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Chapter 346 - Defense.

The soldiers on the wall still did not cease their barrage of arrows.

Each arrow whistled through the air, piercing thin armor, tearing flesh, and reducing the enemy into streaks of red pixels.

Others had already cast aside their crossbows, drawing swords from their sides, rushing down to reinforce their comrades at the harbor gate.

Thanks to such resilience, the defensive line held. Enemy ships were set ablaze, overturned, or shattered into drifting fragments of wood.

Thus, the invaders' numbers could not completely overwhelm them.

Every time a group of Forest Elves set foot on the stone shore, they were immediately caught in the whirlwind of blades and spears of Yofel's defenders.

Until the arrival of the Fallen Elf soldiers, mad fiends who felt neither pain nor fear of death, their only purpose to kill.

Though anticipated, their sheer numbers pushed the Dark Elf soldiers back toward the gates.

But the defenders struck back soon after, bolstered by support from the soldiers atop the walls.

Still, the colossal shadow of the warship loomed before the harbor like an immovable fortress.

On the deck, Thaliondor stood tall, his face dark, narrow eyes glinting with smugness.

The cold wind whistled through his golden hair, yet his lips curved into a cruel, merciless smile.

He had achieved what generations of his ancestors could not.

Those cowards had fallen at the very foot of Yofel's walls, never once stepping beyond the cold gates. But today, by his hand, the warship had shattered the harbor, and soldiers now trod upon that forbidden ground.

Thaliondor would rewrite history in blood.

…Though he understood, this victory was not his alone.

His gaze shifted sideways.

His companion, Varzak, stood there, like a lump of dead, grotesque flesh, no different from a statue born of shadow.

His face pale as a corpse, the single eye in his skull gaping like a bottomless void, staring down at the Forest Elves and Fallen Elves reveling in slaughter.

The grotesque scar running past his ruined eye twitched faintly, as though the blood and screams themselves were stirring his excitement.

The sight made Thaliondor's spine stiffen with a brief shudder. A wave of nausea washed over him, as if he were standing beside something that did not belong to this world.

A Fallen Elf, one who had betrayed the light, rejected his kin, and become a weapon of death.

Thaliondor despised him, but… he could not deny the power Varzak brought.

It was this monster's presence that gave him the confidence to drive an entire fleet into Yofel.

Grinding his teeth, he buried his unease deep down. In Thaliondor's eyes now, there was only the ancient gate, and his frenzied ambition: to etch his mark into the history of Aincrad with a sea of blood.

Yet unease lingered as the Dark Elves still stood like an unyielding wall, no matter how many forces he threw at them.

"It's about time you did something," Thaliondor muttered at Varzak, but the Fallen Elf only smirked faintly.

The horn resounded, deep and hollow, like a call from the abyss.

From the massive warship's deck, the Fallen Elves descended like a flock of midnight crows.

Their black cloaks billowed, the clash of armor mingling with feral screams, drowning the harbor in nightmare.

Unlike the disciplined Forest Elves, the Fallen Elves charged like lunatics. Their weapons dripped crimson, scarred and twisted as if cursed by darkness.

They killed without restraint. Every strike came with a ghastly hiss, blood spraying like rain before shattering into fragments of pixels.

"Hold them! Don't let them through!" Kizmel roared, her voice ringing across the battlefield.

The inner defense line quaked, nearly collapsing under the berserk assault. Any Fallen Elf who neared the defenders was instantly hacked down by sword and spear, reduced to scarlet pixel dust beneath the fortress gate.

Asuna darted forward like the wind, her rapier piercing through the gaps of the enemies' gleaming silver armor.

Kirito covered her like a flash of lightning, his one-handed sword intercepting a massive axe before countering in the blink of an eye.

Ren stayed close behind. He sprang to the side, his blade flashing as it slashed across the belly of a frenzied foe, silencing its screams.

And after all of it, the gate still stood firm. The ground was littered with fragments of pixelated blood.

On the warship's deck, Thaliondor clenched his teeth. "They're more stubborn than I thought…"

Beside him, Varzak let out a dry, twisted laugh, more like savoring a cruel pastime than watching a battle.

The jagged scar on his face twitched, his hollow eye staring straight at Yofel's iron gate.

"Don't waste your strength on walls," he rasped, his voice dragging like grinding bone. "I know another way. A path… filthier, perhaps. Once that gate falls, I can lead the army straight into Yofel's heart."

Thaliondor snapped his gaze toward him, greed flickering in his eyes. "You mean… directly into Viscount Yofilis' chambers?"

Varzak nodded slowly, his grin tearing across his corpse-like face.

"Yes," he murmured, tilting his head, the scar twisting grotesquely with his smile. "And once that man's blood stains these walls… Yofel will collapse from within. We won't even have to lift a finger."

"But…" Thaliondor frowned, hesitation creeping into his voice. "What if he isn't there? What if this is just a trap?"

For a moment, the air froze. Varzak narrowed his eyes, silent enough that the crashing waves beneath the fortress roared all the louder.

His silence was its own rebuke, forcing Thaliondor to swallow hard.

Finally, Varzak laughed again, a harsh, corroded sound like rust scraping. "That man is a wretch, hiding in the shallow mask he built for himself."

His grip tightened on his hilt, words dripping like venom. "Since the moment he accepted my gift… he hasn't dared step outside that chamber."

"You're certain?" Thaliondor pressed, unease still burning in his eyes.

"I know him better than anyone," Varzak growled, his gaze scorching the darkness ahead. "Yofilis will never face anyone directly again… because his pitiful face has already become his lifelong prison."

A raucous, jagged laughter burst from Varzak's throat, echoing with the war drums pounding at the harbor, making the very sky tremble.

Thaliondor furrowed his brows, still not fully convinced. Yet the crimson fire in Varzak's eyes silenced any further questions.

The flames of war danced across his twisted scars, distorting them into a demonic mask.

"Then… break the gate," Varzak commanded, his voice heavy, final...like a death sentence.

The Fallen Elves roared, raising makeshift wooden shields, pressing toward the fortress.

The drums pounded louder, blending with the lingering crash of the ship against the harbor, weaving chaos into the herald of nightmare.

On the other side, Kizmel, Ren, Kirito, and Asuna stood ready. The gate still shut tight, yet the pressure from outside felt ready to crush the ancient stones themselves.

"They're not stopping," Kirito muttered, gripping his sword as cold sweat ran down his spine.

Suddenly, a shrill screech tore through the air, rising from the massive warship offshore.

Every giant crossbow on its deck tilted downward, their heavy strings thrumming violently.

"Behind us!" a soldier shouted.

A volley of colossal arrows, like wooden pillars, launched across the sky, slamming against the gate behind the defenders.

The crash thundered as wood splintered. Debris exploded outward.

One massive arrow embedded itself in the stone floor, quivering like a spear planted in the battlefield.

"The gate… it's breaking!" a soldier screamed, his voice cracking in terror.

Before they could reinforce it, another volley rained down, shattering the massive hinges and tearing the gate open with a roar like thunder.

The defensive wall collapsed behind them. The soldiers had no choice but to retreat deeper inside, abandoning their posts.

And from the gaping darkness of the shattered gate, a flood of pounding footsteps surged forth.

The howls of Fallen Elves and Forest Elves echoed, their formation pouring in like a black tide, carrying the stench of blood and fire.

The battlefield had officially shifted within the fortress.

Before the sound of splintering wood even faded, a massive shadow lunged in, a long iron spear gleaming midair.

But in an instant, Kizmel was already there.

"Not one step further!" Her voice thundered as her slightly curved blade split the air, deflecting the strike and hurling the enemy backward in a spray of pixelated blood.

Ren and Kirito stepped forward right behind her, swords drawn, their skills igniting in a blinding flare of blue and white.

"Kirito, left side!"

Their blades carved a cross, striking down two Fallen Elves at once, exploding them into a rain of red shards.

Asuna seized the opening, lunging forward without hesitation, her rapier thrusting again and again in streaks of light, piercing frail armor and forcing the enemy line to stumble.

The enemy's roars thundered in the great hall. Hundreds of pounding feet, the glint of steel arriving even before their bodies.

But at the center, four stood Ren, Kirito, Asuna, and Kizmel, holding the line.

Steel clashed, sparks erupted. Screams, metal, and collapsing bodies merged into a symphony of chaos.

Ren grit his teeth, his hands trembling, yet his eyes never wavered.

He heard Kirito's heavy breaths beside him, saw the fierce light in Asuna's gaze, and felt the steady rhythm of Kizmel's stance.

"Hold the line!" Kizmel shouted, her voice rising above the storm of swords and spears.

And so, amid the sea of frenzied foes, four blades blazed like lonely stars defying the night, backed by the courageous soldiers of the Dark Elves.

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