Chapter 95

It was cold to begin with, but the massive Frostmoor Fortress, known for being one of the coldest places in the empire’s northernmost reaches during the height of winter, was enveloped in an unusual heat. If one remembered how rare it was for such warmth to find its way into this cold fortress, which bore no forge-like fires that should have been hammering down hot metal, it made sense why those shivering from the cold inside would welcome it.

Unfortunately, despite the external sources of heat, most of the warmth came from within the fortress itself, so there were no cheers.

Could it be that not hearing them would be a blessing?

—Aaah!!

—Stop them! Stop them!!

—Shoot! Shoot at anything!

—Transport the wounded! Even if their limbs are cut off, as long as they’re alive, we can regenerate them and make them useful again!

Most of the terrifying shouts that brought about this heat were at a level even devils would fear, making it far from a good thing.

Though it was pitiful to feel the heat radiating from their blood-soaked figures as they ran through the fortress, the heat wasn’t just due to the frantic movements and cries of the garrison soldiers.

—Puff!!

—Puff!!

The heat also came from the blood spattered by those guarding the fortress and those trying desperately to descend further south. This blood was tainting the snow and cold stone of the fortress with filth, making it all the more unpleasant the stronger the heat became.

Both those fighting to defend and those driven by survival instincts to descend were equally fierce, turning this battlefield into a horrific scene. There was little to no room for compromise.

Unlike the garrison soldiers who fought fiercely for their lives and what they protected, those descending seemed to be driven purely by survival instincts, appearing grotesque and irrational.

It wasn’t just their appearance that made these creatures monstrous; it was their actions. Among those trying to break through the fortress were even barbarians who couldn’t communicate with the empire’s people and were of different ethnicities, yet were still human.

Even so, there was a reason they were described as monstrous.

It wasn’t grandiose; it was simply because their methods were exceedingly brutal. They descended toward livable areas as dictated by instinct, and the monsters, whose livelihood was breaking through obstacles, fought accordingly.

They used fallen comrades as stepping stones without hesitation, even if they were fellow monsters, showing a level of rationality that was considered commendable.

During this spectacle, there was no mourning, contemplation, or cries of anguish. Even the most intelligent ogres, like the twin-headed ogre, treated fallen kin as mere tools, devoid of any sentiment.

They knew better. In a battlefield where you either kill or be killed, getting lost in such human emotions meant becoming someone else’s stepping stone.

Driven by instinct, these monsters found utility in the remains of their dead rather than mourning them. It was cruel and grotesque, but it was their reality.

Before condemning them, one should first eliminate the monster that uses this as a stepping stone to invade our homeland.

This would suffice.

Though this was a common sight for the seasoned soldiers of the northern border, the barbarians’ fighting style, even if slightly different, was still shockingly grotesque to the garrison.

Perhaps they were not just grotesque but cunning and ruthless, using weaker members as shields more efficiently than even the monsters did.

—Crazy bastards! Even demons don’t do this, yet these guys openly use living kin as shields.

—What a ruthless bunch. They’re openly setting up living kin as shields, like the demons.

Despite the initial shock, witnessing such brutality only bolstered the garrison’s morale, increasing the frequency of arrows.

And though unexpected, responding to such sudden developments was routine for this fortress, known as the anvil.

—We need to change our shooting method! Divide the archers into three groups and fire in succession to prevent them from using shields effectively.

Thanks to the quick thinking of the shooting controllers, the barbarians’ plans to conserve their forces by relying on numbers and shields were thwarted from the start.

There was no need to describe the state of those defending the fortress in detail.

If this fortress, manned by conscripts and a few elite knights dispatched from the Duchy of Caladborg, fell into the hands of invaders, those below enjoying a peaceful life would be in danger.

Their fight, though desperate, was also beautiful in its selflessness, protecting not just themselves but others.

Initially disheartened by the enemy’s numbers, they turned the tide by utilizing the fortress’s geographical advantage.

—When will the reinforcements from the duchy arrive?

—At least three days, right? Unlike their desperate ascent, the path to this fortress is well-trodden, and even with knights riding horses non-stop, it wouldn’t take much longer.

—Damn, I might die before then.

—Shut up. This is the anvil. Don’t fear being hit; shoot or pour boiling oil on those climbing the walls.

—Hey hey. You have to give it your all if you want to live.

Seeing the chaos, he realized they hadn’t faltered.

—Why are you here, sir knight?

—Thanks to your relentless arrow fire, we’ve gained a chance to counterattack.

—Really?

—Yes, indeed.

The young knight, whose passion was tempered with discipline, spoke with calmness.

Even outnumbered, when skilled warriors awakened their mana and fortified themselves with aura, their power on the battlefield was immeasurable.

The young knight, sensing an opportunity to turn the tide, prepared to open the gates and finish off the enemy’s momentum.

—Aaaah! Don’t slack off with the archery on the watchtowers.

With a curse, the young knight instructed his men, rushing to the lookout post for a better view.

His keen eyes immediately identified the source of the commotion.

—Damn!

The thunderous sound was unlike anything he had heard before.

—Rumble!

Thunderbolts rose from the middle of the advancing horde, defying the usual pattern of striking from sky to earth.

The dark lightning, starting from the ground and reaching the sky, was both ominous and precise, causing no harm to nearby monsters.

Curious rather than fearful, the knight focused his vision on the phenomenon.

Soon, he saw an ogre.

Not just any ogre, but a twin-headed ogre.

With twice the size and intelligence, it was a formidable presence.

Its dual heads, one coldly calculating and the other magically adept, made it a fearsome entity.

Although it wasn’t as strong as a Behemoth, its appearance caused a stir.

—Thought it was a Behemoth, but it’s not. Lucky, but still bad news.

The young knight, despite his surprise, remained composed.

Seeing a thunderbolt-manipulating ogre, he felt a mix of awe and relief.

—Thunder!

As he called out, the sky darkened, and thunder rumbled, casting a miraculous storm upon the ground.

—My lord!

The young knight saluted the woman who had summoned the storm, her presence a beacon of hope.

—I’m late, but I couldn’t ignore the ominous feeling. I came ahead.

Aslin Blatt Caladborg, receiving his salute, surveyed the situation calmly, having already dispersed the thunderstorm.

Heroes appear when needed, without fanfare.