[The First Day of Destruction, 20:15]
[The Inner Wall — The Kill Zone]
The collision was seismic.
It did not sound like the clash of steel. It sounded like the sky itself was fracturing. High above the killing field, the elite Principality Peace angels completed their mathematical descent.
"Holy Ray!"
The singular, booming command echoed from the bleeding lips of Seraphic Knight Elena. A hundred celestial constructs obeyed. A dense grid of searing white light slammed directly into the advancing black undead legion. The beams of concentrated divine mana were as thick as ancient oak trunks.
HISSSSSS.
A shockwave of weaponized steam and violently displaced air exploded outward. The sheer ambient heat instantly evaporated the blood pooled on the cobblestones. The blinding light faded. The terrifying reality of the Sorcerer Kingdom's vanguard stood revealed.
The lead Death Knight had not stopped. It had not broken its stride.
It raised its towering shield. The dense, dark resin caught the concentrated holy fire. The trapped faces stretched across the shield's surface writhed. They wailed. It was a localized chorus of pure agony.
The unholy resonance made the defenders' teeth ache and their vision blur. The dark artifact actively devoured the divine kinetic energy. It radiated foul, freezing smoke, but the giant of black iron kept walking.
"Dive! Wing One, harass their left!" Commander Vane screamed from the parapet.
The order tore his throat raw. He gripped the stone edge, fighting the urge to recoil from the wailing shields.
"Do not let them dictate the pace! Break their lockstep!"
Fifty Archangel Flames swooped low. Their burning swords left trails of golden fire in the viridian gloom. They moved like a flock of predatory birds. They slashed aggressively at the joints, the knees, and the exposed neck-guards of the leftmost Death Knights. Sparks flew like fireworks caught in a hurricane.
CLANG. CRUNCH.
The lead Death Knight did not bother raising its flamberge. It pivoted its torso with terrifying, mechanical torque. It backhanded the closest angel with the flat of its screaming shield. The physical force of the blow was staggering. The celestial construct did not bleed. It shattered into a thousand jagged shards of fading light. Its physical form was violently unmade in a fraction of a second.
"Casters! Now! Overload the grid!" Vane roared. He pointed his broadsword down at the skeletal cavalry trotting behind the infantry line.
The entire length of the battlements lit up. Dozens of exhausted mages burned their deepest, most dangerous mana reserves. Cascades of roaring [Fireballs], jagged [Lightning Bolts], and concentrated pillars of [Holy Smite] rained down into the plaza.
The skeletal Soul Eaters did not dodge. They did not break their haunting trot. They unhinged their equine jaws unnaturally wide.
Furthermore, they inhaled.
A terrifying vacuum of arcane pressure formed in the dead zone. The descending fire, the crackling lightning, and the holy wrath were physically pulled off their trajectories. The spells spiraled like water circling a drain. They funneled directly into the Soul Eaters' gullets.
The magic did not harm them. It fed them. The suffocating purple aura wreathing their skeletal forms burned brighter. The necrotic mist grew visibly thicker.
If they can eat Tier Magic, we have no artillery, Vane realized. A cold spike of dread pierced his lungs.
We are fighting an ocean with swords.
"They're eating the magic!" a senior caster shrieked. She dropped her staff. She fell to her knees, weeping in pure, unbroken despair.
"Switch to physical!" Vane adapted with ruthless speed. He grabbed a trembling militiaman by the pauldron, violently shaking him out of his stupor.
"Archers! Piercing headers! Aim for the mounts! Aim for the joints in the iron!"
Down in the plaza, the bloated Blood-milk Hulks reached the first line of outer barricades. These were heavy piles of masonry rubble and iron-reinforced carts set up to break cavalry charges.
The three-meter-tall monstrosities did not try to climb the obstacles. They smashed them. Massive, pale fists pistoned forward. Thick, white alchemical sludge pumped visibly through their translucent veins, driving the horrific musculature. They pulverized the granite blocks. Iron axles snapped like dry twigs. They cleared a wide, flat path for the undead legion with mindless, terrifying efficiency.
"Level Fours! Strike the center!" Vane commanded into his crystal.
"Break the Hulks!"
The heavy Principality Peace angels dived. They were significantly heavier than the lesser flames. One slammed directly into the path of a lean, hyper-agile Death Warrior. The angel thrust its spear of concentrated light. The burning tip drove cleanly through the creature's unarmored shoulder.
The Death Warrior did not flinch. The holy fire boiled its dead flesh, but it registered no pain. It used the impalement as leverage. It spun its torso, twisting the angel's grip. Its dual jagged blades blurred into a windmill of lethal steel. The rusted iron cleanly sliced the angel's right wing off at the root.
Golden, glowing ichor sprayed across the broken cobblestones like liquid sunlight. The crippled angel crashed hard into the ruins. It was instantly swarmed by climbing ghouls.
Yet, the sheer, desperate volume of plunging fire and raining steel finally took a toll. The black iron line visibly slowed. The undead were walking into a meat grinder.
Vane watched the geometry of the killing zone collapsing. Agile Giant Ghouls began to rush the newly pulverized gaps in the barricades.
"Pull back!" Vane ordered.
"First and Second Cohorts, fall back to Brace Line Two! Do not let them grab you! Maintain the porcupine!"
The regular infantry retreated. They were terrified, bleeding, and exhausted. Still, Vane's relentless drilling held them together. Their spears formed a dense, bristling wall of iron tips as they backpedaled toward the inner courtyard funnels.
"Paladins! Brace the chokepoints!" Vane yelled.
The heavy undead vanguard breached the first perimeter. The lead Death Knight heavily stepped over the burning, splintered remains of a supply cart. It stopped.
It tilted its horned helm upward. Its burning crimson eyes locked directly onto Vane across the expanse of the battlefield.
It knows who I am, Vane realized. His blood ran cold. It is calculating my threat level.
The monster raised its dripping flamberge high. It viciously slashed the air in a wide, horizontal arc.
A localized wave of compressed dark energy a [Negative Impact] violently washed over the upper rampart.
"Shields!" Sir Kaelthas roared. His voice was a gravelly thunderclap above the magical hum.
The Vanguard Paladins on the wall slammed their heavy tower shields down. They interlocked the steel edges. The dark shockwave hit them with the force of a battering ram. Enchanted steel buckled. Solid stone cracked beneath their boots. The sheer entropic weight of the attack forced men to their knees. Blood instantly sprayed from their noses and ruptured eardrums.
Further down the line, Valerius of the Flame-Brand was physically thrown backward by the blast. He crashed hard into a stone merlon. Blood poured freely from his nose and the corners of his eyes.
The pyromaniac scrambled back to his feet. A manic, terrifying laugh tore from his throat.
"Is that it?!" Valerius screamed. His armor vented thick white smoke.
"Is that all the Evil has?!"
He hurled a massive, unstable glob of boiling magical fire down at the Death Knight. He completely ignored the severe burns blistering his own flesh.
The battle rapidly dissolved into a claustrophobic, intimate grinder of attrition.
Angels slashed with burning swords. They were dragged down and dismantled by the crushing weight of the Hulks. Human casters burned their internal mana pools until their veins literally turned black with necrotic shock.
Down in the courtyard, the Vanguard Paladins held the narrow chokepoints. Their heavy shields glowed with the golden light of [Fortress of the Faith]. They formed a literal wall of holy iron. They physically forced the towering Death Knights to halt their advance and grind against the divine barrier.
It was a brutal, uncompromising stalemate of steel and bone. But Vane looked at the raw numbers. He knew the cold, mathematical truth.
The Theocracy was bleeding out infinitely faster than the dead.
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