Chapter 173 The Bastion That Would Not Fall
Fort Westmarch stands on the verge of collapse.
The gates are breached.
The walls cracked.
Enemy forces surge like a black tide into the courtyard.
Smoke and ash veil the sky.
Screams echo between stone corridors.
Knights scatter in broken formations, some shouting orders, some dragging the wounded, some simply trying to survive.
The Margrave nearly dies.
The line nearly breaks.
And yet—
It holds.
Reinforcement arrives at the narrowest margin between survival and ruin.
The breaches are plugged.
Stone and steel reclaim ground inch by inch.
The town does not fall.
Knights reform, battered and bleeding.
The banners still stand.
And Margrave Alaric Vaeloe still breathes.
Inside the Main Keep — The Great Hall
The arrival of Ivaline, Vaelis, and the Four Bastion does not end the war.
But it changes its direction.
Hope.
Not victory.
Hope.
Knights help one another stand.
Those beyond fighting are dragged to the rear.
Blood smears the marble floor in streaks of red and black.
Vaelis stands silently.
Her blade lowered.
Her presence expands.
Not visible.
But felt.
A tightening in the air.
An invisible weight pressing against skin and bone.
The beasts sense it.
Those with sharper instinct step back.
Those ruled by rage charge.
Sching!
Sching!
Clang!
Slash!
HOWL!?
The first sword aura is deflected in time.
The second carves deep across a chest.
Vaelis does not pause.
She does not taunt.
She does not shout.
She unleashes.
One.
Two.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
Three.
The beast assassin retreats step by step, claws scraping stone as it tries to escape the invisible boundary of her domain.
Too late.
Ripped.
The fourth slash severs its neck cleanly.
Thud.
The other assassins feel it now.
This girl is lethal.
They pivot—redirecting toward Ivaline instead.
“Vaelis.”
“Come.”
The beasts hesitate at the simplicity of that exchange.
Ivaline stands opposite.
Sword raised.
Pointed forward.
Vaelis’ domain still expands behind them.
A corridor of death between two blades.
“[Gale Impact].”
BOOM!
The blast detonates across the hall.
Three beasts are thrown back.
One spins helplessly midair like a kite without string.
The other two anchor claws into stone, dragged backward.
They snarl.
Hair standing from head to tail.
“Look. Feet.”
One remains locked onto Ivaline.
The other feels something wrong—
And realize they that were pushed back.
Towards the domain.
Swish…
Splash.
“…?”
The beast watching Ivaline feels its world tilt.
Roll.
Its final sight—
Its ally who got blast back got cleanly divided at the waist.
And its own headless body collapsing.
Yelp!
The last one dashes forward to escape Vaelis’ domain—
Only to find Ivaline already standing in its path.
“No, doggy. Stay.”
Sching!
Slash!
Wind blade from the front.
Sword aura from the rear.
The body falls before the eyes lose light.
“Rush them!”
The remaining pack realizes the danger.
Overwhelm by numbers.
Crush the pair.
But—
“Over our dead body!”
The knights surge from the flank.
Momentum restored.
Steel crashes into fur.
The beasts are split.
Two fronts.
If facing one alone—
Victory.
But trapped between trained soldiers and two monsters in human form?
Now the balance teeters.
The only salvation—
Their Alpha.
The pack will not abandon its kin.
They believe.
And so they fight.
Meanwhile between the gap of the stone pillar.
The aloha now pushing the Four Bastion back.
The Alpha
Clang!
Aldric’s blade meets the Alpha’s claw.
The massive beast moves unnaturally—like Nyssa.
Walls.
Ceiling.
Low slides.
Attacks from impossible angles.
Two vectors at once.
Aldric absorbs the pressure.
Holds its focus.
Whoosh—
RIPPED!
A compressed wind cutter tears through where it stood—
But the Alpha already clings to the ceiling.
Seraphine’s spell detonates a heartbeat too late.
“Annoying mage.”
“Then drop dead already, you stinky beast!”
Boom!
The ceiling shatters.
Compress wind blast.
The Alpha kicks off the wall—
Charges Seraphine.
“How about you die first!”
BAM!
Bram absorbs the tackle.
The impact shudders through the hall.
The ex-templar plants his shield.
He has always believed he could tank anything.
That he would never bend.
But this beast—
This creature—
Shakes him to his core.
BAM!
Another strike.
Two steps back.
Then claws rain down in fury.
“HAHAHAHAHA!!! WHAT’S WRONG, HUMAN?! BENDING ALREADY?!”
Bram grunts.
Shield locked.
Seraphine protected.
Crack
A crack sound emerges with a visible damage on the shield.
Slash!
Nyssa darts low.
Dagger aimed for tendon.
The fur resists.
Skin thicker than iron.
“I can’t cut it!”
“Damn little cat!”
SMASH!
The counterstrike cracks the marble floor.
Nyssa slides beneath its leg—barely avoiding pulverization.
The floor splinters.
Each strike Bram absorbed carried that force.
He’s still standing.
Clang!
Aldric charges the flank.
Blocked.
Stab!
HOWL!!!
Nyssa drives her dagger into its ribs.
Twack!
KYAAA!!!
A massive arm swats her midair.
Aldric slid in and catches her just in time.
“Are you alright?”
“Enough to let you crawl in my bed tonight.”
“Still fine then.”
He drops her.
She pouts.
Raises her dagger again.
Now the Alpha’s gaze locks onto all four.
“Just you four couldn’t best me!”
“Oh really? We think we’ve pushed you back quite a bit, yes?”
Nyssa points to the dagger still lodged in its ribs.
“Minor wound! Your puny blades cannot harm me! The mace and magic cannot hit me! How will you best me?!”
Silence.
The Alpha grins.
Then—
“Then my sword would do the trick.”
“Wha—”
CRASH!
Margrave Alaric’s greatsword descends in a vertical cleave.
The Alpha crosses both arms to block—
But the weight is monstrous.
Far beyond a normal man’s strength.
Runes blaze along the blade.
It’s power to increase or decrease weight.
The ground cracks beneath the force.
“YOU STILL CANNOT KILL MEEEEEEE!!!”
The Alpha raises a claw to strike—
“I did not aim to kill you.”
“Huh?”
Behind it—
Four shadows leap simultaneously.
Swish.
Slash.
Stab.
CRACK!
Wind cutter severs the raised claw.
A blade tears across its back.
A dagger plunges into its neck.
A war hammer caves its skull.
The alpha just realizes too late.
Its own word wasn’t wrong.
Four bastion alone couldn’t best him.
Four could not win.
Five would.
The Alpha collapses.
Silence.
“Your leader is dead! Surrender or be killed like him!”
The Margrave’s voice echoes across the hall.
The surviving beasts look at their fallen Alpha.
Look at each other.
And nod.
Pierce.
Each drives claws into another’s vital point.
The knight shudder when they look into their eyes.
No hesitation.
No surrender.
They follow their Alpha into death.
And instill fear as their last attack.
The Margrave lives.
The hall stands.
But outside—
The war still rages.
Westmarch is not yet safe.
Only breathing.
