Chapter 201: Destroying Cities and Overthrowing Fortresses, Momentum Like a Rainbow

(Just returned to school, plenty of time on my hands, seizing the chance to post extra chapters—big ones at that! Comments are much appreciated, haha.)

"Battle mages, stand ready!"

"Heavy cavalry regiment, prepare for deployment!"

"Elite infantry units, assemble!"

Stationed at the edge of the plains within the Kingdom of Selwintan, the Alestler army stood poised. Before the main road leading into the heart of the kingdom, three distinct divisions waited for the command to strike.

These forces, representing the bulk of Alestler’s military might gathered to crush Selwintan once and for all, were far more elite than the troops that had previously clashed on the open plains.

Alestler was done waiting. This battle would be the final act.

"For Alestler! For our kingdom! Soldiers, advance—we shall return in triumph!"

Amidst the cacophony of thousands of gathered soldiers, the commander-in-chief’s voice boomed through amplification spells. The horn of war sounded.

"Acknowledged!"

"Yes, sir!"

"Advance!"

Captains and commanders roared in response, waving their banners. Leading their troops, they followed the projections cast by the mages hovering above, moving in a massive, orderly tide toward the Selwintan border.

High above, scouts utilized long-range observation spells to track the movements of the enemy garrisons.

"Attention: twenty kilometers ahead lies the Rock Fortress of Selwintan. It is the only line of defense before the capital. It is heavily guarded, though it is unclear if they possess sufficient enemy mages or sorcerers."

The report reached the command center. After a brief deliberation, the commander issued his orders.

"Halt at ten kilometers. The mage corps will initiate a joint bombardment on the fortress. All other units, stand by!"

"Understood."

The orders were relayed instantly. The mages converged, weaving layers of enhancement spells across the entire army.

Warmth of Fire, Barrier of Breeze, and Blessing of the Earth—three low-level protective spells enveloped the Alestler ranks.

The biting cold of the Selwintan border was dispelled by the concentrated inert fire elements, while the Barrier of Breeze ensured the relentless northern winds from the St. Anna snowfields could not sap the soldiers' body heat.

Finally, the Blessing of the Earth smoothed the rugged terrain, with earth elements filling in ruts and leveling bumps to ensure a steady march.

With the mages' aid, the harsh environment of Selwintan proved no obstacle. The Alestler army pushed deep into enemy territory, reaching the Rock Fortress twenty kilometers away.

The geography of Selwintan dictated that their population could not be dispersed; eighty percent of their people were concentrated in the capital and its immediate surroundings.

Along the march, the army encountered no major towns, only small villages and hunter cabins. Lacking a penchant for slaughtering civilians, the Alestler soldiers saw no reason to kill unless provoked.

Of course, for those fanatics who charged with crude weapons, screaming "For Selwintan!", the army showed no mercy. The iron hooves of the heavy cavalry crushed them without a moment’s hesitation, the march never faltering.

The vanguard cavalry observed their surroundings. Small villages became increasingly frequent, with civilians peering from behind glass windows, their faces etched with terror and dread.

The soldiers’ resolve remained unshaken. These were veteran iron-riders, men of blood and steel who executed orders without a second thought, making them the most reliable vanguard in the realm.

In the distance, the Rock Fortress came into view.

Selwintan soldiers stood solemn and still upon the thick, hard stone walls. Solid fortifications blocked the road, and rows of iron-willed Selwintan troops stood ready in the snow outside the fortress.

"Well-defended" was an understatement for the fortress’s current state.

"A thorny line of defense... but this time, we are fully prepared. Such an immovable fortress cannot stop us. Infantry, bring up the alchemical bombs. Mages, prepare for joint casting—ready the earthquake formation."

The commander analyzed the holographic projection of the fortress, his voice calm.

Without these preparations, this line would have cost Alestler dearly. They could have taken it, yes, but the casualties would have been catastrophic.

Now, however, Alestler’s superior alchemy and magic were the keys to shattering the bastion.

Infantry dragged crates of alchemical bombs to the front lines.

Most were products of the Royal Shadow, varying in quality, but their sheer quantity was staggering.

The sheer density of the bombs made even the Alestler soldiers uneasy; if they all detonated at once, it would be no laughing matter.

"Roar!" Creatures resembling giant gorillas with white fur erupted from the surrounding snow. Standing four meters tall with arms as thick as a man’s waist, these beasts were clearly formidable.

"Ice Golems." These elemental constructs were enhanced by the abundance of ice elements in the Selwintan snow, though their power was limited.

"These scrolls finally have a use. They’ve been gathering dust in the mage tower for years. These fragile but strong Ice Golems make the perfect bombers."

The lead mage of the support squad tore open a summoning scroll, manifesting another massive golem. Around them, the ground was littered with discarded, spent spell scrolls.

Hundreds of these golems now stood at the front. They lacked the intelligence for complex maneuvers, but carrying alchemical bombs to the enemy line was well within their capabilities.

"Go!" The mage’s simple command sent the mindless golems forward, laden with the deadly cargo.

The golems moved with surprising agility across the snow, terrain that would have slowed horses and men to a crawl.

"Heavy cavalry, follow them. Mages, continue the earthquake spell and wait for the signal. Those not involved in the joint casting, begin the assault on the fortress."

"Understood." The cavalry advanced behind the golems as the mages began their incantations.

Dark clouds gathered in the sky above the Alestler army, drifting toward the Rock Fortress with a slow, ominous momentum.

A weather spell: Cumulus Storm. In the freezing climate of Selwintan, it would manifest as a hail disaster capable of cracking skulls.

More importantly, arcs of electricity crackled within the clouds, thunder echoing through the valley and triggering minor avalanches in the surrounding mountains.

The power of nature, amplified by the mages' currents, turned the storm into a prelude of lightning.

As the thunderheads reached the fortress, the Selwintan defenders realized the danger and retreated behind the walls to escape the unnatural phenomenon.

"Clatter, clatter," hail larger than fists rained down, accompanied by blinding lightning. The hail obscured vision, while the lightning struck randomly, claiming unlucky souls.

Any soldier below the rank of Knight would be injured by a single strike; those below Squire would be rendered combat-ineffective instantly.

"Fall back! Retreat inside the fortress! Don’t stay out in the open!"

The defenders were forced to withdraw, lest they suffer heavy losses before the enemy even arrived.

As the weather spell took hold, the Ice Golems, burdened with their alchemical payloads, closed to within three kilometers of the fortress.

The Selwintan soldiers at the base of the walls finally noticed the giants. Their white fur camouflaged them against the snow, and their roars were swallowed by the howling wind.

"Prepare to defend! Deploy the necromancers' countermeasures!" The soldiers adjusted their formation.

A few grey-robed mages tore open scrolls, downed mana potions, and began chanting necromantic incantations.

Necromancy, one of the best arts for defensive warfare, was the only way Selwintan’s meager magical forces could compensate for their weakness.

"Click, clack, roar!" A sudden, guttural sound erupted ahead of the Alestler advance. The snow burst open.

Skeletons in tattered armor, wielding standard-issue blades with ghost-green flames burning in their sockets, and zombies with withered muscles but iron-hard strength surged from beneath the snow, rushing toward the Ice Golems.

These undead were numerous, buried in wait beneath the frost. A single surge of mana had awakened them, a tireless tide meant to drown the enemy.

These were the remains of Selwintan’s elite soldiers. Though they lacked their former skill, their magically-driven bodies retained their formidable strength.

"Boom!" A giant fist from an Ice Golem slammed into the first wave of zombies, driving them deep into the snow.

"Graaaah!" The zombies felt no pain, and the soft snow absorbed the impact. Unharmed, they let out shrill, raspy roars, clawing at the golems' bodies and sending shards of ice flying.

"Awoooo!" A horde of undead soldiers, outnumbering the ice golems several times over, surged into their ranks. The zombies, far more agile than the skeletal infantry, leaped upward to scale the golems' massive frames, their jagged claws raking incessantly against the frozen bodies until shards of ice rained down like hail.

The ice golems possessed immense strength, yet they lacked the speed and defensive finesse to counter such a swarm. Unable to shake off the clinging undead, they could only pluck the pests one by one, tearing the wretched things in two with brute force.

"Awooo, crack!" One golem, besieged by too many foes, found the joints of its arms riddled with damage. After a zombie clamped its jaws onto the limb and thrashed with violent intent, the arm snapped clean off.

Deprived of its limb, the golem could no longer strike effectively. As the slower skeletons arrived to join the fray, the golem was tripped by the sheer mass of the shifting undead tide and crashed heavily into the snow.

In an instant, the golem was submerged by the army. Claws and blades pierced its form, and though its magical core was buried deep within, the relentless, rain-like barrage of attacks eventually found its mark, shattering the core into oblivion.

This was but a microcosm of the battle. Undead creatures, though mindless, possess an innate sense for magic; under the command of their necromancers, they are driven to extinguish any "living" thing before them.

To them, the golems, driven by magical cores, were indistinguishable from the living. They sought out and destroyed these cores with frantic, singular focus.

Before long, dozens of golems had been swallowed by the undead tide, their cores torn asunder, leaving behind nothing but piles of ice indistinguishable from the surrounding drifts.

"Hmm, that’s enough. Send in thirty more golems. Let those undead creatures swarm them and cluster together!"

The mage commanding the golems watched the destruction with cold indifference. Though the golems were no match for the undead in direct combat, they were packed to the brim with alchemical explosives.

Thirty more golems advanced, acting as living lures that drew the full attention of the undead.

Dense masses of skeletons and zombies scrambled over one another to climb onto these defenseless giants.

The mindless undead failed to notice that, aside from the fresh wave of golems, the other white titans had already begun to retreat.

The golems moved swiftly across the snow, covering three hundred meters in half a minute—just enough time for the new arrivals to be completely engulfed by the horde.

The undead tore into the golems' bodies, and it was clear their destruction was only moments away.

But Alastair’s mage had already achieved his goal. The staggering number of undead soldiers was now concentrated atop the golems, and explosives, above all else, favored such tightly packed prey.

"Roar!" The retreating golems moved in unison, pulling the alchemical bombs from their own chests. With a thunderous cry, they exerted their immense strength to hurl the payloads forward.

The bombs soared across the distance, landing squarely upon the dense clusters of undead. Then, in a staggered, deafening symphony, explosions of varying power and range erupted, tearing through the front lines.

The durable frames of zombies and skeletons meant nothing against the blasts; bone fragments flew like shrapnel, and charred, severed limbs rained upon the earth.

The thick layer of undead covering the remains of the golems was obliterated by the hundreds of bombs thrown by the retreating units.

The chain reaction reached the massive caches of explosives still held within the destroyed golems.

Explosion triggered explosion, and all the bombs detonated nearly simultaneously. "Boom!" A blinding pillar of fire erupted, a massive column of flame blooming amidst the undead ranks.

"Clatter, snap, crackle." A sky full of undead remains rained down after the blast, hitting the snow with a chaotic, discordant rhythm.

Pure, unadulterated destruction remained the most effective tool against these persistent foes; no matter how much they ignored pain, they were useless once reduced to ash and slag.

The undead army was easily dismantled, and the faces of the defending Saint-Entan soldiers turned pale. These undead warriors, originally intended to target Alastair’s soldiers, had been lured astray from the very start.

It would have been fine if they had simply cleared away those troublesome white giants as they had initially appeared to do.

Instead, the undead had barely shown their might before being reduced to garbage in the explosions. This was a disaster.

"Whoosh! Boom! Whoosh, whoosh, bang!"

Alastair’s offensive did not slow. With the undead obstacle removed, the golems accelerated, a thundering force pressing toward the fortress, hurling alchemical bombs with every step.

Though the quality of the explosives varied—some lacked power, others failed to detonate entirely—the sheer volume rendered such flaws irrelevant.

Explosions bloomed like flowers of fire, debris flew, and the shockwaves caused the surrounding mountains to slide, threatening to collapse the very slopes.

"No, we cannot hold the line! Fall back into the fortress! Defend against the bombs, then retaliate with ballistae and crossbows!"

The Saint-Entan soldiers outside the fortress were surrounded by the relentless barrage; counterattacking was a fool’s errand.

They had no choice but to retreat behind the sturdy walls, hoping to weather the bombardment and exhaust the enemy’s supply.

The defenders scrambled inside, while the garrison within braced for the next phase.

"We must have alchemical bombs of our own, right? Move them all to the ramparts! Push them down the moment they try to scale the walls!"

"And those precious magic scrolls sent from the capital—use them! Burn every 'Earth-Vein Collapse' scroll we have. I don't care if you bring the whole valley down, just don't let them in!"

"Ready the Blades of Sacrifice as well. If they breach the walls, do not hesitate. Take a few of them with you before you die; drag them into the embrace of our Lord!"

"Move! Crossbowmen, get to the firing ports and keep the area ahead suppressed! Set up the ballistae—even a Great Knight can't take a hit from one of those."

"Use the advantage of the fortress! Do not fear them. Even if their magic is formidable, it cannot—"

The Saint-Entan commander barked orders, trying to galvanize his men. The Rock Fortress had plenty of surprises for Alastair’s army; the undead had been nothing but an appetizer.

He urged his soldiers not to fear the enemy’s sorcery, even as the memory of the "Destroyer Meteor" shattered their confidence. They could not afford to yield to terror now.

But the commander had underestimated the terrifying power a mage could unleash when given the proper conditions.

Before he could finish his sentence, the entire Rock Fortress began to shudder. The ground heaved, rocking violently in every direction as the power of the earth itself was turned against the fortress’s sturdy foundations.

"What is happening?!" The commander’s voice wavered. The sudden tremor signaled something that turned his face ash-white; on a battlefield where fortunes shifted in a heartbeat, this was an omen of catastrophe.

"Earth elementals... a massive concentration of earth elementals! They are beneath the fortress!"

A mage serving as a staff officer answered, his face drained of color. Though he was a necromancer, he could feel the colossal gathering of earth energy beneath the soil. It was an Alastair spell.

Within the Alastair ranks, led by an Archmage, dozens of formal mages chanted in unison before a pre-prepared array, channeling a legion-level spell designed to shatter the very foundation of the Rock Fortress.

Sixth-tier Legion Spell: Earthquake. The tier did not denote power, but complexity; only raw output could elevate the potency to such heights.

The pile of mana crystals nearby was intended to push this modified sixth-tier spell to an absurd, devastating degree.

Under the combined effort of the mages, the spell was completed. Earth elementals surged and rioted beneath the target, shaking the bedrock, rocking the valley, and violently dismantling the fortress above.

"Rumble." The valley walls succumbed to the tremors, triggering avalanches that poured ice and snow into the gorge.

Amidst the violent shaking, the Rock Fortress—which had no contingency for the wrath of nature—could no longer hold. Its structure cracked down the middle, crumbling and collapsing, taking with it all the defenses the Saint-Entan soldiers had prepared.

"Charge!" A roar erupted from the Alastair lines.

The ice golems tore through the snow, hurling their remaining alchemical bombs at the collapsing ruins of the Rock Fortress.

Behind them, the heavy cavalry gripped their weapons, ready. Once the golems’ explosives were spent, it would be time for the final charge.

The Alastair army surged forward, their momentum unstoppable.