Atop the ramparts, a sly grin crept up Absalon's lips as Olgar, who incidentally stood near the Salamander's wounds, was blasted sky high. The lycan crashed into gaping crevices that exposed the Salamander's liquefied brain.

The Salamander’s vulnerable brain took the brunt of the explosion because its robust skull contained most of the blast.

Absalon narrowed his gaze at the plumes of smoke that arose, the crackling of burning flesh a sound he was all too familiar with. As much as he would have liked it, he doubted Olgar suffered too much damage from that explosion. He removed his gaze from the smoke as Syèl and Shoko floated over the ramparts, headed towards him. "[Cancel]"

Shoko and Syèl dropped onto the rampart, as Absalon canceled the gravitational magic pulling the daggers they held towards him.

Absalon retrieved his daggers from the two. He was all smiles, apparent pride in his eyes as he praised, "You two did great work out there. Better than I expected."

"Heh," Syèl grinned. "This much is nothing."

Shoko massaged her left wrist, which still trembled in pain from her last punch. She cast her eyes at the dark plumes below. "Now what?"

Absalon smiled. "I know you want to fight, but this is not the time. I promise to give you a stage where you two can battle it out." At Shoko's silent nod, the general proceeded, "Now, you return post-haste."

"You guys plan way too much," Syèl snorted as he walked to the interior battlements. "Can take those guys by myself."

"No, you can't," Absalon refuted as the blood mage hopped down from the wall. Shoko and his lieutenants followed suit, their fall broken by buffeting winds. Absalon watched them mount their horses then rush southward towards the second gate. He returned to the north-side battlement and measured the extent of the damage below. He inadvertently locked gazes with Olgar, who burst out from the pile of brain matter, looking utterly unperturbed by the explosion he just suffered through. "...Even if you could, I would not let you. There is more to war than an enemy's death."

Absalon retracted his gaze as a broadsword appeared beneath his feet. He stepped onto the sword, then used a rare-skill, [Telekinesis] to have it carry him into the sky as he slowly made his way towards the south.

South Gate

"HALT!"

The flood of avespas, upon hearing the beautiful voice, stomped against the ground as they came to a uniform stop. The army, consisting of over seven thousand mounted warriors and warbards, patiently waited for their army commander located at the rear to deploy her next command.

Larsial frowned, her brows deeply set as her familiar's images synched with her mind. Usually, she might have taken the opportunity to mock the proud Orthana. But this situation had wholly overturned her knowledge. Never would she have expected the halben had so much power, enough to wipe out scores of mana projectiles hurtling his way while simultaneously killing off all the summons at once.

Then there was the cross-dressing girl. To the best of Larsial’s knowledge, that girl should only have one clone. Where did she find the second, and how exactly was she able to store that much power at her level? Even more shocking was how they could create such synergy, blending the best of these two's abilities. Who the heck was their commander?

Larsial suddenly felt she had taken this battle far too lightly. Fearing the worst, she immediately fished out a [Skill Enhance] and [Detect Life] Scroll from her pouch. She ripped the [Skill Enhance] scroll, which released a dense burst of mana absorbed by the [Detect Life] scroll. She then ripped the [Detect Life] scroll, releasing a burst of mana that exploded outwards for a kilometer in all directions. Only when she did not feel any presence save those of her men did she relax.

Ruse, having felt the mana probe him, turned his burning gaze towards the daeben, brow raised. Larsial, understanding his unspoken question, revealed everything that had occurred at the Northern Gate.

Ruse's only response was to turn his gaze back to the open gates. "No matter. Proceed."

Larsial, stimulated by Ruse's confidence, smiled as her initial unease burned away. Hmph, although killing three Ancient Salamanders might seem impressive, she knew for a fact that Ruse could cook those overgrown lizards for breakfast whenever he wanted. She cast her gaze at a cage rolling behind them, pulled by a column of avespas. Heh, even if the worst-case scenario occurred, she still had a trump card.

Brimming with confidence, Larsial faced the army ahead and ordered, "March!"

The red flood heeded her call and resumed their steady march into the city.

North Gate

Olgar glared at the fallen Salamanders, his countenance contrastingly calm against his earlier raging outbursts. Of the three, one had instantly decomposed into a few piles of bones, scales, and flesh. Luckily, the decomposed corpse was the closest to the gate, so it didn’t block their way into the city.

A blue-furred lycan rode up to the silent warlord with a spare avespa in tow. "I think they wished to block the gates, sir," The lycan commented as his lord mounted the avespa. The lycan, named Grugg was one of Olgar's oldest aides and right hand. "Buy some time, maybe."

Olgar cast a cold gaze at the lycan, which caused the latter's blood to freeze. Everyone knew of Olgar's temper and feared his frequent outbursts. But those close to him found those outbursts cute compared to when he turned calm. Olgar was a true embodiment of the term, Calm before the Storm. When he was like this, it didn't matter why; if someone pissed him off, there would be one more corpse to feed the earth.

Luckily for Grugg, it seemed Olgar had not reached that stage just yet. The warlord, whose white coat had turned red, brown, and black with blood and dirt, turned his cold gaze back to the gate. "Order the men to march."

Grugg released a sigh of relief. It seemed his lord still retained some of his faculties. He had feared for a moment his lord would charge on alone for the sake of revenge. Just as he was about to leave, he recalled the other reason he came to meet his lord. "Sir, Ms. Orthana would like to spe—" Olgar's frosty glare froze the rest of the sentence in his throat.

"Order the men to march."

Grugg instantly paled, cursing himself a thousand times as he spurred his avespa past the corpses to the waiting, disoriented army. What the fuck was he thinking!? He made Olgar repeat himself! Was he tired of living? Shit, immediately, this war was over, he would have to find a soothsayer to check if someone had cursed him or something. Being so stupid could only be attributed to unnatural causes.

Although the army was shell-shocked, immediately Grugg relayed Olgar's orders, they began a silent march, no one daring to speak a word lest they suffer the warlord's wrath. Even Orthana, although enraged by the lycan's attitude, knew better than to confront him at this time. There was a huge chance he would forget the reason for his rage and rush at her with intent to kill.

Bone-Cage Olgar Ritz was that kind of irrational fellow.

With the army behind, Olgar made for the next gate at a steady pace, neither fast nor slow.

Within the northern sector of the outer circle stood an imposing army, neither moved by the rising sun, nor winds which had turned harsh. At the forefront of this army, a daeben sat atop his mount, red gaze steady at the horizon. To his side, a white-haired assassin likewise sat atop a dark as night, seven feet massive wolf.

Although Kashi had received the report which stated that the enemy had over seven thousand men, there was no trace of hesitation in his eyes despite his forces only numbering three thousand.

What’s more, he only a few dozen mages and little to no long-range archers within his ranks. Generals worldwide would have insulted this line-up as stupid and utterly suicidal. But there was a reason for Kashi’s seemingly baseless confidence.

Kashi glanced at the drakul, whose form had undergone a tremendous transformation since they left the dwarven palace. Their sizes had nearly doubled, assuming a structure resembling a fusion between a brute and their standard skinny form.

Well-defined muscles were protected by tough sea blue scales that gave the impression of morning clouds. Bone spurs akin to those found on dragons grew on their heads, down their spine, until the end of their tail. Finally, the drakul’s facial features and jaws were streamlined, giving off a ferocious yet noble look. As they were now, no one, not even the dwarfs, would believe them to be the same set of rough-looking lizard men who left earlier.

The change was something the daeben predicted but wasn't sure of. To test his hypothesis, Kashi crafted a set of leather pants and gauntlets lined with Hydra scales for each drakul, ensuring he dripped some of his blood during the manufacturing process.

The resulting products turned out to be Legendary Grade, offering more protection than Kashi's full gear put together. However, it was not the defense but the added option that caused the daeben's brow to rise.

An added option [Drakul's Dream] bound the armor to every drakul who wore it. Kashi's blood contained the drakul’s dream intended to raise the drakul to the level of dragons. His blood, which had elevated to Dragon Blood, stimulated the drakul’s cells and awakened their hidden potential.

As to how strong the drakul became... Well...

Drixlia harrumphed, stomping its foot against the earth as the daeben's gaze sharpened.

Just over five kilometers away, the Chaos Order appeared on the horizon, blood-red armor gleaming imposingly in the moonlight. Kashi spoke into a rink, his eyes monitoring the enemy's movements, "They're here."

A moment later, Absalon's voice resounded, "Likewise." There was a short pause as the mage collected his emotions . "Are you ready?"

A devilish grin spread up the daeben's lips. "Born Ready."

"Right. In that case..."

North Gate

Hovering five hundred feet above the earth, Absalon glared at Olgar's approaching army. "Let us welcome our guests."

On the ground, Yngvar, Ulla, Paaie, and Brexio lead their respective clans, war hammers, and axes poised at the ready. Flanking the dwarfs on either side were Absalon's army and the remaining felur led by Sasha (Formerly named Asha), Nyte, Blade, and Diatte.

At the very forefront of the army, Syèl, Jade, and Shoko sat atop their mounts, eyes locked onto the oncoming horde.

"Don't you think you should be at the back?" Syèl teased, chuckling at Jade.

"Heh, and let you guys have all the fun?" Jade sneered, mischief in her eyes. "You guys already stole the spotlight. I'll be damned if I don't leave a big ass mark in my first major battle with the guild."

"Shoulda gone with Kashi then," Syèl replied. "Ain't no one stealing my thunder."

Jade's brow rose as she raised her right hand, around which green lightning arced.

Syèl frowned. Sure he could use all elements, but because he rarely focused on one, his attainments in some were not as high as others. For example, his electricity was still blue, far away from its next upgrade. Then again, no Summoned's elementals had naturally reached the next level. That was something that usually happened around level 250.

Just as Syèl opened his mouth to retort, the sound of a sword leaving its sheath instantly shut him up.

Having achieved the desired effect, Shoko did not turn to the halben, but instead fixed her gaze on the army that had drawn within four kilometers.

Across from her, Olgar paused, mana-enhanced gaze scanning the enemy frontlines ahead. He could not spot any robed individual, and only about five hundred persons had bows in their hands. "Hmm... I had thought they would depend on mages and archers for this battle. Seems I was wrong. Are they that confident, or do they lack mages?"

Grugg, wary from the previous lesson, advised, "I can't guess what else they have planned, Sir. Why don't we have the Rhinos march in front?"

Olgar frowned, canines bared as he issued a low growl. "No one steals the first kill from me."

"Understood, Sir." Grugg, not daring to say anything more, stepped back.

"We march." At Olgar's order, the army resumed its march, grateful for the flat terrain. On the way, although not extremely uncomfortable, the land had several small hills and depressions, which had made marching a chore. Olgar was grateful for a different reason. On uneven ground, his cavalry would have been rendered useless. When they were within two kilometers, Olgar ordered as a white, seven-foot bone grew out of his forearm, "Take out your spears!"

In response, the Maggots led the charge, matching the enemy speed for speed as they approached.

At the South end, a similar scenario played itself out. The drakul, lead by Kashi and Shadow atop Kira, matching the Chaos Order step for step.

A tremendous uneasy feeling gripped Larsial as she saw the scenes playing out at the North End, the strangest part being the matching enemy formations. To combat the wide banks of hundred which the Chaos Order deployed, both the drakul and the dwarven army were morphing into the shape of a narrow arrow, with its widest point only holding sixty men. Frustrated, she shut off the visual connection to her familiar. At this point, paying attention to both sides was akin to suicide.

The slow trot to either side was punctuated by booms of heavy drums, the voices of bards forming a dense mana stream that enriched and strengthened the soldiers' muscles. Once the armies were within a kilometer of each other, the slow trot turned into a full sprint as both sets of cavalries charged at each other, blood the only things in their minds.

At the northern end, Olgar roared, "Give 'em Hell!"

Although both armies were still over five hundred meters apart, hails of arrows and magic projectiles burst out from the Merrite side, accurately sailing the distance to crash into the dwarven defense.

Syèl turned a lazy gaze toward the projectiles. "Flashy rubbish," he muttered as several pieces of rock burst from the earth. He accurately measured the flight paths of the over one thousand projectiles then flicked his fingers.

Olgar roared with incensed rage as a multitude of explosions resounded harmlessly above, his blood-red gaze so filled with hatred at the halben he sped up, leaving the army behind and also forgot about the red mage soundlessly hovering overhead.

Absalon kept his gaze on Olgar, snorting when he saw the lycan's reaction to Syèl. "Amateur." He ignored the fool, his lips muttering as he watched the enemy's frontline. "100, 90, 80..."

If Olgar was incensed, Larsial was left speechless as Kashi, and his troupe kept their charge, ignoring the hail of arrows and magic that rained down upon them. Although a few fell in the charge, the majority pressed on, not paying any heed to their injuries. She was too shell shocked to notice the daeben's lips moving. "70, 60, 50..."

Seated atop his throne, Anton Xafier, King of the dwarfs, held a ruthless glare as the voices of both men simultaneously resounded in his ear. Joining in their countdown, he muttered, "40, 30, 20, 10... DIE!"

BOOM!

CRASH!

KRRSCHHH!

The first, second, third, and fourth rows of cavalry crashed against a giant wall! The avespas buckled, as several heads smashed into a paste. Numerous riders, dead on impact, were flung off their mounts.

The fourth, fifth, and sixth row trampled upon the previous rows and then stumbled to the ground. Only until the seventh row, which was incidentally the second to last, did the chaos stop.

All this happened in a single instant, the forceful impact sending shockwaves for miles.

Olgar's avespa froze, his eyes round with shock as he stared at the thin wall that shot up from the ground without warning. Where did that wall come from!? Just how? There was no trace of mana! What the fuck was happening!?

How could he know, though?

Although the wall was indeed thin, barely a few centimeters in diameter, it was nearly thirty meters tall and had been crafted by a god. Its toughness could only be imagined. And the cavalry had crashed into such a wall at full speed over 100km/h.

There was only one outcome.

Honed Instinct from several years of battle blared its warning. Olgar spun around, hands across his chest as a blade slammed into him, blasting him off his mount. The lycan turned in mid-air and crashed into the earth, wincing as the dwarven army which had never stopped its charge parted around him. The lycan raised his head, glaring at the swordswoman mounted atop her horse.

With a clear intent to battle in her eyes, Shoko hopped down from her stallion. She drew her blade, its dark sheen mirroring the emptiness in her mind at that moment. Her gaze beheld only the foe across her, the excited shouts as Syèl led the dwarfs to rout the confused enemy fading into the background.

Behind the lycan, the wall receded into the ground just as quickly as it had shot up. However, before anyone could relax, two sets of walls shot up from the earth, running from the outer to the inner gate with roughly sixty meters between them.

Suddenly, the massive Merrite army that looked unbeatable had shrunken by a third, leaving the disoriented, scared warriors to face the wrath of the onrushing army. Who, by virtue of their narrow shape, did not lose any soldiers to the demarcating walls.

Elsewhere, although the second set of walls did not rise at the southern end, the first one certainly did.

Larsial paled, beautiful eyes deformed by shock and fear.

‘The carnage at the forefront as Kashi’s drakuls tore into the confused troops rocked her core. Teeth chattering, Larsial could not help but cry out, demanding an answer for this senseless scenario. "HOW!?"

Kashi, who tore through the Chaos Order, one arrow after another finding its mark in his target’s brains, simply muttered with a mischievous smirk, "...Artifact."