Cassia led the vanguard, her armor glimmering with frost, eyes sharp as steel, as her soldiers marched behind her. Their shields locked tight, their boots crushing the snow beneath in perfect unison.

"Forward!"

Her voice pierced the blizzard.

They surged ahead, spears leveled, blades ready. The first impact came like a thunderclap, shield met shield, steel shrieked against steel, and the white field of snow turned blood red.

The Holy Allied soldiers, battered by the endless bombardment, fought with desperate faith. Their armor gleamed with holy insignias, their lips muttering prayers between screams. But faith alone couldn't hold the line.

"Advance!"

"Push them back!"

Cassia's sword carved through a crusader's chestplate, her movement a blur of efficiency. Around her, Thirell's soldiers pressed on, their formation bending but never breaking.

Every thrust, every block, every step — it was moves done by elites and legends, all granted power by Justinian.

They had become a mass of death.

From the battlements, Justinian watched the battle unfold through the storm. Foresight flickered in his vision like brief flashes of prophecy. He could see where the next strike would fall, where his soldiers would falter, and where to send reinforcements.

"Lucan! Shift the second line to the left! They're trying to circle through the wreckage!"

Lucan didn't question; he moved like an extension of Justinian's will.

"Yes, my Duke!"

Snow and blood mixed into crimson slush underfoot. The clangor of weapons and the roar of cannons formed a rhythm, chaotic, but familiar.

And then, through the white mist, a roar.

"Make way!"

The snow exploded as a burning figure burst through the blizzard, Count Besmund. His armor glowed from the inside, bright cracks running through it like veins of pure radiant light. His horse, wreathed in yellow, illuminated the battlefield as he advanced.

"Blasphemers!" he screamed, his sword turning into a makeshift glowstick from his outstretched hand. "Face judgment!"

A torrent of bright light swept across the field. The front line faltered, men screaming as their eyes were assaulted with a powerful flash. Cassia raised her arm, covering her eyes before she could see it, deflecting the worst of the flash.

"Archers! Focus fire on the rider!" Lucan shouted. "Bring him down before he reaches the walls!"

Arrows flew, hissing through the snowstorm, but most missed away midair entirely.

It was nearly impossible to get a shot on him; his glow was too radiant to even look at directly.

Besmund grinned, and then his smile faded.

A voice echoed faintly in the wind, calm and cutting.

"You should've stayed by your gods, Count."

Besmund turned, just as a streak of black metal cut through the sky and took down dozens in the blink of an eye.

Justinian.

[Duke's Domain]

The Duke moved like a phantom, his sword wrapped in blood and gore. Their blades met, darkness and light, colliding in a shockwave that echoed across the battlefield. Snow erupted, the air twisting between the sheer energy of magic as the two men clashed.

Besmund swung wildly, each strike leaving trails of miniature flashbangs that blinded Justinian and his men. But Justinian countered with precision, his sword finding every weak point in Besmund's sword swings.

Duke's Domain had now been in full effect, and now he was nearly unbeatable.

CLANG!

With a simple parry, Besmund's arms recoiled in pain, falling from his mount as he was forced to meet Justinian head-on.

"You're techniques left much to be desired, Count."

Justinian laughed.

"Don't get cocky, brat!"

Besmund lashed out, the two lunging at each other as they continued their duel in the snowy battlefield.

Justinian's domain was powerful, but even so, it was hard to utilize it when every move from his enemy was an assault on the eyes.

"Quick! While they're distracted!"

The voice of Lucan's generals shouted, his own personal retainers finally joining in the fight as heavy cavalry, flanking the crusaders who focused all their might against the walls.

"Damn it! There's more of you!?"

Count Besmund looked away for a brief second, seeing the wave of death approaching from their flank.

He didn't expect Justinian to have more cavalry to use.

"Don't get distracted!"

Justinian utilized his brief distraction to deal a decisive blow.

CLANG!

At least... that's before Marquis Raven himself joined in the fray, now enraged by the second major loss of artillery due to a stupid ambush.

He had blocked Justinian's blade in the last second.

"No more trickery! We'll take you down head-on!"

Marquis Raven yelled out, his voice alone increasing the crusaders' morale as they continued their endless clash against the narrow gate that Cassia guarded.

[Demon in Red]

"Bad move..."

FWOOSH!

In an instant, Justinian's aura changed immediately, his dark armor and crimson hair shifting due to the storm and his abilities.

He now looked like a blur, a genuine devil.

It was enough to make Raven and Besmund's feet feel heavy.

"The hell...?"

"He's an actual demon!?"

CLANG!

CLANG!

It was now a two-on-one, and with Justinian's new psychological advantage, it looked like he was about to win.

BOOM!

Justinian took a step to the side, a trebuchet bolt landing inches away from where he had been standing just a moment ago.

To the few who saw it, it was enough to completely shatter their remaining hope of victory.

[Army Swordsmanship - Increased]

Count Besmund staggered backward, blood dripping from the seam of his radiant armor. The holy light flickered, unsteady, failing against the crushing weight of Justinian's Domain.

"You call that divinity?" Justinian hissed, his sword crackling with black flame. "All I see is nothing but a mere petty flicker of flame."

He vanished in a blur.

SLASH!

Besmund barely raised his sword in time, sparks exploding as he was thrown into the snow.

Marquis Raven charged in from the flank, his blade shrouded in the sigil of the church, runes glowing like molten gold. He swung in a wide arc, enough to cleave a man in half—

But Justinian didn't yield.

CLANG!

He caught the blade mid-swing, his unnatural steeled gauntlets completely absorbing the sword's impact, steel shrieking as both men dug into the snow, locked in raw strength.

Raven snarled. "Is this your true self, Duke of Snowkeep? Is this the demon you are?!"

He yelled out, his eyes glazed and unfocused, just looking at Justinian alone made his eyes water, his ability manifesting inferiority and fear to all those around him.

"You're merely hallucinating, Marquis," Justinian growled, his eyes burning like twin embers through the blizzard, usually a metaphor, but now made literal.

"It seems fear has overtaken your mind."

He broke the lock, twisted, and kicked Raven's knee out from under him. The Marquis fell with a curse, rolling aside as Justinian's next strike split the ground.

Cassia caught sight of the clash from the gates, three figures tearing the battlefield apart like titans of old. She wanted to go to him, to fight beside him, but she couldn't. Her duty was here.

"Hold the line!"

Her voice broke through the chaos, the men rallying behind her as they forced back another surge of crusaders. Their shield wall rippled like a living beast, crushing the last remnants of the enemy vanguard.

Lucan's cavalry thundered down the flank, trampling through disoriented soldiers as Fenrix continued to guide the artillery on where to fire.

The Holy Allied formation was collapsing slowly, their victory near guaranteed at the current rate of their opponent's casualties.

But Snowkeep was also starting to rack up deaths; it was a war of attrition on who crumbles under pressure first.

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