Chapter 202: Army at the Gates, Undercurrents in the Dark

The Rock Fortress, a vital bastion established by Seovintan to guard the approaches to its royal capital, crumbled in less than half a day under the seismic sorcery of the Alestler United Mage Corps.

This served as a grim reminder to the soldiers and citizens of Seovintan that their old adversary was no longer the equal they had faced centuries ago; in the silence of time, the gap between them had widened into an unbridgeable chasm.

"Assemble! Assemble! Get to the ramparts at once! Ballistae and archers, stand by!"

"What of the alchemical golems in the armory? Drag them all out—Destroyers, Guardians, even those archaic goblin-wrought siege engines. Do not hoard the mana crystals; our mages have no use for such reserves, so feed them all to the golems."

"Death squads, prepare yourselves. Ambush them in the snowdrifts. Ready your sacrificial daggers. For Seovintan, offer everything to my Lord! A place in the Kingdom of God awaits you when this war is won!"

The commands of the officers echoed throughout Seovintan. The news that the Rock Fortress had fallen so swiftly struck like a hammer against the already fracturing resolve of the people.

Though the Seovintan spirit was forged in courage and defiance, the common soldiers and residents could not help but succumb to despair when faced with a battle that offered no hope of victory.

Even the bellowed roars of their commanders, thick with fury and desperation, failed to stir the numbed hearts of the men.

"People of Seovintan, do not despair! We are far from defeated. We stand behind our capital, possessing a logistical advantage the Alestler lack. Our supplies are endless, while every resource they expend diminishes their strength."

Suddenly, a voice—calm yet imbued with an unwavering resolve—resounded in the minds of every Seovintan within the capital.

It was the King. No one knew how the voice reached them, but it jolted their spirits, causing them to lift their heads.

"Furthermore, we hold an advantage the enemy lacks: the Alestler army possesses no Legend-rank powerhouse. We, however, have two Legendary Knights, waiting in the shadows to deliver a fatal blow the moment the Alestler falter."

Legend? The word, synonymous with absolute power, sent ripples through the Seovintan ranks. A single warrior who could turn the tide of an army—a Legendary Knight was a near-superhuman entity. This was the strength of a Legend.

To possess such a champion was a massive advantage; if the timing was right, a Legend could single-handedly reverse the fortunes of war. They still had a chance.

"Most importantly, look behind you! That is your home. This is the land where we have lived for centuries. Will you allow this soil, which carries your memories and your history, to fall into the hands of those damned Alestler?"

"No! For the glory of Seovintan, let us fight to the last! Even if we all perish, we shall never let the Alestler set foot in our capital!"

The King’s voice grew fervent, his desperate, impassioned cries igniting a fire in every Seovintan soul.

Their smoldering resolve was rekindled, their blood began to boil, and the hatred for the Alestler army, coupled with the desperate need to defend their hearths, drove these once-broken people into rapid action.

Soldiers rushed to their posts, while common citizens voluntarily brought forth their meager remaining supplies, passing them to the troops or taking up arms themselves—men and women alike—spontaneously joining the defensive line.

Inspired by the King’s telepathic call, the Seovintan people shed their despair.

They forgot who had started this war, and they forgot that even if the capital fell, surrender would likely spare their lives, and the kingdom might not even change hands.

As their blood was stirred, certain truths were conveniently ignored.

...

"Well? Have the Seovintan given an answer yet? The outcome is obvious; what reason could they possibly have to refuse surrender?"

"This isn't the old era anymore. Even in defeat, nations aren't simply wiped off the map. The Church of Light wouldn't allow it, and the other human kingdoms and the four races would never permit it."

Kevin marched amidst the Alestler infantry. As a squad leader, his duties included communicating with the commander and relaying orders.

To ensure cohesion, his commander was Garcia, a Grand Knight and member of the Night’s Edge.

"No reply. The letters of surrender sent through various channels have yielded nothing. Unless we are unlucky enough for every single one to have been lost, they have no intention of surrendering."

Garcia’s response made Kevin frown as he peered toward the distant capital of Seovintan, now visible through his telescope.

"It makes no sense. We know the Seovintan temperament—stubborn and brave—but can they not see the situation? They have no chance of winning. Surrender is the only logical choice."

"Could it be... the Void?"

As a member of the Night’s Edge who had dealt with the Void for years, Kevin couldn't help but suspect that this strange, suicidal courage was the result of the Void’s ability to influence the mind.

"Unlikely. As Night’s Edge, we would have sensed our arch-rivals. While they have the power to influence minds, this feels like the power of the gods they worship."

"Kevin, you have felt that power before—the power that erodes the will. It is not of the Void, or at least not entirely. It is divine sorcery."

Garcia dismissed Kevin’s theory, offering his own assessment.

"Divine sorcery? That twisted, fear-inducing power is divine? And its source isn't a Void deity?"

Kevin was shocked. Having been eroded by the pitch-black substance released by the death squads' blades, he knew how evil that power was—how it invaded the soul and trapped the will in a cycle of endless terror. It felt so much like the Void.

"It is not of the Void. My mentor told me so. It is a god."

Garcia’s tone was firm and earnest. He was certain the power Seovintan wielded was divine.

"Father Fang’s assessment? Then there can be no doubt. But what kind of god would wield such power..."

Kevin fell silent. Father Fang, an Archbishop of the Church of Light and an expert in these matters, was rarely wrong.

"Kevin, you must understand that we have not won yet. Arrogance is our greatest enemy. Seovintan’s lack of resources and isolation have hindered their development of magic and alchemy, but never underestimate a kingdom. It is a collective composed of infinite possibilities."

"Their resources limited their alchemy and magic, but that did not limit their research into divine sorcery and faith. Think of the strange gods encountered during the incursions from the Abyss Gate. Do not forget—in this regard, Seovintan may well be ahead of us."

Garcia’s words were calm and grave. The implication was clear, and Kevin, who had felt victory was already in his grasp, felt a cold sweat prickle his brow.

He knew Garcia was right. His sense of triumph vanished instantly; it was far too early to ponder why the enemy refused to surrender.

"Do not be nervous. The advantage is still ours. Stay steady, follow the plan, and there will be no issues. Remember, our goal is to eliminate the threat, not to annihilate Seovintan."

"Once we breach the capital and break their defense, there is no need for further action. Soldiers' lives are precious; they should not be sacrificed in unnecessary slaughter. Use your discretion, Kevin. I trust you."

As the communication ended, Kevin took a deep breath, steadying his wavering mind.

Their goal was not annihilation, but victory. Excessive bloodshed was unnecessary and would only cost more Alestler lives.

He pocketed his device and signaled his squad to advance. Five more kilometers, and the capital would be within the effective range of the mage corps. That would be the moment for the full-scale assault.

...

In the carriage following the Alestler army, Father Fang was nowhere to be seen. Garcia stared at the communication device on the table, which displayed a message from the Alestler capital. His expression darkened.

"They want a victory message? The celebrations for the new Council members are already prepared, to be held upon the victory of this war. Tsk, tsk..."

Garcia felt a complex mix of emotions. It seemed the Alestler royal family had foreseen this long ago—that Seovintan would be no match for them, and that this victory would serve to bolster their own prestige.

There was nothing inherently wrong with that; the war had to be fought, and news of victory would reach the capital regardless. But receiving such a message before the decisive battle had even begun left a bitter taste.

"Forget it. I hope the mentor succeeds. If this isn't handled well, it will be a great deal of trouble."

Garcia shook his head, pushing aside the irritating thoughts that offered no help to the current situation. He turned his focus back to the movement of the Alestler army; he was, after all, one of the commanders.

"The Seovintan capital has entered the range of the mage corps. Prepare for harassing fire."

The mage battalions halted their advance. The capital, twenty kilometers away, was now within their effective reach.

They retrieved crates of mana crystals from the supply wagons—ammunition for the mages.

"Whoosh!" Flaming meteors of varying sizes tore through the snowy sky, melting the snowflakes into liquid as they plummeted toward their target.

The harsh natural environment of Seovintan dampened the power of these long-range spells, suppressing the fire element. Yet, even simple stone spheres falling from the heavens carried lethal force.

"Alestler mage attack! Obsidian shields! Infantry, fall back!"

The Seovintan reacted instantly to the bombardment; the enemy had arrived.

Sturdy black obsidian shields, possessing innate anti-magic properties, were raised upon the ramparts. The meteors were not large, and their power was stifled by the freezing air, failing to inflict significant damage on the shield wall.

"Bang! Crack!" Hard, stone spheres the size of human heads, wreathed in flickering flames, slammed into the walls and the obsidian shields.

The high-velocity impact shattered the stone spheres, sending debris cascading before the shield wall.

The soldiers bracing the shields were merely knocked back a few paces, their arms and torsos aching and numb. The spell had been cast from too great a distance; even if it struck, only a fraction of its original power remained.

"Attention! The Alestler army is pressing in. Open the gates! Let our troops charge and wipe out their vanguard. And the death squads—the Alestler have entered the ambush zone. Execute!"

The Seovintan scouts, their vision piercing the wind and snow, spotted the massive Alestler host advancing along the frozen road. They reported the situation, and the commander set the trap in motion.

With a thunderous roar, the great gates of the capital swung wide, and fully armed Seintan soldiers surged forth; the snowfields were their domain, and though the mages of Alestler were formidable, the raw might of Seintan infantry remained peerless.

The heavy iron cavalry of Alestler galloped swiftly across the frozen expanse, their movements unhindered by the wintry terrain, bolstered by the arcane enchantments woven into their path.

"Thwip, thwip, thwip." The snow around them erupted as Seintan warriors burst from beneath the drifts, brandishing daggers and hurling themselves with suicidal fervor at the charging iron-clad riders.

The Alestlerians were all too familiar with the strangely shaped blades clutched by these sudden assailants; they were conduits for the corrupting essence that had already exacted a heavy toll upon their ranks.

In a silent, practiced dance, the cavalry shifted their formation, and those bearing distinct markings upon their armor surged to the vanguard, crashing headlong into the fanatics without a moment’s hesitation.

They were the Blades of the Night, devotees of the Lady of Darkness, shielded by the sanctity of the prayer-communion network—the contingency forged specifically to purge this creeping blight.

Horses slammed into the bodies of the zealots, snuffing out the lives of the fragile foes, and the brutal, final war began in earnest.