Soldiers were stationed on the walls, their eyes fixed on the horizon, waiting for the enemy the Colonel had warned them about. Their blood was still boiling with anticipation, and they were eager for action.
The sky still held the depths of night, the stars faintly flickering as they clung to the fading darkness. In the east, the first hints of dawn began stirring, but the night had not yet surrendered to the light. The soldiers remained vigilant, their eyes sharp, knowing that the veil of darkness would soon give way to the creeping rays of sunlight—all except one, who leaned against the wall with a mocking expression. He turned to his friend and sneered, "Look at you idiots, getting worked up by a few flowery words from the Colonel."
Before he could say anything further, a hand shot out, grabbing him by the neck. The mocking soldier was unprepared and gasped, squirming in pain as he kicked his legs in the air, clawing toward the person, but was unsuccessful so far.
The other soldiers, stunned by the sudden attack, quickly recovered and pulled the two apart.
Cough, cough.
The mocking soldier coughed violently, regaining his breath, then looked up to see the attacker being restrained. "F**ker," the attacker said, barely holding his anger, "say something like that about the colonel again, and I'll kill you."
A chill ran down the mocking soldier's spine, but he masked his fear with another sneer. "How am I wrong? We were called so early, even after finishing our shift. And now, they drag us out here to fight an army. Where is this army? I don't see any—"
Pshhh!
Blood sprayed violently as the arrow struck the back of the mocking soldier's head with brutal precision, its tip puncturing clean through his skull. The force of the blow snapped his head forward, but his face, still twisted in a sneer of arrogance, remained eerily unchanged. The life drained from his eyes in an instant, his expression locked in place as his body crumpled to the ground, the deadly shaft protruding from his skull.
"COVER!" the captain yelled before ducking down. He then turned to another, saying, "Ring the bell!"
The soldier crawled toward the bell tower, his body low to the ground, heart racing with fear. The rusty structure loomed above, holding a giant bell nearly as tall as he was, its size so immense that two people would have to link arms to fully encircle it. But there was no time to admire the bell. His shaking hands found the rough bell rope, and with a desperate pull, he yanked it with all his strength before quickly darting away to avoid the deafening sound.
Pshhh!
Tunnn!
The bell's powerful chime echoed through the city, but it came at a terrible cost. An arrow sliced through the air, finding its mark with cruel precision. The soldier, standing at the base of the bell tower, collapsed instantly, blood pooling beneath him as the weight of the battle claimed yet another life. The bell rang, its solemn toll a backdrop to the silence of death.The remaining soldiers' eyes turned bloodshot with rage, helpless as they watched two of their comrades die within a matter of seconds.
"Prepare to engage! Archers!" came the command from Captain Howard, the officer in charge of defending the wall. Howard, a man in his 40s or 50s, was a seasoned intermediate-realm expert. His black hair, brown eyes, and grizzled appearance spoke of a man hardened by years of battle. Despite his relatively low realm, his strategic mind and combat prowess had made even advanced-realm experts wary of him. His control over the troops was absolute, and this was a person Collum recommended to Erik.
Taking out a small telescope, Howard scanned the horizon. His frown deepened before his expression eased into understanding. "Invisibility magic," he muttered. That explained how the enemy had targeted his men so easily. How they get here so fast was another mystery, but he didn't have the time to solve that.
"Point out their position," Howard said to an earth mage. The mage closed his eyes, connecting with the earth. It took a while as he searched for the echoes of earth that it sounded whenever a soldier stepped on it and pointed toward a spot just beyond the walls.
"Archers! Fifty-five meters ahead, near where Hamya fell!" Howard barked, his voice cutting through the chaos. His command was sharp and clear, a beacon of focus amidst the tumult. He quickly nocked an arrow to his bow, drawing it back with practiced precision. The bow creaked under the strain as he aimed high, his line of sight set as if he were targeting the very sky.
The soldiers scrambled to follow his lead, their movements a mixture of urgency and uncertainty. Hands fumbled with arrows and bows, many of them clearly struggling with the unfamiliar weight and mechanics. Some drew their bows with shaky arms, the strings trembling as they tried to maintain a steady aim. Their faces were etched with concentration and fear, revealing their inexperience with each clumsy motion.
Others managed to stretch their bows, but their muscles strained visibly. The effort was visible in their gritted teeth and sweat-drenched brows. The strain was almost palpable; they fought not only against the enemy but against their own lack of skill and the weight of their gear. The scene was a chaotic spectacle of effort and frustration, each soldier grappling with the challenge of drawing and holding their bows steady.
Howard, though he had anticipated such difficulties, wasn't disappointed. If he was in the training hall, he would've been impressed by how quickly most of them were trying to adapt under the pressure. The makeshift archers, despite their struggles, were readying themselves to face the enemy, a proof to their resolve and the desperate circumstances driving them.
"Die, Alliance bastards," Howard said, his voice producing a little growling sound, releasing his arrow. It soared upward, climbing higher and higher until it reached its peak, then began its descent toward the earth. The arrow struck its target with a sharp…
pshhh*
Hitting an Alliance soldier who fell with a grunt. In the wake of Howard's shot, a volley of arrows followed, launched by the inexperienced archers. They aimed just like Howard, trying to mimic his precision, but their efforts were ruined by their inexperience. Many arrows missed their intended targets, veering off course or falling short.
Despite the inaccuracies, some arrows still found their mark, hitting enemy soldiers who had believed themselves safely hidden. The volley disrupted the enemy's ranks, causing confusion and chaos, even if it wasn't as precise as Howard's shot. The night air was filled with the sounds of arrows whistling by and the occasional thud of an arrow finding its mark, underscoring the mix of desperation and effort from the novice archers.
"Shields!" the enemy captain ordered, but the soldiers didn't heed it or maybe they didn't hear it properly as their eyes were glued on their fallen comrade.
"Once more!" Howard said out loud, nocking another arrow with urgency. The soldiers, still shaky but more prepared, responded by launching a second volley into the sky. This time, their aim improved; as the arrows took to the sky.
"Shields!" the enemy captain said out loud, his voice cutting through the din. His troops, a ragtag collection of bandits and thieves pressed into service by the Alliance, were slow to react. Dazed by the unexpected counterattack, they fumbled with their gear. It took the captain's second command before they hastily pulled their shields from their backs and raised them above their heads, bracing for the impending onslaught.
As the arrows rained down, the air was filled with the solid thumps of projectiles striking shields. Most of the arrows were deflected by the raised barriers, but a few managed to slip through the defenses. These arrows found their way to unprotected gaps in the armor, drawing blood or causing painful injuries. The enemy's ranks wavered momentarily under the relentless assault, the clash of metal and the cries of the wounded marking the ongoing struggle.
"Change," Howard ordered, switching to arrows with fat, heavy heads. His soldiers did the same, and with a signal from Howard, they launched the next volley. The enemy captain sneered, once again ordering his men to raise their shields.
But this time, as the arrows struck, there was an unfamiliar sound.
Shatter.
Something shattered upon coming into contact and the enemy soldiers' shields were splashed with some liquid after the impact, and confusion spread through their ranks. The Iron'Heits soldiers didn't hesitate, sending wave after wave of these special arrows until their quivers were empty.
Howard nocked a last arrow, this time with a flaming tip. A soldier lit it for him, and Howard released the arrow into the air. The enemy captain frowned, noticing a strange smell lingering in the air. His instincts screamed a warning, but he was too late. He looked up just as the flaming arrow arced down toward one of his soldiers' shields.
'Oh no…' was all the captain could think of when he remembered something about Iron'Heits as the flaming arrow struck. In an instant, the battlefield erupted in flames.
The soldiers screamed in agony as the fire spread, clinging to them like a leech. Those who tried to run found no escape, the flames burning through their armor, cooking them alive inside the metal shell. The fire consumed them all, leaving nothing but charred remains.
The enemy captain watched in horror as his soldiers burned. He knew then that he had been used as cannon fodder, nothing more than a pawn to test the enemy's defenses. A bitter smile crept onto his face as he walked through the flames, allowing them to engulf him. As the fire consumed him, he looked up at Howard and said in a low voice, "Good one."
Unlike his men, the captain did not scream. He felt he didn't deserve to, knowing he had led them to this fate.
Howard watched the entire company of 50 burn, his expression unchanged. He knew this was only the beginning. His soldiers, on the other hand, were pale, their initial rush of adrenaline fading. Though they had performed almost admirably with the bows, they were not seasoned soldiers. Many were still shaken from their first real taste of war.
Howard had experience, having once served as a mercenary, and he didn't expect much from his untrained troops. But he was pleasantly surprised by their resolve and determination, though still need a lot of training. If not for the enemy's inexperience, they would've been the one to be burning right now. Despite their inexperience, they had performed well.
Now, however, they stood over the remains of their enemies, pale-faced and nauseous. Some looked at the liquid and distanced themselves from it. They didn't want to turn into a crisp. One soldier doubled over, vomiting onto the ground.
Uahhh!
After emptying their stomachs, many soldiers were left weak and trembling. Some couldn't help but think back to the hearty meal they had eaten just hours ago, wondering if it had been a mistake. Collum also felt like it was a mistake, but didn't point it out. Only through mistakes would one learn.
The soldiers, when done with vomiting, felt a sense of sadness wash over them when they looked at the two bodies that lay next to them, motionless. Even if one was arrogant and said bad things, he was one of them. Only now did they learn why war was cruel, they had heard—but losing someone who had been speaking with you just moments ago was a new kind of cruelty.
"Send them back and notify the Colonel."
Howard assigned four soldiers to carry the bodies of their fallen comrades. Others remained on watch, knowing this was only the first wave. The 50 soldiers they had just faced were nothing but bandits and robbers, captured by the Alliance and sent to waste Iron'Heits' resources.
The soldiers carrying the bodies moved slowly through the ranks, and as they passed, the others clenched their fists and gritted their teeth in silent mourning. For the first time, they felt the helplessness that war brought with it.
Howard, however, didn't dwell on the losses. As a former mercenary, he had seen death many times. He quickly began rearranging his troops, knowing they had to remain vigilant. The soldiers, now extra cautious, kept their eyes peeled, jumping at every rustle of the wind.
"This isn't good."
Howard noticed their growing paranoia. After a moment of thought, he called for his vice-captain, gave him instructions, and left his post—not before putting the earth mage on high alert. He didn't want to lose any more men to carelessness.
"This will be taxing. I should've stayed a mercenary," he said to himself as he walked away.