I barely had time to catch my breath before a group of ogers charged at me, their spears and swords aimed to push me over the edge.

A spear glanced off my chestplate, tearing into my cape as it slid past. Another oger lunged with its sword, but I parried the blow, twisting my blade to shatter its weapon. With a final thrust, Chandrabolg found its mark, splitting the demon’s skull and spraying blood across the stone.

The Sacred Guardians descended in a flash, colliding with the remaining ogers. Their intervention gave me a brief respite to steady myself and prepare to rejoin the fight.

I gave a cursory glance above just in case and when I saw it, I swore.

The next wave hit us from the sky.

An entire flock of winged demon women descended en masse, not just targeting me but every knight on the bridge. More dangerous than any arrow, they moved in coordinated groups of twos and threes, weaving through shields with unsettling grace.

They struck with precision, talons clamping onto unsuspecting knights and hurling them screaming over the ledge. Others tried to hold onto their comrades, only to be forced to release them—or risk being dragged into the abyss themselves.

The Paladins struggled to land spells on the darting creatures, their movements too unpredictable for precise strikes. Even the Sacred Guardians, usually hasty in their defense, couldn’t keep up. The battlefield soon resembled a grim hunting ground, with the demons circling like hawks plucking rabbits from an open field.

I continued to curse under my breath, watching helplessly as the demons continued their hit-and-drop assault.

One broke formation, diving straight for me. I lunged to meet it, twisting my body mid-air to avoid its talons. My blade lashed out in a wide arc, narrowly missing its wing as it veered away at the last second.

We weren’t equipped for this, I thought grimly. These creatures were too agile, too erratic. If I’d known they’d be so formidable, I would have pulled us back to the gates, where the archers could pin them down from a safe distance.

But it was too late for that now.

As if the winged demons weren’t enough, another menace joined the fray.

Small scorpion-like creatures, each the size of a small dog, scuttled through the haze of the battle. These vile pests darted in and out of the fray, keeping just out of reach. They only moved in for the kill when my back was turned, their claws snapping eagerly in anticipation.

Their stingers gleamed with a sickly venom, the mere sight of them enough to make me wary. Every time their chittering cries grew louder, I knew they’d spotted an opening. It was the only warning I had to twist away and strike before they could sink their claws into me.

Annoying little bastards.

As I swung, I realized the sheer weight of the invader’s numbers was starting to wear me down.

They weren’t taking turns anymore, like some haphazard brawl. No, this was a relentless, coordinated assault. Demon after demon came at me without pause, each one more ferocious than the last. I could feel it—the creeping inevitability of exhaustion. It was only a matter of time before I faltered, and when I did, they’d exploit it mercilessly.

The Sacred Guardians, ever-loyal, flung themselves into the mix to shield me. Their glowing forms absorbed blows meant for my head and shoulders, buying me precious moments to counterattack. I used every advantage they provided, striking with split-second precision to whittle my way through the onslaught.

By now, most enemies would have broken ranks, their courage shattered by the numbers I had slained. But these demons? They pressed on with single-minded determination. Was this bravery? Madness? Or something more sinister—a fear that drove them harder than the promise of death ever could?

Then I saw it—their eyes.

The ogers weren’t fighting with reckless abandon out of courage or loyalty. Their movements, frantic and desperate, told a different story.

They feared me, yes. But it was nothing compared to the terror that drove them.

Their true fear was him. The demon commander.

A voice boomed across the battlefield, silencing the chaos for a fleeting moment. For a moment, I thought it was the commander himself, ready to mock my futile fight. When I realized that it came from the castle and came with an unmistakable tone of righteous ambiance, I even paused.

Deep and resonant, it carried the weight of unshakable authority. “Those loyal to my father, his majesty—make way for the paragon of all that is mighty. Do not turn away, for it is here I stand, ready to defy those who would sully my kingdom’s name!”

Every word dripped with charisma and command, cutting through the din like a blade through armor.

The castle gates groaned to life, their heavy iron frame slowly rising as if summoned by the voice itself.

Through the opening stepped a figure who could only be described as a titan among men.

It was Lord Ramel of the Mighty Pillar, the kingdom’s crowned first prince.

The fighting around us slowed, soldiers on both sides pausing to witness his entrance. His sheer presence was undeniable—a hulking behemoth with tanned skin that gleamed under the sunlight, dark hair framing a face that bore the sharp, chiseled features of royalty. A silver circlet adorned his brow, the lone mark of his status amid the rugged armor and stone that seemed to fuse with his form.

The Earth Shrine, one of the five sacred shrines tied to the elements of nature, stood within the capital. Lord Ramel, blessed by its power in his youth, wielded its gifts with unmatched mastery. Beneath his command, the very land itself trembled, awaiting his will.

Enveloped in armor that seemed an extension of his body—stone layered over muscle and sinew—he raised his arms to the sky. Around him, soldiers gathered, their eyes alight with renewed hope as he invoked the power of the earth.

“Blessed earth of rock and stone, I call to you!” his voice boomed, reverberating across the battlefield. “Give life to that which stands firm before me. Answer my summons! Deliver suffering to those who oppose my kingdom and shield the ones who call it home!”

The fortress architecture seemed to heed his command. Gargoyles perched upon the battlements stirred, their stone forms grinding to life. The once-ornamental statues along the castle walls moved, their rigid postures softening as they flexed limbs that had been still for centuries.

The largest of the stone constructs, a towering colossus, began to stir. It was the twin of the one that had collapsed from the felfire.

Cracks raced along its joints as though the giant were waking from an eternal slumber. With a groan that echoed like an ancient mountain shifting, it straightened to its full, imposing height. Its massive legs stepped into the river, water cascading off its rocky form, while its torso loomed high above the bridge.

Its glowing eyes turned to a smoldering chunk of debris lodged in the castle wall. Reaching out with a colossal hand, it seized the burning mass as though it were nothing more than a pebble. The colossus hurled the fiery rock with devastating force, the sheer velocity creating a shockwave that sent crates, rubble, and even smaller demons scattering as though fleeing the blast.

The fiery projectile struck the opposing wall with a thunderous BOOM that shook the battlefield to its core.

Even the demon commander, so confident moments before, ducked behind the gate for cover. The impact obliterated the wall, sending massive chunks of stone flying in all directions. The explosion rippled beyond the gate, splintering into the buildings behind it. Entire structures crumbled under the force, leaving a trail of devastation in its wake.

The battlefield stilled for a breath, the sheer magnitude of destruction momentarily silencing friend and foe alike.

Hundreds of archers and dozens of catapults have been wiped out in an instant, and without missing a beat the colossus began to raise the stone sword it carried. It was clear that the prince long since accepted the damage he would cause claiming victory, and he ran forward leaps at a time as his stone legs left craters in his wake as he joined to pummel his way to the commander.

The Lion-Oger Commander, towering even among his demonic kin, realized that his time on the sidelines was over.

His fiery gaze locked onto the colossus—a foe even larger than himself. He knew that the next strike from the massive sword now poised in the colossus’s hands could easily decimate his forces entirely.

With a guttural growl, the commander snapped his fingers. The bloodthirsty hounds at his side, coiled like springs, leapt into action. Their howls pierced the air as they surged toward us, teeth bared and eyes glowing with savage hunger.

As they leapt towards me, tongue flailing and howls rushing out of their jaws, a looming shadow veiled the bridge around me in blanketed darkness as the commander rose to his full height.

His smirk widened as he shifted his focus. He no longer saw me as the primary threat.

He planted one massive foot on the shattered gate, using it as a platform to propel himself skyward. The gate crumbled under his weight, stone and steel splintering like brittle clay.

His battered club, nearly as large as the colossus itself, rose high above his head as he launched through the air with terrifying speed.

The colossus, unrelenting, hurled its massive stone sword with all the force of a mountain in motion. The weapon tore through the air with a heavy whistle, aimed directly at the airborne commander.

The impact was catastrophic.

The stone blade collided with the club mid-swing, unleashing a thunderous BOOM that echoed across the battlefield. The shockwave rippled through the bridge, sending loose debris crumbling off into the river and fresh cracks snaking along the structure.

The commander, though powerful, couldn’t fully withstand the force. He was sent spiraling back, crashing into the wall of the noble’s district and sending a cascade of dust and rubble billowing out from the blow.

“By the gods,” a Holy Knight shouted as he pulled his halberd out of a winged demon. “The Prince is here, and we have the commander cornered! We’re going to be victorious!”

Don’t say that, I thought scornfully. We’re fighting for our lives, and here you are spouting hopeful nonsense at the first time we had the tables turned. Don’t jinx it!

The demon commander, though battered by the colossus’s strike, slid down the cracked stone in an almost calculated descent, his movements strangely fluid for a creature of his size. There was no earth-shattering impact as I’d expected, but rather a soft crumble. It was as though he pulled the brakes mid-air, landed on the wall with a lack of grace, and was readying himself to the ground.

For all his bulk, the commander seemed unnaturally light, as if his sheer presence defied the laws of nature. He floated like a wisp of smoke, a force of destruction poised to strike again at any moment.

Recovering quickly, the commander pressed his massive frame against the wall and launched himself back into the duel.

He streaked through the air like a golden blur, skimming just above the bridge before colliding with the colossus in a deafening crash. The massive construct, so imposing moments before, found itself utterly outmatched by the commander’s sheer ferocity.

With brutal efficiency, the commander’s club swung in a series of blinding arcs. Each strike cleaved massive chunks from the colossus’s stone limbs, the blows echoing like thunderclaps. The colossus staggered under the assault, its mighty form reduced to rubble as the commander delivered a final, devastating strike that severed its upper torso completely.

The earth shuddered as the colossus toppled, its remnants splashing into the river below.

Each strike from the commander’s club sent shockwaves rippling through the battlefield. The force of his blows churned the river below, waves crashing against the banks in a chaotic dance.

As the colossus crumbled, its shattered remains tumbling into the water, the commander seized the opportunity. Using the falling construct as a platform, he propelled himself upward, landing with a resounding crash on our side of the bridge.

The commander had clearly taken note of my strategy—splitting his forces to give my allies a fighting chance. Now, he intended to turn the tables, with nothing standing between him and our forces but the imposing figure of Lord Ramel.

As the golden armor shone through the dusty mist, the commander leaned with a taunting pose, his club resting over his shoulders. In a picturesque scene similar to that of David and the Goliath, it was ironic that the prince, who could cast the deadly stone, fell face to face with the unstoppable force that feared no man. Their battle was on.

I didn’t wait to see how the prince would fare on his own. Barking orders over the cacophony of battle, I shouted, “Holy Knights, to his majesty’s side! Paladins, forward! Keep the enemy at bay and hold the line!”

Some knights obeyed immediately, but hesitation rippled through others, including Samuelle. I could see doubt flickering in their eyes as they glanced between me and the towering demon.

“But shouldn’t we all be aiding his majesty?!” a Paladin called out, his voice trembling with urgency.

“We can’t just leave you to face this onslaught alone!” another knight, the surly one from earlier, bellowed, his tone laced with defiance.

“Follow your orders and move!” My commanding voice rang, breaking the thickening despair that held my soldiers in place.

A second wind surged through me as the gravity of the moment pressed down on my shoulders. This was it—the decisive point in the battle. We had no time for hesitation.

The demon commander fixed his burning gaze on Lord Ramel, his sneer curling into something resembling amusement. Whatever reprimand or insult passed between them was lost to the chaos, but it didn’t matter.

Ramel stood his ground.

The prince, flanked by his soldiers and reinforced by the Holy Knights now at his side, radiated an unyielding defiance. There was no fear in his eyes—only a fierce, untamed bloodlust aimed squarely at the towering demon before him.

I watched as the commander’s club began its deadly arc, swallowing the sky like a harbinger of ruin. But Ramel didn’t flinch. Channeling the earth’s raw power, he moved with precision, closing the distance between them.

At that moment, he wasn’t just a prince. He was worth a hundred heroes, his sights locked on the enemy with unwavering determination.