The frontlines shake as Nyssara's massive shield-bearers march forward, their stone bulwarks grinding up from the soil with every step. Arrows and bolts of mana slam into the raised walls, sparking and snapping, but they hold. Behind them, monstrous infantry howl and press forward, emboldened by the cover.

Nyssara thrusts out one of her jagged blade-limbs, her voice booming over the battlefield.

"Push! Grind their little pits into dust!"

At once, her units channel their earth mana deeper, hardening the soft earth until it becomes solid stone. The trenches and shallow pits dug by Lefast's soldiers lose their bite—collapsing edges become flat ground, spikes dulled as if swallowed by stone itself. The clever ambushes are neutralized in moments.

A soldier on the wall gasps, his knuckles white around his spear.

"They… they've ruined the pits. All that work, wasted!"

But Velira doesn't flinch. Her crimson cloak snaps in the smoky wind as she watches, calm, steady.

Savon glances at her.

"Velira—our first traps are gone. What now?"

Her lips curl, faint and sharp.

"That was never the real trap."

She raises her hand. Her voice cuts through the thunder of battle.

"Wait until they advance further… just a little more…"

The hulking shield-bearers march on, their claws crushing broken stakes, their stone-hard ground nullifying the pits meant to swallow them. Behind them, ogres and scaled warriors surge with a roar, closing toward the outer barricades.

Velira's eyes flash.

"Now."

She slams her palm down toward the plain.

"Activate the trap!"

On the ramparts, the mages who had stood waiting draw talismans from their belts. They press them to the ground, mana flaring. In an instant, sigils hidden beneath the soil blaze to life.

The soldiers of Lefast know—you shouldn't be able to place active spells in the ground, not without unstable collapse. But the talismans from Ashedge clan had frozen those spells, storing them in waiting like coiled serpents. All it took was the signal.

The ground explodes with light.

A thunderous crack tears the air as runic circles erupt beneath the monster vanguard. Frost bursts outward in jagged sheets, followed by spirals of flame detonating from beneath. The shield-bearers roar in shock as their stone walls crumble, shattered from below. Ice lances rip upward, skewering scaled beasts. Fire pillars burst like volcanoes, consuming whole ranks in crimson light.

The shockwave knocks even ogres sprawling.

Screams fill the field—monster voices guttural and high, a chorus of rage and pain.

A young archer on the wall stares wide-eyed.

"By the gods… it worked! They're burning, they're—"

Velira doesn't smile. Her gaze is cold, calculating.

"Don't be fooled. This is only the opening act."

The smoke clears. Charred bodies litter the churned earth, frozen husks crackle and collapse. But compared to the endless tide behind them, it is a wound, not a killing blow.

Perhaps a hundred, perhaps more—snuffed out in seconds. But in the face of four hundred thousand, it is nothing.

Nyssara's laughter rings, though sharper now, edged with fury.

"Clever little rats! You think this will stop me?!"

Her blade-limbs snap outward, her shield-bearers rallying to her cry. More monsters press forward, stepping over their fallen without hesitation.

On the walls, the soldiers' cheers falter, fading into grim silence as the reality sets in.

Savon exhales through clenched teeth.

"A hundred gone… but hundreds of thousands remain."

---

The clash rages on through the long hours. By the time the sun begins its slow crawl toward the horizon, the battlefield is a wasteland of smoke and blood. The earth outside Lefast's walls is blackened and torn, bodies scattered in heaps both human and monster.

Arrows keep flying, spells keep flashing, but the pace slows. Both sides are weary, their roars and cries dulling beneath the growing weight of exhaustion.

From her vantage, Sorin watches with her usual stillness. Her general's cloak flutters faintly in the breeze, her eyes sharp as she studies the walls. Nyssara's voice still booms across the field, demanding another push, but Sorin raises a hand.

"That's enough."

Nyssara turns toward her sharply, one blade-limb twitching.

"They're faltering. We can break them before night falls—"

"No—we don't need to conquer everything in a day." Sorin cuts her off, voice calm but edged with authority that leaves no room for protest. "Our soldiers are already exhausted. The sun is setting. Pushing further now wins us nothing but more corpses on the field."

Veltha coils beside her. "Do we just let them breathe? After all this?"

Sorin glances at her briefly, then back toward the burning walls of Lefast. "Let them. Their breaths will only taste of ash by tomorrow."

Thurn clicks her mandibles in amusement, her dark form silhouetted against the dimming light. "I agree with her. Night favors us, yes… but it also hides their tricks. Better to strike when the dawn strips them bare again."

Nyssara growls low, but when Sorin's eyes meet hers, she finally lowers her blades.

Sorin lifts her hand again, her voice carrying across the battlefield like iron on water.

"Pull back. Form camps. We take the city tomorrow."

The order spreads like wildfire through the monster ranks. Drums thunder, guttural horns echo. Slowly, the tide of beasts and soldiers begins to peel away from the walls, dragging the wounded and leaving behind the fallen.

On the walls, the defenders watch in disbelief.

A soldier slumps against the battlement, sweat streaking his face. "They're… pulling back? Gods, they're actually pulling back."

"Don't relax," Velira warns sharply. She stands tall, her cloak heavy with soot and dust. "They're not done. They're simply patient."

Savon leans on his spear, chest heaving. "Then tonight, at least, we breathe."

The defenders' relief is quiet, fragile, like a candle in the wind. They don't cheer—not when the plains below are still covered in corpses, not when the enemy only retreats to strike again.

Outside the city, magic torches spring up one by one, lining the monster encampments like a second horizon. Massive tents rise, fires crackle, and drums echo into the night.

From the walls, Lefast's people stare at the ocean of lights.

One archer whispers, voice trembling, "It looks like the stars fell to earth…"

Velira stands on the battlements, her hands resting lightly on the stone as she watches the sea of torches flicker across the plains. The enemy camp sprawls like a living wound—fires, shadows, and the endless murmur of monsters settling in for the night. Her crimson cloak flutters in the cooling breeze, eyes sharp, unblinking.

"They're just testing what we're capable of," she says quietly, her voice carrying more weight than volume.

Odgif steps up beside her, his axe strapped across his back. His scarred face is lit in orange from the enemy fires, and his expression is grim. "Aye. They're testing the walls, the traps, the tempo of our defense. And the two tier 6…" He pauses, glancing toward the horizon where the pressure still lingers, heavy as a storm. "They didn't even come out. But their presence… I can feel it in my bones."

Muv adjusts her hair, the plumes on it trailing in the night wind. Her eyes narrow as she studies the sprawling camp. "Tomorrow, they'll stop playing. They'll come in force, serious about breaking through."

Velira nods once, her gaze never leaving the horizon. "Which means tonight is the last breath we'll get before the storm."

Odgif huffs through his nose, folding his arms. "Then we sharpen the blades, tend the wounded, and pray the walls hold another day."

The three stand in silence for a moment, the glow of the monster camp stretching endlessly across the plains.

----

Inside the monster encampment, the largest tent glows with the firelight of braziers. The air is thick with the mingled scents of iron, smoke, and beast. Maps are spread across a low obsidian table, marked with crude sigils of Lefast's walls and surrounding terrain.

Sorin sits at the head, her presence commanding even without raising her voice. Her crimson eyes sweep across the others before she speaks.

"Tomorrow," she says evenly, "we will conquer that city no matter what."

Nyssara, leaning against a pillar, her folded blade-limbs twitching restlessly, lets out a sharp laugh. "Now that I think about it… had we pressed harder earlier, we might have broken their outer wall already. They would've been forced to retreat behind the inner defenses." Her tone drips with frustration.

Thurn, seated cross-legged in the shadows, tilts her arachnid head. "Perhaps. But had we done so, we would have bled needlessly. The humans are clever with their little traps. Even now, some of our units lie charred or frozen."

Veltha coils herself in the far corner, her scales shimmering faintly in the firelight. Her golden eyes narrow. "Sorin made the right call. The first day was always about measuring their strength. Tomorrow, we strike without mercy. The defenders won't survive a second storm."

Nyssara scoffs, her laughter cutting through the heavy air. "Mercy was never in my plans."

Sorin leans forward, her voice low but firm. "Nor in mine. Still—we will not waste our soldiers on reckless charges. Every trap they set today will be burned away tomorrow. Their talismans are finite. Their stamina is finite. But ours…" She gestures to the camp outside, the endless fires, the endless shadows of the horde. "Ours will not break."

Thurn chuckles darkly, her many eyes glinting. "And when their tricks are spent, their walls will be nothing but stone waiting to fall."

Veltha hisses softly, tail swaying behind her. "Then it is decided. At dawn, we break them. And this city becomes ours."

Sorin rises, her cloak brushing the floor, her gaze cold and unwavering. "Good. Rest well, then."