City of Sin

An Ambush In The Night(2)

“You’re pretty knowledgeable! You should be honoured to get cut down by a divine weapon!” Rolf stepped forward as quick as lightning, the giant sword aimed right at the burly man’s heart. The huge weapon was no slower than Rolf’s original blade, emanating a holy lustre as it sliced at the man’s body like a gale.

A group of guards was charging across the city walls. Amongst them were experienced arbalists, protected by two level 12 warriors as they made a beeline for the ballistae. Their movements weren’t particularly quick, but even as the rest of the guards were only just entering formation they had already darted towards their positions.

However, a graceful figure suddenly appeared next to the charging group. Black gas flashed as the dazed head of a level 12 warrior separated from his body. The sounds of a crossbow rang out in the darkness, enchanted bolts flying out one after the other that took down a warrior each. Even saints could not withstand these bolts at close range, much less these common soldiers.

Having exhausted her quiver, Phaser appeared like a ghost from the shadows to stab every fallen soldier. Only after piercing their hearts with Extinction could she absorb their vitality and souls, so every shot she took had left these men within an inch of death.

While Phaser was busy stabbing, Waterflower finished killing the second level 12 warrior and melted into the night. She swiftly flew towards the men guarding the closest ballista.

At the same time, an incomparably tall and sturdy figure slowly floated in from outside the city walls to land next to the ballista. The vibrations from his landing left all the warriors nearby swaying; this fellow was a three-metre-tall giant! He suddenly crouched down, energy bursting forth as a wave of his enormous arm sent seven or eight warriors flying.

Tammy, level 16 berserker. This was the saint Earl Yatu had sent to protect Zim, borrowed by Richard for the night’s attack.

Waterflower’s attacks were swift as the breeze, quickly killing off all the injured warriors. She then expended some effort to drag over an enchanted bolt with an explosive effect while Tammy activated all his energy to slowly draw the weapon that normally needed a dozen strong warriors on his own.

*Click!* Waterflower burst forth with surprising strength as well, slotting the giant bolt into the machine and beginning to adjust its pitch and yaw. Tammy then stepped down on the machine, the explosive bolt that was nearly four metres tall flying out like lightning. The bolt drew a stark red arc in the night sky, finally landing on another of the ballistae. A tremendous explosion rang out as berserking flames enveloped the siege weapon and its surrounding warriors, sending the arbalists who planned to fire it flying away.

Waterflower immediately dragged out another bolt, while Tammy roared once more and drew the machine.

Bright streaks of red flashed one after the other, creating twenty-metre explosions all over the city walls; A single exploding bolt was comparable to a grade 7 burst fireball. Tami and Waterflower worked together to launch a total of seven bolts, completely destroying the two remaining ballistae. The berserker was sweating profusely by the time they were done, crumpling to the ground devoid of all energy.

Zendrall and Demi had managed to keep one of the ballistae at bay during this time, but another had managed to launch a bolt towards Richard’s army. Richard had ended up using one of the spells stored in the Book of Holding, six direbears turning into cannon fodder. It was the most accurate display of Nature’s Beckon in his life; the beasts had been spawned accurately in mid-air to intercept the bolt, their thick skin causing it to explode prematurely and lost most of its power.

The greatest threats of Camp Bluesquare had thus been removed.

Richard stayed seated on his warhorse, watching as groups of warriors with tower shields and axes walked out of the darkness towards the camp. 600 humanoids stepped in tune, the thunderous quaking of the earth under their boots leaving the enemy morale destroyed.

Following the humanoids were throwers, protected by another hundred humanoids of their own. At the centre of these throwers was Richard’s group of spellcasters. Of course, Io and Flowsand acted alone. They coordinated with him for strategy, but they exercised a great amount of freedom in positioning. This was the same for any powerhouses.

The first group of defenders hastily charged out from the centre of the camp, meeting Richard’s drone army head-on. However, the humanoids were born for slaughter; they did not roar, did not yell, did not even say a word as they robotically cut through enemy after enemy. Shields welcomed incoming blows, and any pause was used to brandish their axes once more. Every wave of the front row’s axes sent blood and miserable cries into the sky. The formation of the humanoid heavy infantry opened up a bloodstained path through the swarm of enemies.

The front row of Richard’s army glimmered with the lustre of divine spells and magic. On the other hand, the defenders of Camp Bluesquare were peppered with curses. Even a mass slow was enough to lead these guards into the abyss.

A crushing advantage in magic. A crushing advantage in the divine. A crushing advantage in powerhouses, and a crushing advantage in equipment. These humanoid warriors easily took on the attacks of the numerous enemies, marching constantly from the southern gate to the north.

A large number of desert warriors and barbarians followed the humanoids into the camp. They themselves were tailed by Zim’s army, following the bloody path to the camp’s centre. Minutes later, the troops belonging to the Direwolf Duke’s vassals also started heading over. Richard eventually had an enormous 5000-man army trained on the defenders, overwhelming them entirely.

When the northern gate entered their sight, the guards of Camp Bluesquare finally broke down. They began fleeing everywhere, some not even bothering to push the obstruction that was the city gates as they climbed up the walls and jumped away.

With flames burning all of the camp, there was only one decisive battle left. It was the duel between Rolf and the burly spearman.

Rolf’s War Construct spell had faded away, forcing the saint swordsman to depend entirely on his ability to contend with the opponent. The spearman was still as grand as before, but his body was littered with injuries. Rolf had done a good job depleting his energy over the duration of the War Construct spell as well. And yet, despite all that, the man was still yelling as he freely attacked Rolf; the saint swordsman was starting to look pathetic.

The spearman saw Richard right away. Although preoccupied with his own battle, he had still kept an eye on the situation elsewhere in the camp. He knew Richard was the commander of the enemy, immediately thinking of killing the young great mage with a single strike.

His desires would not come to fruition. Richard seemed to read his mind, dismounting and retreating ten metres with light steps before staring at him calmly.

The speed of the retreat caused the man’s eyes to shrink. This was entirely different from the shifting spells most spellcasters used, but whatever it was it would not be easy to strike down the mage in his current state. It would be much better to take out Rolf with full strength. A little more effort and the weak swords saint without the support of divine spells would be pierced through.

When Gangdor appeared by Richard’s side, the spearman’s eyelids twitched. He completely gave up on killing Richard, but next came Tiramisu, Kellac, Io, and Zendrall. Waterflower’s silhouette flashed in the shadows, Phaser’s presence felt in the darkness.

A divine spell landed on Rolf, immediately providing relief to his injured body. The healing spell had arrived at a great time, the spearman’s eyes widening to the point that they almost bulged out of their sockets. The clerics and mages started working together to cover Rolf’s body in healing radiance and an unknown number of buffs. Black and green light flashed on the burly man’s body as well, striking him down with a bunch of curses.

It was only then that Richard finally spoke up, “Just surrender!”

The man laughed heartily, “Richard! Look at me, do you think I will surrender?”

Richard stayed silent for a moment and then sighed, “Fine then, I’ll send you on.”

He raised his left arm and ten Archeron warriors flashed out of the darkness with an enchanted crossbow in hand. The Twin of Destiny waved around, a lightning bolt falling from the skies. The powerful current from the grade 7 spell left even this powerful saint shaking, his movements going stiff.

The tiny opening was used perfectly by the experienced Archeron soldiers. Enchanted bolts flew out through the night sky, seven or eight striking him and deeply embedding into his body!

The man roared, exploding with energy; a circle with his spear forced everyone surrounding him to retreat several steps. Only then did he prop his weapon on the ground and lean against it, taking a look around. Three more laughs and his head finally hung down.

Even in death, he stood tall.

Level 17 saint Tidor Fenton had died in battle at Camp Bluesquare.

Richard stood silent for a moment before turning to Kellac who was familiar with such things, “Who is he?”

“This should be Eal Lambert’s brother Tidor,” the fallen priest answered, “However, he has his own businesses. We did not receive any news of him entering the Bloodstained Lands, I don’t know why he is here.”

“We’re provoking more and more powerful people. I don’t know if that’s good or bad.”

Flowsand seemed to think of something and sighed slowly, “This... It is a path that every powerhouse has to carve.”

Richard nodded, gazing at Camp Bluesquare that was still riddled with fires and earth-shaking cries in a daze, “We won tonight and Tidor has become my stepping stone. If I lose in battle I’ll probably end up as a stepping stone for someone else, no?”

His followers all went silent. Most of them had come from Norland and they knew about the cruelty of planar warfare.historical