Roy placed the large wooden crate in the center of the crowd. Inside were strange, oval-shaped objects, sitting casually within the box like innocent stones.
The soldiers stared at the wooden box in utter confusion, clearly failing to process what they were seeing. Rak Mhan dashed toward Roy and dropped into a one-knee bow, relief visible on his face.
"Lord Zudra, you are finally here," Rak Mhan said, sounding profoundly grateful. Yet, just as he began to relax, his attention snapped toward the strange objects in the crate.
"Lord Zudra, may I ask what these are for?"
Roy picked up one of the oval-shaped orbs, tossing it lightly in his hand like a common ball.
"This is called a hand grenade," Roy explained, pointing toward a metallic handle and a round ring at the top.
"You simply pull this pin and throw it as far as you can toward the enemy."
He pulled the pin and hurled it toward the advancing army.
The grenade struck a soldier's forehead. The impact made the man stumble back a few steps before he regained his ground,
clutching his head in agony. He looked down at the strange object that had hit him, but before he could utter a word of confusion, his vision suddenly went black. The last things he sensed were a flash of light and a sharp, shattering pain.
BOOM!
The grenade detonated in the heart of the formation. The soldier standing directly over it was instantly shredded into pieces. Shrapnel and fire tore through the ranks without mercy, instantly erasing a wide circle of men.
The Western soldiers screamed in agony.
Blood poured out from their ears as their eardrums ruptured from the blast. Men flew several feet above the sky before thudding lifeless on the ground, the shockwave hitting them like a physical blow to the chest.
Others clutched severed limbs, holding onto consciousness for a fleeting second before their vision blurred before fading completely into darkness.
Ahn Dey, Gar Do, and Bho Thong felt their jaws hit the ground. Their eyes widened in terror and shock, as if they had just witnessed a small meteorite strike the earth.
"What in the world was that?!" Gar Do shouted. The explosion had left a high-pitched ringing echoing deep in his ears.
Ahn Dey was no less terrified. He watched a man fly several feet into the air before landing lifelessly; a severed hand bounced and settled just below Ahn Dey's feet. He nearly screamed, but having seen the horrors of war before, he managed to regain his composure—though he could not hide his trembling expression.
Rak Mhan, watching the chaos from above, didn't feel fear. Instead, he jumped for joy, raising his hands frantically in the air as if he were watching a spectacular festival rather than a massacre.
"Wow, that was amazing!" Rak Mhan cheered, awe evident in his eyes.
Then without permission, his hand reached into the crate. He laced his finger through a safety pin and pulled with all his might. The pin came away with a faint clink, and he threw the orb with a powerful heave.
The grenade curved through the sky in a wide arc before landing at a soldier's feet. The man had his shield raised high to block the arrows raining down in relentless waves; he didn't realize he was already dead. By the time he noticed the oval object rolling toward his boots, it was too late.
The grenade detonated, killing him in an instant.
"Hahaha! These celestial weapons are incredibly powerful—truly a weapon of the divine!" Rak Mhan exclaimed, his eyes alight with amusement.
Roy only chuckled silently. Thankfully, his helmet hid his expression, saving him from any potential awkwardness.
Rak Mhan cleared his throat and straightened his posture, instantly shedding his childish excitement.
"Archers, continue the volley! Spearmen, grab an orb and hurl it at the enemy!" he commanded, his voice now carrying the cold seriousness of the battlefield.
The soldiers scrambled for the wooden box, excitement gleaming in their eyes.
Behind the battlements, the archers cursed inwardly. They watched in envy as the spearmen handled the new celestial weapons with excited expressions, while they were stuck with the same crude technique of archery used by their ancestors—a skill that now felt ancient and obsolete.
The spearmen crowded the crate. One soldier grabbed a grenade, hooked his finger through the pin, and hurled it across the air. The rest followed suit in one fluid motion, pulling pins and hurling the "stones" over the walls.
Soon, the battlefield erupted into total chaos. Explosions detonated in relentless waves, sending jagged shrapnel screaming through the air, shredding and tearing through countless men before they could even react. Ahn Dey watched in total horror as his army fell in massive swathes.
"How... how can this be?" Ahn Dey muttered, his face drained of color as his knees grew weak and began to shake.
Tears began to swell in his eyes as he watched the destruction of his army, he had thought the attack will end up in complete victory, clearly he had not anticipated this outcome.
A commander rushed toward the stunned Grand Marshal in a total panic, sweat pouring down his face like a violent flood as he staggered slightly before he fell and tumbled around the ground. He immediately scrambled back up to his feet and deliver his report.
"My Lord!" the commander panted. "The soldiers have broken formation! The soldiers above the city are throwing strange, exploding objects at our ranks."
The commander paused slightly, as if hesitating to deliver the last sentence.
"They won't hold the line, General. My lord, what are your orders?"
In that moment, only one word filled Ahn Dey's mind.
Retreat.
Ahn Dey stiffened slightly, unable to speak the word out aloud, he glanced toward the city, still towering, still intact, he then glanced back toward his soldiers, some were already dead, other screamed in terror as they clutched their wounded limbs.
He watched as his twenty thousand men, all mighty and strong, capable of conquering an entire region, have fallen into chaos by a single city.
Finally, he sighed, disappointment and exhaustion evident in his breath.
"Fall back..." he whispered. "We fall back