Close behind came a combined force numbering fifty thousand.
It was a motley army: ordinary humans, towering Trolls, savage Misbegotten, hardened barbarians, fearless puppets, even Flying Dragons circling overhead.
They had all been promised the same reward. If the city fell, each would receive a lavish bounty.
So long as they claimed enough valuable enemy heads—whether common soldiers or ranking officers—they would be granted Runes and titles to match.
And those fortunate enough to take the head of a Royal Capital hero would be personally ennobled by the Demigods as lords in their own right.
Faith alone ensured the army's baseline discipline. Add to that such nakedly tempting rewards, and the allied soldiers' eyes burned red like starving wolves.
On the eve of battle, they drank strong liquor to steel themselves, shouting at the top of their lungs,
"For our beloved Princess!"
Morale surged. With a roar, they charged forward like unleashed beasts.
Behind them advanced the formidable Volcano Legion under the command of Praetor Rykard.
Compared to the disorderly formation of the mixed troops, the Volcano main force moved with striking discipline. Their ranks were neat, their spacing precise.
They advanced steadily in loose formation.
Rows of crossbowmen, archers, axemen, pikemen, and heavily armored shield-bearers worked in coordinated lines, their order carrying a cold, murderous edge.
Knowing cavalry would struggle to shine in a siege, the Redmane Knights dismounted as one, raising their lances and Greatbows as they pressed forward.
This was a force whose reputation echoed far and wide. In the assault on the outer city, they had been one of the undisputed main pillars. Their Greatbows alone had made enemies tremble.
Numerous allied commanders led the troops personally, but the sheer density of men made it nearly impossible to distinguish one from another.
The mass of soldiers rolled forward like a tide—slow, but unstoppable.
Far in the distance stood the main formation under Valkyrie Malenia: the Haligtree Knights, waiting in readiness.
Among them were five thousand Haligtree Knights of exceptional strength, the most elite cavalry in existence.
Across the lands beyond the Royal Capital, no mounted force could rival them.
Alongside them stood the Cleanrot Knights and Golden Needle Knights. With nearly forty heroes serving as their backbone, this host was as close to invincible as an army could be.
More than a hundred towering siege ladders were pushed toward the walls. Siege engines, spread out across the field, crept forward through the crush of bodies.
These machines had been built specifically for Leyndell's fortifications. Their power had already been proven against the outer walls. The inner walls would fare no better.
So many troops poured in that the entire outer district within Leyndell was crammed tight. Shoulder pressed to shoulder, there was scarcely room to breathe.
When the horn of final battle sounded, the Demigods commanding the host cast aside traditional formations and clever stratagems.
They had made up their minds. With sheer numbers alone, they would let this sea of soldiers swallow Morgott whole.
Even with the ground beneath the walls already packed solid, men kept forcing their way forward. Fresh troops shoved in from behind.
Driven by faith or by the promise of glory and wealth, the rear ranks pushed the front ever onward. In that blind surge, no one could stop, even if they wanted to.
All they had to do was draw their bows and release.
Arrows poured down from the battlements like a torrential storm, weaving an unbroken curtain of death.
Rank after rank of archers rotated into place, maintaining relentless volleys. Thousands of strong bows were drawn full, gleaming coldly.
Across the blood-soaked plain, countless soldiers of the Royal Allied Army fell under arrow fire.
And just as many defenders of the Royal Capital were hurled from the walls.
Cold bodies piled up at astonishing speed, until they formed a low hill encircling Leyndell.
Yet the attackers kept advancing. They stepped over corpses and twisted iron, pushing straight toward the walls.
And waiting there was something even more terrifying.
The arrow storm never ceased, falling without pause.
Massive stones rolled down from the battlements, slamming into the crowd below and crushing soldiers into mangled heaps of flesh.
Defenders poured scalding oil from above. It cascaded downward like a river of fire, instantly searing those climbing the walls.
The oil slicked the stone until it became treacherously smooth. Even those who managed to gain a few steps upward were met with a frenzy of blades and spears. In the blink of an eye, they were cut down and hurled back to the ground.
The assaulting forces were so densely packed that many of the siege ladders and battering engines were swallowed by the crush of bodies, trapped in place and unable to reach the walls.
Beneath the battlements, the impatient and frenzied attackers lost what little restraint they had left. After waiting too long, they began scaling the walls with their bare hands.
The vanguard of the Royal Allied Army continued to shove forward without pause.
Arrows streaked through the sky like meteors, striking heavy armor with sharp, ringing clangs.
There were no weak troops under the Demigods' banners. The rate of full armor was astonishing; even common soldiers were fully equipped.
Still, some units began to falter and were forced back step by step.
Those squads tried to withdraw and regroup, but fresh troops surged up from behind, leaving no path of retreat.
Hesitate for even a moment, and they would be trampled under their own allies' iron-shod boots.
With no other choice, the battered remnants gritted their teeth and threw themselves back into the charge.
The Royal Allied Army's assault never slackened. Wave after wave pressed toward the walls in relentless succession.
Commanders observed the battlefield with cold focus, adjusting timing and pressure where they could.
At last, a path was forced open.
Climbing the ladders braced against the stone, the first Misbegotten troops gained the ramparts. The Royal Capital's Leyndell Knight order stood firm, yielding not a single step.
A savage melee broke out at once.
From the northern wall to the southern stretch of battlements, blades clashed and weapons rang as steel met steel in a furious, unending storm.