"Kill!!!"
The world shook with the deafening clash of steel and the thunderous roar of soldiers. Shouts of fury, fear, and bloodlust echoed endlessly above the towering city walls of Blackstone City. Countless siege ladders slammed against the ancient stone, forming a haphazard forest of wood and iron. Like torrents of living flesh, mercenaries and soldiers surged up the ladders, scrambling over one another in their desperate bid to reach the parapets.
From a distance, the city walls resembled a colossal hive swarmed by relentless, maddened ants.
On the Starlight Continent, a land where mighty Knights walked freely and legends breathed alongside mortals, towering walls no longer held the absolute dominance they once did. Even an Apprentice Knight—one who had barely begun their journey—could grit their teeth, endure a barrage of arrows and stones, and force their way up. As for fully fledged Knights, a few swift leaps were enough to clear several dozen meters with insulting ease.
Because of this, city walls were no longer merely passive barriers, but the focal point of brutal, direct, face-to-face slaughter.
Less than half an hour after the war began, the city walls had already transformed into a nightmarish battlefield—one that resembled an enormous meat grinder, chewing through human lives without pause. Fresh blood seeped into the cracks between weathered stone bricks, cascading down in dark red streams that painted the earth below.
Behind the Battlefield
At the center of the Iron Throne army, protected by heavily armed guards on all sides, four armored Knights watched the grisly siege unfold with cold, calculating eyes.
Devon was the first to break the silence. His brows creased as he exhaled.
"Blackstone City's resistance is… unexpectedly fierce."
Zorlf, a burly mountain of a man clad in heavy armor, let out a rumbling snort.
"It's to be expected. You can recruit soldiers if you have the coin. Rune controls the Black Stone Mining Area—he's been sitting on a goldmine. If he hadn't strengthened his forces at least somewhat, then I'd call him useless."
Norwood chuckled dryly. "Don't worry. No matter how strong they've become, their numbers are nowhere near ours. Our army outstrips theirs several times over. There's no possible way we'll lose."
As he spoke, he turned to the man standing beside him, his expression twisting into an obsequious grin.
"Besides, we have Lord Martel. With you commanding us, taking Blackstone City is nothing but a matter of time—a simple task."
Martel—tall, broad-shouldered, and just past forty—had a hardened face carved from years of combat, and the commanding aura of someone used to victory. One of the newly enfeoffed nobles serving under Baron Owen after the Iron Throne Territory expanded, he was one of Owen's most trusted confidants.
And, more importantly, he was a Senior Great Knight.
This campaign was his chance to accumulate merit, seize glory, and in return, be granted more fertile land and wealth. Hearing Norwood's flattery, a faint smile tugged at Martel's lips.
"You're right," Martel said, voice calm but edged with pride. "With the gap in our numbers, I truly can't think of any reason we would lose."
Devon, however, was more seasoned—and far more cautious. Seeing the casual disdain in the others' expressions, he hesitated before reminding them,
"Don't forget—we've received reports of a Wizard inside Blackstone City."
"Ah? Sir Devon means the boy Magus?" Norwood scoffed instantly.
"That kid grew up practically under our noses in Iron Throne Territory. He was timid, easily frightened, and so frail he couldn't even practice the Breathing Method. How could someone like him possibly become a Wizard?"
He waved dismissively, face full of contempt.
"Besides, the rumor may not even be true."
Martel nodded in agreement, his expression equally unconcerned. Even if it were true—even if a genuine Wizard had chosen Blackstone City—the pride of a Senior Great Knight burned too brightly for him to admit even the slightest fear.
Devon himself was unsure whether the rumor held any weight. Seeing the lack of concern from his companions, he decided not to press the matter further. Instead, he returned his attention to the distant battlefield.
The First Wave Falters
The first wave of attackers consisted mostly of mercenaries and the forces contributed by various vassal nobles—soldiers of rather average caliber. Unsurprisingly, despite the immense pressure they exerted, they still hadn't breached the walls. The defenders held firm, and the bitter tug-of-war dragged on.
Because the walls had remained unconquered for so long, the momentum of the Iron Throne army began to wane. Their formation, once sharp and aggressive, now showed signs of fatigue.
Seeing this, Martel finally stepped forward, unable to tolerate the sluggish pace.
"Enough. I'll handle this."
He led the elite troops of the Iron Throne in a powerful surge toward the walls.
The moment Martel's banner appeared, the battle shifted. His elite troops cut through the defenders like a sword slicing through taut cloth. Within moments, the area held by the attackers expanded dramatically.
Martel himself radiated the force of a storm. His armor drenched in blood, he pushed through defenders like an unstoppable wargod. Every swing of his blade tore open a path of carnage, and the defenders—no matter how courageous—were forced to retreat.
From afar, Devon, Norwood, and Zorlf watched through brass telescopes. Their faces lit with satisfaction.
"As expected of Lord Martel! A truly terrifying force!"
"This is the might of a Senior Great Knight!"
Hope surged through them—until the situation abruptly twisted.
A Sudden Change
A pack of sleek, black, panther-like beasts suddenly leaped onto the city walls. Their movements were shadows made flesh—swift, silent, and deadly. With roars that shook the stones beneath them, the beasts plunged straight into the attackers' ranks.
The impact was immediate.
The creatures were monstrously strong—capable of matching Knights in raw power. Soldiers were torn apart, tossed off the walls, or pinned beneath crushing paws. Within moments, the Iron Throne's previously unstoppable push ground to an abrupt halt.
At that same moment—
Rune appeared atop the battlements, standing proudly beside one of the larger beasts—a massive Black Rock Leopard whose fur glistened like polished obsidian.
Though Rune was only a Primary Grand Knight, far weaker than Martel in personal combat, the beast by his side was a different matter. Charging straight into Martel's path, the man-beast pair fought with perfect synchronization. Rune defended, the leopard attacked; the leopard leaped, Rune struck from behind.
For a time, even Martel was forced back. His strikes failed to land. His advance halted.
"What in the world are those creatures?" Norwood exclaimed, stunned.
Devon and Zorlf stared as well, their expressions grave.
Devon spoke first, slowly, thoughtfully:
"They resemble the mounts of the Black Rock Cavalry Regiment."
"Mounts?"
Norwood and Zorlf exchanged bewildered glances.
They had heard rumors before—that Blackstone City had formed a special cavalry unit mounted on strange leopard beasts. At the time, they had mocked the notion. Yes, exotic beasts were strong, often superior to warhorses in battle. But raw strength was meaningless if the creature couldn't be tamed or commanded reliably.
Discipline was everything.
A rider and mount had to operate as one. Only then could cavalry unleash the terrifying force that made them feared across the continent.
Most exotic beasts were fierce, wild, difficult to train, and prone to rebellion. Forming a cavalry unit using such creatures was nearly unheard of.
So they had dismissed Blackstone City's attempt as little more than a foolish spectacle meant to impress outsiders.
But now—seeing the beasts with their own eyes—they realized how gravely mistaken they had been.
The Black Rock Leopards advanced and retreated with flawless discipline. Their movements complemented the soldiers beside them. They showed no hesitation, no fear, no loss of control. They were fearless, ferocious, and perfectly suited for large-scale warfare.
If all the mounts of the Black Rock Cavalry Regiment possessed such capabilities…
Then the true combat strength of that unit was unimaginable.
With two hundred Black Rock Leopards joining the battle, the attackers were quickly pushed off the sections of wall they had captured. The battle, once tilting decisively in the attackers' favor, was now balanced once again.
"Damn it!" Norwood cursed. "Blackstone City was hiding such a trump card!"
Zorlf's face darkened. "This complicates things. With those beasts, storming the city won't be so easy."
Devon's brows creased even deeper.
Even if they eventually captured Blackstone City, the casualties would be enormous.
After a moment of thought, he said, "The losses from this siege are too great. I suggest we stop pressing the assault. Winter has only just passed—the city's food stores must be limited. If we besiege them for a month or two, they'll be forced to abandon the walls and fight us on open ground."
Norwood's and Zorlf's eyes brightened instantly.
"That could work."
"When Lord Martel returns, we'll propose a full siege."
A decisive battle outside the walls would heavily favor Baron Owen's elite cavalry—the army's pride and core strength. Losses would be minimized. Victory would be assured.
The three Knights allowed themselves a moment of satisfaction—only for a bone-chilling scream to suddenly pierce the air.
The three turned sharply, looking toward the right flank.
What they saw made their blood run cold.
Unexpected Chaos
The elite cavalry unit—the pride of the Iron Throne army—had fallen into utter chaos. Hundreds of warhorses screamed and thrashed wildly, fleeing in every direction as though gripped by terror.
Riders were thrown violently from their saddles. Some crashed into the ground and were trampled instantly into twisted shapes of broken bone and torn flesh. Others struggled to calm their mounts, only to be hurled aside with impossible force—some flying more than ten meters before slamming into the earth with horrifying finality.
A few, particularly unfortunate ones, didn't even manage a scream before death claimed them.
For more chapters
patreon.com/Liamlivingstone