The walls of Cardella did not rest after the Sword Saint's strike.
Where Astoria's blades had torn swathes through the horde, fresh ranks already pressed forward, their shrieks stitching the night's terror back together.
And the vice-captain answered them in kind.
Faris Hart had already stepped to the battlement's edge, halberd braced upright like a mage's staff.
His blue eyes narrowed, and with a surge of mana the runes etched into the steel flared cold white.
"Frost of the World's Edge." He invoked the second sequence of his cultivation technique.
And the ground before the wall answered.
Ice surged outward in sheets, creeping across the soil in a tide of blue-white shimmer while the ground just before the wall sprouted spikes slanted at the horde.
In a heartbeat, the battlefield's front edge was froze solid — goblins tripped mid-sprint, trolls skidded, whole clusters of beasts tumbled as their footing vanished before plunging themselves into the spikes.
And at the wall's base, where claw and fang might have dug in to climb, the frost thickened into a glassy incline — a ramp of ice that sent the first leaping monsters sliding back into their own ranks.
The horde howled as the final stretch of their advance choked, their momentum buckling against the simplest cruelty of nature made weapon.
Along the battlements, soldiers and adventurers whooped at the sight of goblins skewered like fish.
One younger knight doubled over, gagging at the sight of bodies skewered below, as the stench of blood drifted up the walls.
But Faris did not smile.
His expression remained grim, his halberd raised as frost steamed off its edge, already preparing for the next wave.
On Astoria's other side, Serenya Vael let go of her mace and pressed her palms together.
While the knights of Liora cheered, for the Dawn's Hand made her move.
And a moment later, her grimoire swung open, freeing itself from the strap on her thigh with a flutter of pages, runes written on them glowing faintly as her amber eyes shut in prayer.
Her voice rose — soft at first before gathering force in a cadence, like poetry carried by the wind.
"O Dawnmother, who guards the weak,
O Dawnmother who guides the meek,
O Dawnmother whose light bathes me,
O Dawnmother whose threads light through shadow's teeth,
Let your hand fall swift, let your judgment be bright,
By your blessing, may the heavens fight."
As the final words of her prayer left her lips, the world itself trembled.
Above the city, the clouds split open as if torn by invisible hands.
And through the wound in the sky poured a vast and burning halo shimmering in gold as the city's edges crackled with divine might.
And from that halo came arrows.
Thousands of radiant shafts of light, each enveloped with sunfire as they descended in silence.
And a beat later broke into a storm, turning the night sky gold.
-BOOM!
-BOOM!
-BOOM!
Arrows of Liora's might slammed into the horde in a rain of holy death.
Each impact bursting into fire and brilliance, searing flesh, and igniting blood as they drove the invaders screaming into the dirt.
Trolls fell with shafts buried in their skulls, orcs dropped mid-roar with their chests blown open, while the goblins dissolved into ash as the holy fire touched them.
For a heartbeat, it was as though dawn itself had arrived, piercing through the night of the full moon.
Some men banged their fists on their chest plates in rhythm, half-laughing in disbelief.
While others just stared wide-eyed at the sky.
One archer muttered hoarsely, "If that's not a miracle, I don't know what is," before notching another arrow.
The defenders once again roared as one, voices crashing against the dark.
The three captains — Sword Saint, Frostbearer, and The Dawn's Hand — had unleashed their strength.
Yet still, the horde came on.
But by now, the chants had built to a crescendo.
Mages within their magic circles raised their staves as one, and the battlements lit like dawn once again.
"—Ignis!"
"—Fulgra!"
"—Ventara!"
The second volley erupted with Astoria's command.
Firestorms boiled outward, their tongues of flame tasting the sky.
The battlements shook under the barrage, dust sifting down from the stone.
Men gripped the crenellations for balance, teeth rattling with every impact.
While spears of ice fell like glacial rain.
Bolts of lightning cracked through the night in blinding arcs that turned trolls into twitching husks.
And with them came whirlwinds — spirals of slicing air that shredded wings, tearing harpies and gargoyles from the skies as they crashed screaming into the dirt below.
The horde reeled under the punishment.
But still there was no pause, much less a stop.
Orcs still bellowed, goblins still shrieked, and trolls still charged.
Their each step pounded like a drum in savage rhythms.
And all the while, the sky lit red and green and black from their own volleys.
Rocks the size of wagons, hurled by trolls, slammed against the warding barrier with thunderclaps that shook teeth in jaws.
Fireballs rolled in like comets, exploding against the shield in blossoms of black smoke.
Pitch black miasma rained from the horde's rear ranks, carrying poison that sizzled when it struck the wards.
But the priests of Liora did not falter.
In the watchtowers lining the wall, robed figures knelt before braziers of golden flame, hands clasped, voices raised in chants that braided into one long note of faith.
From their lips spilled the power that kept the ward intact — a great dome of pale light, shimmering against the night, absorbing the punishment of an army.
Yet more of the horde kept piling by the wall.
The frozen earth betrayed them.
Dozens slipped on the frosted ground before screaming into the ice spikes Faris had conjured at the base.
But more clambered forward as they smashed against the gate in waves, their maws and claws hammering a drumbeat of their fury.
And slowly but surely, the meters-thick ice Faris had layered onto the gate began cracking, small shards falling with every impact.
Fire, frost, and faith had bloodied the tide — but the battle was only climbing.
Below, the horde roared higher.
And now, it was time for the knights and adventurers to answer in kind.