Eight hours later...
A thick fog veiled the sea, cloaking the night around 9 local time, just as two hundred ships carrying thousands of Normand's troops entered Falhashayr's waters. But this fog was no act of nature, it was a weapon, an advanced technology created by Etrohs.
The fleet split as planned, surrounding the coastline, preparing for a surprise assault.
Once they reached their designated positions, every ship came to a halt.
"Take your positions! Cannons at the ready!"
The order rang out from one of the ship captains.
"In three... two... one... FIRE!!"
Boom!
The sea lit up as cannon fire burst from every direction, unleashing a surprise barrage upon the enemy shore.
Moments later, hundreds of troops stormed onto the beaches, charging with a ferocity driven by purpose.
"YEEAAHHHH!! ATTAAAACK!!!" the troops roared, their war cries echoing over the water.
On the other side, Falhashayr's troops were caught off guard. Panic erupted. Troops scrambled to take positions, racing against the sudden onslaught.
"DO NOT FEAR!! FIGHT BACK!!" shouted a Falhashayr commander, rallying his forces against the wave of invaders.
The battle had erupted.
Steel clashed against steel, screams tore through the air, and the night sky was lit with fire and chaos. Blood soaked the shores. There was no turning back now. Only one choice remained, fight until the last breath.
High above the city, Ronn sat on the tallest spire of Falhashayr, watching the battlefield through narrowed eyes, like a beast surveying its prey.
"So... it's begun, has it? Give me the details," he said coldly, voice like a blade in the wind.
A man stepped forward, panting and bloodied. "Y-Yes, my lord. They launched a surprise attack. They used artificial fog to mask the fleet's movements. Several coastal outposts have been destroyed by cannon fire. Their forces are already storming the beaches, but… for now, we're holding them off."
Ronn let out a long exhale through his nose, expression unreadable.
"Good. Return to your post, and tell Snor this is his moment. Unleash everything. I want the coast painted with their blood."
"Understood, sir." A man bowed quickly and disappeared into the shadows.
Ronn stood, slowly. His eyes never left the battlefield.
"And you..." he said without turning his head.
"How long do you plan to lurk in the dark? Isn't it time for Plan B? Or… have you already failed?"
From behind the chamber door, a presence stirred. A low, chilling chuckle echoed through the room, cold and hollow.
Without another word, the figure slipped away, vanishing into the night.
Not long after, another figure appeared, one familiar and despised by Ronn, yet one of the Falhashayr leaders. It was Mattsh.
"You?? What are you doing here? Isn't your duty over there?" Ronn pointed toward the area he refused to name.
"Oh, come on. Can't you cut me some slack? You won't even mention the slums? Do you hate me that much? Maybe you need—"
"Hahaha, how amusing. The three of us gather at just the right time. But right now, you both need to listen to me first." A mysterious figure suddenly appeared in the corner, cutting off Mattsh's words.
"Whoa! Are you always like this? Crow? You nearly gave me a heart attack, damn it!" Ronn scolded the sudden intruder.
"Sorry, but I want to discuss our next move. There might be some changes to the plan. Alright, listen carefully." Crow explained his strategy to Ronn and Mattsh. Then, as soon as their attention wavered, he vanished.
Ronn and Mattsh both showed annoyed expressions as they realized Crow had disappeared.
At the coast, the 400 trooos under Bant's command had pushed back Falhashayr's troops. Seeing this, Tormand ordered Yorishon and Catryne to lead a thousand elite troops to open the way to Falhashayr's capital.
The thousand elite troops descended and rushed to support Bant, who was struggling as the enemy kept pouring in. But then, something unexpected happened.
"How much longer until reinforcements arrive? They seem endless. My troops are already exhausted, if this continues—" Bant's thoughts raced, but the sudden arrival of the enemy froze him momentarily.
Reinforcements surged again, this time about two thousand cavalry troops waiting just ahead of Bant's forces. Even with Yorishon and Catryne's thousand soldiers, victory seemed far away.
"There's no other choice. Even now, our reinforcements haven't arrived. What's happening? We won't be able to hold them without the elite troops. EVERYONE! FALL BACK!!" Bant shouted the retreat order.
As Bant's troops scattered in retreat, the cavalry seized the moment, charging forward relentlessly, chasing down every fleeing troop.
"Gather up!! Don't scatter!!" Bant shouted urgently to his troops.
Those still fleeing from the relentless cavalry desperately tried to regroup at a designated spot. Slowly but surely, about a hundred weary troops formed around Bant, while the rest—nearly three hundred—lay wounded or had fallen in battle.
"What are they doing? Forming that formation won't save them! Deploy all forces and crush them now!!" the enemy cavalry commander bellowed fiercely.
"Quickly, regroup! Form a tortoise shield formation! Hold your ground! We only have time, until reinforcements arrive," Bant commanded with steely resolve.
The enemy cavalry began to circle, their attacks relentless and coordinated, probing for even the smallest gap in the shield wall with their deadly spears. Meanwhile, the anxious eyes of Bant's men scanned the coastline, searching for signs of their own reinforcements, but there was only silence. The expected backup had yet to arrive, and doubt began to creep in. Why hadn't they come?
Suddenly, a chilling cry echoed from the front lines..
"The enemy attacks!! Aaaahhh—"
Just as hope seemed to falter, from behind shattered rubble and thick trees, a thousand elite troops under Yorishon and Catryne emerged stealthily. For a long time, they had lain hidden there, waiting for the perfect moment, masked by the debris and shadow of trees.
With fierce battle cries, they surged forward, striking from the flanks and surrounding the enemy cavalry. The tide of battle shifted in an instant, the cavalry forces quickly dwindling under the unexpected assault. The arrival of Yorishon and Catryne's forces brought new hope, forcing the enemy to split their focus and relieving the pressure on Bant's troops.
Bant seized the opportunity, disrupting the enemy's formation from within. His troops moved tightly in a turtle formation, hurling spears at the unfocused foes.
Meanwhile, Yorishon and Catryne's forces launched a brutal assault, leaving no room for the enemy to regroup.
Panic erupted as the enemy cavalry faltered, losing all sense of direction. Amidst the chaos, one of the enemy fired a flare into the sky, a clear signal being sent.
Elsewhere, in the capital of Falhashayr...
"Fools! Struggling against a mere thousand troops, and yet they're overwhelmed. These people—"
"Enough, Ronn. I'm tired of sitting here wasting time." A mysterious masked man cut off Ronn's words sharply.
The masked figure strode out of the chamber and towards an altar-like platform. Standing in its center, he began chanting a spell, ancient runes carved in glowing fire swirling around him.
Raising both hands, the flames above him surged, coalescing into a massive, blazing orb.
"This is fourth level magic. Consider yourselves fortunate to witness such a rare power. Fireball!!"
The masked man thrust his hands forward, unleashing a colossal fireball, bigger than a ship, towards the troops on the shoreline.
That wasn't the end.
He unleashed the same spell once more, another colossal fireball, though aimed slightly off from the first. Now two orbs of destruction blazed through the night sky, their terrifying heat warping the air around them. Both troops fell into panic.
"What the hell is that?! Are they trying to kill everyone out here?! Damn it, everyone fall back!!" Bant shouted.
"Don't just stand there!! MOVE!! GET OUT OF THE WAY!!" Yorishon echoed, reinforcing the command.
All troops scattered in every direction, scrambling for cover. But the fireballs moved swiftly, faster than most could react.
Then...
BOOOOMMM!!!
The first fireball struck the shoreline, engulfing hundreds of troops who hadn't made it out in time. The ground trembled. The air hissed from the extreme heat. Screams were drowned in the roar of the explosion.
BOOOOMMMM!!!
The second blast followed, tearing through another swath of the battlefield. Flames surged skyward. Smoke and ash blotted out the stars.
Meanwhile, aboard one of the Normand ships…
"How is this possible? Using a tier-4 spell twice in such a short span? Even the mages in our village couldn't do that," said Darchen, an Elven commander, his voice tense.
"He's right. Only a handful in the world can wield tier-4 magic at all… Could they have allied with Falhashayr? No… impossible. Some of them are supposed to be teaching at the Academy," muttered one of the adventurers, disbelief in his eyes.
As confusion clouded the Normand troops, a lone ship emerged from behind. It carried no crew, only a single figure stood on deck. Sensing something was amiss, Normand's instincts flared.
Normand's eyes sharpened, his battle hardened instinct sensing danger before any word escaped his lips.
"There's something wrong!! Destroy that ship!!" Normand shouted his command.
Boom!
The ship exploded in flames.
But that explosion gave away the location of the Normand fleet. In an instant, cannon fire rained down from all sides. The enemy had surrounded them, three hundred ships emerging from the mist, boxing them in. There was no retreat. The only options were to break through the encirclement or launch a direct assault on Falhashayr.
"All troops, prepare for a direct assault! Deploy one hundred ships to land on the shore! The rest will hold the enemy here!" shouted Tormand, his voice thundering over the chaos.
"To the elite troops, take up your weapons and switch to the landing vessels! Keep moving forward!! Don't look back!! Leave the rest to us! Go attack, Nor!!"
Normand now led 100 ships in a direct assault on Falhashayr.
No more strategies this time, they relied solely on strength, luck, and their unwavering trust in one another.
Meanwhile, Tormand and his remaining 600 troops held the line against the enemy's encirclement.
Back on the shore, the battlefield was in shambles. Thousands who had clashed earlier now lay scattered. Around two hundred Falhashayr troops had survived, along with four hundred from Yorishon and Catryne's troops.
But misfortune struck Bant, his entire unit was annihilated, and he himself was gravely wounded.
With the remaining troops, Yorishon took command and led a charge to carve a path toward the capital.
Catryne, upon seeing Bant barely clinging to life, knelt beside him, tending to his wounds as best she could.
"I don't care how many enemies stand in our way. I'll keep moving forward! Steel your resolve!! ATTACCKKK!!!" Yorishon roared with defiance. "YEEAAHHH!!! ATACKK!!!" echoed the battle cry of his troops, louder than ever before.
Yorishon's forces stormed forward with ferocity, breaking through 200 defenders, then clashing head on with the thousands that awaited them beyond.
Normand and his troops arrived just in time. The path to Falhashayr's capital had been opened, and thousands of enemy were defeated and pushed back by Yorishon and his troops.
Now, the decisive battle awaited in the capital of Falhashayr. Normand, with his 2,000 troops, would face about 4,000 enemy waiting for them inside there.
Meanwhile, the battle at sea was still raging. Tormand and his 600 remaining troops held back 300 enemy ships carrying 3,000 troops.
In the capital of Falhashayr.
Normand's troops locked eyes with the Falhashayr troops led by Ronn.
"Voludra, Yorishon, and Igor, I entrust the command of the troops to you. All of you! Follow me! Attack!" Normand shouted as he charged forward, followed by his troops.
"Rise the shields! Archers, get ready! Mages, prepare yourselves! Let's show these barbaric creatures what true power means. Everyone, get into position! Attack!" Ronn commanded his troops fiercely.
Spells and arrows rained down toward Normand, but he dodged and deflected them with ease. The next wave of attacks followed, targeting his advancing troops.
"Activate the barrier spells! Prepare to strike back! Front guard, follow Voludra and Igor! Move out!" Yorishon commanded, directing the troops to hold their ground and prepare to counterattack.
Meanwhile, Normand had already torn through the enemy ranks on his own. Dozens of Falhashayr troops couldn't withstand his overwhelming force. Then, an elite Falhashayr troop stepped in, attempting to stop Normand's rampage.
"Vixtor! That's me! I'm the one who'll—" Before he could finish, Vixtor's body was sliced clean in half.
Normand blinked, surprised. He hadn't even lifted his hand.
"A battlefield isn't a place for introductions, idiot. Who told you to drop your guard?" said a calm voice. A man stood in front of Normand, sheathing his sword.
"Haha, nice work, Igor," said Voludra, rushing forward and hurling himself into the enemy with brutal force.
Normand grinned, then snapped back into focus. He charged ahead again, no less vicious than before. Each of his blows shattered skulls, killing enemies instantly.
"Surround him! Don't let him run wild!!" Ronn shouted to another his elite troops.
In an instant, Normand found himself surrounded by dozens of Falhashayr elite troops. These were warriors of exceptional skill, attacking from all sides. This time, Normand was in trouble, unable to strike back, his enemies were too agile, dodging every one of his blows.
Meanwhile, Voludra and Igor had broken through the enemy lines and now stood face to face with one of Falhashayr's highest commanders, Mattsh.
This would be a two-on-one battle…
"Would you let me take him on? Step back, I can handle him alone," said Igor to Voludra.
"What, are you underestimating me, old man? Don't regret it if your death—whoa!" Clank! Igor's sudden strike was blocked cleanly by Mattsh.
"You damned old man! You didn't even let me finish my sentence!" Mattsh said with visible irritation on his face.
A fierce clash followed. Despite being a master swordsman from Sworrian, Igor found himself struggling against his opponent.
"Are you also a Sworrian?" Igor asked between strikes.
"Hah? Who knows," Mattsh replied tersely.
Clank!! Clank!! Swossh!!
They unleashed all their techniques, but none managed to land a hit. It was an evenly matched duel, yet Mattsh held the advantage, his stamina far outlasting Igor's.
Elsewhere, Voludra had cleared out the guards protecting Ronn. Now, he was face to face with the enemy commander. But the moment he stepped forward, his body was violently thrown back.
"I couldn't see the attack… What kind of magic is this? No, it felt like a punch. What the hell did he just do? Fine, I'll try long-range," Voludra muttered in frustration, unable to get close to his target.
He began running around, collecting any weapons he could find to throw at Ronn. One by one, each weapon was knocked aside. But then, Voludra noticed something. He threw another weapon, then more—this time dozens at once.
As he suspected, Ronn didn't deflect them, he dodged.
"Just as I thought. You're not blocking at all. And that invisible strike—it's not coming from you, is it? Hahaha… Well then, brace yourself!" Voludra shouted.
He launched another barrage, grabbing every weapon he could and hurling them with precision. This time, one of the weapons hit its mark—Ronn was bleeding.
"Tch!!" Ronn muttered as he wiped the blood from his face.
"Impossible, no wounds? Could you really regenerate? But, I will win!!" Voludra said, sticking out his tongue.
He charged straight at Ronn. His tongue flicked out again just as he clenched his fist, preparing to strike.
Ronn stood calmly before Voludra.
Suddenly, just as Voludra was about to hit Ronn, he spun around. He sensed an invisible figure attempting to attack him from behind.
Quickly, Voludra turned and delivered his blow.
Crack!! The sound of breaking bones.
Blood splattered from the hit.
"CROW!!!" Ronn shouted loudly.
At the same moment...
"Oh man, this situation is getting tougher," said a mysterious man who suddenly appeared beside Ronn.
"What are you—"
"Time to retreat," the mysterious man interrupted.
Voludra watched in disbelief as Ronn and the mysterious man suddenly vanished into thin air.
"Is vanishing one of your abilities?" Voludra asked as he stepped toward Crow, who lay powerless from the blow, checking to see if he was still breathing.
Victory for Normand's forces was now within reach.
"Alright, I surrender," Matssh suddenly gave up as well.
Mattsh threw down his sword, lifting his empty hands into the air. A heavy silence swept across the battlefield. The once-fierce Falhashayr troops faltered. Their leaders had fallen, their will had crumbled.
Eyes widened. Spears trembled. Shields lowered.
One by one, the troops dropped their weapons.
The tide had turned.
Meanwhile, Normand stood bloodied yet unyielding, having single-handedly crushed the elite troops that had surrounded him. His breath heavy, his gaze sharp.
"YEEAAHHH!! YEEAAAHHH!! WE'VE WON!!"
The victorious roar of 2,000 troops erupted across the plains, a thunderous cry of survival and triumph.
But there was no time to rest.
They quickly moved to disarm the enemy, binding those who had surrendered. From the 4,000 Falhashayr troops who had once held the upper hand, only half now remained, and they had laid down their arms.
Yet hope for Falhashayr still lingered… 3,000 troops remained at sea, closing in on Normand's fleet.
The true end had yet to come.
Out on the waters, the clash grew more intense. Fire and steel raged across the waves, until the horizon darkened with a new presence.
Foreign ships.
With no warning, they began bombarding the Falhashayr fleet.
Boom.
One ship engulfed in flames.
Boom.
Another torn apart by cannonfire..
At the helm, Tormand narrowed his eyes and allowed a rare smile.
"So, he kept his word… 3,000 troops, just as promised."
A thunderous cheer rose from the allied ships.
"Reinforcements!! YES!! ATTAACCKK!!"
The final stage of war had begun, not with silence, but with fire.
Victory was theirs.
The sea had been conquered, the land secured.
Tormand and the 3,000 allied troops finally arrived at Falhashayr, only to find the battle already over.
"You're late!! We've already finished here!! Hahahaha!" shouted Normand, grinning wide at his ally.
"Good," replied the allied commander with a satisfied smile. "At least we arrived just in time to destroy the 300 ships that had surrounded you. And as I promised, I brought the 3,000 troops of Borca. We never break our word."
Laughter echoed across the battlefield. Cheers of triumph rang out from every direction. Troops embraced, celebrating the victory they had bled for.
But then—
The wind stopped.
The air thickened.
The sky, once bright, slowly darkened. Black clouds began swirling into a vortex above the battlefield. The air trembled, as if the heavens and the earth were holding their breath.
From every corpse that lay scattered across the field—foe and friend alike—seeped a dark purple energy, twisting like thick smoke tainted with blood-red hues. It hissed and screeched, like a wail from another world.
Voludra froze. Normand narrowed his eyes. The mages instinctively raised protective spells without needing to be told.
Those dark energies pulled toward each other, slowly merging and forming a massive arcane circle on the ground—right beneath the mountain of corpses.
"Everyone fall back!! Fall back now!!" Yorishon shouted, panic in his voice.
Too late..
A blinding explosion of red-purple light burst from the circle. The ground trembled. Wordless screams echoed from beneath the soil—cries of those who refused to stay dead.
From the depths, rotting hands broke through the earth. Hollow eyes snapped open, glowing with dark sorcery.
Eight thousand corpses rose.
Those who had fallen… now stood once more.
Wreathed in an aura of forbidden magic.
And they…
They served no one.