"MOVE OUT!"

At dawn's first light, the waking sun birthed the land in red, prophesying the blood that was to paint the earth that day as the armies of Merriheim and the Chaos Order advanced on Aygorzi's walls. Leading the Merrite contingent were the three Ancient Salamanders, blood-crazed gazes fixed on the city ahead where their eventual food awaited. Following behind these monstrosities were four thousand avespas cavalries, led at the front by an excited Olgar whose licked his chops as he envisioned feasting on his enemies' hearts.

Six thousand infantry consisting of four thousand soldiers and two thousand slaves led by war chiefs atop Therium Rhinos trudged behind the cavalry. The feet of the slaves blistered and bled, having suffered the grueling journey without any protection. Still, none dared slow down for fear of punishment. They could only grit their teeth and forge on ahead, their hearts already deciding to kill as many dwarfs as possible to earn themselves a promotion from this life of hell. Not once did it cross their mind to revolt. Most might not know, but these slaves knew all too well the true strength of Bone-Cage Olgar Ritz. To revolt would only lead to meaningless deaths.

Bringing up the rear were the warbards and a thousand mages led by Orthana, whose eyes held determination which grew grimmer with every hoof clatter. Finally, behind her were the siege weapons Olgar had looted from a daeben ruin consisting of trebuchets and ballistae. The soldiers had spent all of the previous day assembling these colossal weapons from scratch, their only comfort laying in the fact that the siege engines were pulled by rows of Naroku Warthogs, giant pig-like animals nearly eight feet tall.

And so it was that this mighty procession neared the northern gate, bringing with them promises of death.

Standing atop the ramparts on the outermost wall, Absalon frowned down at the approaching army. Eyes narrowed with utter disdain and contempt, he muttered, "Hmph, a little more than we calculated. But no matter." He gazed at the siege weapons far off in the distance, a nasty curl rising up his lips. "Heh, Looks like you put a lot of effort into this. I wonder how you'll about this." He waited till he could see the black cornea of the Ancient Salamanders, their crazed glares likewise fixed upon him. "Let our guests in."

****

Within the throne room, alone King sat upon his throne, his mana connecting his thoughts to the mana crystal several meters below. King Anton Xafier gazed at the 3-D projection of the city that hovered before him, lips curling upward as Absalon's order came in. "We have suffered persecution far too long." Eyes holding no small amount of hatred, he released a dark chuckle. "Come witness the might of our god."

The armrest glowed with a blue light as mana flowed from his arm into the hidden runic cables within the throne. With a murderous light in his eyes, he ordered, "Open."

***

At Aygorzi's south gate, Larsial frowned as the massive gates she had spent days strategizing against, calculating weak points, possible points of entry, casualty rates to scale, and much more began to slide inwards, groaning as it did as if mocking all her efforts. Still, despite her relative unease, with Ruse by her side, and the army around her, she truly had nothing to fear from these dwarfs. Heh, they most likely did not want to risk any damage to the structures before they could study them.

Well, that was fine too. This would definitely be a suitable upgrade from their division's current base. It would not do to damage it unnecessarily before they learned how its individual components work. After all, it was made by a god! There was no guarantee anything broken could be fixed the way it was originally.

Larsial shared a look with Ruse. Seeing the nonchalant approval in his gaze, she spoke to no one in particular. "As long as they remain open, Do not damage the gates."

***

At the north end, Orthana frowned as Larsial's voice echoed through the crow that arrogantly perched on her shoulder. Enraged, veins bulged in her hand as she gripped a Rink tightly. She hatefully relayed the order to Olgar.

Olgar snarled, eyes red with rage. He had spent a lot of manpower bringing these siege weapons along, boasting all the way of how they would bring down Second Under's walls. Now they simply opened the doors for them!? Wasn't this making him look like a fool? Who dared make a fool out of him!? No One! The lycan's body trembled, the bone spurs on his back growing longer with every snarl. If it were not for the Ancient Salamanders, he would have already rushed on ahead to slaughter the bastards. Olgar raised his head to glare at the red figure by the battlements, snarl widening when the figure returned his glare with a blank look akin to one a man would offer a bug on the street. "Just keep hiding up there bastard," he growled. "I'll make sure to rip your guts out myself."

Atop the ramparts, Absalon examined the approaching Salamanders. He blinked, a brow raising when he could not identify their levels. Hoh... It seemed these guys were quite tough. Already prepared for such a situation, he took out a scroll from his inventory. This was an ancient scroll, only one of three they had found during their expedition into the islands. This scroll, probably worth hundreds of thousands, if not millions of Syros in the current market only had one purpose.

The red mage ripped the scroll in half, releasing a bright runic structure which if Kashi had been around, would have identified roughly translating to "All Must Be Seen". As it were, the notification prompt as the runes melded into the General's eyes read [Mass Identify], a divine level skill that allowed its wielder to see the status of all beings within range of his/her gaze.

Ancient Salamander [Level 170]

Absalon smirked. Level 170 huh? Indeed if the Maggots were not here, these three alone might have been capable of bringing the dwarfs to their knees. After all, Salamander type monsters were known for their strong physical defense which was what dwarfs excelled at above all. Removing his gaze from the monsters, he turned to the nearly naked lycan who had been glaring at him earlier.

Bone-Cage Olgar Ritz [Level 180]

Hoh? A titled boss, Level 180, and red colored at that. Hehe.. It seemed the game was really intent on crushing them with levels. He scanned through the army, somewhat relieved to see the average level was around 120 near the front, with the levels dropping sharply towards the back till around 80-90 for the slaves. That was at least except for the chiefs who all maintained a steady level of 130, and the Summoner Sheri Orthana who was also titled:

World Walker Sheri Orthana [Level 160]

For the first time, a sense of unease welled up in the General. Although he was semi-confident in facing one red boss, two of them at the same time was a whole other beast. Red was only a step away from purple, the highest boss color most people would ever get to meet during their entire playthroughs. Such colors were usually reserved for undead liches or monsters the size of a building. To see it on two humes... Well, to be fair, if it was not for the game, not color coding Summoned, that blasted daeben's color would have rendered all opposition moot.

Still, regardless of level or power, all would fall today without fail.

Absalon returned his gaze to the Ancient Salamanders which had been forced to line up in a column in order to pass through the gates. A wicked glint in his eyes, he thundered, "We do not allow beasts beyond a certain height pass through here."

***

Around three thousand feet above the ground, wrapped within an illusion spell, four figures hovered, the air trembling with the congealment of mana as three of the figures gathered all the mana and Ki they had, focusing them all into their drawn swords.

Loud screeches akin to the cry of a chalk on board rang out from the figures bathed in the white light of the gathered potential, streaks of gold fluttering about as their hair fluttered in the wild winds.

Hovering close to these three figures, Syèl, in his full vampire form watched with the swordswomen across from him with a complicated gaze. Each furrow of their brow, each drop of sweat wrested away by the caused the words he spoke earlier Our Land, to echo within his mind. Without realizing it, he was examining her features, the way her blue eyes dimmed when she concentrated; the way she gently bit at the side of her upper lip; even the way ever strand of hair danced wildly in the wind, accentuating the blue, calf-length jacket which likewise fluttered loosely behind her.

Absalon's message rung in the halben's ears, forcefully returning him to reality. His gaze strangely light, as if shedding a heavy burden as he said, "Henri." Logically, the wind funnel rotating around the swordswomen to keep them afloat should have prevented them from hearing his words. But as fate would have it, the middle one raised her head, a questioning look in her eyes. "Henri. The girl I always compare you to. Her name was Henri."

There was a short pause, a brief moment of silence as Shoko registered his words. Eventually, her eyes began to glow with an odd light, her lips spreading into a smile so breathtakingly calm, Syèl, just for a moment, unconsciously forced the memory called Henri to the back of his mind. Unaware of the emotions she wrought in the young man, Shoko mouthed, We'll talk.

"Ah," Syèl muttered as he manipulated the wind funnels to reposition the triplets. He cast his gaze to the ground where the leading Ancient Salamander was only about twenty meters from the gate. With a snap of his fingers, the wind funnels ceased. The identical swordswomen plummeted to the earth, the halben's golden gaze following their falling frames as he muttered. "Yeah, we'll talk."

With a flap of his wings, the blood vampire rushed after the falling figures, soon overtaking them as they neared the ground.

On the ground, a sudden outburst of mana caused the hair on Olgar's back to rise. The seasoned warmonger's gaze snapped to the skies to the skies where three concentrated balls of light instantly caught his attention. Enhancing his gaze with mana, the lycan frowned as he zeroed in on the swordswoman falling from the skies, her posture suspiciously never shifting or affected by the wind.

Even more surprising was the vampire that flew ahead of these three figures, like a bodyguard. The lycan's gaze narrowed as a sudden flash of inspiration hit him hard. He frantically traced the fall path, a mad roar echoing out as he figured out their objectives. Without any hint of propriety, he immediately ordered with a voice which bled for miles, "ALL ARCHERS! MAGES! Shoot Down Those Bastards!!! Catapults, Knock 'em out of the skies! I Don't Care if Your Aim's True, Just Fire Fire Fire FIRE!!!" Olgar's roars of rage and frustration boomed even louder as the light around the dropping swordswomen began coalescing into a semi-translucent, almost water like shape.

At the rear, Orthana, who felt like her ears were about to bleed from the lycan's agitated roars, frowned as she scanned the skies for the target. Her gaze narrowed as she spotted the descending silhouettes. By this point, the light had already begun to form the blade of a katana, its glass-like surface retaining the look of a wavy stream of mana. The halben gritted her teeth with rage as she silently calculated the estimated landing area. "Portam mundo forma eius indicarent mihi." Mana burst from her back, merging to form three portals behind her.

Dozens of harpies with shrill screeches akin to the cries of banshees burst out of the portal. Their minds mentally connected to their summoner, they immediately took to the skies, rushing toward the descending figures and flanked on all sides by thousands of spells fired off by mages.

Syèl, seeing this bombardment headed his way snorted as he pricked his index fingers with his thumbs. He pointed the bloodied fingers at the oncoming horde as small seed-sized balls of blood formed from the wound. "Bang!"

A harpy suddenly dropped from the air, then another. Then another. Within three seconds, over twenty harpies plummeted, small seed-sized holes in their heads from which blood leaked. The projectiles were next, each one seemingly meeting an invisible force that caused them to explode on impact. The rapid explosions caused a blanket of smoke to cover the sky, effectively blocking the vision of those on the ground.

Olgar's eyes were almost red with impatience as he roared at the mages who had relaxed somewhat. "Fire, Fire, Keep Fir-" SCREEEEE!

Olgar roared out in pain as a blinding light burst through the smoke, accompanied by the most hellish shrill cry he had ever heard. He winced, blood seeping from his ears as three identical Katanas, nearly 30ft in length came into view, the cold unassuming edge promising death to all who saw it.

Olgar, realizing his error in vastly underestimating the enemy, opened his mouth to issue an order for the salamanders to retreat. But just as he was about to scream, he recalled the commanding rights for these beasts lay with their summoner. Cursing six generations of Orthana's ancestors, he fished out his Rink. But just as he was about to speak, he realized it was already too late.

As with a loud bang that kicked up clouds of dust, the swords sliced through the Salamanders' skulls, leaving their lives hanging by a thread. Before anyone could consider saving the beasts, Syèl dropped three strange flasks each into the open wounds in the monsters' heads. With a proud grin, he swooped low and whisked a drained Shoko away, then flew towards the gate.

"Where Do You Think You're Going!?"

Syèl snorted with disdain as he gazed over his shoulder at the lycan who was in hot pursuit. That disdain instantly disappeared as three bone spurs tore through the air so fast the blood mage knew he had no chance to dodge them. He raised his palm, causing six layers of earth to rise and shield them from the blow.

To his shock, the bone spurs smashed through the earth like they were tofu block. Fully unprepared for such an outcome, the halben was forced to think up a solution even as the spurs were only inches from his chest.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

A katana, black as night gleamed in the morning sunlight, the bone spurs flung overhead, deflected by the force of its blow. Shoko, who had dropped to the earth on account of Syèl being blasted away by a bone spur to his shoulder, paled and had to force down the blood that rose up her throat from the strain of her action. She had more than overdrawn herself for the previous attack, using a skill given to the Samurai class once they crossed Level 100 [Sword Potential].

[Sword Potential] was an ultimate cheat skill developed for the samurai class which had high damage points and little in the way of defense. The skill allowed its user to focus all of his Ki and Mana into one single attack. The skill's damage increased the longer it was successfully charged, the game using the logic of 'refining the blade' to justify its ability. However, although it seemed like a monstrous skill, it had very few actual applications since very few Samurai ever got a chance to charge it during one-on-one combat.

Samurais did get a chance to charge it when numerous clan members attacked a single boss, but its shrill noise and mana bursts when its damage had multiplied past a certain level were instant aggro attractors, causing Monsters to abandon whoever they were engaged with to destroy the samurai first, or in some cases strengthen their defenses or run away before the blow can be dealt.

Shoko, who was drained of all her Ki as a result of the skill had only just managed to deflect the bolts using sheer force of will and skill. She quickly downed a potion, watching her Ki rise with a satisfied smile. Blaring warnings in her head caused her to jump backward.

Boom!

"You're all dead!" Olgar roared as he burst through the debris atop his avespa, a bone spur clutched in his right arm. His blood crazed gaze located the swordswoman within the span of a millisecond.

Shoko crouched low, sheathed sword at her left side, right hand over its hilt. Heart steady, her steely gaze marked the avespas movements. "Shoko Style: Second Form..." The lycan's gaze instantly changed as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Sukai Bunkatsu."

Olgar roared as a flash of explosive sword light blasted the head of his mount to pieces, its blood dyeing his coat a deadly red. He crashed to the earth, but surprisingly balanced on all fours like a primal wolf, his charge never stopping. The spurs grew, then fired out like missiles.

Shoko grit her teeth, her gaze steady as she deflected numerous bone missiles in the span of a second, the movement of her hand too fast for the human eye to follow. Olgar clawed at her neck immediately he closed the distance, each individual nail over 30cm. Shoko tilted to the side, allowing the arm to pass by her. A glint in her eyes, she swiped at the beast's exposed midriff.

Olgar raised his knee. CLANG! The blade clashed against the enlarged bone protruding from the lycan's knee. The warrior's eyes flashed bloody murder as his right hand swung downwards, its aim the samurai's exposed back.

In reply, the blade switched orientation, its sharp end pointed towards the sky. "Shoko Style, Third Form..." Shoko switched the leading grip to her left hand and swung upwards from her unnatural position. "[Scythe!]"

Olgar's arm swiftly retreated. He bent backward, quickly raising his jaw vertically toward the sky. A massive, excessively sharp sword light shave a few hairs off his jaw as it escaped skyward.

Shoko's left arm released its grip on the rising sword. Ki Circulated around it as it punched the lycan's exposed midriff. The swordswoman nearly shrieked despite the fact that the white beast was successfully blasted onto the leading wounded Salamander. "NOW!"

Atop the ramparts, Absalon who had been watching the whole exchange swiped down. His lieutenant, Asha, and two other archers lined up arrows on their bows. The red mage flicked his fingers, causing the arrows to burst into flames. At his signal, the arrows whistled as they ripped through the damaged Skulls and struck the flasks Syèl had dropped earlier.

At the same time, Absalon flung two daggers, one at Syèl, who had just extracted himself from the bone spur that pinned him to the earth, and the other at Shoko.

Olgar roared as he dashed to the edge of the Salamander. His rage only intensified at the sight of his prey floating into the air and towards the ramparts. Blood pooled in his eyes. But just as he was about to jump...

BOOOM!!!!

********************

A/N: In the near future, people will refer to Aygorian Citadel, as Aygorzi for short, as 'zi' is the dwarven word for Citadel...

This is totally not because the author thinks saying Aygorian Citadel is a mouthful and should have put some more thought before naming the city... teehee