Chapter 22: Something that can never be compromised (5)

The desolate land was filled with the sounds of drums and battle cries.

It had been three hours since the all-out assault to reclaim the fortress began.

Yet, the Northern Kingdom’s army and adventurers had faced countless failures in their siege efforts.

The best strategy for a siege is to encircle the enemy fortress and cut off their supplies.

While it might take time, the defenders would eventually wither away and surrender.

However, the fortress located on the Kaputa Plateau was a different case.

With so much mana in the vicinity, allowing time would mean the circuits might be repaired, and the shaman of the tribe would undoubtedly launch a counterattack.

Magic, or what is often referred to as sorcery, generally weakens with distance.

This phenomenon is even more pronounced with large-scale war magic.

The only solution to counteract this drawback is overwhelming mana.

While this requires long casting times and poor mana efficiency, it can deliver a decisive strike to a critical enemy stronghold.

After that, the warriors could do the rest.

If near-unlimited mana allowed for continuous bombardment, even a vast army would have no hope of victory.

“Advance the siege towers! Warriors, keep protecting the mages! Hold them off until the ramparts are built!”

The towering siege weapons began their slow advance as the warriors held large shields to block the onslaught of arrows, enabling the mages to get within range.

Attacking effectively was impossible against those towering walls.

Thus, advancing siege towers or magically constructing ramparts taller than the fortress was crucial.

“Bring more oil! Disrupt their casting!”

On the defending side, the Red Tail Tribe still held the upper hand.

As siege towers or ladders approached, boiling oil and spears emerged from murder holes in the fortress, and arrows rained incessantly to prevent the mages from working the earth.

Though the attacking warriors used large shields to block the arrows, the skill of the defending archers, finding even the smallest gaps, was remarkable.

“May the wrath of the ancestors consume you!”

“Target the shamans! Take them down!”

Adding to their woes, the shamans, heavily protected by the tribal warriors, appeared at every critical point, conjuring lightning or earthquakes that wreaked havoc. From the kingdom’s perspective, this made them formidable opponents.

Soldiers fell like ants. Despite the support of priests and nuns wielding divine power, deaths were inevitable.

‘The casting for the war magic will soon be complete. We just need to hold out until then.’

Although the battle was not in their favor, the kingdom’s forces were not overly concerned.

The tribal warriors were fewer in number, while they had recruited a large contingent of adventurers. Even if they suffered significant losses, they could still afford it.

Furthermore, most mages were focused on casting the large-scale spell, which was nearing completion.

The Red Tail Tribe’s shamans and archers had limited range.

While ballistae and catapults outside that range couldn’t breach the fortress gates, large-scale magic designed for war could.

One strike—just one—was all that was needed.

If the spell succeeded, the fortress’s weakest point would crumble, and everything else would unfold naturally.

The Red Tail Tribe knew this as well.

They deployed their old siege equipment to hurl rocks at the gathering mages, but it wasn’t enough to disrupt the casting.

“Everyone fall back! The casting is almost complete!”

The shamans had too much on their hands to counter the magic.

To intercept a large-scale spell, they needed an equivalent amount of power, but the Red Tail Tribe simply didn’t have enough manpower for prolonged casting.

Without access to mana’s source, the disparity in firepower was evident.

The kingdom’s adventurers were predominantly mana users, while the tribe relied on warriors. No matter how skilled, warriors couldn’t bridge the gap in firepower.

“Brace for impact! Warriors, prepare to defend the gate!”

Suddenly, a massive shadow loomed over the battlefield.

A colossal orb of magic, made entirely of mana, arced through the sky toward the fortress gate.

“When will that hero arrive…”

Thunder Running Through the Plains could not hide his growing anxiety as the fortress gates shattered in a massive explosion, reduced to ash.

The Red Tail Tribe shared his question. Diana had advised them to feign defeat and unleash the miasma, but they were unwilling to lose even a single battle.

They desperately awaited the hero’s party to join the fray, intending to deploy the miasma against them and the enemy’s shamans.

The divine blessing, they believed, paled in comparison to the resolve of their warriors.

They resented the term “divine blessing” and what it represented.

If gods existed, why did they not intervene? Had the Red Tail Tribe been forsaken by the gods? They yearned to defy such notions.

Yet, their warriors were visibly exhausted, and their arrows were nearly depleted.

Even the shamans needed to replenish their mana, having been summoned to too many battlefronts without adequate rest.

“The gates are down! Charge! Soldiers, raise your shields and spears!”

“Defend the fortress! Don’t let those humans inside!”

Supported by archers, the kingdom’s soldiers charged in formation.

Among them, skilled adventurers and knights broke the defenders’ lines, paving the way for the rest of the army.

The tribal warriors tried to respond with their weapons, but they were outmatched.

The meticulously enchanted weapons of the enemy shattered their own, and the exhausted warriors were no match for the kingdom’s well-rested soldiers.

“… It can’t be helped. I’ll buy us some time! Shamans, seal off the underground passages!”

“Understood! Shamans, follow me!”

There was no chance of winning this battle by conventional means.

They had no choice but to follow Diana’s advice.

While both tribal shamans and human mages used mana, their principles differed in many ways.

In the underground passages, the source, corrupted by magic stones, continued to churn out miasma.

By sealing the passages, the shamans hoped to conceal the anomaly long enough for it to go unnoticed by the mages.

“I’ll be your reaper! You’ll regret setting foot on this land!”

Thunder Running Through the Plains gripped his sword tightly.

Though defeat was inevitable, he resolved to kill as many humans as possible.

Fueled by that thought, he charged into the fray.

“The chieftain is here! Focus your attacks!”

“Stop him! Don’t let him near the mages!”

With the support of mages and archers, the kingdom’s soldiers confronted Thunder Running Through the Plains.

His body grew heavier, his vision darker. Each breath felt like ice piercing his lungs, and every movement sent searing pain through his muscles.

Yet, he pressed on undeterred.

“… Did you think such cheap tricks could stop a proud warrior of the tribe?!”

With a single roar, he dispelled the debilitating magic affecting his body and sent the surrounding soldiers flying.

Wherever he passed, dust clouds rose, and the kingdom’s formation began to crumble.

“Those who walk the path of glory shall never despair under divine guidance.”

“Ha! Worms like you dare rise again!”

Thunder Running Through the Plains’s combat prowess was overwhelming.

Without a hero’s party blessed by the gods, who could possibly stand against him?

Yet, the fortress gates had already fallen, and reinforcements continued to pour in.

Even priests and nuns, who typically remained in the rear, joined the battlefield, signaling the scale of the assault.

While divine barriers couldn’t completely block Thunder Running Through the Plains’s attacks, they reduced their power significantly.

Wounds healed almost instantly under divine power. Though fatigue was beyond its reach, the outcome of this battle was becoming increasingly clear.

“What a monster…”

“… Is he truly down?”

That day, Thunder Running Through the Plains fought until he collapsed from exhaustion, nearly unconscious.

Despite his valiant effort, he and countless tribal warriors were captured as prisoners of war.

The fortress fell back into the hands of the kingdom.

While they remained there to tend to their wounded and prepare for the trials of their prisoners, none of them realized what was happening beneath the fortress.