The air, which had only just begun to settle, was torn apart once again by the appearance of more enemy warships on the distant horizon.
The thunder of war drums and the crash of waves blended together, as if the entire sea itself were roaring.
"That… was only the opening act." The commander muttered, his eyes shadowed with fatigue but still burning bright in the flicker of torchlight.
Not allowing himself a moment's hesitation, he turned sharply and barked his orders:
"Keep launching the boulders! Damage them, slow them down at any cost!"
He clenched his fist tight, then shouted louder, "Men! Go summon more troops, launch every ship we have!"
Urgent sounds echoed all along the ramparts. Soldiers ran, armor clanging, voices shouting, the air alive with hurried movement.
Under the torchlight, sweat-soaked faces stretched taut, but their eyes still burned with determination. They still had strength left, enough to hold back the enemy's advance.
The commander drew a long, steady breath, then turned his gaze. "Knight Kizmel."
His voice grew lower, heavy with both trust and worry. "I need you to oversee the ship launch. I must stay here to keep these men's spirits high. But the docks below also need someone to lead… if the enemy somehow breaks through this line, then…" He paused, his eyes briefly darkening. "If only the Viscount were here…"
A fleeting shadow of regret crossed his face.
"I understand," Kizmel answered quietly, her voice as firm as a sword drawn from its sheath. Without another word, she gestured for Asuna, Kirito, and Ren to follow.
Their footsteps echoed down the cold stone corridor, a sharp, urgent rhythm cutting through the dim halls.
Their silhouettes flickered in the wavering light, rushing swiftly down toward the main harbor gate.
And when they arrived...
They stopped for a brief moment. Nearly a hundred soldiers were already assembled, ranks perfectly aligned before the vast, dark expanse of the lake.
The wind carried a biting chill, whipping banners and cloaks, turning the scene into a painting etched on the edge of an approaching storm.
Far in the distance, the enemy's oars pounded rhythmically, deep and hollow, like a funeral drumbeat for this very fortress.
The mist parted further, revealing the silhouettes of ships larger than before, tall and thick as moving walls.
Kizmel stepped up onto the highest platform, her voice cutting through the tense night air:
"Brave soldiers, raise your heads high! We are the guardians of this fortress. Yet there are always fools who dare to trespass upon our home, let us show them the price of such foolishness! Tonight, they will pay!"
A thunderous roar of approval rose in answer, crashing like storm waves into the fog.
Ren drew a deep breath. His hand trembled slightly as his fingers clenched around the hilt of his sword, as if carving fear into cold steel.. yet his gaze no longer wavered.
In those dark eyes burned a stubborn, unyielding flame.
He glanced at his two companions. Asuna's face still carried a trace of worry; her chest rose and fell with quick breaths, her hand resting firmly on her rapier's hilt.
Kirito narrowed his eyes, body taut as a drawn bowstring ready to snap.
Together, they stared out across the lake where the enemy ships were shifting, veering left to escape the rain of stone crashing down from the grim gray battlements.
The thunder of massive rocks striking the water roared like storms. White spray and towering plumes erupted, sudden deep pits opening and shattering apart.
Some ships were forced against the jagged cliffs, their hulls scraping hard, screeching like blades grinding on stone.
Splinters burst into the air, mingling with the acrid, smoky scent of oil and fire.
Though flustered and floundering like a school of fish caught in a net, the enemy quickly regained its formation.
Their fleet split into two wings, slipping away from the storm of attacks raining from above.
The chaos lasted only a moment before the warships regrouped, pressing forward again, like a many-headed beast growing new heads where old ones were cut away.
But not all survived the gauntlet.
Some ships were smashed open by the falling stones, sinking with brief, agonized screams before the sea swallowed them whole.
Others veered wildly, colliding with their allies, snapping oars, tilting and swaying amid curses and crashes.
The chaotic clash turned the entire lake into a deadly chessboard, where every wave and every falling stone could tip the balance of life and death.
Yet Ren understood, this fierce bombardment couldn't last forever. Their ammunition was not limitless.
Each crate of boulders took dozens of men to move. Arrows required time to craft.
Somewhere behind Yofel's walls, soldiers were no doubt realizing with growing unease that the stone stockpiles and arrow barrels were running low.
"All right… launch the ships!"
Kizmel's voice rang out, slicing through the thick fog like a blade. Instantly, the soldiers at the harbor sprang into motion.
They shoved small boats into the dark, inky water, the clatter of wood echoing through the damp, cold air.
At first glance, the plan seemed clear a direct counterattack, small boats charging forward to strike before the enemy warships could approach.
Ren half expected to see squads of soldiers leap aboard, ready to sail straight into the fray. But… no one climbed onto the boats.
Instead, the troops silently loaded barrels of wood, oil-soaked cloth, and coils of rope onto the decks.
The light gondolas, burdened but unmanned, drifted slowly out, carried by the current, slipping away into the mist that blanketed the dark sea.
On the other side, the Forest Elf commander frowned as he watched.
The mist was thinning, revealing drifting dark shapes. He knew the fortress's firepower had weakened; the crash of stones and the snap of arrows were now only scattered sounds.
This was the moment he had been waiting for. One order, and this victory would pave his way straight into the royal family's trust.
"Advance! Push to the harbor, don't let them recover!"
The Forest Elf warships shuddered and surged forward, oars splashing wildly, ripples spreading across the water. In the commander's gleeful eyes, he barely muttered under his breath:
"They think striking first will give them the upper hand… Fools. Crush them the moment we're close."
He glanced at the humans they had bribed or coerced into serving as rowers.
Thin bodies, hollow eyes, but their hands still pulled the oars with practiced rhythm.
Cowardly and contemptible as they were, these humans made up for the Forest Elf soldiers' poor seamanship. To him, that was more than enough to smash a few drifting gondolas apart.
The gondolas floated silently like ghosts in the mist.
At first, they looked like mere scraps of wood drifting with the current, but Ren could see the barrels of oil lashed tightly beneath the decks, the resin-soaked cloth rolls, and the fire-starters hidden among the crates.
A faint acrid scent rode the wind as it shifted, not damp air, but the tang of burning resin, the smell of something ready to turn the waters into a furnace.
The Forest Elf warships surged closer, rowers screaming, oars slicing water as if devouring the distance.
The commander smiled in smug triumph, raised his arm to signal full speed ahead, convinced that one hard ram would shatter those empty boats.
Then came the crash, thunderous and splintering, wood against wood, ropes snapping, sparks flaring where hull scraped against gondola.
Those sparks leapt onto the resin-soaked cloth, and in an instant, fire burst forth like a small sun.
Screams choked off, replaced by the hiss of fire eating timber, sharp pops as crates of flammable goods exploded.
Flames licked across the decks, ran along ropes, and sprayed burning droplets onto the lake, where they danced as tiny red stars over the waves.
Black smoke rose in thick coils, climbing skyward like a second mast.
Chaos erupted too fast to contain: one warship caught fire along its flank, groaning as its hull gave way, sailors plunging desperately into the water.
Another spun out of control, its mast a blazing torch adrift, screams and cracking wood and splashing water merging into an apocalyptic symphony.
The Forest Elf commander froze, eyes bulging as his formation was torn apart, not by stones or arrows, but by what they had dismissed as harmless, a few stray gondolas.
Now those small boats had turned a fleet of more than thirty ships into drifting torches on the dawn-lit waters.
Onshore, Kizmel's cold satisfaction showed plainly. She had known they needed chaos to offset their dwindling firepower.
Asuna clutched her rapier, face pale but gaze steely; Kirito gripped his sword hilt tight, tracking every burning hull and calculating their next move.
Ren felt the battle's heat as a physical weight; his hands no longer trembled but hardened like steel, his heart a cold blade, this was the moment to answer with action.
Yet just as the tide seemed to turn in their favor, a shrill warhorn blared from afar.
The sound was harsh and ominous, cutting through smoke and screams like a knife tearing open the air.
The fog ripped apart, and from it, a massive shadow emerged. Waves heaved, the water splitting into white-crested paths as its colossal bulk surged forward.
It was a warship, a towering behemoth dwarfing the vessels that had tried to land at the harbor. Its dark timber hull was bound with iron, its prow carved into a beast's head, mouth open in a silent roar.
It rammed straight into the burning wrecks.
The small gondolas shattered on impact, fire and splinters hurled skyward in a rain of blazing debris.
But the wooden-and-iron monster did not slow; it plowed through the fiery sea as if it were nothing more than foam.
Ren felt the ground tremble beneath his feet as the ship thundered toward the harbor gate.
A cold shiver ran down his spine, if the gondolas were daggers, this was a greatsword: heavy, merciless, poised to cleave into Yofel's heart.
"No way…" Asuna gasped, eyes wide. Kirito grit his teeth, fingers clamped so tight on his sword that it seemed they might snap the hilt.
Kizmel stood still for a moment, her face carved with grim resolve, the cold gleam of a warrior ready to face death flashing in her eyes.
The warhorn blared again, long and savage merging with the roar of the waves as it drove the massive beast faster toward the trembling harbor gate.