Shadow Slave

Soon, the city was ready for battle — as much as it could be ready, considering the circumstances.

Azarax was not going to limit the assault to just the riverbed, of course. In order to divert Effie’s focus from only protecting the relatively narrow span of the city wall where the grate was located, he was sending his warriors forward across the entire length of the wall.

Out there in front of the city, a vast ocean of helmets was flowing forward, countless war horns roaring like thunder. It was as if a steel tide was devouring the world — inevitable, unstoppable — minutes away from crashing into the proud walls of the besieged stronghold.

Among the ocean of steel, immense forms of Transcendent champions loomed, emanating a terrifying sense of danger. Pulled by some of these gargantuan creatures, colossal siege towers rolled forward, tens of thousands of soldiers sheltered in their armored depths.

The defenders of the city were readying themselves for battle atop the wall. Quivers of arrows were placed along the battlements, the siege engines were being loaded with heavy projectiles, fire burned beneath steel vats where quicklime pots were being heated, ready to be thrown at the enemies below.

Today, however, there were far fewer soldiers than usual on the wall. Many of them were somewhere else...

The great river had disappeared completely, revealing its muddy bottom. There, on the hastily constructed wooden floor, thousands upon thousands of warriors were assembled into a wide formation, ready to face the most ferocious assault of the Steel Horde.

Morgan and Nightwalker were also there, standing in front of the soldiers, looking ahead with somber expressions.

The grate had not been destroyed yet, but it was only a matter of time before it was. The makeshift barricade constructed out of soil, rocks, and ice in front of it had not been dismantled yet, but nobody believed that it would last long.

The muddy riverbed would inevitably become a battlefield today, and when it did...

Who knew? The great river might flow with blood instead of water today.

Standing beneath the wall, clad in steel armor that was like a second layer of skin, Effie drew a deep breath and then activated her Transcendent Ability. Immediately, her radiant figure shimmered and exploded into a storm of light, a huge form rising from it.

The walls of the city were nearly a hundred meters tall, but when Effie transformed, her figure easily towered above them. The armor expanded with her, and so did the white cloth tied around her hips and shoulders — the Starlight Shard, a Memory she had carried ever since the Forgotten Shore.

Seeing their commander, the myriad defenders on the walls and in the dried riverbed exploded with jubilant cheers. Their voices rose to heaven like a roar, and as it did, their bodies were instilled with an echo of her titanic strength and resilience. Their hearts were infused with fierce vigor — with a ferocious, overpowering lust for life.

At the same time, a thunderous voice resounded above the city, making them tremble.

“Be strong! Be valiant! Give them no quarter!”

That was Kai, commanding the defenders of the city with the mystical power of his voice. The world itself listened, instilling them with greater strength, making them resistant to the aura of dread emanated by the elite warriors of the Steel Horde, and filling them with unshakeable courage. Effie, in her titanic form, looked at the approaching ocean of steel with grim anticipation. At the same time, Kai looked ahead, as well.

However, he wasn’t looking at the soldiers. Instead, his gaze pierced the vast distance between the wall of the city and the line of towering trebuchets that stood far away, all aimed at a single spot — the center of the metal grate that blocked the wide opening in the impregnable wall of the city.

‘What are they waiting for?’

The horde was already in motion, but the trebuchets were still idle. They were loaded, but the command to launch had not come yet.

His question was answered soon.

Far in the distance, a man was standing on the crest of a tall hill, observing the advancing horde with a darkly gleeful expression. The man was very tall, with broad shoulders and a powerful physique, encased in a suit of finely crafted armor. He was imposing and handsome, with bronze skin, black hair, and piercingly blue eyes that burned with a frightening intensity above his thick beard.

His entire figure emanated an overwhelming feeling of unbridled strength, virility, and tyrannical authority.

He was Azarax, the Plague of Steel.

Sensing Kai’s gaze, Azarax turned his head slightly, glanced in his direction, and grinned.

Then, he walked past the nearby trebuchet with easy steps and pulled a heavy battle axe from a ring on his belt.

Azarax tossed the axe into the air, caught it with a relaxed motion...

And then suddenly exploded forward, sending the axe striking across the sky like a comet.

The power of his throw was so dire that the entire hill below him shuddered, the ground fracturing as a powerful shockwave obliterated the immense trebuchet completely, turning it into a cloud of splinters.

At that moment, Kai knew why the siege machines of the Steel Horde had remained idle.

Azarax’s battle axe breached the distance between the hill and the iron grate in just a few seconds, leaving a fiery trail in its wake. Just before its blade hit the grate, however, it was stalled for a moment...

That was Nightwalker, twisting the space in front of the grate to protect it. He wasn’t trying to stop the projectiles sent to destroy it, but instead to redirect them — perhaps even send them flying back into the attacking horde.

However, the strength and the tyrannical Will of the Plague of Steel was simply too harrowing. His axe cleaved space itself apart, making all Nightwalker’s efforts useless.

In the next moment, the axe struck the enchanted iron of the grate. The grate, spanning more than a kilometer across, was not simply breached — it was entirely obliterated, crashing down in a mangled wreck as a vast swath of it was instantly melted into a river of liquid metal.

The axe continued forward, threatening to carve a bloody path through the defenders of the city assembled on the dried riverbed — it would have, if not for Morgan, who stepped forward and caught it with an iron grip.

Her arm seemed to ripple slightly, absorbing the shock, but then settled into its usual form.

Morgan glanced down at the incandescent axe, which had become so overheated that it was scorching the metal of her gauntlet. Then, she silently absorbed its blade into herself, dropping the wooden shaft.

Her scarlet eyes blazed with fiery light for a moment, and then returned to their usual cold sharpness.

”It’s gone.”

The iron grate was no more.

...The battle was about to begin.