Chapter 355: Chicken Game (3)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 355: Chicken Game (3)
Valhalla's approach was textbook.
They positioned the Flares at the vanguard, and dozens of siege engines spat fire in unison.
Boom.
Boom-boom-boom-boom-boom.
The sky was swallowed by flames.
Defensive magic flared to life as the bombardment struck the walls. Watching the flames scatter across the barrier, the soldiers of Hernad looked up at the sky with tense faces. They couldn't be sure how long the shield would hold. What was certain was that the magic defense formation's durability wasn't infinite, and they lacked the confidence to stop the million-strong army visible beyond the walls.
On the first day, Valhalla focused purely on wearing down the walls' durability.
They didn't rush.
No matter what chaos Dmitry's army was causing elsewhere, they firmly believed the Emperor's army would produce results faster. Thus, they took their time, warming up thoroughly and methodically. Count Gomez, the commander of Valhalla, gazed at the walls of Hernad with a calm expression. Because the Flares blazed all day long, the rebel mages could be seen scrambling frantically to repair the magic defense formation.
Two days later.
The fifth day since Dmitry had crushed the North.
A change occurred in Valhalla's camp.
"It's the mages!"
"To think they even mobilized the mages of the Vagabond!"
They were one of Valhalla's magic towers—the wandering mages.
Famous for roaming from battlefield to battlefield and living freely, they were considered to exert more influence over a war than any other magic tower. They were a special force mobilized directly by the Emperor of Valhalla. Without his explicit command, the mages of the Vagabond would have never answered the summons.
"Lightning Rain."
"Wind Field."
Flash.
Rumble!
The magic manifested.
Accompanied by a fierce, biting wind, the sky turned pitch-black, and dozens of lightning bolts struck down from the dark clouds.
Crash!
Rumble-crash!
It was a devastating magical assault.
The mages of the Vagabond cast spell after spell, while the Flares continued to spew flames, battering the walls relentlessly. The rebel mages didn't just stand by and watch. Some raised defensive magic, others retaliated with offensive spells, and from behind the walls, soldiers attempted to strike back using ballistas. However, the disparity in power was far too extreme from the start. They couldn't perfectly block Valhalla's onslaught.
Furthermore, the walls of Hernad were already heavily damaged.
Having been captured once by the rebels and now subjected to a relentless siege by the Emperor's army, the walls couldn't remain intact no matter how much they were repaired. The rebel soldiers showed clear signs of anxiety. If the magic defense formation was breached in just three days, there was no telling how long they could hold out in the brutal melee combat that would naturally follow.
Ultimately...
Thud.
Crash!
A section of the wall collapsed.
It was over.
The breach had happened far too early. Count Gomez, who had been watching the situation unfold, issued his orders without hesitation.
"All forces, advance! Annihilate every last one of these heinous rebels!"
"Advance!"
The Emperor's soldiers surged forward.
The march of a million men was a truly spectacular sight. To guard against ranged attacks, they overlapped their shields, creating a steel canopy that covered the sky above them. Countless arrows rained down from atop the walls. Though some pierced through the gaps and struck the soldiers beneath, it wasn't enough to stop the Emperor's army from reaching the foot of the walls.
Clack.
Clack, clack, clack.
Ladders hooked onto the battlements.
At the sight of the enemies climbing up one after another, Duke Vieto roared.
"Hold them back! Use any means necessary to stop them! If we fall, the future of Valhalla is over!"
His voice was filled with desperate rage.
However, the situation was far from hopeful.
* * *
The sun began to set.
Where the storm of death had swept through, the bodies of rebel soldiers lay strewn across the walls in gruesome states. This was only the first battle. Having spent most of the first two days defending against magical bombardment, this was their first direct clash with the Emperor's infantry—yet they had already suffered devastating casualties.
Seeing Duke Vieto drenched in blood, Sanchez approached and spoke.
"We need to investigate the exact casualties, but a rough estimate suggests we've lost about fifty thousand men. The Emperor's army suffered more than twice that damage, but the problem is that even so, they still have nearly nine hundred thousand troops remaining. Your Grace, at this rate, it's only a matter of time before Hernad falls."
"...I suppose so. From the moment the Emperor of Valhalla gathered his forces here in Hernad, we stood no chance of winning."
It was a despairing reality.
Duke Vieto looked around with hollow eyes.
Fifty thousand soldiers.
The men who had raised their voices to follow him had been reduced to corpses in a single day. Perhaps this was his own future as well. Even with Roman Dmitry's help, opposing the Emperor of Valhalla—a man who wielded absolute, omnipotent power—was a reckless endeavor. Yet, he had drawn his sword knowing full well what lay ahead. The fact that death was now at his doorstep didn't matter to him.
"The only silver lining is that Roman Dmitry has already brought down Luenos and Portbell."
It was good news.
However, no matter how fast Dmitry's forces were, it was impossible for them to create a variable within a few days. With no guarantee of how long the rebels in Hernad could hold out, even a week wouldn't guarantee enough time for Dmitry's army to conquer Santino, seize the Warp Gate, and threaten the Valhalla Imperial Court.
Therefore, this was a burden the rebel forces had to bear alone.
Roman Dmitry was fighting desperately, but they had no luxury to worry about his progress right now.
Duke Vieto spoke.
"Perhaps we risked our lives in an absurd fight from the very beginning. I am sorry to Roman Dmitry, but I don't believe he can achieve results significant enough to save Hernad in just a few days. We will likely all die. Simply because we spoke up for what was right for Valhalla, we'll be branded as rebels. Even in death, our corpses will be trampled and desecrated."
It was an expected outcome.
The desperate situation forced reality upon him.
"But that doesn't change the fact that we are in the right. We will struggle until the very end. Even if every single rebel dies here in Hernad, we will plant the embers of Valhalla in the hearts of its people. Then, someday, someone who inherits the soul of Valhalla will surely carry on our will."
He clenched his fists in bitter sorrow.
He had already accepted that the rebellion had failed.
* * *
On the sixth day.
The Dmitry Allied Forces arrived in Santino.
Having conquered Luenos and Portbell in just three days, they had marched day and night, reaching Santino in less than a week. It was a truly remarkable achievement. With exactly one day left of the week Roman Dmitry had promised, they focused on resting rather than pushing themselves on the day of their arrival.
The next day, they mobilized their forces.
After drawing up their lines at a distance from the walls, Roman Dmitry walked slowly toward the fortress of Santino.
And then...
Step.
He came to a halt.
From a relatively close distance, he met the countless gazes staring down at him.
"I am Roman Dmitry of the Dmitry Kingdom. I challenge the Lord of Santino to a Great Warrior Battle."
A Great Warrior Battle!
At those words, a clamor arose atop the walls.
It was only natural. A Great Warrior Battle was a traditional duel used to seize momentum through individual martial prowess, and there was no way Santino possessed anyone of that caliber. In fact, such a person didn't exist in all of Valhalla. Just think about it. Ares, who had declared his allegiance to Roman Dmitry, had defeated Alvarez and Cesar one after another. Who could possibly face Roman Dmitry, a man clearly superior even to Ares?
This was a fight clearly disadvantageous to Valhalla.
Atop the wall, Count Santino poked his head out and shouted.
"I refuse! Your filthy intentions are transparent. Why on earth would we accept such a proposal?!"
His voice was resolute.
Hernad was on the verge of collapse.
The battle there would be decided within the next two or three days, and he had absolutely no intention of ruining their advantage by playing into Roman Dmitry's hands. Furthermore, the retreating forces from Portbell were also stationed here in Santino. Because Roman Dmitry had swiftly conquered Portbell to save time, its surviving troops had fled here. Thus, Santino now possessed an even larger garrison.
Moreover, they had already obtained intelligence that the enemy would attempt Dispel attacks.
Just as they had countered guerrilla tactics with firefighting magic in the past, they had quickly devised a countermeasure for this as well.
Roman Dmitry smiled.
"How truly pitiful. I once heard that Valhalla was a nation of warriors who never fled from a duel, regardless of victory or defeat. To think it has now degenerated into a country where calculating profit and loss comes first. Then how about this? Ten, or even a hundred—I will accept as many challengers as you wish. If you open the gates and come out to face me, I won't take a single step back from this spot."
It was blatant mockery.
The opponent's reaction? Completely predictable.
Utter silence.
They kept their mouths shut. They knew that if they continued the conversation, Valhalla's pride would only plummet to rock bottom.
Seeing this, Roman spoke.
"Well, if that's how you're going to play it..."
Slide.
He reached into his robe and pulled something out.
And then...
Riiiip!
"I will come to you."
* * *
It was a magic scroll.
Mana surged.
Glowing brilliantly, wings of light unfurled behind Roman Dmitry's back.
Flutter.
"Fly."
Flight magic.
Roman Dmitry rose into the sky.
Having received intelligence that Ares had once scaled a wall using daggers, Valhalla's mages had cast a spell on the outer walls to make them frictionless, preventing them from being used as footholds. But regardless of that, the walls of Santino were so high to begin with that leaping over them in a single bound was an impossible feat.
And yet, they had never expected him to fly.
Staring at Roman Dmitry with a panicked face, Count Santino shrieked at the top of his lungs.
"Stop him! Do not let Roman Dmitry set foot inside the walls!"
Whoosh.
Thwip, thwip, thwip!
Arrows rained down from all directions.
In an instant, a dense cloud of arrows swarmed toward Roman Dmitry, but their efforts were entirely futile.
"Fire Shield."
"Fire Shield."
Whoosh. Blaze!
Flames erupted, enveloping Roman Dmitry in a protective sphere.
The arrows were instantly reduced to ashes. Roman Dmitry didn't slow his flight in the slightest, as if he had anticipated this exact defense from the very beginning. Then, the mages of Santino stepped forward. Their mana erupted explosively, showing their desperate determination to shoot Roman Dmitry down.
However, the result was the same.
The mages of Phoenix and Hector protected Roman Dmitry.
They blocked the incoming attacks using Dispel and defensive magic, allowing Roman Dmitry to reach the vicinity of the wall in the blink of an eye. It was a truly absurd sight. One side was desperately trying to get a single man onto the wall, while the other side was struggling frantically, as if their feet were on fire, to stop him.
It was an illogical development.
Normally, such a tactic would be suicidal and meaningless, but when the vanguard was Roman Dmitry, it was a completely different story.
'If we let him inside the walls, it's over.'
Even from across the border, they had heard the rumors of the overwhelming, god-like martial prowess displayed by this single individual.
Realization finally dawned on them: the Great Warrior Battle had been a feint from the start. Roman Dmitry had fully anticipated they would refuse the challenge and used it as a pretext to get as close to the wall as possible. And even if they had accepted the challenge, he would have gained the advantage regardless. No matter who represented Valhalla, there was no way to defeat Roman Dmitry in a duel.
"Stop him! I said stop him!" Count Santino screamed.
It was an unforeseen disaster.
The mages pushed their mana to the absolute limit.
They finally managed to pierce through the allied magical defenses and launch a direct attack, but it was effortlessly blocked by the Sword Barrier Roman Dmitry conjured. Fly was a spell that merely granted the ability of flight; it didn't restrict one's combat capabilities. That meant with Santino's current forces, there was absolutely no way to bring Roman Dmitry down from the sky.
Had they known in advance, they might have prepared for it.
Ultimately...
Tap.
Roman Dmitry landed lightly on top of the wall.
At that moment, desperate, furious cries erupted from all sides.
"Attack!"
"Kill him!"
Crash! Rumble!
They rushed him from all directions.
The soldiers of Santino, eyes blazing with fury, swarmed Roman Dmitry like a cloud of hornets. It was a spectacular sight. Using Fly for siege warfare was a tactic that had been popular in the distant past. The reason it had quickly fallen out of favor was that even if a mage or knight managed to land on the wall, there was no guaranteeing their survival against the immediate swarm of defenders.
Therefore...
Slash!
"Argh!"
...the outcome of this tactic depended entirely on the individual using it.
Soldiers collapsed, spraying blood into the air.
Having slaughtered dozens of enemies in an instant, Roman Dmitry raised his head and locked eyes with Count Santino, who stood frozen some distance away.
"Contact the Valhalla Imperial Court immediately. Tell them Santino is in danger."
He smiled.
At that chilling sight, Count Santino hurriedly scrambled to pick up his magic communicator.