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"Boom—"

With a deafening roar, the western gate of Northwind Fortress burst open.

The rusty iron mechanisms creaked and groaned, the massive drawbridge lowered slowly, crossing the wide moat to connect with the other side.

"Who’s the traitor?"

"Damn it, someone opened the gates!"

"Quick! Pull the drawbridge back up!"

"It’s too late—they’re coming in!"

"Prepare for battle!"

Chaos erupted within the city walls. Shouts, curses, and panicked cries blended into a cacophony as no one could distinguish ally from enemy.

Outside, the long-awaited Dragonkin forces surged across the drawbridge into Northwind Fortress, an unstoppable flood of chaos.

Leading the charge were hulking ogre shield-bearers, followed by gun-wielding hobgoblin skirmishers and tribal lizardman warriors.

"For Ember Nest!"

"Take Northwind Fortress!"

Despite the iron grip of the Lackman family over the city’s defenses, even their elite "Eagle Shields" couldn’t resist the seeds of dissent.

After Cassius's direct threat, even the most loyal guards felt a sliver of doubt. If even one or two in ten guards betrayed the cause, it was enough to destabilize the foundation of Northwind Fortress.

What followed was a foregone conclusion.

The dissenters coordinated with the embedded player spies, pooling their resources to stage a mutiny. Caught off-guard, the commander of the western gate garrison was assassinated, and the hundred-year-strong gates of Northwind Fortress were thrown open.

The mutineers were led by John, a soldier once nicknamed "Loyal Hound" for his unwavering dedication to the Duke. His wife’s death at the hands of the "devils" had shattered his faith.

As John drove his sword through the gate commander’s chest, the man’s expression of shock betrayed his disbelief that John, of all people, had turned traitor.

The mutineers tied red bands around their right arms to distinguish themselves and turned on their former comrades.

"Kill the vampire’s lapdogs!"

"For our families!"

"For survival!"

Raising his standard-issue longsword, John roared his battle cry.

Thus began a chaotic melee among the Dragonkin forces, the defectors, and the loyalists of Northwind Fortress.

As the Lackman family’s heartland, Northwind Fortress didn’t crumble as easily as Trow City.

Self-interest is a powerful bond.

Many elite forces in Northwind Fortress were inextricably tied to the Lackman family’s fortunes.

Knowing their doom was sealed if the Duke fell, they resolved to fight to the bitter end, holding the Dragonkin forces at the narrow bottleneck of the city gates.

"Humans, perish!"

An ogre swung its spiked mace, pulverizing a soldier into pulp.

Shielding itself with a massive leather-bound shield, the ogre charged forward like an unstoppable war machine, deflecting volleys of arrows.

A sharp shard of ice struck its arm, exploding into freezing mist and slowing its movements.

It was an Ice Blade spell.

Loyal spellcasters supporting the Lackman family joined the fray.

"Charge!"

"Kill the beast! Avenge our comrades!"

Soldiers surged forward to strike the ogre.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Hobgoblin skirmishers opened fire, their bullets felling several soldiers in rapid succession.

After the Battle of Trier, Storm Armory’s players had developed more precise rifled muskets, ushering in more flexible skirmisher tactics.

"For Ember Nest! For endless feasts!"

Ogres continued their shielded charge, advancing like mobile fortresses.

Ice shards, fire, acid, and radiant light spells rained down upon the Dragonkin forces. Several ogres fell, their bodies twisted and burnt, but they charged without fear.

Death was an everyday affair for ogres—literally. In the wild, starving ogres often conducted impromptu funeral banquets, burying their kin in their stomachs.

Ember Nest’s forces weren’t defenseless.

Alongside the hobgoblins’ gunfire, players joined the battle.

Bright flashes of magic illuminated the chaos, with players demonstrating even more creative combat styles.

"Their firepower’s insane—"

"Paladins, push forward!"

"We need Haste! Someone cast Haste; I’ll carry us to victory!"

"Cleric, use Sanctuary—"

A shirtless monk player, "Dragon’s Fury," enhanced by Haste, leaped into the fray, scaling walls and descending upon the guards like a whirlwind.

Facing the confused soldiers, unsure of where he had come from, he shouted with bravado.

"I’ll take ten of you!"

"Whirlwind Combo!"

His fists blurred, delivering rapid, thunderous strikes.

Empowered by Qi, his blows crumpled armor and left enemies sprawling. The monk tore through seven or eight soldiers, leaving behind the unmistakable imprint of his fists on their dented armor.

"Hahaha!"

"I’m going berserk this round!"

Dragon’s Fury rampaged through the crowd, reveling in the chaos. His bald head glistened with the blood of his enemies.

The guards soon turned their attention to him, unleashing a volley of arrows.

"Swoosh—"

An arrow streaked toward his head.

"Deflect Missiles!"

Dragon’s Fury sneered, channeling Qi into his hands to catch the arrow mid-flight and fling it back, striking an archer squarely in the forehead.

"Hah! Such weak tricks dare challenge me?"

"Pathetic mobs trying to ambush me, really—"

His taunt was cut short as arrows rained down from all directions.

While a monk could deflect missiles, even he wasn’t an eight-armed deity. His bare torso was soon pierced, turning him into a human pincushion.

"Overconfident fool."

"This life was worth it."

Dragon’s Fury collapsed, smiling at the massive contribution and experience points flashing on his screen as his vision went black.

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