The formation Lachlan deployed encompassed full aerial coverage. A special corps flew in circular formation above the infantry marching below. The remaining soldiers were divided into four companies: one dedicated to protecting the logistics team, three arranged in advancing lines. Disciples from various sects and organizations were consolidated into a separate company. Their synchronization and professionalism were the weakest in the force. Lachlan understood the problem but lacked the time for further reorganization.

Initially, the plan had included a unit that would advance underground to ensure three layers of attack and defense. However, with explosives still littering the approach to Maelivar, it was a risk they couldn't take.

The greatest difficulty lay in advancing without utilizing specialized transport equipment. All vehicles had to be stored away. The replacement consisted of square platforms on which soldiers could stand. At first glance, these appeared to be innovations originating from the technological city of Maelivar itself. The army used them for their simplicity, as the platforms could connect along their edges. Their defensive capabilities weren't impressive, but they didn't rely on complex technologies that could be affected by interference waves.

Nathan and his teammates from Verdant Spire Sect stood on one such platform. The transport, maintained by mana stones, intrigued him. The platform hovered at a precise height—high enough to avoid disturbing the explosive wiring on the surface, but low enough to avoid becoming easy prey for the city wall's defense systems.

A hum rose from the wind rushing past, carrying the stench of fire and destruction. The surrounding landscape resembled a painting someone had hurled small flames at. A few months ago, this place had been no different from a painted scene with sprawling grasslands, winding poetic roads, and large trees dotted here and there like artistic touches. Now, earth and stone lay churned up. Deep craters scarred the land, trees were burned to their roots, and the grass was reduced to ash mixed with what had once been human lives. Debris from various devices lay scattered everywhere.

In the cabin of a Caelindor aircraft, an intact human skeleton slumped over, a metal shaft from its own seat piercing its chest. On the other side, a group of soldiers lay pressed against each other, their fingers interlaced, faces turned down forming a small hill. The soldiers who had tried to block the explosions were now a pitch-black, fused mass, transformed by strange powers they had never known. Around them, body parts lay scattered, twisted insignias, and fluttering cloth fragments that bore witness to the futility of that desperate effort.

Remnants of the first assault on Maelivar scattered along both sides of the road. The path forward reeked of blood and seemed to echo with screams from the other world.

A chill settled over Nathan. The orange sunlight did nothing to lift the gray pall he saw hanging over the battlefield. He had watched war films before, but now, walking through this devastation and death, it was far more horrifying.

He looked toward Lachlan, walking just ahead of him. The young man's eyes had changed. The confidence and arrogance had vanished. In their place burned a flame of hatred hidden beneath the cold, hardened expression on his face. Nathan had never seen the Major relax his jaw since they began. His silence spread through the ranks, an oppressive weight.

Nathan had expected Lachlan to give a rousing speech to boost morale and increase their chances of success. But nothing happened. The entire camp had simply set out in silence. He saw determination in the soldiers' eyes, but it wasn't the bright gleam of faith; it was the flat, dark readiness for an end.

Reports and accounts of previous campaigns flooded Nathan's mind. The faces of his teammates were anxious—nervousness betrayed by twitching lips, slight tremors in their cheeks, and constant blinking.

Unlike Lachlan's soldiers, these people didn't know they were walking straight into death.

Zeryn shook his head at him as if understanding what he was thinking.

Nathan kept his head straight, focusing forward.

Boom!

An air defense unit of the battalion swooped forward on a device that looked like a miniature dragon. Smoke rose from the gun in its operator's hands as it had just intercepted a shot from Maelivar's city walls. A small explosion blossomed in the distance.

"Incoming!" someone shouted.

Flashes of light erupted from atop Maelivar's walls. At a distance of several kilometers, the accuracy proved terrifyingly precise. Lachlan's special corps accelerated. These mechanical creatures spread out, their under-wing membranes deflecting the searching beams. The riders then used their own guns and specialized, energy-diffusing helmets to block the remaining enemy fire.

Hundreds of explosions occurred within seconds. Wings carved through the sky, their movements swift and agile as they transitioned smoothly. When the mechanical dragons needed to recharge, the unit behind would immediately back them up.

Twenty dragons then gathered in a circular formation. Their mouths opened wide, firing energy beams toward distant Maelivar. The attack was a drop in the ocean, a token gesture before the dragons entered their cooling phase. Dozens of smoke clouds rose above the moving battalion. The dragons were caught by platforms as they landed.

Maelivar didn't stop. Energy beams of various colors lanced from the walls. The atmosphere turned grim; weapons were readied.

"Increase gravity!" the Gravity Aspect user roared beside Lachlan.

The projectiles bent under the gravitational surge, slamming into the ground and carving flaming tracks. The craters created by explosions grew even deeper.

Nathan's body became weightless; even the platform beneath him seemed to break free from the bonds of physics. Immediately after, the entire army surged forward like a gust of wind, gliding over the ground. They soared effortlessly over the deep craters, avoiding a series of attacks that exploded behind them.

The Gravity Aspect user slumped, forcing Lachlan to catch him. The platforms carrying six hundred people lurched violently, making everyone sway. But being cultivators, they quickly regained their balance.

The energy-intensive maneuver had considerably shortened the distance to Maelivar. However, the path ahead remained long.

From atop Maelivar's walls, small dots appeared. They grew larger and their forms clearer, resolving into armored figures on warships advancing toward them.

Behind the warships, the wall's defense systems never ceased, loosing a deadly rain upon Lachlan's battalion.

Zeryn needed no command, stepping forward, pointing toward the sky, lips whispering.

"Sword Brigade: Blade Dance."

A sharp ringing of swords rose around the sword genius, though no blades were visible. Only Nathan, with the perception granted by [Martial Arts Mastery], could trace the faint outlines of Zeryn's Sword Intent.

The sword formation shot forward, creating a web-like network that blocked the incoming attacks. Maelivar's soldiers were cut to pieces, tumbling from the sky. Some were finished off by Lachlan's side, others pierced by friendly fire from the city walls. Blood sprayed in midair, raining down.

A drop landed on Nathan's cheek. He wiped it away with his hand, eyes focused ahead.

The Light Aspect user beside Lachlan stepped forward, glowing circles manifesting around her. Light swords shot from them, exploding into blinding micro-suns upon striking enemy projectiles.

The soldiers below seized the opportunity, some leaping up to swing their swords, others firing with guns in their hands.

The mechanical dragons had finished recharging. The special corps once again took to the sky.

Maelivar's soldiers were no different from moths flying toward Lachlan's battalion.

"Careful!" Nathan shouted, crouching and shooting sideways.

His hand rose, palm covered with a mana membrane.

Triggered [Counter Strike]. One credit given.

He relied on the flow of the golden energy beam, using [Martial Arts Mastery] to become a conductor. He bent the current—something he couldn't do during the soccer match, but now he understood the mana operation required. His elbow pulled back, the beam sizzling with heat before his eyes. With a decisive twist of his body, he deflected it to one side, detonating a boulder not far from the platform.

"Thank you, senior brother!" Frank said hastily.

"Stay focused!" Nathan said, not turning back.

Other platforms echoed with screams. In the chaos, a headless body slumped, a soldier tumbled from a platform, and gaps opening in the formation that needed immediate closing.

The armor of the warriors from Maelivar's side wasn't simply for defense. It also concealed self-destruction mechanisms. Once they fell, the armor would detonate, a tactic cultivators struggled to counter. Protective domes punctured and required recharging. Mana stones crackled continuously. Logistics personnel barked nonstop orders for resupply.

In contrast, Nathan's platform had suffered the least damage. This wasn't because Zeryn single-handedly handled all defense duties, but because of Prince Daniel. The guards surrounding him had activated an array, establishing a golden belt that deflected the most dangerous attacks.

The prince merely stood there, chin raised, hands clasped behind his back as if to signal he had everything under perfect control.

More stray projectiles sought out the Verdant Spire Sect group. Nathan moved to cover vulnerable points, deploying countermeasures scaled to the magnitude of each attack. He wasn't completely successful, but his team quickly joined in. They drew their weapons to assist while some focused on reinforcing the mana dome.

This attack wave from Maelivar slowed the battalion's advance. The surrounding explosions created such chaos that no one could get their bearings. The logistics team struggled to keep the platforms moving while teammates around them conducted defensive operations.

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A mechanical dragon fell, crashing head-first into the sand before flipping over. The soldier on top had his leg trapped in its groove and couldn't escape. He had just removed his helmet—or what was left of it, melted and fused—revealing a mangled face of exposed flesh. As he opened his mouth, the dragon exploded. Its debris was blocked by the mana dome.

Nathan heard several people retch beside him, but there was no time for horror. The battalion's special corps had been devastated. One mechanical dragon after another fell, having accomplished nothing.

Nathan finally noticed a cylindrical device embedded in each dragon's body. He watched the energy beams shooting from Maelivar. When the dragons intercepted those beams, the hidden cylinders would break camouflage and lock onto them. He couldn't determine how they functioned, but the result was clear: the dragons, for all their speed and power, had been neutralized by this simple countermeasure.

Lachlan looked up at the sky, lips pressed tight. Nathan realized this special corps hadn't been a conventional attack unit. Lachlan, he reasoned, would only employ such a strategy if it had been the best one available. These dragon-shaped flying devices must have proven effective in previous campaigns. But ultimately, Maelivar remained the city of technology. Their research and development of countermeasures was fast, implemented in combat almost immediately.

Previously, just twenty dragons could block an entire attack wave, demonstrating the special corps' tremendous capability. He didn't know what the dragons' combined energy beams were meant to accomplish, but whatever that purpose had been, it was lost now.

The sky warriors fell while an even more ferocious rain advanced toward the battalion.

Everyone prepared for impact.

Lachlan suddenly leaped forward, roaring.

The sky answered his call, unleashing massive lightning bolts. Twisted, blinding lines tore through the air as the temperature spiked, vaporizing the moisture.

Lightning obeyed the young man's command, gathering into a massive bundle. It resembled nothing less than a pillar supporting the heavens, descending from above. It was the roar of a deity, answering the one who had called upon it.

With a tremendous crash, the lightning bolt shot straight forward, obliterating anything attacking the battalion. Electrical currents spread out, short-circuiting flying vessels, anti-gravity systems, and missile structures. Chain explosions erupted, a deafening chorus to the colossal lightning strike.

Rumbling thunder shook the surrounding area. When the blast struck the city walls, it flared brilliantly. Maelivar's protective formation flashed into view. The floating fortress above the city immediately dispatched engineers to conduct repairs.

Lachlan landed on his platform as subordinates immediately approached, hands extended hoping to support him. But the Major waved them away, standing straight.

Nathan stared wide-eyed at the leader Caelindor had entrusted with the greatest responsibility. But he also saw the subtle details: his form-fitting shirt trembled in small waves, his stomach rose and fell almost imperceptibly, both hands clenched tight, lips dry and cracked, throat bobbing. His body was rebelling against the strain.

"Charge!" Lachlan shouted.

The platforms immediately regained speed, gradually returning to their original pace. The distance continued to shrink. The Gravity Aspect user, though strained, reduced the pull again, helping bring the target ever closer.

Lachlan's attack only made Maelivar pause their assault briefly. After just a few seconds, new units detached from the city wall to engage them.

More than five hundred people gained confidence as they were no longer far from the corner of the city wall. They raised their weapons, shouting encouragement to one another. The Verdant Spire Sect team fought with increasing enthusiasm, gradually filling gaps for their comrades. Though numbering only about ten people, they contributed everything they had to the entire advancing force.

Soldiers screamed, struck by penetrating attacks and falling sporadically from the platforms. Teammates gritted their teeth, forced to ignore the comrades who wouldn't receive a proper burial. Eyes looked only forward, toward the Major who still stood firm.

Like a beetle with its hard protective wings, the battalion advanced relentlessly.

Finally, the battalion reached the base of the city wall, halting beside the moat that encircled Maelivar.

Above the city wall, the firing had stopped. The sudden silence was unnerving.

Lachlan reorganized his formation. His eyes briefly glanced back toward the path they had traveled.

More than a hundred soldiers were dead, and twenty disciples from the organizations would not return. Sighs of exhaustion and grief rose from the ranks. Blank, fearful stares replaced the earlier determination.

But Lachlan ignored them, his gaze fixed upward on the path they needed to cross to reach the other side.

"This was too easy," he said.

"If this was the case, the other attacking forces must not have failed so badly," Nathan assessed.

"It's as if they're inviting us in," Zeryn said, crossing his arms.

The quiet beneath the city wall made Nathan's skin crawl. If Maelivar had stopped attacking just to avoid damaging their own wall, it made no sense. After all, Lachlan's battalion was perfectly capable of damaging the wall themselves, perhaps even more so. Not to mention they had also shut down the protective mana wall. He remembered hearing the buzz of the protective mana wall from a distance, but now, standing right before it, there was nothing.

"Why waste all those lives if they were just going to let us in?" Nathan asked.

"Use your people against you," Lachlan said through gritted teeth. His perpetually clenched fist trembled under the pressure. "They want to shatter us. Shatter me. To tell me how meaningless my act was. And how futile it will be if I lose. Blood on my hands is my people's blood."

Nathan's eyes lowered.

So he truly anguishes over it, Nathan thought sadly. Or more accurately, he knew this from the very beginning.

"We knew this was a trap from the start," Lachlan said. "There's no going back now."

Nathan and Zeryn nodded.

After everyone had rested sufficiently, Lachlan sent a reconnaissance team to the wall. They brought pickaxes and various climbing equipment to create footholds for scaling. Flight was impossible; a drone they had sent up was shot down immediately.

Maelivar was allowing them to climb, it seemed, but would shoot down any airborne weapons or vehicles.

A clear display of power. Lachlan, who could fly, was forced to climb. Like someone who could walk normally being forced to crawl on their belly. Before the battle had even begun, Lachlan's battalion was already at a severe disadvantage.

The electrical nets and protective mana membranes had indeed been deactivated. The reconnaissance team worked quickly, installing climbing points. They created a makeshift ladder with temporary stakes.

Lachlan was the first to advance upward. With just a few movements and his Aspect, the Major vanished above the wall.

Next came the captains from the army.

Nathan waited, scanning the top of the wall. The silence didn't lighten his tension; it only made it heavier. Initially, choosing this direction had been to avoid comprehensive attacks from defensive gun emplacements. Though they had now successfully entered enemy territory, the sharp corner of the square fortress loomed like a blade hanging directly over his head.

Like the scythe that the Tier 4 assassin had swung toward him and Vincent.

He shook his head to regain clarity. It was his turn to advance. He launched himself upward. Reaching the top, he grabbed the wall's edge and hauled himself over, landing shoulder to shoulder with Zeryn, who had climbed up earlier.

The team leaders and commanders all stood motionless. They didn't even crouch to avoid attacks from below.

Nathan stepped forward to see why.

He froze.

A broad, expansive main road stretched before him. But now it was covered in blood—fresh slicks and old, dried crusts. On both sides of the road stood straight rows of stakes. A corpse was impaled on each one. Some bodies were mangled, the impalement makeshift, leaving them bent forward, fixed only by the stakes protruding from their hips.

More horrifying still, they were alive. Their combined moaning echoed toward the soldiers. Cries of pain, pleas for an end. Blood flowed from their wounds, mixing into the river of blood below.

As if triggered by their arrival, flames suddenly leaped up, engulfing the victims. They writhed as they were burned—a grotesque, living illumination for the approaching night. They lifted their heads skyward in relief. Some among them shook their heads at the newly arrived army. Others clearly expressed condemnation in their despair.

The once bustling and prosperous road had become nothing less than a path to hell. On both sides were human-shaped lanterns, radiating agony and a darkness haunted by their agonizing deaths.

The most barbaric sight was the children and the elderly. Tiny hands gripped the posts tightly, or reached out stiffly in one direction. As if reaching for a father, mother, brother, or sister impaled nearby. Blood darkened terrified faces with gaping mouths.

Nathan stepped forward but was pulled back by Zeryn.

"They're kept alive by those stakes," the sword genius said in a strained voice. "Once you separate them, they'll die immediately."

Answering the unspoken question in Nathan's head, Zeryn continued, "They might face an even more terrible fate if you interfere with this... process."

More soldiers crested the wall, their advance faltering as they saw the road. Many collapsed to their knees. They knelt, the fires from the stakes dancing in their wide, horrified eyes.

The line of more than a hundred victims stretched forward, carving a scar into the hearts of the soldiers. They bowed their heads, offering prayers to unhearing gods and curses for the powers that allowed this.

"House Nyralith," Lachlan finally managed to speak, his voice hollow and his eyes dim. "All belong to House Nyralith. Those bastards!"

Despite his iron facade, Lachlan seemed to break. His eyes never left them—never blinked—his gaze fixed on the small bodies, on the adults who had resisted to the end.

The allies the battalion had waited for were no more.

This truth struck directly at the disciples who had just climbed up. The soldiers couldn't even maintain their composure.

Their only hope had been this most powerful force in Maelivar, a pillar in the city's technology. They had hoped that by combining forces, they could exploit an infrastructure vulnerability and give Caelindor's army a fighting chance.

But the lifeless eyes staring back at them reflected only the bottomless abyss in their own hearts.

The soldiers looked toward their leader, desperate for refuge, for some reason to continue.

"Maelivar invited us in to witness their masterpiece!" Lachlan shouted, his voice broken and crazed. "You have all seen it. Look upon your countrymen. Afraid now? If you're afraid, then leave! I won't keep you here. Either way, every path leads to death. Die like cowardly wretches if that's your choice. Anyone who wants to walk the final stretch with me, stay. Don't look at me with those pathetic eyes, seeking pity!"

"Ready to march alongside the Major!" most of the army stamped their feet and roared, their shouts a thin mask for their terror.

Another portion retreated to the ladder, hastily climbing down, abandoning their comrades behind. Disciples from various sects did the same. The courage they had managed to gather evaporated. Nathan figured they would rather return to the old road to scavenge spatial rings from the corpses—a more profitable, if ghoulish, venture. Like vultures coming to harvest what remained.

The Verdant Spire Sect group showed no movement. Zeryn had warned them beforehand, and no more deserted. The hellish scene before their eyes seemed to solidify their decision even further.

Lachlan raised his head to the darkened sky, toward the cold aerial defense architecture floating above, taking a deep breath of the thick, coppery stench. The Major jumped from the city wall.

One by one, they followed, landing on the blood-soaked road. The high walls of the street hemmed them in, a clear warning not to trespass, detour, or use any side alleys.

The invitation was crystal clear: walk the designated path, meet the designated people, and lose the designated battle.

Lachlan trudged forward, his footsteps squelching through congealed patches of blood. The sacred liquid seeped into their shoes, a cold that soaked past skin and into their very hearts.

Nathan had never seen so many dead in such miserable conditions, and he detested this world all the more for it. The crackle of burning skin from above kept his gaze down. Those following him did the same. Everyone bowed their heads, trying to ignore the eyes staring down at the tops of their heads.

Yet they couldn't help but look up.

Walking deeper into the city, toward a square, Nathan felt his breath catch, as if an invisible hand were compressing his chest.

They had misjudged the casualty count. This wasn't simply punishment or intimidation for Lachlan's battalion. This was genocide, complete annihilation aimed at House Nyralith.

At a fountain stained red with blood, stakes initially hidden by tall buildings came into view. Corpses impaled together with other corpses were erected in a circle like a twisted, contorted stage. Stiff, anguished bodies faced them, a frozen tableau of death.

House Merinor and Duke Kael Voss wanted not just punishment but complete extermination, destruction to the very roots.

Not a single member of House Nyralith had survived.

Lachlan pressed his lips together, seeming to suppress angry roars rising in his throat.

Zeryn's eyes looked capable of cutting anyone in half.

This was Emberwood all over again—the same evil, manifesting in the same, sickening way.

They had no longer expected House Nyralith's support, but at least they could have found survivors, freed them from this hell.

But no one waited for them—not beneath sewer covers, not in the ruins, not feigning death beneath the piles of corpses.

They were all alone.

Even the citizens of this place did not welcome them.

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