The Wian forces, awaiting their cue outside the city walls, joined with the troops stationed within, converging just beyond the South Gate. Concealed among the hills overlooking the harbor, the soldiers watched in awed silence as Yeong unleashed her extraordinary power. Despite the order to remain silent, a wave of excitement rippled through the ranks, their eyes wide with wonder. Ryang, arriving from the watchtower, his breath ragged from the climb, came to a halt beside Ung.
"High Councilor," Ung greeted with a curt nod.
"One major obstacle has been overcome," Ryang observed, his gaze fixed on the harbor.
"Now we advance."
The Dahnian forces, preoccupied with the chaos at the harbor, had flocked to the shore. Ryang narrowed his eyes, assessing their remaining numbers. "No more than three hundred," he estimated. "The oarsmen must have perished with the warships."
"Barely a third of our strength," Joon remarked, a triumphant grin spreading across his face.
"They are still regular troops," Ryang cautioned, "and their weaponry is superior to ours. Do not underestimate them."
"Since the attack has been hastened," Ung declared, his voice ringing with determination, "let us present the Guardian with a victory upon his arrival. All is prepared. With your permission, High Councilor, I will order the advance."
"There's no reason to delay," Ryang replied. "The rest is up to you, High Commander."
With Ryang's consent secured, Ung turned to Joon and Song. "Inform the troops. We advance swiftly and silently. Upon my signal, raise the flags and sound the war horns."
The siblings exchanged a silent nod, then raised their banners, signaling the advance. The Wian forces surged forward, their movements swift and silent, their blue flags held low as they descended the hill. Though the unexpected daylight hindered their surprise attack, the soldiers, emboldened by the recent display of Yeong's power, moved with unwavering determination.
As the Dahnian forces at the harbor came into view, Ung gave the order, and a blue flag shot up from the center of the vanguard. The other flag bearers followed suit, a wave of blue rippling across the battlefield. The resounding call of war horns pierced the air, carried by the sea breeze towards the enemy lines. The Dahnian forces, quick to react, began forming their ranks. The Wian forces, spurred by the enemy's swift response, increased their pace. The Dahnian army, their backs to the sea, formed a crescent-shaped defensive formation.
As the distance between the two forces narrowed, the archers, positioned at the rear, unleashed a volley of arrows. The projectiles soared through the air, raining down upon the enemy. But the Dahnian forces held their shields high, their formation unwavering. A moment later, answering arrows filled the sky. The advancing Wian forces, less disciplined than their Dahnian counterparts, suffered casualties, their ranks thinning with each volley. The agile Emissaries, dispatched by Norahn, darted across the battlefield, retrieving the wounded from the fray.
Joon and Jeong urged the infantry forward, their swords flashing, while Ung directed the archers, his voice a steady presence amidst the chaos. From the gate tower, Seon and Norahn emerged, joining Ryang and Yeong, who had returned from the harbor, their gazes fixed on the unfolding battle.
"Their arrows are finding their mark," Yeong observed, her voice calm amidst the chaos, "while ours fail to penetrate their shields."
"That was anticipated," Ryang replied, his gaze fixed on the battlefield. "Once the fighting becomes a melee, our superior numbers will be advantageous. And they have no tactical advantage, their backs to the sea."
"Yet, the loss of one of our soldiers is not equivalent to the loss of one of theirs," Yeong countered.
Ryang exhaled, a long, slow breath. The enemy's crescent formation had closed into a circle, and the vanguard clashed against the Dahnian forces, their spears and shields a whirlwind of motion. With the two armies now entangled, Ung ordered the archers to fall back, spreading the Wian forces into a wider formation to encircle the enemy. He turned to Joon.
"Keep your wits about you," he commanded.
Joon, with his brother Song by his side, plunged into the fray. The Dahnian forces fought with a fierce tenacity. From behind their shields, they wielded sickles, targeting the Wian soldiers' ankles. Those who fell were trampled beneath the feet of their advancing comrades. Despite their superior numbers, the Wian forces struggled to break through the enemy lines, the battle devolving into a chaotic melee.
"Shield wall!" Mujin roared from the heart of the battle. "Push forward! We must hold this ground for Her Highness!"
The Dahnian soldiers fought with the desperation of cornered animals, their backs against the unforgiving sea. Though their defeat was inevitable, their resistance was fiercer than anticipated. Yeong surveyed the chaotic scene, the ground littered with fallen bodies.
"We are losing too many men," she observed. It was a statement, but also a subtle suggestion. Ryang remained silent, his gaze fixed on the bloody spectacle unfolding before them. Yeong didn't wait for a response.
"Then I will act," she declared, stepping towards the battlefield.
Even for Yeong, with her extraordinary abilities, it was a daunting task to navigate the chaotic melee, to distinguish friend from foe. She focused her power on the enemy soldiers at the rear, those who formed the backbone of the defending formation. With a flick of her wrist, a wave of invisible force swept through their ranks. Five, six, then a dozen men crumpled to the ground, their bodies withered and lifeless. The water within them vaporized, rising into the air as a thick mist. The fallen lay scattered across the sand, their forms contorted, their deaths swift and brutal. Yeong continued her assault, her power reaching further, claiming more victims with each passing moment.
The dying men's screams, a chorus of agony, reached Mujin's ears. He couldn't comprehend the sight before him. Men were dying, their bodies shriveled, their life force extinguished as if consumed by an invisible fire. It was a form of death he had never witnessed, a terrifying display of power that defied explanation. Panic spread through the Dahn ranks, their once-solid formation crumbling. The Wian forces seized the opportunity, pressing their advantage, their swords flashing as they cut through the weakened enemy lines.
Has the Light of Reason and Intellect abandoned Dahn? Mujin wondered, his grip tightening around his spear. He felt a wave of helplessness wash over him, the stench of blood and burnt flesh heavy in the air.
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Kyeong'ui fled through the dense forest, following the path of the sunlight filtering through the canopy. The stench of blood clung to her clothes, growing stronger with each labored breath. A wave of nausea overcame her, and she doubled over, retching onto the damp earth. The physical expulsion seemed to clear her mind, sharpening her senses. The truth, for now, was irrelevant. Whether Hongyoo's words were true or not, she had to survive, to return to Sunyahng. Survival was her only focus.
Recalling Hongyoo's mention of Dongrahng, she navigated by the sun's position, her path guided by instinct and desperate hope. The clear sky and bright daylight were a blessing, but uncertainty gnawed at her. As she ran, the distant horizon emerged, a welcome sight that brought a surge of relief, a lump forming in her throat. She followed the coastline, heading south, her footsteps pounding against the sand. It wasn't long before she stumbled upon the bodies of five fallen soldiers. She paused, offering a silent vow to return and honor their sacrifice, then gathered their abandoned weapons: bows, arrows, and a longsword.
Have the rebels truly launched their attack? Doubt lingered in her mind, Hongyoo's dying words echoing in her ears. The distant clamor of battle reached her, but she couldn't quite believe it. As she drew closer, the scene unfolded before her: a fierce battle raging between the harbor and the encampment. The enemy forces, their blue flags rippling in the wind, swarmed the beach. No warships remained afloat; only broken masts marked their watery graves. The battle was nearing its end. Less than a hundred soldiers, their formation a desperate huddle, fought valiantly, but they were outnumbered, outmatched. One by one, they fell, their bodies pierced by enemy spears. Kyeong'ui skidded to a halt, taking cover behind a large boulder.
The escape route was blocked. Kyeong'ui leaned against the boulder, her breath catching in her throat. What should I do? Should I remain hidden, hoping to evade capture until Hyeok's return? A day or two might be enough. But can he even reach the shore? If he failed and returned with reinforcements, a few days of hiding would be futile. Should I follow Hongyoo's direction and head for Dongrahng, seeking passage to Sahpung? The jewels she carried would surely secure her a place on a ship. But then again, she might be robbed and thrown overboard, her wealth turning into a death sentence.
Kyeong'ui peered over the boulder, her gaze drawn to the chaos unfolding below. The black flags of Dahn, soaked and tattered, clung to a broken mast, rising from the churning sea. Even in its waterlogged state, the golden emblem shimmered on iridescent-black color. They are fighting for my return, she thought. Whether I live or die, my fate lies beneath those flags, she thought as if she heard whispers of the flags. She ducked back into hiding, her fingers closing around the bow and arrow. Seven arrows. Seven chances to alter the course of this battle. It wasn't enough to turn the tide, but it was enough for revenge. It was time to hunt. But today, her prey wasn't a beast.
Kyeong'ui nocked an arrow, her gaze scanning the battlefield. Where is the viper's head? Which target will inflict the most damage, draw the most blood, with a single, well-aimed shot? Like a hound seeking its quarry, her eyes darted across the chaotic scene, searching for the enemy commander. The daylight illuminated the battlefield, making it easy to distinguish friend from foe. The Myeonghyeon siblings were nowhere to be seen. Those treacherous vipers are likely watching from afar, she thought, her anger burning. Perhaps I can lure them out, use a few well-placed arrows to draw them into the open.
While the soldiers were preoccupied with the battle, a lone figure emerged from the shadows, her bow drawn, her arrow aimed at the heart of the enemy commander. The first target, a man in black sleeves leading the charge on horseback, came into view. The blue flags held by his men fluttered in the wind, guiding Kyeong'ui's aim. As a momentary gap opened in the enemy lines, she raised her bow and released the arrow.
It soared through the air, a silent whisper of death. The soldiers, focused on the chaos before them, were oblivious to the impending doom. The arrow found its mark, piercing Ung's forehead with chilling precision. He slumped in his saddle, his body sliding to the ground with a sickening thud.
"Father!" Joon cried out, rushing towards his fallen father. He cradled Ung's head in his hands, the warmth of blood and brain matter staining his palms. Ung's fingers twitched, then stilled. His death loosened the Wian forces' grip on the Dahnian army, their ranks faltering. A dozen soldiers fell, their throats and chests pierced by enemy blades. Joon's absence from the front lines created a gap in the formation.
"Go!" Song shouted to his men. "Go cover them!"
There was no time for grief on the battlefield. Joon, shielded by his men, stared at the arrow protruding from his father's forehead, its trajectory defying logic. It couldn't have been fired from the hills above. His gaze swept towards the coastline, where scattered boulders dotted the path towards Dongrahng.
While Joon peered cautiously from behind the boulder, Kyeong'ui nocked another arrow. The soldier she had struck earlier was now surrounded, his fate sealed. No other clear target presented itself within the immediate vicinity. Kyeong'ui widened her search, her gaze sweeping across the battlefield. A figure clad in crimson stood apart from the fray, a splash of color against the muted tones of the warring factions. Can this be the leader, the one prophesied to bear the Crimson Star, the one who can turn the tide of this battle? Will a single arrow be enough to end her?
With a deep breath, Kyeong'ui released the arrow, its trajectory aimed at Yeong's exposed neck. Joon, witnessing the arrow's flight, recognized the danger instantly.
"Guardian!" he shouted in desperation.
Yeong turned, and in that split second, the arrow's path shifted. It struck Yeong's left shoulder, piercing the flesh with a sickening thud. Yeong cried out, her body crumpling to the ground.
Kyeong'ui cursed her miscalculation. But the fallen figure was now a stationary target, an easy mark. She took aim once more, her breath steadying, her focus unwavering. One more arrow. One more strike, and it would be over. Whether this being is a demon, a god, or something in between, her life will end here in Birahng.
The bowstring thrummed, and the arrow soared through the air.