As the enemy drew closer, almost reaching the edge of Qimo Fortress, the Archers on the walls began to unleash a furious barrage of arrows.
This was especially true for the Soldiers wielding Magic Crossbows; the ground beneath the wall was almost completely covered by a dense rain of arrows.
This dieval version of a crossfire network was not to be underestimated!
To maximize damage, nearly all the arrowheads were coated in Divine Water. After piercing the Gnolls’ flesh, sizzling black smoke began to rise from their bodies.
Many Gnolls regained a mont of clarity, only to be swept up by the countless comrades around them. Pushed and shoved, they continued their ferocious charge toward the enemy.
Then, it was the Priests’ turn. Basins of prepared Divine Water were poured down, and several beams of Holy Light lit up the fortress walls as if it were day.
The righteous energy of the Divine Water and Holy Light Technique began to clash with the vile energy within the Gnolls.
Many of the Gnolls stopped in their tracks. Those with weaker constitutions even collapsed to the ground.
"One thousand Magic Crystals are within our grasp! Charge!" Flaun roared at the Gnolls behind him. He then snatched a siege ladder and threw it against the fortress wall.
Flaun could have scaled the wall in a few quick bounds, but the Gnolls behind him would not have been able to keep up.
At Flaun’s roar, the vile energy that had been dispersed by the Divine Water and Holy Light Technique coalesced once more, flooding back into the bodies of the Gnolls.
Gazing at the humans on the walls, the hordes of Gnolls fell into a complete frenzy, scrambling over one another to climb upwards.
Under the suppressive fire of the human Archers, the Gnolls finally began to sustain losses. But it was as if they were blind to it all, caring only for the upward charge, ignoring everything else.
Now, it was ti for the Tier Five Armored Soldiers on the walls to put on a show. It wasn’t just about the number of battles these Tier Five Soldiers had fought; every single one of them had crawled through mountains of corpses and seas of blood alongside Robson.
When it ca to killing Beastn, these n were all seasoned masters.
A defensive siege like this was their specialty.
Once the Gnolls fell into their frenzy, only a few of the Extraordinary among them could remain clear-headed. To complete his objective as quickly as possible, Flaun had even outrun the Gnolls behind him, taking a cannon blast in the process.
Therefore, to force a breakthrough at a single point, Flaun was heading almost directly for Robson’s position.
Over a thousand Gnolls surged upward in a dense mass.
Unfortunately, while these Gnolls could be called elites, they paled in comparison to Robson’s Tier Five Soldiers. Tier Five! These were Soldiers who could hold their own against an Extraordinary being through sheer skill!
They were practically at the pinnacle of what mortals could achieve!
Combined with the vast disparity in equipnt, the axes and swords wielded by the Gnolls couldn’t even penetrate the armor of Robson’s Infantry.
These were heavily armored Soldiers!
The Gnolls’ only advantages were their fearless spirit and the soul-shaking terror they inspired.
In past wars, the Gnolls had been largely invincible by relying on these two factors.
On a dieval battlefield, without the intervention of Extraordinary power, a fearless army was often the most terrifying thing.
If the Gnolls had been attacking ordinary soldiers, their vile aura alone would have been enough to make peasant levies drop to their knees and beg for rcy.
Unfortunately for them, they were now facing Robson’s most elite troops.
Frank’s Elite Infantry. The na itself had "Elite" in it, as if taken straight from a ga stats screen.
Such petty intimidation tactics were useless against real Soldiers.
Flaun quickly identified the problem. His vile aura, which had always been so effective, had no impact on these humans. The enemy continued to thrust and withdraw their longspears with thodical discipline.
’This is bad! I’ve run into a tough opponent!’
Flaun imdiately recalled what Daimon had told him about an army that could stonewall Centaurs on open plains!
’This is not good!’
"All of you with Battle Aura! Charge straight onto the walls! Carve a path for us!" Flaun commanded.
’The battlefield is too narrow right now,’ he thought. ’My Gnolls can’t leverage their superior numbers at all.’
He was also crystal clear on his objective for this mission: destroy that Magic Crystal Cannon. As long as it was gone, his forces could still rely on their numbers to wear the enemy down in a battle of attrition.
If it remained, they would likely break and rout before they could even finish retreating. At that point, the roles of attacker and defender would be completely reversed.
With that thought, Flaun hesitated no longer. He charged onto the fortress wall and, standing in the moonlight, let out a long howl. The cry clearly had a stunning effect; even so of the Tier Five Soldiers were montarily dazed.
Under the moonlight, Flaun’s fur began to whip about as his pupils turned silver. The full might of a Silver Sixth Tier was on display.
"Huh?"
At that mont, watching this Gnoll with its whipping fur, the new Silver Fourth Tier Bo Yang, the Silver Fourth Tier Emil, the Silver Fifth Tier Viscount Leo, the Silver Fifth Tier Viscount Fuman, along with a host of Bronze Tier Knight Orders and Qimo Fortress nobles, all stared at him, stunned.
Flaun instantly felt several gazes carrying the power of the Silver Tier lock onto him. For a mont, a chill went down his spine.
’Wait, what? Why are there so many high-tier Extraordinary beings here?’ For a mont, Flaun was at a loss, his gaze flicking toward Robson, who was busy giving orders.
’Whatever! I’ll kill him and get out of here!’
"Damn it! He’s going after the Lord!"
"Stop him!"
As the crowd ignited their Battle Auras, Flaun finally saw the situation clearly.
’There are dozens of Extraordinarys packed onto this wall! Why didn’t they make a move earlier?’
Of course, Flaun had no way of knowing that Robson was deliberately holding these noble lords back to test his own soldiers.
Bo Yang was the first to react, moving to block Flaun’s path.
"Get out of my way!" Flaun swiped with his claws. How could Bo Yang, who had just entered his tier, be a match for Flaun, who was on the cusp of the Gold Tier? He was sent flying several ters.
"Bastard! Face my blade!" Viscount Fuman raised a Western Sword and, with no fancy flourishes, thrust directly at Flaun.
Flaun tried to dodge, but discovered that Viscount Fuman’s Swordsmanship was surprisingly masterful. He couldn’t parry the attack with brute force alone.
"Father?" Just then, Bo Yang picked himself up off the ground. To a Silver Tier, the blow he’d taken was rely a minor injury.
Watching Viscount Fuman’s swordplay, Bo Yang recognized it at a glance: it was the ancestral Swordsmanship of the Caucasus family.
For a mont, watching his father’s blade dance with their family’s signature style, Bo Yang was lost in a daze.
He was only just now rembering. This father of his—the man who spent his days buried in paperwork, who was always pleasant and agreeable, who excelled at playing the peacemaker—had, thirty years ago, been a hardened veteran. He was a man who had broken through the enemy’s central lines, fought in dozens of battles during the defense of the Royal Capital, and ultimately, survived.
That older generation had all clawed their way out of mountains of corpses and seas of blood.
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