But there was no light.
Because the horizon was drowned in black.
If you've seen the Orc army effects in Hollywood blockbusters, multiply that quantity by three, and replace the CGI with real living things that smell of rot and beast musk.
Five thousand Wolf regular troops.
Black wolf-skin war banners snapped in the wind, painted with dripping fangs.
The roar of Wargs converged into a tsunami-like wave of sound, shaking dust off the city walls.
In the center of the army stood a massive white wolf—"Ironfang" Garza. He didn't even need to speak; just standing there, the pressure of an S-rank powerhouse made the Cat-kin archers on the wall freeze, unable to even draw their bows.
Deathly silence shrouded the fortress. Despair spread like poison gas.
"This looks... not good." Bjorn swallowed, bear paws gripping his warhammer tightly. "I feel like we're ants trying to stop an elephant."
No one answered. Because everyone felt he was right.
Just then.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
A crisp metal tapping sound broke the silence.
Brad stood on the highest battlement, banging his sword hilt against his tower shield. He wore no helmet; his blond hair danced in the wind, making him look like a god of war from a classical oil painting.
"Hey! Heads up!"
Brad took a deep breath, releasing the roar he used as a starting quarterback on the college football field:
"Look down there! Are those wolves? No! That's walking fur! That's just meat for the grinder!"
He pointed at the black ocean below, face devoid of fear, only a near-reckless fanaticism.
"I know what you're afraid of. You think there are many, they are strong, their teeth are sharp. But let me tell you one thing—where I come from, no matter how many All-Star players the other team has, no matter the odds, the game isn't over until the ref blows the whistle!"
"Alex built this damn wall! Zayla gave you these damn swords! And I—"
Brad slapped his chest armor, making a loud thud.
"I will stand at the very front! Any wolf pup who wants to enter this door has to ask my shield first!"
"Tell me! Do you want to become wolf dung?!"
"NO!" Someone shouted first.
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"Then grip your weapons!" Brad raised his sword, pointing to the sky. "Let these sons of bitches know, this city—NO VISITORS!"
"ROAR!!!"
Though not as uniform as a regular army, this roar finally broke the shackles of fear. Bears roared, Cats drew bowstrings, even Fox sappers gritted their teeth and gripped their Molotovs.
I stood in the shadows, looking at Brad's back.
"This guy... if the world didn't end, he'd definitely be a top used car salesman, or the kind who could sell ice to Eskimos."
I turned to Zayla and handed her a heavy, trumpet-shaped brass funnel attached to a thick rubber hose.
"What is this?" Zayla asked, eyeing the crude device with suspicion.
"Speak into the funnel. The sound waves travel through the buried steel pipes." I walked over to the central command console of the bastion, where five different brass pipes converged like the tentacles of an octopus.
Sarak and Brad were already at their stations at the other ends of the pipes.
"Listen up, all stations. "
My voice resonated clearly through the steel veins of the fortress, reaching the core members hidden in their bunkers.
The Wolves moved.
As I expected, not a full assault.
A vanguard of about five hundred—composed of elite sword-and-shield infantry and sappers—broke away from the main square. They didn't bang their heads against the sturdy main gate but rushed straight towards the flank of the fortress like sharks smelling blood.
Towards Zone C, the spot Lucas had circled in red on the map, marked as a "Weak Point."
"Here they come."
A cruel curve formed on my lips.
"These idiots really don't like the front door."
"Sarak, is that door rigged?"
The Goblin crone's shrill laughter came through the earpiece: "Kekeke! Don't worry, Long-legs! I left them a 'very easy' door. Guarantee they'll come in and won't want to leave!"
"Kaelas?"
"The 'Hell's Brew' is boiling! Ready to serve!" The crazy old man's voice sounded unnaturally excited.
"Good."
I watched the Wolf vanguard flooding into the entrance of the "Murder Corridor" like raw meat jumping into a grinder.
"Let them in."
"Since they want a shortcut, we'll give them a ride—a shortcut straight to hell."
Alex just turned the battlefield into a server lobby.
Question of the Day: What is the best song to play during a final stand?
(Click to set the BGM)
?? A) "The Final Countdown"
Result: Classic & Cheesy. Epic synth riffs start playing. However, if you don't time the explosion exactly with the beat drop, you lose all style points. Cool Factor: 8/10.
?? B) "Welcome to the Jungle"
Result: The Guns N' Roses Protocol. Pure chaos. Appropriate, considering Alex is about to turn this valley into a flaming crater. Adrenaline: 100%.
?? C) "Baby Shark" (Psychological Warfare).
Result: War Crime. The Geneva Convention specifically forbids this. The enemy troops don't die from bullets; they flee to escape the earworm. Effectiveness: Terrifying.
Follow and Rate. The barbecue starts in the next chapter!