For a frontline town like Grayrock, even though it hadn't seen war in a long time, its defensive plans and shelters were still fully in place.
On the street leading to the underground vault entrance, the crowd moved slowly and tensely. Town hall clerks and conscripted militia shouted to keep order.
"Keep moving! Don't stop!"
"Keep moving! Don't stop!"
"Elders and children go first—inside sector priority!"
A suffocating pressure hung in the air.
People carried small bundles. Their faces were filled with confusion and fear.
Children clutched their parents' hands, staring wide-eyed at streets that looked nothing like the festival days—now grim, panicked, and sharp-edged.
After all, it had only been a few days since that joyful celebration ended.
The crowd flowed toward the vault entrance like it was filing into the throat of some giant beast.
"Dad, Mom, Sophia—you go in first," Gauss said.
"And you?"
"Don't worry about me. Go. Hurry."
Gauss and the others also split up at the roadside.
The vault had been magically reinforced. Staying down there was far safer than remaining in surface houses.
Because swords might "miss," and so might massive catapults, and there were always unexpected strikes—staying aboveground carried a real risk of being wiped out in one blow.
Even inside the vault, Gauss's family and friends had dedicated soldiers guarding them.
If evacuation or any other emergency arrangement became necessary, their priority would be among the highest.
Gauss's family sighed—understanding the urgency. They reminded him and his teammates to stay safe, then headed for the vault entrance.
Gauss patted his little sister Cicero, still reluctant to leave, and straightened her hat.
He watched his family disappear down into the vault under military escort.
In addition to the soldiers, he'd left several clay constructs inside to protect them. He'd already informed the guards ahead of time, to prevent panic later.
Once his family was safely away, the surface of Grayrock had turned into a place of steel and tension.
The streets held only adventurers, patrolling soldiers, and logistics crews making and hauling war supplies.
Teams of laborers shouted in rhythm as they carried bundles of arrows, boulder-sized stones for throwing, vats of scalding backup oil, and some murky liquid—using winches and brute force to feed everything up onto the walls.
Soldiers were everywhere along the ramparts. Some had only just rolled out of bed, splashing icy water onto their faces to wake up fast.
This night could not be taken lightly.
Because it would be long—and one moment of inattention could cost them their lives.
Compared to the veterans Sir Belrock brought, Grayrock's own town guard and militia looked far rougher.
Many newly recruited young soldiers wore anxious expressions, repeatedly adjusting ill-fitting armor.
A boy who couldn't have been more than seventeen or eighteen finished his prayer. His fingers shook as he gripped his spear.
"Hey, rookie—hold that spear steady. Don't end up stabbing your own foot," an old soldier with a scarred face warned, clapping him on the shoulder—firm but not cruel.
"Y-yes, sir!"
The young soldier jumped, blushed, and forced himself upright.
"Remember—stick with your squad leader. Don't charge off alone."
The veteran took a swig of watered-down liquor from his flask, exhaled, and walked away.
Scenes like this played out again and again along the wall.
A lot of young men who'd sworn they'd shine in battle suddenly found fear crawling into their bones.
Standing in that sea of bodies, they felt—maybe for the first time—how small and powerless they were.
All they could do was follow orders, report to their assigned sectors, and prepare.
Gauss and his group cut through the flow of people.
Every soldier who saw them instinctively shifted aside, making room.
Gauss looked over faces full of uncertainty and unease. He didn't feel much panic himself—but his mood had quietly grown heavy.
He knew that no matter how many kills he could rack up tonight, and no matter whether they won or lost…
A lot of these young people would never see tomorrow's sunrise.
And many of them were placing their hopes on him.
He quickened his pace, passed through the barracks area, and climbed the wall.
Dusk deepened toward night. In the dim, fading light, the horizon beyond the walls was already a black mass—an ocean of monsters.
They had camped outside the range of bows and catapults.
Then Gauss looked up.
At some point, thick clouds had spread overhead.
When he looked back down at the monster host, he felt a crushing weight settle on him.
In his vision, it was as though the shadow of a dragon coiled above the enemy army, a stormy presence that made every observer uncomfortable.
"So this is… an army's momentum?" Gauss frowned.
Just ten thousand monsters gathered together could create a presence that seemed to warp the sky.
What about a hundred thousand? A million?
He finally understood why books said that even the greatest individuals sometimes refused to charge an enormous army alone.
Each soldier might be an ant to them—but ants gathered into a swarm could become terrifying force.
Good.
He felt a surge of private relief.
Thank goodness he hadn't acted on impulse back when he first saw the valley army in the forest.
This force in front of Grayrock was only part of that valley's strength, yet it already carried such pressure.
If he'd rushed in back then… there would've been no good ending.
He glanced at the mass of soldiers, ballistae, falling logs, stones, and other defenses around him.
The oppressive pressure eased—as if the human side's organized presence pushed back.
This collective "momentum" wasn't exclusive to monsters. Humans could form it too.
And because they were defending a fortified wall, the stone, equipment, and defenses seemed to silently amplify their side's aura.
In the unseen realm, two colossal beasts faced each other across distance—twisting the wind and clouds overhead.
Everyone knew the war was about to begin.
Time slid by.
The night grew darker.
Bonfires and torches flared along the wall.
Soldiers took positions at the crenellations, bracing themselves.
High-end combatants like Gauss were assigned to different wall segments.
Sir Belrock held the central section, both to meet the main assault and to direct command.
Gauss stood atop a wall tower, eyes locked on several huge shapes circling high above.
Wyverns.
The air grew thicker, tighter.
He noticed movement inside the monster host.
The catapults were being rolled forward.
And with them, beast-drawn wagons and infantry blocks started to advance.
Boom. Boom.
War horns sounded—on both sides—almost in unison.
The tense silence shattered.
The monster formation began to close.
Gauss stayed perfectly still atop the tower.
It wasn't time yet.
Belrock's guidance, Eberhard's warnings, and Gauss's own instinct all told him the same thing:
If he flew out now and tried to destroy the enemy catapults with fireballs, he might succeed… and still die for it.
The enemy's momentum was at its peak. Leaving the wall and entering alone would be a provocation.
He'd be "focused" by the army's pressure, and the defenders behind him wouldn't be able to support him.
He had to wait until the battle truly erupted—until both sides' momentum tangled into chaos.
That would be the moment he could dance.
Wait.
He patiently rubbed the stone beneath his fingertips.
The first strike came from Grayrock's fixed catapults.
BOOOOM!
A thunderous blast tore through the night.
The wall-mounted throwing arms snapped upward, hurling boulders the size of millstones into the dark.
They traced arcing paths—death howling through the air—then smashed into the churning black sea.
CRASH!
The boulders landed like meteors.
Monsters beneath them were crushed into paste. The stones kept rolling, jumping with momentum, flattening more.
That was the signal.
Almost immediately, the enemy's giant wooden-and-hide catapults answered.
"Incoming stones! Find cover! Shields up!"
Officers screamed orders. Soldiers ducked behind cover.
THUD!
A boulder struck the wall, blasting a chunk out of the crenellation.
Shattered fragments rained down like cannonballs, slamming into raised shields.
The shield line buckled. Some unlucky soldiers were pierced outright.
"I'm hit!"
"Help! I'm dying!"
Panic screams burst across the wall.
…
On Gauss's section, he instantly tracked a particular boulder—still glowing with sparks as it fell.
A blue-and-gold longbow appeared in his hands.
As his fingers hooked the flowing bowstring, a deep-blue arrow of condensed magic formed between them.
"Control Water!"
He poured mana into the arrow in an instant.
A flare of light exploded around him, turning the tower-top into near daylight.
He drew—fully—and released.
The arrow cut the night like lightning, striking the boulder mid-fall.
BANG!
The impact point collapsed. Blue filaments spread across the stone like a web.
A moment later, that web "caught" the fragments, stripping away their momentum.
The boulder—meant to smash into the crowded wall—lost force and dropped early, falling harmlessly short.
A stream of blue energy peeled away and returned to Gauss.
Below, soldiers who'd seen it burst into cheers.
After several volleys, both sides had inflicted damage.
The wall was now chaos—wounded and dead carried away on stretchers to the medics below.
Some boulders lodged in the stone, blocking movement.
The monster army suffered worse—exposed in the open, crushed in heaps.
But their faces held a savage fearlessness, fueled by a war-drum rhythm rising from their rear.
Gauss set the bow aside for now. He'd intercepted several stones that would've hit his sector.
The first artillery exchange had ended.
The soldiers beneath him looked up at the floating figure above them, a wave of relief spreading through their posture.
Everyone understood: his presence had just saved lives.
But…
The real war was only beginning.
With catapults covering them, the monster army pushed up toward the wall.
Officers and captains shouted for arrows.
"Loose!"
"Loose!"
Archers cycled forward in rhythm, releasing volley after volley.
Arrows arced down into the mass.
Many struck earth. Some found flesh—arms, bellies, throats, eyes.
Monsters raised shields—front ranks with heavy boards, rear ranks lifting wooden shields overhead.
Clang clang clang!
Arrows fell like rain.
Monsters returned fire.
The sky filled with crossing arcs.
Humans and monsters alike began to fall in numbers.
The battlefield had become a meat grinder.
"Just a little longer…"
Gauss studied the enemy formation.
He could feel their momentum swelling—stronger, yet also loosening as chaos spread.
He also needed them to come closer.
Finally, the two sides' collective pressure collided and tangled—too busy devouring each other to "focus" him.
Gauss knew it was time.
"Fireball!"
He raised his staff high.
A brilliant glow ignited in the night.
Just after the monsters reached the wall, a fireball slammed into their ranks.
BOOM!
Light and heat detonated outward.
Monsters at the center melted into slurry instantly.
Those farther out weren't spared—shockwaves crushed organs like hammers.
Kill notices flashed across Gauss's vision.
The first fireball was devastating.
And because it was devastating, it drew attention.
Above, the wyverns finally dove.
"Watch the sky!" Alia shouted from below, having just cleared a swath of enemies with Moonlight.
Gauss had already been watching.
He triggered Haste and sprang back—ten meters in an instant—off the tower.
CRUNCH!
A wyvern slammed into the tower, claws ripping stone like tofu.
Soldiers below raised shields to block falling rubble.
The wyvern lunged, snapping its long neck toward Gauss.
But Gauss was already drawing the bow again.
His eyes met the wyvern's.
A blue arrow roared into its open mouth—
—straight through.
Green blood geysered.
The arrow punched through its mouth and burst out through the thick neck.
And the battle, fully lit now by flame and blood, only began to accelerate.
~~~
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