Gandalf and I moved back toward the Great Hall, and when we arrived, things were in a state of chaos. Denethor, with madness in his eyes, was clutching Gríma by the collar in front of his sons' bodies and shaking him violently.
"Didn't you say that if I did as I was told, my family's lives would be spared and the throne of Gondor would be mine? Bring my son back to life this instant!"
"Cough, hack! This was an accident. Who would have thought the two of them would go charging out like that? First, let go of me..."
Unable to let those words slide, Gandalf approached them and demanded an explanation.
"What did you just say? Doing as you were told? Have you truly fallen for Sauron's sweet whispers? And do you honestly believe such a thing is possible? Do you not realize that all they want is the extinction of mankind?!"
At Gandalf's words, Denethor released his grip and slumped to the ground right where he stood.
"What have I... done..."
Denethor seemed to suddenly regain some semblance of sanity, which was quite unlike him. Seeing this, Gríma watched for an opening, suddenly drew a dagger from his robes, and lunged at Denethor.
Thud!
Clang!
"Arrgh!"
Gandalf struck Gríma's arm with his staff, causing him to drop the dagger, and then began to beat Gríma mercilessly with it.
Thwack! Thud! Smacker! Crack!
"Aargh!! Stop!!"
Gandalf demonstrated without hesitation that he was a strength-based mage. Meanwhile, I peeked outside. Usually, Faramir's return alive would lead directly into the arrival of the Great Orc Army, but there was no sign of that yet.
'Osgiliath was captured earlier than in the original story, after all.'
It was clear that many parts were deviating from the original narrative.
In any case, Gríma, who seemed to have a few broken bones from Gandalf's beating, was imprisoned in the dungeons of Minas Tirith. Gandalf also confiscated the Palantír that Denethor had been keeping—which he had received as a gift—and stored it in the spatial pocket bag I had gifted him.
However, whether due to the influence of the Palantír or the shock of his sons' deaths, Denethor just sat on the Steward's throne in the Great Hall, muttering to himself and doing nothing. I thought he had regained his senses, but that wasn't the case.
'I guess he wouldn't be Denethor if he actually pulled himself together. In the original novel, he was quite a capable figure...'
Seeing this, Gandalf let out a sigh and spoke.
"I fear for the future of Gondor. To think the one who should be preparing for war is in such a state..."
The day passed, and the second day arrived. I checked on Frodo's location using my [Nano Buckle]. It showed that Frodo was still making his way up the mountains of shadow.
'Shouldn't Gollum be starting to drive a wedge between Frodo and Sam by now?'
Since there were fewer variables on Frodo's end, it felt as though things would proceed as they did in the original story unless something happened.
I had a meal and went outside, where I saw Gandalf moving about everywhere, inspecting the defenses of Minas Tirith and preparing for war. Because Gandalf was a world-famous wizard and the authorities weren't speaking out, the soldiers seemed to follow his orders well. Furthermore, the soldiers vaguely knew—since Osgiliath had fallen to the enemy, war was inevitable.
I was watching him when I saw flames erupting from Osgiliath and something massive flying through the air. To see exactly what it was, I used the telescopic ability of [Byakugan] to check Osgiliath. I saw dragons, similar to Smaug, flying over the city.
Gandalf must have seen something too, as he rushed over and asked urgently.
"Did you see it? A massive blaze broke out in Osgiliath. I fear a Balrog has come."
"No, dragons have arrived. I've counted three so far."
Gandalf seemed profoundly shocked by that news.
"What?! Is that true?!"
"Yes. They look smaller than Smaug, but they are definitely of the same kind."
Gandalf frowned and rubbed his forehead as if he had a headache. It felt like Sauron was pouring out everything he intended to use when Morgoth is released from the Void in the future.
'Is it because of me?'
Gandalf pondered for a moment before saying,
"This is a disaster. A Balrog is dangerous enough, but dragons... For now, I must see if that Gríma fellow knows anything."
Leaving it at that, Gandalf headed to the prison. He returned quite a while later, and the blood on his staff suggested his questioning hadn't been very gentle. Whether it was because Gríma was uncooperative or because Gandalf was in a hurry, I couldn't say.
"You're back. Did you find anything out?"
"He truly knew nothing of value. His purpose here was simply to deliver the Palantír to the Steward and goad him into wasting the forces of Minas Tirith. In exchange, he was promised the throne of Rohan."
"Good grief, they'd never honor that, yet he fell for it so easily."
"Quite so."
Truly, in this world, many were corrupted or fell for simple lies. It was hard to understand. The question I had asked Sauron before was not a joke but sincere: what on earth did they plan to do in a world left with only ash and stupid Orcs after they won? I'd rather just die.
About two days later, the Orc army began their advance. While Gandalf watched with concern, Denethor, having heard from his subordinates, came out and stared at the advancing enemy for a long time.
"Steward, I understand your grief over losing your sons. But should you not at least take revenge on the enemy?"
Gandalf tried to snap him out of it, but Denethor simply ran back toward the Great Hall as if he had made some resolution. Seeing that, Gandalf sighed again.
With Denethor in that state, Gandalf went back to rushing around, commanding soldiers and tightening the defenses. Suddenly, a soldier arrived and reported that Denethor was doing something strange.
We hurried to the Tombs of the Kings where Denethor was. It seemed he had finally lost his mind; he had piled wood on a central dais in the tomb and was pouring oil over his sons' corpses and his own body. Gandalf and I just watched.
"He's finally snapped."
"Indeed he has."
Still, Gandalf felt he should at least try to stop it and spoke in persuasion.
"This is madness. It is not too late. Pull yourself together and do your best to protect Minas Tirith."
"Do not stop me, wizard! I shall die as the great kings did!"
If Faramir or Boromir were alive like in the original story, Gandalf would have intervened actively, but since both were dead, there was no strong reason to do so.
"Light the fire!"
At Denethor's command, a nearby soldier began to set the wood ablaze. Because of the oil, the fire caught quickly. Soon, the flames spread to his sons and Denethor himself, and the heat was clearly too much, as he suddenly began to scream.
"Aaaaagh!! Someone help me!"
Unable to endure the intense heat, Denethor thrashed around trying to extinguish the flames, but oil fires are not so easily put out. Suddenly, he leapt over the wood and began running outside. Whether he was looking for water or just blinded by pain, I couldn't tell.
We followed him out to witness his end. Ultimately, engulfed in flames due to the oil, he finished his antics by jumping off the topmost level of Minas Tirith.
"A waste of time. I must go. The enemy is upon us."
Even Gandalf didn't seem to mourn his death.
Anyway, Gandalf resumed commanding the soldiers. I looked down from the balcony and saw that the Orcs had already set up camp and were preparing to attack. There were so many Orcs that the ground in front of Minas Tirith was completely invisible—an incredible number. Roughly counting them, there seemed to be well over 200,000.
'I wonder how those ancient eastern kingdoms managed to fend off a million invaders...'
Looking at 200,000, I was curious about what wars involving over a million soldiers in ancient history must have looked like.
I scanned the enemy lines. The dragons weren't visible yet, but the Balrogs were standing behind the Orcs. With their flickering flames and massive size, they were hard to miss. Seeing them flap their huge wings and swing their whips of fire, they looked undeniably cool, though I felt a bit sorry for Gandalf.
'The Balrogs in the Lord of the Rings movies were certainly well-designed.'
The people and soldiers, seeing the Balrogs for the first time outside of legends, were in a panic. Gandalf worked hard to keep them calm.
'I can't do much about the dragons because of their nature, but I should definitely make those Balrogs into shadow soldiers.'
Just then, something was launched from a catapult in the Orc formation. The soldiers first blocked the incoming projectiles with their shields and then checked what they were—it was the severed heads of the soldiers who had been defending Osgiliath. It was clearly a psychological strategy to break the morale of Minas Tirith. It was incredibly cruel, but it was a tactic used frequently not just in this world, but in the ancient history of my own world.
After catapulting the heads, the Orcs began hurl massive boulders. Buildings were destroyed or collapsed upon impact. Of course, Minas Tirith didn't just sit idly by. There were many catapults on the city walls, and the soldiers loaded them with stones to fire back.
I positioned myself on the top floor and took out a greatbow from my inventory, shooting arrows to destroy the Orc catapults. I also sniped the trolls pushing the siege towers to stop them in their tracks. The greatbow arrows, fired with immense force, pierced through the trolls and embedded themselves deep into the ground.
Whish! Whish! Whish!
Thud! Thud! Thud!
"Skreech!" "Gwark!"
Then, the Nazgûl began to fly in on their 'Fell Beasts' to attack from the air, but to me, they just looked like perfect prey.
"Those guys make for excellent targets."
Zip! Zip!
Thack! Thack!
"Screeeeee!" "Skree!"
As two Fell Beasts were struck by my arrows and plummeted toward the Orc lines, the Nazgûl were unable to do anything and simply retreated. Unlike the original story, they didn't get to do much before scurrying away.
"How disappointing. They should have come closer... hunting them was starting to get fun."
I went back to destroying trolls and catapults. When the siege towers got too close, I used my [Energy Bomb] ability to create explosive arrows.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The explosive arrows caused multiple blasts, blowing off the tops of the siege towers and rendering them completely useless. The soldiers were also responding systematically and effectively because Gandalf had spent the last few days preparing them.
As a result, other than the damage from the initial catapult fire, they hadn't lost many men yet. Moreover, the walls of Minas Tirith were built to be extremely solid; while the catapults could break buildings, the walls themselves would not fall easily.
Growing frustrated, the Orcs seemed to decide to assault the gate, even at the cost of high casualties, and concentrated their forces there. Naturally, the gate of Minas Tirith was also very sturdy and wouldn't be breached easily, but fearing it wouldn't hold up under sustained damage, Gandalf hurriedly ordered the soldiers to fire arrows and throw stones from the crumbling buildings to defend it.
"Defend the gate! Anyone with free hands, haul some stones!"
After about three hours, the sun slowly began to set, and it grew dark. On the Orc side, there were no properly functioning catapults or siege engines left, and even walking trolls were becoming rare. The ground beneath the walls was littered with the corpses of Orcs who had tried to approach. The gate was still holding strong.
However, I could see trolls in the distance pushing a massive battering ram shaped like a giant wolf. I tried to snipe the trolls immediately, but the Orcs had covered it with layers of metal shields and even piled up the bodies of their own comrades to block my arrows.
"Aren't they being clever?"
I fired an arrow as a test, but because of the distance and the shields and corpses, it didn't penetrate through to the trolls. So, I began firing explosive arrows charged with energy.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The explosive arrows blew away the layers of shields and corpses, gradually beginning to dismantle the ram. When the trolls tried to abandon the ram and flee, realizing it was a lost cause, I immediately sniped and killed them. Once the ones trying to run were dead, the remaining trolls couldn't even attempt to escape and simply crouched down behind the broken ram.
"This is the true terror of sniping."
I continued to have fun detonating the ram with explosive arrows. Due to the force of the blasts, the nearby Orcs couldn't do anything.
Boom!
Crack! Thud!
Eventually, the ram took a few more hits, and the supports holding its weight gave way, causing it to lose all functionality. I then immediately sniped the trolls hiding behind it.
Thwack! Thwack!
"Gugh!" "Ugh!"
'That was definitely entertaining.'
Dismantling a giant battering ram felt like a video game challenge, making it quite fun.
More time passed, and as the siege saw no further progress, I saw Orcs rushing toward the gate carrying shields and small barrels. Since several were running at once, I wondered if they were bombs like back at Helm's Deep, so I sniped one. It didn't explode; instead, a strange black liquid gushed out. It appeared to be oil.
They likely intended to burn the gate down. Since the gate was made of wood, it was naturally vulnerable to fire. I hurriedly sniped the Orcs carrying barrels, but there were too many, and even if I took one down, another nearby Orc would just pick it up and keep running, making it feel pointless.