will not take anything! I will not ask for a single copper coin!"
Charlo shouted, his voice cutting through the gloom. "Instead, as I promised you back then—YOU ARE FREE!"
Heads snapped up. Eyes burned with disbelief and sudden, fierce joy.
"From this day forward, you are the People of Ironwood! You are my subjects—the subjects of Charlo de Rose!"
"I solemnly promise you again: As long as you do not betray me, I will protect you forever! I will protect everything you have! I will be responsible for your lives, raise your standard of living, and ensure that you live with Happiness and Dignity!"
"OOOOOOOHHHH!!!"
The shock broke. A roar of jubilation exploded, shaking the clouds.
Outside the plaza, the onlookers jumped and hugged, cheering Charlo's name until their throats were raw.
Charlo stood on the stage, feeling the waves of joy washing over him. He couldn't help but smile.
"This..." he thought, watching the birth of his new citizenry. "This is the meaning of everything I have done."
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