Darkness filled the cloudy skies as the sun slowly fell under the horizon. Commander Folre sat plainly on his skeletal steed, overlooking the battlefield… The sudden shift in the scales of this war was not something he had ever expected.

"Urgent report from the front lines!" A warrior rushed to his side, holding a sheet of paper. The commander glanced at him for a moment then frowned.

"You don't have to tell me, Volar. I already know.

"The battle is lost."

Volar hesitated to reply. He went into his usual salute. "Sir! What are your orders?"

There was a moment of silence in between the usual rhythm of bombardments.

"Order a full retreat. Disengage all the Siege Towers. The magecraft barrier we have in this encampment should give us ample protection until our next attempt."

"But sir…"

"No buts," Folre sighed. "We lost too many troops in that trap. The enemy knows we are weakened. Even if we send in the Siege Towers now that the Magitech Cannons are not present to defend the wall, the amount of Sentinels we can muster won't be enough to capture the castle. They have multiple Evokers and Knight Lieutenants on their side."

Volar stayed silent. He couldn't argue with his assessment at all.

"Besides, it seems the heavens don't favor us either." He glanced up at the sky, his brow steadily turning more and more serious. Up above the battlefield, the spectral banners floating freely in the air had shifted in color… Their golden hue no longer illuminates the vibrant symbols of the Veilborn.

An emblem of a flower pierced by a sword now takes its place. The Garden of Blades have somehow managed to push back against the Daemonic forces. A sign that the blessings of the divine have shifted.

Seeing this, Folre reined his undead horse to move once more. "Bring all the Knight Lieutenants and other officers to my tent. We will begin to discuss strategy as soon as possible."

As the last rays of sunlight reflected off the blood crusted on his skin, Soren carefully wove through the bodies scattered across the demolished castle gate. The clanging of hammers could be heard nearby as soldiers scrambled to rebuild what was destroyed in the fighting.

"It's finally over…" Ellisar stood next to him, overlooking the work being done. His eyes trailed outside where the destruction was even more severe. Their moat was filled to the brim with bodies and the plains that were once basked in the golden hue of wheat were now bristling with craters and ash.

Without glancing in his direction, Soren shook his head slightly. "No. It's not over.

"Not yet at least."

This was not a judgement he came up with on his own. No, the very designer of this game had given him that answer:

The Siege of Thirel (Phase 2)

You have warded the Spirit Wolf legion's attempt at sieging the castle! But they have not yet given up! More siege attempts will occur in the coming days as their desperation to obtain the Hollowed Star fragment grows! Protect the fragment until the arrival of the elven reinforcements!

Quest: Protect the Hollowed Star fragment for 5 days, 16 hours, and 10 minutes.

Castle Health: 34/100

Available Magi: 24

Available Sentinels: 63

Watching the floating window pane disappear on its own, Soren couldn't help but frown.

"Too many…" He mumbled to himself. "We lost too many…"

Out of the seventy nine Magi they started with, only twenty four remained… As for the Sentinels—their losses were far worse. Only sixty three remain out of a hundred and thirty two. In the chaos, they had also lost over a hundred regular soldiers and a staggering three hundred human slaves.

Of course, he should have expected that.

Even with their magecraft bombardments, stopping all the waves of approaching Spirit Wolves proved to be impossible. The enemies that climbed the wall were relentless in their approach. But more than that, their numbers were far too many for the defenders to handle… Even if 9th Class Sentinels were stronger than regular unawakened soldiers, there was still a limit…

The harder the enemy went after their magitech cannons, the more deadly it became… Their troops couldn't hold the enemy back without taking more and more risks, resulting in enormous casualties…

But still, victory was still achieved… At least, a temporary one. In fact, Soren was sure that their losses would have been far worse if not for his gamble. Scattered around him were the results of that wager. From what has been counted so far, a staggering thirty six Spirit Wolf Sentinels perished in the castle gate trap and more than twenty other magi as well… Dozens more were injured and captured as prisoners of war.

Because of this, the enemy's retreat became inevitable. Even for the death-craving Spirit Wolves, losing that many assets weakened them too much to continue the siege. It only took them thirty minutes to issue a fallback order, and once that happened, all hell broke loose. Seizing the momentum, Soren ordered the magi to revert back to their offensive capabilities and hunt down as many retreating enemies as they could, which only added to the losses the Spirit Wolves experienced.

Seeing the sun slowly fall under the horizon, Soren took a deep breath and exhaled. The spectral banners levitating in the skies flung the emblem of the Garden of Blades. A powerful legion of fae spirits.

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It seems we're not the only ones to relish in success…

But this also made him think of something else that amazed him. Since the spirit armies fighting in the heavens above were not influenced by his decisions at all, it was fair to assume that the outcome he was seeing also happened during the real Siege of Bastion Thirel.

Since that was the case, it was then no wonder that the enemy commander did not decide to push the battle even further using their Siege Towers. With the skies controlled by the fae armies, the level of destruction that would rain upon them if they tried to do so would be astronomical…

And that also implied something else. Bastion Thirel—it would have no doubt been captured if not for his actions today. With the fae spirits controlling the skies, any further sieges past this point would be far too difficult.

I changed history, didn't I?..

If not for his strategy, the castle would have fallen, even if the fae armies claimed victory later… It was fair to assume the real-life version of this event had followed that exact play.

But the biggest indicator had to be the description listed on the game window. The quest had shifted from defending the castle to now protecting the Hollowed Star fragment… Whatever that was.

It was obvious what the Blossom Sword Flower was trying to tell him.

"Expect a night raid, Knight Lieutenant Ellisar."

"A night raid?" His brows furrowed. "They just retreated—would they have the time to plan for such a thing?"

Soren turned around and walked deeper into the castle. "That's what they want you to think. Don't let your guard down. Make sure the soldiers working the night shift are extra healthy and vigilant."

In the distance, Soren spotted someone familiar. Standing before a wooden cart filled with corpses was a short-haired elven woman wearing a green robe. She held tightly to a wooden board, jotting down the names of those who perished.

"Tisha." Soren called out to her. Glancing in his direction, she frowned. "Don't tell me you got injured again…"

"No, not this time." He shook his head slowly. During the siege, it was due to her efforts that he was able to live, despite his wounded stomach. Her healing magecraft was far less potent compared to Myrin's, but it did the job anyway.

"How many of the soldiers are healthy?" He asked plainly. Glancing at the bloodied cart, Tisha sighed.

"Enough to man the wall at least… But there's another problem."

"Another problem?" He tilted his head slightly.

"Yes," She nodded, then pointed at the working soldiers around him. "The wounds this time… They are mostly psychological."

It only took him a moment to realize what she was insinuating. There was nothing masking the sullen expressions on those who remained…

Their morale… Soren clicked his tongue. This wasn't something any plan or strategy could fix. Still, their victory had at least kept most from completely breaking down. He'd need to account for this variable in the next siege…

"Nevermind all that," Tisha said, interrupting his thoughts.

"Yes?"

She crossed her arms, "Haven't you heard yet? The princess. I heard she wants to have an audience with you."

What? Princess? He quickly scanned through the memories of this body and recalled a few things… Indeed, there was a princess in this bastion. She was supposedly being taken care of by Duke Alinar, before his inevitable death during the siege…

Now that I think about it, I might be a slave, but my status in elven society is still somewhat… ambiguous. Because of his relationship to his master, the Duke, he was able to enjoy many more privileges that other slaves could never be afforded.

"I must say though. You really surprised me and everyone else with your actions today." Tisha said—smiling warmly. "The Duke must have trained you well… If it weren't for your strategy, I doubt we would all be alive at the moment…"

Stepping through the decorated hall, Soren was greeted by a rather imposing wooden door—no doubt leading to the throne room where Her Highness resided. He took a deep breath, then glanced at his own clothes one last time.

Before his arrival here, the maids had given him a much needed bath and a new set of silk robes… All of it fermented in countless flora scents.

As expected of royalty… All of this reminded him of his time in Yadria. It felt like a lifetime ago, but it's only been several months since then.

"Are you ready?" A booming voice reached him from behind. He turned to look—the gruff and menacing elven warrior he had fought beside just a few hours prior had been completely remade. His leaf-scaled armor gleamed once more, as did his smile.

Soren nodded toward Ellisar. "I'm always ready."

The Knight Lieutenant clicked his tongue. "Did your master teach you to be that arrogant too?"

Soren smiled and shrugged. "Who knows. I just want this all to be over with so I can go catch some sleep…"

Though in reality, sleeping after such a battle and with the threat of failure still looming over his head seemed rather impossible.

Ellisar shook his head. "Let's go then."

As if acknowledging their thoughts, the colossal door swung open on its own. Soren gulped down his hesitation and took his first step forward.

"Honored guests, bear witness! Entering now is the slave of Duke Alinar—the mind behind today's hard-won victory! At his side stands Knight Lieutenant Ellisar of House Aien, whose valor upon the wall turned the tide and saved countless lives!

"Step forward now, and stand with honor before Her Highness, Princess Myrella of the Verdant Throne!"

As they slowly walked forward upon the royal carpet, Soren could hear the whispers of the nobles around him.

"That's the boy? He's rather frail…"

"To think a human could be this insidious… Using the cannons like that."

"If only my slaves had half his wits…"

Suddenly, the announcer once again addressed the crowd:

"Enough!"

The nobles all scrambled to return to their usual silence. Seeing this, the announcer cleared his throat:

"Duke Alinar's slave. Knight Lieutenant Ellisar. Bow before Her Highness."

The pair did as they were told. After a few moments, a sweet and soothing voice drifted from the throne:

"There's no need for such excessive formality. The heroes may raise their heads."

Obeying the order, Soren finally took note of the princess' appearance. He would be lying if he claimed he wasn't at least a little charmed. Even though the Blossom Sword Flower paled in comparison, there was a subtle beauty to this girl as well—one that didn't include the work of any Mysteries.

Her playful golden eyes pierced through the hearts of man and woman alike, and her sun-dewed hair cascaded in soft waves… She wore a dress adorned with a bouquet of petals and a crown of thorns to match.

And yet, despite all the beauty, Soren found himself far more concerned with something else—a realization that was swiftly creeping in with no way to stop it… Eventually, terror began to settle and rise deep from within his chest.

He hesitated to even speak the word, but at last, he couldn't hold it back.

"Myrin?..."

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