High above the road, the Xian heavy siege frames groan. They aren't firing alchemical jars this time; they are hurling massive, iron-shod boulders designed to crush stone. Master Lyra’s mages on the battlements scream as they weave shimmering magic barriers, but the sheer momentum of the Xian assault is overwhelming.

  One boulder, trailing a tail of blue pyromantic flame, punches through a flickering ward and slams into the main wall of the fifth checkpoint. The sound is like mountain-breaking thunder. A massive dent appears in the masonry, dust and mortar raining down on the defenders below.

  "The wall is holding, but only just!" Varek’s voice carries from the height. "Aran! Get back inside! Now!"

  Aran turns toward the side postern, but the mountain chooses that moment to yield.

  A direct hit from a secondary siege frame strikes the cliffside just above the ledge path. The stone bridge—the only connection between the road and the postern door—shatters. With a sickening roar, the path collapses into the abyss below.

  Aran skids to a halt at the edge of the jagged drop. He is trapped on a narrow strip of road with only a handful of Valdris guards. Between him and the safety of the fort is a fifty-foot gap and a thousand-foot fall.

  And in front of him is General Shen Ruo.

  The Xian commander stands at the forefront of his vanguard, surrounded by a wall of heavy-armored infantry. Ruo himself doesn't move. He watches Aran with the cold patience of a predator.

  With a flick of his fingers, Ruo sends the heavy soldiers forward.

  "They aren't using magic," one of the Valdris guards whispers, his voice trembling. "They're just... coming for us with steel."

  Aran realizes the trap instantly. Ruo knows the Sword of Devouring’s hunger is useless against pure, physical weight. They are intentionally avoiding any spells that Aran could drink. They are content to grind him down with numbers and iron.

  "This is a kill zone," Aran says, his eyes narrowing. "Varek! Goran! Don't open the gates! You'll let the whole vanguard in!"

  He turns to the handful of men trapped with him. "Go back. Climb the vertical face to the upper ridges. I'll hold them."

  "Duke, we won't leave you!" the lead guard protests.

  "That's an order!" Aran snaps, his voice cutting through the din of the siege. "There is no place for defying orders in this pass. You are more useful on the battlements than dying on this road. Move!"

  The men hesitate for a heartbeat, then scramble for the jagged rock face, using the cracks and fallen debris to begin a desperate climb.

  *Lyra!* Aran calls out through the mental link, his thoughts sharp and urgent. *I need a ride. Now. The bridge is gone.*

  *I'm sending the Gryphon-corps, but the fire is thick!* Lyra’s voice rings back, strained. *Hold on, Aran!*

  Aran turns back to the advancing iron wall. He becomes a blur of black steel, the Sword of Devouring singing as it meets the Xian shields. He strikes, parries, and pivots, using the narrowness of the remaining road to prevent them from surrounding him.

  Shen Ruo remains still, his hand resting on the hilt of *The Iron Sovereign*. He is waiting.

  As Aran becomes deeply involved in the slaughter of the heavy infantry, his focus momentarily narrows as he parries a trio of spear-thrusts.

  That is the opening Ruo was looking for.

  The General moves with a speed that defies his massive frame. *The Iron Sovereign* descends in a vertical arc that would have cleaved a boulder.

  Aran barely brings his blade up in time. The impact is so great that he feels the vibration in his teeth. He holds the block, but Ruo doesn't pull back. Instead, the General's heavy boot lashes out in a brutal front-kick.

  Aran manages to bring his free hand down to absorb the blow, but it is like being hit by a battering ram. The force flings him backward, his boots leaving the ground. He skids across the stone and lands twenty feet away, his arm numb and his lungs screaming.

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  Ruo doesn't pause. He is already charging, the Greatsword raised for the finishing blow.

  A shadow falls over the road. A piercing, avian shriek echoes through the pass.

  Aran looks up and sees the great wings of a Guild Gryphon dipping through the smoke, its talons extended.

  "We will meet again, Ruo!" Aran roars.

  He lunges into the air, his fingers catching the leather straps of the Gryphon’s harness just as the beast levels its flight. Ruo’s blade whistles through the empty space where Aran had stood a second before, striking sparks from the stone.

  The Gryphon beats its wings once, twice, hauling Aran up into the freezing mountain air.

  Below, General Shen Ruo stands on the road, looking up. He doesn't look angry. He simply rests his sword on his shoulder and watches as his prize slips away toward the upper checkpoints.

  But Xian isn't finished with the hunt.

  A series of shrill, metallic whistles cut through the roar of the siege. From the shadows of the lower peaks, dark shapes emerge—Xian Wyvern-riders, their mounts' scales glinting like oiled obsidian. They dive with terrifying speed, their riders brandishing staves that glow with the same blue pyromantic fire as the siege frames.

  "Hold on!" the gryphon rider yells, banking the beast into a steep climb as the first wyvern sweeps past, a lance of flame missing them by inches.

  Two more wyverns peel off from the main formation, flanking them. The riders unleash a synchronized volley of firebolts. Aran leans out into the rushing wind, the Sword of Devouring humming with a dark, predatory intent. He swings the blade through the air, and the firebolts aren't just deflected—they are pulled into the sword’s bottomless hunger.

  "Keep climbing!" Aran roars, parrying another streak of blue flame. "I'll keep them off our tail!"

  As the gryphon banks sharply, hauling Aran away from the road, the full scale of the devastation unfolds beneath him.

  The fifth checkpoint is a churning cauldron of fire and dust. From his height, Aran can see the Xian siege engines working like heartbeat-rhythms, their arms swinging in terrifying unison. Blue pyromantic fire streaks across the sky in flat, low arcs, while the wyverns circle the battlements like vultures.

  Aran clings to the harness with one hand, his other still white-knuckled around the Sword of Devouring. "Turn back!" he roars at the rider, but the wind swallows the words.

  A volley of pyromantic bolts streaks toward the gryphon's flank. Aran leans out, the black blade humming as it catches the energy. He drinks the fire, the sword's facets glowing with a violent, stolen radiance, but the impact of the mana surge nearly tears him from his seat.

  "There's more!" the rider screams, pointing.

  Another wave of iron-shod boulders is in the air. Aran tries to reach out with the sword, but it finds no purchase on the massive physical weights. These aren't pure spells; they are hybrid projectiles combining both magic and physical force.

  Below on the battlements, Agvaran mages are working in a desperate, synchronized frenzy. They strike the stone floor, and massive slabs of living rock rise up like shields to meet the bombardment. Earth walls erupt from the masonry, thick and reinforced with mana, but they are meeting an irresistible force.

  The boulders strike with sickening regularity. The earth walls don't just crack; they explode into shrapnel. Each impact sends a fresh shockwave through the fortress. Aran watches, helpless, as a section of the upper tower—where the archer corps was stationed—simply ceases to exist under a double-hit of iron and fire.

  The mages' barriers flicker and die, their strength exhausted. The Xian vanguard, seeing the internal collapse, surges into the breach of the main gate like an incoming tide.

  "The fifth is lost," Aran whispers, the words lost to the roar of the mountain wind. "Lyra, order a complete retreat to the sixth checkpoint!"

  ********* Chapter end *********