Overwhelming Firepower

Ironhold, the once bustling fortress city, was now a little quieter than usual. Lucen had sent a majority of the people to the newly expanded city of Dorsen and the nearby villages.

With them was Lucen’s brother Cael, and the old butler Vahn. Despite Cael wanting to stay, he understood that he would only be getting in the way, so he, alongside the others, left for Dorsen.

So now the only people left in Ironhold were soldiers. At the break of dawn, his Father, the Iron Duke, arrived alongside the army of Stellhart.

At the break of dawn, the gates of Ironhold opened. The sound was deep and heavy, wood reinforced with steel grinding against stone. A thin mist lingered over the streets, pale gold under the rising sun.

The city that once rang with hammer strikes and merchant calls now stood silent, disciplined, and bootsteps echoed.

The army of Stellhart marched in column formation through the main road. Armor bore dents. Cloaks were torn.

Still, their faces, despite looking exhausted was filled with a readiness for battle. At their head rode Duke Vardon Thornehart.

The Iron Duke did not look left or right as he entered his city. His presence alone was enough to straighten the backs of the soldiers lining the streets. Unlike everyone else, his armor was still in pristine condition.

He had not stepped forward into battle yet. He was waiting to see if Marquis Valeire had a trump card prepared for him, as the rumors said he did.

He was unaware that the Dragon’s Claw Sir Thalos dealt with was the so-called trump card prepared to deal with him.

Duke Vardon met with his son on the battlements facing northward. Lucen, hearing the familiar footsteps, smiled a little.

He had become good enough to sense another person’s presence even without the use of any of his skills. Lucen turned around and gave a knight’s salute.

”I’m happy to see you alive, Father.”

”You as well, my son.”

The words were simple, but Vardon’s gaze lingered a fraction longer than usual. He had watched men older than Lucen break under less pressure. Yet his son stood steady, eyes clear, calculating.

Vardon’s lips curved a little as a thought came to mind. ’As expected of true Thornehart.’ After thinking that, his curved lip went back to a neutral position.

Vardon stepped beside his son and rested both hands upon the cold stone of the battlement. From there, the northern plains stretched outward in pale morning light, and the snow made it colder than usual.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The wind carried the faint scent of frost and distant earth. Below them, soldiers moved into position with quiet efficiency.

”You evacuated them,” Vardon said at last.

”Yes,” Lucen replied. ”The monsters that are coming affect the mind and disrupt the mana of the area, and then one’s own mana and aura. It would then corrupt them and induce madness, making that person attack whatever is in sight.”

”Demonic mana, is it...” Vardon spoke softly before continuing. ”Demons, a story made to scare children, a fairy tale that would teach one not to be greedy, a myth that only a few know.”

Vardon looked at Lucen, who was standing beside him. ”Beyond the time of the First Duke, in a past when dragons flew freely in the skies, when the elves were at their strongest, demons from a world beyond ours appeared. They were powerful beings and cunning beings.”

Vardon paused for a few seconds before he continued.

”They used souls as their currency, as their source of strength; they wanted to enslave every sentient being. The Gods, Goddesses, Dragons, elves, and every mortal being at the time fought back and won the war... Are you telling me that those beings are about to appear again?”

Lucen shook his head slightly, the cold wind brushing past his face. ”No, well, not yet, I guess. Demonic mana given to monsters must mean someone either found a source of demonic mana or someone made a deal with a demon. Either way, this just means that someone has forced this monster wave upon us.”

”Are you saying, Marquis Valeire has made a deal with a demon?”

”Could be, it could also be someone else who wants us Thorneharts gone.”

”Hmph, they can try, but the shield of Norvaegard is not so easily broken,” Vardon spoke in a way that you could feel his determination and pride.

”I know, Father, but they aren’t our only enemy. Before those monsters even arrive, the Marquis and his men will arrive first.”

”Let them come, no matter what or who they are. No one has ever breached the walls of Ironhold, in the past or even in the future.”

***

The people in Ironhold prepared for the upcoming battle. Ammunition was stacked in reinforced crates along the inner walls.

Spare weapon parts were laid out in organized rows. The dwarves worked without pause, sparks flying in a steady rhythm as damaged armor was hammered back into shape.

There was another fortress outside of Norvaegard, but the position might be harder to defend, so Vardon and Lucen concentrated everything into Ironhold.

In all of Norvaegard, there was no fortress as sturdy as Ironhold. The walls with rune engravings were crafted from a combination of monster materials, rare ores, steel, and stone.

Not to mention, unlike the make-shift fortress they created at the border, only had two Roaring Thunders, Ironhold had a few dozen of them placed on the battlements.

Not to mention the old model Thunderspears, also the mounted Gatling guns were placed all over the battlements.

Still, Lucen wasn’t planning to waste too many resources on Marquis Valeire’s army. He already had some idea as to how this battle was going to play out.

He and his Father did their separate things and started preparing for the battle that was to come.

***

Lucen was given the right to command by Duke Vardon, who only made a move when absolutely necessary.

Even now, it was unclear if there was something else that was coming, which is why the strongest force they had needed to be on standby.

It didn’t take too long before the Marquis’s army could be seen walking through the eastern forest. There was no hesitation as Lucen gave the command for all Roaring Thunders to fire.

”FIRE!”

The command was heard by everyone, and without delay, they fired. A heartbeat later, the battlements erupted.

The sound of the combined might of the Roaring Thunders made the battlements shake a little bit, as the booming sound rang in everyone’s ears.

The recoil struck the reinforced platforms like a battering ram. Thick iron supports groaned as the massive barrels discharged in perfect unison.

Powder smoke burst outward in violent plumes, engulfing the gunners in choking clouds before the wind tore it away.

Then came the delay, a fraction of silence, but that didn’t last long as the impact happened. A part of the eastern forest had vanished, alongside the men and women under the Marquis.

Shells the size of wagon wheels tore through the forest in overlapping arcs, detonating with concussive force that flattened trees as though they were reeds in a storm.

Earth erupted skyward in towering columns of soil and shattered wood. Shockwaves rolled outward in expanding rings, ripping branches free and hurling bodies through the air.

They had thought that they were ready for the artillery fire, as they had experienced it before. As long as they concentrated their barrier spells and layered upone one antother they thought they could block it.

Unfortunately for them, what they had experienced was only the shot from one or two Roaring Thunders; this was a shot made with a few dozen Roaring Thunders.

The tactics they had created before had no effect at this point. Now most of the normal soldiers have gone. The remaining ones were mostly aura users and mages.

The smoke did not clear immediately. A wall of dirt, ash, and splintered wood hung in the air like a second dawn, but darker. The shockwaves rolled back toward Ironhold, rattling loose frost from the battlements.

For several seconds, there were no screams, only ringing ears. Then, from within the devastation, silhouettes began to rise.

A shimmering dome flickered into existence, fractured but intact. Beneath it stood several mages, their robes torn, blood trailing from their noses as they struggled to maintain a layered barrier.

Around them, aura users emerged from craters, their mantles flaring violently as they pushed debris aside.

Truly, these people were superhuman; if it were back in Lucen’s old world, no normal human would be able to survive a direct hit from that.

Still, that synchronized artillery fire had affected Marquis Valeire’s side more than just physical pain and death.

A few were blazing with anger and vengeance, but most were demoralized and wanted to flee, but they understood that fleeing now would not just be shameful, but they might be put to death as well.

If they were going to die either way, it would be better to fight it out until the end than die as cowards. The Marquis did not even need to give a command.

The aura users surged forward like streaks of light, mantles blazing as they crossed the ruined forest in violent bursts. Each step shattered frozen earth. Each leap closed impossible distances.

Behind them, the surviving mages split apart, spreading wide to avoid another synchronized volley. They started chanting varying spells to start attacking the fortress. The sun hadn’t fully risen, as the battle had intensified.