CHAPTER 65: CHAPTER 65: I’LL HOLD THE REAR!

After the council meeting ended, Ryan once again requested an audience with Grand Duke Moriarty.

Ryan wasted no time on pleasantries.

"I believe you’re already aware—the City of the Forge is no longer what it used to be. The Archmages have decided to evacuate."

"Evacuate?!"

The Grand Duke stared at Ryan in utter shock.

"Evacuate to where? Don’t tell me..."

Ryan shook his head.

"It’s not because they’ve broken through to the Sanctum level. They plan to head further south, to seek hope atop the glacial seas."

"The fire of the City of the Forge can no longer resist the bitter cold of winter."

As Ryan spoke, the truth struck Moriarty so deeply that even he couldn’t maintain composure or reason.

"The mages are preparing the supplies for evacuation. But if the City of the Forge cannot withstand the cultists’ assault, many nobles won’t have the chance to leave."

"Once the demon-worshipping cult invades the city, where do you think they’ll go—east or west?"

To the east lived the commoners and slaves; to the west, the nobles and mages.

And food existed only in the hands of nobles and mages.

"So before that happens, we must repel the cultists’ attack."

"Keep them outside the walls. Only then can the nobles leave safely with the Archmages."

"You wouldn’t want to flee in a panic when the time comes, would you, Your Grace?"

Moriarty looked at Ryan.

"Whitman... this matter..."

"Leave it to me. But I’ll need food to boost morale. Without it, how can I expect starving peasants to stand against demonspawn? You know as well as I do—last time, it was the mages’ spells that saved the city."

Moriarty nodded in agreement.

"You’ll have your food. Just make sure the cult doesn’t break through."

"You have my word."

Ryan patted his chest confidently, then turned to leave—heading again toward the Mage Academy.

Before Archmage Amethyst, Ryan’s eyes remained steady and resolute, like a seasoned warrior.

"The cultists may come for food—but the demons behind them crave blood and sacrifice."

"I assume you don’t want the Academy’s mages fighting before they depart."

"If we can’t hold the line and the City of the Forge falls into cultist hands, your plan may never succeed. Once out on the ice without the protection of the city walls, if the cult gives chase, how many of your fifteen thousand do you think will survive?"

The Archmage stared at him for a long moment before speaking.

"What do you want?"

"Food. Enough to get at least half of the city through the winter."

"With food, I can rally them to fight the cultists."

"And I want something else—a means to deal with what’s coming. In the last war, the cultists deployed a lava giant. If you’re gone, I have no means of stopping such a monster. The city will fall all the same."

"Food will draw the cult’s eyes to the city. And well-fed soldiers will draw the eyes of the demons. At the very least, it will delay the hunt. So long as they haven’t feasted on the blood of the city, the demonspawn won’t pursue you."

"I will stay behind and cover your retreat."

"I swear, as Viscount Whitman—for three months, I will hold the line. The cult will not pass the City of the Forge."

"Three months from now, I may be dead. Or I may be the city’s sole remaining noble lord."

Appeals to sentiment or duty wouldn’t get food from the mages. Only interest would.

In the end, Ryan secured nearly 500,000 jin (250 metric tons) of food from the Mage Academy. They were, indeed, wealthy.

He stored the food in a granary and ordered Harrington and Brand to guard it with a squad.

Meanwhile, Grand Duke Moriarty and some nobles contributed additional supplies to Ryan’s storehouse.

In just three days, the entire City of the Forge seemed to spring back to life. Whether slave, commoner, noble, or mage—everyone was tense and active in their own way.

Ryan took command of the city’s defenses.

But he had no real soldiers left.

The five hundred soldiers who should have stood on the walls had all been recalled by their respective noble families. After learning the truth, these nobles no longer wished to spend their wealth fighting cultists.

Ryan had no choice but to conscript slaves—and he promised them: become a soldier, and you’ll get two meals a day.

That offer was too powerful to resist. The city walls were soon lined with fearless recruits. After so much hunger, nothing scared them more than starvation.

Besides, the cultists outside looked no different from them—thin and ragged, save for the terrifying and unsettling gleam in their eyes.

On the fourth day, the cult launched its assault.

Starving cultists swarmed the city, their twisted forms clawing toward the walls. They used logs as makeshift siege ladders. Rocks rained down from the battlements, leaving blood and broken bodies in their wake.

"You worthless trash! Get up there now!"

Outside the city, in the cult’s main encampment, a middle-aged man in a black cloak roared in fury. In his hand was a staff made from a human femur, embedded with a blood-red gem that seemed to devour the soul of anyone who looked at it.

"Your Holiness, let’s use the Blood of the Abyss," a nearby cult elder said. "Otherwise, these peasants will never break the city."

"Use it now? And what, you want us to fight hand-to-hand once inside?"

Ulthado glared at the elder beside him. He very nearly brought the staff crashing down on the man’s skull.

"But the Lord commanded—the mages of the City of the Forge are escaping. If we fail to offer their flesh in sacrifice, we’ll face divine punishment..."

Hearing that, Ulthado shivered. He remembered the horrors he’d seen during previous sacrifices—the fate of the blood-slave victims.

"Fine! Send all the slaves! If they can breach the gates, we’ll unleash the Abyssal Blood and let the Forge’s defenders feel the power of a transcendent army from the depths!"

Far to the south of the City of the Forge, a procession wound its way across the glacial expanse—massive, frost-coated beasts pulling the heavy caravans toward the deep sea.

At the coast, Ryan stood still, holding a violently pulsing amethyst crystal filled with magical energy. His gaze remained calm as he watched the group vanish from sight.

Returning to the city, he heard the roar of battle thundering from afar—but Ryan trusted that Harrington and Brand would hold the line.

He once again entered the nobles’ council chamber.

There were few people left.

None of them were nobles anymore.