After witnessing the beastmen's assault on the fortress, Lourel forced herself to think of a plan. Every moment spent deciding meant more soldiers were dying, yet rushing in blindly would only lead to greater loss. The frustration gnawed at her, but she held her composure, steady even as the slaughter unfolded before her eyes.
Meanwhile, as she was deep in thought, the general inside the fortress was issuing commands to his soldiers. He believed that if they were destined to lose this battle, it was better to fight with all their strength than to fall in disgrace.
"Archers, fire at their bowmen! Soldiers, hold the walls!" the general shouted as he struck down a couple of beastmen climbing over the wall.
Although the general gave his command, the archers managed to bring down only a handful of the beastmen bowmen. On the walls, the soldiers could barely hold their ground, their formation breaking apart under the relentless assault of the climbers. Weakened by hunger, drained of spirit, and burdened with failing morale, they no longer had the strength or the will to resist.
While the beastmen scaled the walls and reached the top, slaughtering the soldiers, their morale remained high, and their ferocious assault struck fear into the defenders.
Little by little, more beastmen swarmed onto the wall, while the number of defending soldiers steadily fell. Each clash was fuelled by aura, but the physical difference between beastmen and humans was simply too great. A handful of soldiers managed to bring down a few enemies through sheer focus, yet the beastmen cut through the defenders easily.
Realising how desperate the battle had become, the general released his aura and sent his voice echoing through the fortress.
"All units, fall back and regroup at the base of the fortress!"
Once the general's command echoed through the fortress, the soldiers obeyed without hesitation. As they retreated, the beastmen seized the chance to cut down many of the fleeing men; some managed to escape, while others fell beneath the slaughter. At last, the survivors gathered at the base of the fortress. There, every soldier already knew their role, for this was the fallback plan prepared in case the enemy breached the walls by climbing over them.
Soon, the soldiers took their positions at every entrance to the base of the fortress. Their eyes were red with strain, and many trembled, for they knew this plan meant death for most, perhaps for all. Some might survive, perhaps more than they feared, yet none could cast aside the thought that they were marching towards their end. Still, if death awaited them, they would rather fall defending their home than perish in shame or helplessness. Quietly, each man whispered their hopes or their final prayers, voices lost beneath the thunder of the beastmen charging towards the fortress.
"They are trapped; let us slaughter them!" One beastman roared with savage vigour.
"Hahaha, now we shall show these humans who is truly superior!" another bellowed.
All around, the beastmen shouted with wild excitement, certain that victory was within their grasp. With claws like razors and fur bristling, they charged forward, driven not by fear but by the thrill of the kill. Muscles bulged and veins stood out as they rushed to tear into the fortress and slaughter the humans.
"All troops, these beasts believe that humans are weak and ordinary, yet we shall make them think otherwise. We will show them that we are not like the other human kingdoms. We will show them that Echronia, our home, our kingdom, our land, is not to be trampled but to be feared. We may all die, or perhaps some may live, but whatever the outcome, let us show them the will of Echronia!"
The general shouted with his aura, knowing that one of the fortresses defending Echronia was about to fall. Still, his words were not a feeble cry of despair but a rallying call to the soldiers and knights who had fought and defended alongside him within these walls.
"For Echronia!" the general roared as the beastmen clashed with his soldiers.
"For Echroniaaaa!"
"For Echronia!"
"Echronia!"
The cries rose as one, echoing through the fortress as every soldier hurled themselves into the fray. With voices united and weapons drawn, they met the charging beastmen head-on. Their shouts were drowned out by the roars of the attackers, and when the two sides clashed, the air was filled only with the sounds of swords striking, swords stabbing, claws raking, and flesh tearing. Both sides pushed their auras to the limit, formless energies colliding in a storm of power. Blood spilt freely as beastmen and humans alike fell in the chaos.
There were not only clashes below, but also soldiers losing volleys of arrows, letting them rain down upon the beastmen who had not yet entered the fortress base. Though the beastmen possessed thick muscles and stronger bodies, the sheer number of arrows falling from above could still bring death if they were struck repeatedly. To withstand the onslaught, the beastmen cloaked themselves in an aura to shield their flesh, even as they prepared to scale the walls of the fortress base.
As time passed and the slaughter on both sides dragged on, the beastmen finally broke through the defenses at the base of the fortress. Most of those outside had already been struck down by arrows, their bodies pierced and broken, yet some managed to scale the walls, cutting down the human archers before being slain by the soldiers waiting behind. The bloodshed raged until, at last, every beastman lay dead. The human soldiers had survived, but there was no cheer among them. Their expressions were heavy and grim as they looked around, surrounded by the fallen. The corpses of their comrades lay scattered across every level of the fortress base, their lifeless faces frozen in fear, in resignation, or in regret.
Yet the battle was far from over. As the soldiers gazed beyond the fortress walls, they realized that the assault they had just endured was only the beginning. Another army of beastmen had gathered, equal in number to the first, but this time banners were raised high. The flags of Howlfen rippled in the wind.
At the head of the army stood a lone beastman. His form was that of both wolf and man, as with all of his kind who bore the traits of beast and human alike. Yet his presence was unlike any other, a force that could be felt even from miles away. This was Varrik, Ruler of Howlfen. Varrik Howlfen himself had come.
The survivors of the fortress dropped their weapons and stared at the army beyond the walls, their last hopes slipping away. The battle they had just endured had already driven them beyond their limits, yet now an even greater force awaited them. Before them stood the full might of Howlfen, a power far greater than anything they had faced before. What was the point of surviving, they wondered, if they were to meet this next onslaught without rest, without supplies, without reinforcements. Tears welled in the eyes of many soldiers before they even realised it, for they knew their survival had only delayed the inevitable. The struggle they had just fought was nothing more than the opening act of a true war.
Although the Howlfen army had their ruler, their soldiers were different from those they had fought before. They wore heavy silron armour, and they brought wooden catapults, which looked anything but frail, built thick and strong. They also appeared well-trained, unlike the beastmen of the earlier assault. As they looked upon the army, a single thought filled their minds: an inevitable defeat would come if they marched.
"Echronia! You may or may not have heard of me, but I am Varrik, Varrik Howlfen. Now that I stand before you, this fortress shall fall to the might of Howlfen!"
Varrik proclaimed, his aura magnifying his voice until it swept across the land like a storm. The earth quaked beneath the weight of his words, and it seemed that even the gods above could not ignore his resounding cry.
Then Varrik stretched out his right arm, and a beastman behind him placed a spear into his grasp. He seized it firmly, his fingers tightening around the shaft as though it were an extension of his own will. In the next instant, a thunderous aura burst forth, its brilliance so fierce that the soldiers within the fortress could see it clearly. Even the beastmen at his back were forced to shield their eyes from its blinding light.
The moment after, Varrik leapt into the sky, his body wreathed in the storm of his own aura. He ascended higher and higher until he seemed to float amidst the heavens, his form and his weapon both shrouded in a thunder-born radiance. Dark blue and blinding white intertwined, as though he were the very son of thunder itself. With a final surge of might, he hurled his spear towards the fortress.
"This is Howlfen's might! Begone, mere humans! Thunder Piercing Strike!" Varrik roared, his voice infused with his aura, each word resounding with overwhelming power as he unleashed the attack upon the fortress.
The humans within the fortress could not react to such an assault. The spear, wreathed in Varrik's aura, descended like a force that could erase the fortress from the face of the earth. Its power was overwhelming, beyond anything they had ever witnessed. A single thought consumed them all: We are going to die.
They stared in terror at the radiant, thunder-born spear as it tore through the sky, its blinding light racing towards them with the speed and fury of a storm. They could not move, could not react; their minds offered them no escape, only the cruel clarity of knowing how their end would come. Frozen in place, they awaited the strike, powerless before the storm descending upon them.
"Guardian Art! Guardian's Shield!" cried a woman clad in golden armour. Though she wore armour, its design revealed parts of her body, as if it had been crafted more for display than for true protection.
She emerged from beyond the fortress and leapt onto the wall as she unleashed her cry. Raising both arms as though pressing against the very air, her limbs became cloaked in a golden aura that surged outward. Holding her stance with unwavering resolve, she channelled her power until it burst forth, shaping itself into a colossal shield of radiant light. The Giant Golden Aura Shield shimmered in the sky, standing firm and unyielding, ready to meet the thunder-born spearhead head-on.
The thunder spear struck the shield, and as it collided, a resounding boom echoed across the battlefield and through the fortress walls. Lourel, the woman in golden armour, gritted her teeth as she fought to maintain her focus. Her Golden Aura Shield trembled under the overwhelming force of the spear, straining to withstand the aura of the storm that threatened to shatter it.
Cracks began to spread across the shield as Lourel struggled to maintain her aura against the overwhelming force of the attack. Sweat streamed down her face as she poured every ounce of her strength into sustaining the barrier. The fractures widened with each passing moment, the Golden Aura Shield trembling violently as it fought against the thunder-born spear's relentless power.
Just as the shield reached its limit, a man in full armour leapt from beyond the fortress, soaring through the air towards the descending spear. His sword was cloaked in a writhing darkness, as though the weapon itself carried a will of its own, a will born to destroy. With a single, decisive strike, the man raised his sword and cleaved through the spear wreathed in thunder-like aura.
As the spear clashed against the shield, its power began to wane; the once unstoppable force straining to pierce through the barrier. Weakened and faltering, it was finally cut apart by the dark sword. Yet the spear's destructive might could not vanish so easily. Fragments of its original power burst outward, lightning exploding in the sky and unleashing a tremendous shockwave that shook the battlefield.
Lourel was hurled from the fortress wall, her body flung backwards by the force of the shockwave. She crashed through the stonework and broke into the fortress itself, landing heavily amidst the rubble.
Jagid, on the other hand, was thrown towards the forest that surrounded the stronghold. His fall was slowed only slightly by the ground beneath him, yet the momentum dragged him across the earth, toppling a swathe of trees in his path. His armour was caked with dirt as he finally came to a halt. Slowly, with effort, he rose to his feet, still reeling from the devastating blast.
'So this is Varrik Howlfen, the Ruler of Howlfen… he is too strong.'
The same thought struck both Lourel and Jagid as they were hurled away by the shockwave, powerless before his might.
"Interesting… to think there are ordinary humans capable of withstanding one of my attacks," Varrik murmured to himself. He was genuinely impressed that the two had managed to resist his strike, for he had expected to obliterate the fortress with ease and then march upon Echronia at the head of his true army.
"My King, should we march towards the fortress?" a beastman behind him asked.
"No need. I am curious now… just how strong are these two humans who dared to block my attack? Let us find out, shall we?" Varrik spoke in a playful tone, yet every beastman present understood the truth. He was always like this when he discovered opponents who could entertain him, foes who might satisfy his hunger for a worthy battle.
"Hand me my spear," Varrik commanded, his voice carrying the weight of authority that none dared to defy.
A beastman carried a spear, its spearhead forged from pure gold, its shaft crafted from silron, and its butt capped with solid copper. Strange runes were etched along the length of the shaft, marking it as no ordinary weapon. It was the result of both magical engineering and masterful blacksmithing, a creation worthy of only one bearer: Varrik Howlfen, King of Howlfen.
"The two humans who have blocked my attack, I challenge you both to a duel. If you win, I shall withdraw with my army. If I am victorious, then it will be clear that I will march upon Echronia."
Varrik's voice carried across the battlefield, his aura amplifying every word until it echoed through the field and fortress alike. The declaration rang with power and certainty, leaving no doubt that his challenge was absolute.
Lourel and Jagid slowly managed to stand, still recovering from the shockwave that had struck them moments earlier. Varrik's declaration echoed in their minds: if they won, he would retreat; if they lost, Echronia would fall. Both knew they had no choice but to fight, though the memory of his devastating attack left them painfully aware of how slim their chances were.
Lourel's armour had been shattered in places by the blast, leaving her dangerously exposed. Even so, she forced herself upright against the broken wall where she had crashed through, the jagged opening framing her as she steadied her stance. From across the field, her eyes found Jagid. He too had risen, his armour battered but still intact. Their gazes locked, and in silent resolve, they both gave a single nod.
"We accept!" both shouted, their voices amplified by their own auras as they began to move steadily towards the battlefield.
As they advanced, both drank a potion, their strength returning with every step. Soon, they reached the battlefield, where Varrik stood before them. His presence was overwhelming, a force so heavy that they almost felt compelled to kneel. Yet they remained upright, defying the weight of his aura, their stance a silent declaration of their resolve to face him.
"What are your names, humans?" Varrik asked, his voice deep and commanding. Though he spoke with curiosity, there was a glint of respect in his eyes, for he was impressed by their silent resolve as they stood firm before him, unbowed by his presence.
"I am Lourel, Guardian of the Kingdom of Echronia!" she declared with unwavering resolve as she faced the beastman before her. Her armour, shattered and broken in places, left her far too exposed, yet she stood proudly in that state. By stepping forward despite her vulnerability, she showed her determination to fight and to win for her kingdom and for the fortress behind her. To refuse or to fall would mean exposing them all to the danger of the Howlfen army, and so she stood as a true guardian of Echronia.
Varrik gave a nod to the woman who stood before him, her damaged armour leaving her exposed, yet her resolve unshaken. His gaze then shifted to the man in full armour, and he waited in silence for him to speak his name.
"I am Jagid, [The Endless Darkness Knight], a knight of the Destenebres Household," he declared with pride as he stood tall before the king who loomed in front of him.
Varrik gave a nod to the man who stood before him. Though his armour was battered, it remained steadfast and strong.
"I shall introduce myself. I am Varrik, Varrik Howlfen, the King of Howlfen. I am also known as the Thunder's Rampaging Wolf King. I shall repeat my words: I wish to duel you both at the same time. If I win, I will trample this fortress and rampage through Echronia. If you win, then I will retreat with my army. I hope you give me a good fight," Varrik said with a smile, anticipating the battle between himself and the two humans before him.
Hearing his words, Lourel coated her sword in a golden aura, while Jagid's sword darkened with a writhing darkness that seemed eager to be unleashed upon the field. As they prepared their attack, Varrik raised his spear, surrounding it with his thunderous aura that crowned him like a king of thunder. He lowered into his stance, ready to fight. Lourel and Jagid mirrored him, steadying themselves as the clash drew near.
"Then let us begin," Varrik said as he announced the start of the duel.