CH240 Battle For the Northern Dankrot Fort

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Giving Josiah Kellerman no chance to waver or call off the operation, General Vance strode onto the battlefield and commanded the troops forward.

The machine of war known as the Kellerman Army bared its fangs at Northern Dankrot Fort.

Under the cover of archers, mages, and the thunderous fire of long-ranged siege weapons—catapults and ballistae—the infantry surged toward the fort's walls.

But the terrain had been carefully reshaped. Due to the terraforming Alex ordered before the battle, the path leading directly to the fort's main gate was unsuitable for a swift infantry charge. Any attempt to rush it would see them shredded by the fort's own ballistae and siege weapons long before reaching the walls.

The Kellerman infantry had no choice but to divert toward the two side walls for their assault. It was exactly what Alex and the fort officers had planned.

The bulk of the fort's defenders had been positioned on these flanks, where the natural terrain funnelled attackers and made it nearly impossible for large numbers to climb the walls at once.

From this advantage, Fury soldiers rained arrows and spells down, cutting apart enemies before they even touched the stone.

But this was only a stopgap measure.

Soon enough, with corpses piling into ramps and cover fire suppressing the defenders, Kellerman infantry managed to reach the walls.

Twack!

Ladders slammed against the stone as Kellerman troops began their climb.

"Fire! Push the ladders down!"

"Don't let them breach the wall!"

Shouts and battle cries echoed as Fury defenders scrambled to meet the assault.

"There's too many of them!"

"They're already on the wall!"

"Archers, mages—fall back! Warriors forward! Cut them down!"

The Fort Commander and his officers led from the front, blades flashing as they rallied their men to stem the tide.

Fury soldiers hacked through one Kellerman invader after another, yet for every foe they cut down, two more climbed up to replace him. Slowly, the line was being forced back.

[Blade Light!]

A sweeping arc of sword energy burst from the Fury backline, carving a bloody gap in the enemy ranks and clearing a segment of wall.

"Show no mercy! Hold the line!" a Veteran-ranked officer roared, stepping forward with his weapon gleaming, his presence stalling the enemy push.

From behind, General Vance observed the clash with a hawk's eyes. The main force stood ready at his back.

"Reload the ballistae! Fire the catapults!" General Vance's voice was steel. "Do not let them breathe. Drown them in fire until they break!"

The catapults launched their payloads, stones whistling through the air.

But before they could land, glowing runes on the fort's battlements flared to life—projectile defences sprang up, shattering the barrage mid-air.

General Vance's brows knit into a frown.

"Sir!" an officer reported. "We have the measurements of their walls. The towers are ready!"

"Then send in the siege towers!"

Massive wooden towers rumbled forward from the backline, inching toward the walls with oppressive momentum.

At once, Fury's own catapults retaliated, their shots hurling directly at the advancing towers.

One boulder screamed down, about to splinter a tower into rubble—

BOOM!

A surge of fist-force blasted it apart mid-air. Saved, the siege tower continued onwards.

The man responsible was none other than General Vance himself, standing tall at the frontline, his gauntleted fist still crackling with power.

The catapult stone General Vance destroyed was only one among dozens.

Others rained down mercilessly, smashing into siege towers and tearing apart archer and arcane platforms. Even when the shots missed their mark, unlucky soldiers caught in their path were reduced to pulp.

On both sides, lives were snuffed out by the dozens each heartbeat.

Yet neither force faltered.

The Fury defenders clung to their walls with desperate resolve, while the Kellerman invaders hurled themselves forward with near-religious zeal.

General Vance scanned the battlefield with a commander's eye.

'The assaults on the flanks have stalled… but in doing so, we have forced them to commit so heavily to the sides…'

His gaze sharpened.

'Their centre is vulnerable.'

He lowered his helm, the steel mask snapping into place. His sword hissed from its sheath and pointed forward like a banner of death.

"All forces… march! Today, we break their gate!"

At his command, the main Kellerman host thundered forward, a black tide aiming straight at the fortress's heart.

From the walls, some officers wavered, considering turning their siege weapons to cover the front. But the moment they shifted, the pressure on the flanks would collapse, and the ladders would breach.

They had only one option.

To trust the man who stood unflinching above the fortress gates.

Jared Rivia's eyes locked on General Vance beyond the mass of charging soldiers.

The enemy commander's movements reeked of desperation. He was in a hurry—rushing to seize the fort before something closed in on him.

'So… the young master's strike on their supply units succeeded.' Jared deduced. 'Good. Then it's time for us to play our part.'

"Have the men move out. It is time for the Dark Hounds to get back onto the battlefield." Jared spoke softly to an armoured knight beside him.

"Yes, Commander."

Moments later, the heavy gates creaked open. A tide of black-armoured cavalry emerged, hooves pounding the earth. At their head rode Jared Rivia himself, clad in full plate, his presence like a storm made flesh.

Neighhh!

His warhorse, Terror, screamed to the sky, its iron-shod hooves pawing furrows in the ground.

Jared slid his helm into place and raised his greatsword.

"Move out!"

With a roar, the Dark Hounds charged—two hundred and fifty knights, steel-clad titans, rushing headlong to meet thousands.

The battlefield quaked as the two forces hurtled toward collision.

Unbeknownst to the two forces, a wildcard for had arrived behind the Kellerman force's backline.

The mounted group was fully veiled behind blood-stained black cloaks. The only indicators of their identity was the black eagle flying above.

"Looks like we made it in time," their leader said, voice low and cold.

His eyes gleamed—a deep ruby that slowly darkened into a burning crimson as he fixed his gaze on the fortress ahead.

Hooves thundered closer from the side. A squad of four riders galloped up, and at their head was a fully-armoured woman. She spurred her mount forward, leaping ahead of her escort until she reined in before the crimson-eyed man.

She dropped from her horse, kneeling in the dirt.

"Master, the mission is complete."

The man inclined his head. "Very good. Rise."

She remounted swiftly and fell back behind him—her rightful place, guarding his shadow.

The crimson-eyed leader turned his gaze upon his cloaked company. Though their faces were hidden, he saw the hunger in their eyes. They trembled with anticipation, awaiting only his word.

He lifted his hand.

"Tonight," he said, voice like the tolling of a death knell, "we kill all who dare threaten our homes."

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