Outside the walls of Blackrock City—
The Ember Alliance encampment.
Twilight was descending. The dying sun hung like a bleeding wound on the horizon, bathing the entire battlefield in a heavy, clotted crimson.
Aboard the command platform, Helan stood with his hands clasped behind his back. His gaze cut through the layered ranks of the war camp, fixing directly upon the stubborn fortifications of Blackrock City. Atop the ramparts, firelight and the shadows of arrows flickered incessantly.
The cacophony of battle was no longer as frantic as it had been during the day—it had turned into something duller, a rhythmic groan of exhaustion.
He had issued the order: prioritize containment; avoid a direct, forced assault.
Yet, the casualties continued to climb. A siege was, by its very nature, a brutal exchange of lives for time. The defenders held every advantage of terrain and fortification. The attackers could see their own blood being spilled, but they remained blind to the internal collapse of the city. This "invisible attrition" was slowly, systematically eroding the morale of the men.
In the ranks below, soldiers spoke in hushed, wavering tones, their expressions tight with growing unease. Helan's gaze darkened.
"Something is wrong," he murmured.
Karl, standing at his side, glanced over. Helan continued slowly, "Dusk is almost upon us. Aside from a few scattered messengers... there hasn't been a single sign of reinforcements."
He narrowed his eyes, his tone turning frigid. "Even if mobilizing a grand army takes time—where are the vanguards? Where are the scouts? Even a symbolic force of relief should have appeared by now."
He paused, his voice dropping. "Blackrock City has not fallen, but their garrison must have reached its absolute limit. Logically... the Kingdom cannot simply leave them to rot."
A momentary silence followed. The wind whipped against the war banners of the Ember Alliance. Karl clasped his hands, his brow furrowing as he finally spoke.
"It is indeed abnormal. The three neighboring cities should have dispatched troops by now. Even if only to make a show of force, they wouldn't remain this indifferent."
He lifted his eyes to the empty horizon, where not a single soul stirred. "But we have been stationed here all this time, and we haven't seen so much as a single banner of relief."
After a brief hesitation, he added in a low voice, "Given the scale of the Lunaris Kingdom's military expansion in recent years... there is no way this is the extent of their forces. Where are they hiding?"
Helan's gaze sharpened. The two men locked eyes, and the same realization surfaced in both their minds: This wasn't a delay. It was a deliberate 'vacancy.'
Inside the walls of Blackrock City.
The wind moaned through the streets.
But within the City Lord's manor—it was a volcanic eruption of fury.
"PREPOSTEROUS—!!!"
Lord Rex bolted upright, his roar vibrating through the entire Great Hall. The parchment in his hand was crushed beneath his grip as he swept his arm across the desk, sending documents and wine vessels crashing to the floor.
CLATTER—!!!
Shards of pottery and splashes of wine sprayed in every direction.
"'Unable to reinforce'!?" He let out a jagged, hysterical laugh, his voice rasping with fury. "The Grand General actually had the audacity to say... unable to reinforce!?"
He took a heavy step forward, pointing a trembling finger at the discarded letter. "Whose mobilization orders were they—the ones that siphoned off my standing army, battalion by battalion!?"
"From two thousand elite troops—down to a measly five hundred!?"
"And now, with the enemy forces breathing down our necks at the gates... they tell me they can't send help!?" His voice climbed higher, reaching a frantic crescendo. "Blackrock City is the vanguard of the Southern Defense! It is the gateway to repelling the rebels!! Now I am left with five hundred soldiers and a thousand conscripts—how in the god's name am I supposed to hold this city!?"
A tomb-like silence swallowed the hall. The civil officials wiped cold sweat from their brows, one finally summoning the courage to speak.
"My Lord... the three neighboring cities... have also replied." He kept his voice agonizingly low. "Their main forces were likewise reassigned elsewhere by the Grand General. Their own garrisons are hollow shells now. If they were to split their remaining men to aid Blackrock City... they would be unable to defend themselves."
Rex's fury came to a sudden, jarring halt. It was as if scattered, jagged pieces of a puzzle were finally clicking into place within his mind.
"Draining the strength of Blackrock... then hollowing out the surrounding three cities..." he muttered under his breath. The rage in his eyes began to transmute, shifting into something far colder: disbelief.
"Then where...?" He looked up sharply, his voice turning glacial. "Where exactly does he intend to make a stand?"
No one answered. The wind groaned as it rushed into the hall, catching the fallen parchment on the floor and flipping it over. The ink on the page flickered in and out of the firelight—a script of a destiny already written, a sacrificial pawn's fate sealed long ago.
The Ember Alliance encampment. Twilight was surrendering to the dark.
Helan stood motionless for a moment, slowly withdrawing his gaze from the distant city walls. Then, he nodded. In that single movement, any lingering hesitation was severed cleanly.
"If that is the case—" His voice was low, yet possessed an undeniable finality. "There is no further need to observe."
He turned toward Karl and Albert, his gaze as cold and sharp as a whetted blade. "Blackrock City will receive no reinforcements. To delay any longer is merely to let the opportunity slip through our fingers."
Helan looked up at the rapidly bruising sky, his tone final and resolute. "Before night fully descends—launch the grand assault. Take Blackrock City. Let the army rest and refit, and then we will flush out the main forces of the Lunaris Kingdom."
As the words fell, the air itself seemed to constrict.
A fierce battle-lust ignited in Albert's eyes. He took a sudden, aggressive step forward, his laughter bold and ringing. "Finally! Brother—this city, I'm taking it with my own hands!"
Karl, however, did not offer an immediate response. He lowered his gaze slightly, his mind visibly churning through cold calculations. Only after a deliberate silence did he slowly nod.
"...So be it. With no reinforcements in sight, further delay is merely senseless attrition." He looked toward the distant horizon, though the furrow in his brow remained. "But where... where exactly has their grand army gone?"
His voice was a mere whisper, laced with an undeniable trace of unease. "This kind of 'invisibility'... it's far more dangerous than an ambush."
He paused, his gaze turning glacial, his resolve hardening. "If they refuse to appear—then we will force them out. Continue the advance. Aim straight for the Royal Capital. I don't believe they can stay hidden forever."
Helan offered a brief look of acknowledgement but did not counter him. In the next heartbeat, he hoisted the war banner high.
"ALL UNITS—HEED MY COMMAND!!!" His voice detonated like a thunderclap across the plains. "GRAND ASSAULT—!!!"
The banner swept down!
BOOM—!!!
The Ember Alliance surged forward like a collapsing mountain, a tidal wave of steel and fury. Countless silhouettes pressed forward in unison. The war drums thundered, the horns wailed, and the very earth began to shudder under the weight of the charge.
Blackrock City was utterly swallowed by the onset of the storm.
Atop the ramparts, the signs of collapse were already surfacing among the defenders. The soldiers' faces were ghostly pale, their hands trembling as they gripped their notched weapons. Some began to retreat. One step. Two steps.
Panic began to metastasize like a plague.
"HOLD THE LINE—!!!" Rex's roar nearly tore his own throat. "The gates must not fall—!!! If the city is breached, every single one of us is a dead man!!!"
But fear was faster than his commands. Two conscripts finally shattered under the pressure, discarding their weapons and turning to flee in a blind frenzy.
"HALT—!!!" Rex's eyes were bloodshot, his expression frantic with rage. In the next instant, his voice turned as cold as iron.
"—Kill them."
The order was executed without a second's hesitation.
PLUCK! PLUCK!
Longswords skewered through their backs. The deserters collapsed on the spot, their lifeblood rapidly staining the pristine snow a visceral crimson.
At that moment—everyone's breath stalled.
Lord Rex slowly scanned the trembling ranks, his voice low and laced with a cruel finality.
"From this moment forward—anyone who dares to retreat will be executed without mercy." He pointed toward the heavy city gates, his gaze bordering on madness. "If you cannot hold them, then you shall use your own corpses to block the path!"
Silence. Oppressive and suffocating.
Then, the sound of a sharp slap rang out. A soldier had struck himself hard across the face. Then another. And another. The men grit their teeth, their terror not gone, but forcibly suppressed by a desperate, animalistic resolve. Even the conscripts, their hands shaking, gripped their crude tools and pressed their weight against the gates.
It wasn't that they were no longer afraid. It was that they no longer had a way out.
Outside the walls, Helan sat astride his warhorse at the front of the formation, his gaze as unyielding as iron.
"Raise the ladders—scale the walls! Suppress the ramparts! Minimize all unnecessary casualties!"
The orders were relayed with lightning speed. Siege ladders began their slow, heavy crawl toward the front lines. However, Karl suddenly spoke.
"No."
Helan glanced at him. Karl slowly shook his head, his eyes locked onto the massive, bolted gates of Blackrock City.
"Do not disperse our strength," Karl said, his voice calm yet carrying a dangerous edge of decisiveness. "Full force—strike the main gate directly. With the momentum of a thunderbolt, we breach the city."
He paused, a chilling glint flashing in his eyes. "I want... the City Lord's head."
Helan started for a moment, then a light of realization dawned in his eyes. "You intend to...?"
Karl allowed a faint, composed smile to touch his lips. "The frontal assault is merely a feint." He looked up at the fortifications of Blackrock City, his tone becoming cold, almost indifferent. "The real blade... is already inside."
He turned his head slightly and added softly, "Now—I must trouble you all to look after my body."
As the words left his lips—HUM.
A single speck of starlight ignited quietly at his chest. Then, it spread with violent speed, like a galaxy collapsing. Countless crystalline fragments of light bled from his form, coalescing in the air to form a translucent, humanoid silhouette.
The "being" had no weight. No physical substance. Yet it radiated a presence that made the heart stop in terror.
In the next heartbeat—SHUCK!
The shadow of starlight tore through the air! It was so fast that the wind itself couldn't react, a streak of brilliance darting straight for the gates of Blackrock City.
Back on the command line, Karl's physical body swayed. He collapsed backward like a marionette with its strings severed.
"Brother!" Albert reacted with predatory speed, catching him before he hit the ground.
Karl's eyes were clamped shut, his breathing shallow and faint, as if he had been completely severed from the battlefield. Helan cast a single glance at him, but there was no panic in his expression.
He understood perfectly—the tide of the war had just shifted irrevocably.
"ALL UNITS—HEED MY COMMAND!!!" Helan's roar shook the foundations of the earth. "CONCENTRATE ON THE GATES!!!"
"TARGET—THE LORD OF BLACKROCK!!!"
The command thundered like a physical blow. The Ember Alliance's momentum surged, their acceleration turning the charge into a blur of steel.
Meanwhile, atop the ramparts of Blackrock City.
Lord Rex stood at the precipice, watching the enemy forces funnel themselves toward the main entrance. A sudden, manic euphoria erupted in his eyes.
"HAHAHAHA—!!!" He threw his head back, his laughter bordering on the deranged. "FOOLS!!!"
"You dare a frontal assault on my gates!?" he shrieked, his arm whipping forward in a command. "DIE!!!"
"ALL ARCHERS—AIM FOR THE GATES!!! RELEASE THE STONES!!!"
"WIPE THEM OUT AT THE THRESHOLD!!!"
The soldiers on the walls responded instantly. Bowstrings were pulled to their breaking points; massive boulders were winched into position. Every ounce of their firepower was now zeroed in on the massive wooden gates.
If they could just break the first wave... the army outside would become sitting ducks. Hope, which had been all but extinguished, flared back to life in a desperate, burning spark.
However—the hope lasted only a few heartbeats.
...Click.
A tiny, mechanical sound. Barely a whisper. Yet in that moment of tension, it sounded like a thunderclap.
Rex's laughter died in his throat. He slowly lowered his head, staring down at the base of the gate.
The lock. It was... open.
"What...?"
In the next instant—CRACK!
The massive iron bolt slid free of its own accord.
BOOM—!
Without a single strike from a ram, without a single spell of destruction, the heavy gates of Blackrock City began to groan inward. They opened smoothly, almost politely, as if someone from the inside had reached out and welcomed the invaders in.
A tomb-like silence fell over the ramparts.
"THE GATEHOUSE—!!!" Rex spun around, his voice cracking and distorted.
Every eye followed his gaze toward the control room. Through the narrow slits of the masonry, they saw a vision from a nightmare.
Bodies were strewn across the floor. A lake of fresh blood pooled beneath the gears. Every guard tasked with holding the mechanism had been slaughtered.
And in the center of the carnage stood a lone figure.
Drenched in the blood of his comrades, the soldier slowly lifted his head. He looked directly up at the City Lord and flashed a twisted, ghastly grin.
Then—SLASH!
Without a word, the soldier raised his blade and drew it across his own throat. Blood erupted in a violent spray. His body crumpled, joining the others on the floor.
But as he fell, a wisp of starlight quietly drifted out of his chest. It detached from the cooling corpse, coalescing into a streak of brilliant light that tore through the air and vanished into the horizon.
Back in the command tent of the Ember Alliance.
Karl snapped his eyes open.
"Hah—!" He gasped for air, his hand instinctively flying to his throat. His face was ghostly pale, his eyes shimmering with the residual trauma of a death that wasn't his.
"If only I didn't have to share their five senses..." he whispered to himself, his voice laced with weary resignation. "The Lucian Starlight Projection would be perfect."
He furrowed his brow, rubbing his neck. "This 'sensation of death'... it really never gets any easier to stomach."
Outside the walls, Helan had already spurred his horse forward. The path was clear.
He watched the massive gates groan open—and let out a thunderous laugh!
"EXCELLENT—!!!"
"THE GATES ARE BREACHED!!!"
He hoisted his war-blade high, his voice shaking the very foundations of the valley. "EMBER ALLIANCE—"
"INTO THE CITY!!!"
"CHARGE—!!!"
"KILL—!!!"
The roar was deafening. The Ember Alliance surged forward like a levee breaking, a torrent of steel and fury flooding through the threshold. Iron hooves shattered the cobblestones. Fire devoured the night.
Lord Rex stood in the center of the chaos, his expression a hollow void. He watched his soldiers—one by one—cast aside their weapons. They knelt. They surrendered.
In that heartbeat, the world went silent for him. The war cries, the crackling flames, the sound of collapsing masonry—it all drifted into a distant hum. There was only a cold, absolute stillness.
Until the freezing bite of iron chains wound around his arms.
"GET OFF ME—!!!" he shrieked, a ragged, desperate howl tearing from his throat.
He was slammed into the dirt. THUD—! His knees hit the ground with bone-shattering force. Dust swirled around him as the war banner of the Ember Alliance unfurled above his head, casting a long, dark shadow that buried him completely.
Blackrock City had fallen.
Starfall Cliff
At the summit, the wind was a whetted blade. The snow fell like a hail of arrows. Lunethia was held aloft, her body thrashing in a desperate struggle.
"LET ME GO—!!!" she screamed into the gale. "LET ME GO—!!!"
But the arm of the crystalline monolith was like tempered frost-iron. It remained utterly, terrifyingly motionless.
At the foot of the mountain, Owen looked up toward the peak, his voice dropping to a low rumble. "...The wolf pack has moved up. Every last one of them."
"Ironically... it's given us a path to survive."
"Survive?" Gareth whipped around, the fury in his eyes ready to detonate. "The Boss and Thea are still up there!!! You're telling me to run—now!?"
The air turned stagnant. No one dared to answer.
Gerald stood rooted to the spot. His breathing was heavy, labored. His consciousness was beginning to fray, sinking into a grey abyss.
"...No," he hissed through gritted teeth, his hands trembling violently. "Must I use the Secret Art now? But if I do..."
His gaze darkened with a grim realization. "Come the Winter Moon Festival... I will have nothing left to face the Crimson Witch."
He closed his eyes. His voice was a whisper, barely audible over the storm. "But if I do nothing... the Prince will never be rescued..."
Struggle. Torment. The choice was being driven to its absolute limit.
Right then—a blood-soaked hand snapped upward!
It clamped down with a death-grip onto the very crystalline arm that imprisoned Lunethia.
"...!"
Every head snapped toward the summit. High above, amidst the swirling white death—Rhine was standing.
He was bathed in his own blood, his breathing shattered and shallow, but he did not fall.
Using the last of his strength, Rhine clamped his fingers around the massive crystalline hand, his grip so fierce it seemed he intended to tear the limb apart. Blood seeped from between his fingers, dripping steadily onto the frozen earth.
"Old man..." he croaked. His voice was a jagged, inhuman rasp, yet it carried with absolute, terrifying clarity.
"Go... all of you."
He lifted his head slightly, the embers in his eyes refusing to flicker out. "I'll see you... at the Royal Capital."
HUM—!!!
The second crystalline monolith slowly raised its arm. Within its palm, a lethal light began to condense. Frost spun into a frantic vortex, and in the next heartbeat—
BOOM—!!!
A massive ice spear erupted, hurtling toward Rhine with the force of a siege engine!
"GET BACK—!!!" Rhine roared.
A torrent of orange flames exploded from his form, rising toward the heavens like a Great Beast unleashed.
CRASH—!!!
Fire and ice collided head-on. The spear was forcibly molten into a cloud of scalding steam that hissed into the air. The shockwave rippled outward, scouring the cliffside. And there, amidst the searing heat—for the very first time—fine, jagged cracks appeared on the surface of the monolith's arm.
At the foot of the mountain, Gerald stared at the sight, his vision blurring, yet he refused to look away. He slowly tightened his fist.
"Prince..." he whispered, his voice heavy with a silent plea. "You must survive."
Lena took a sudden, desperate step forward. "I'm going up there—!!!"
But a hand clamped onto her shoulder, stopping her dead. It was Gerald. He didn't look at her; his eyes remained fixed on the peak.
"Don't," he said, his voice low and leaden. "I trust him."
He paused, the weight of his words hanging in the air. "And we... we must leave this place alive. Only by living can we fulfill the promise."
"But—!!" Lena's voice cracked, a sob threatening to break through as she strained toward the mountain.
"There is no 'but'," Gerald interrupted. His tone was somber, yet it didn't contain a single trace of hesitation. "We have no choice but to believe in him."
His body swayed, his consciousness beginning to fray as he grew weaker. "I... I can't hold on much longer..."
Gareth remained silent for a heartbeat before reaching out and seizing Milia's hand. His voice was suppressed, but unshakable. "If we are separated... we meet at the Royal Capital on the day of the Winter Moon Festival."
Milia bit her lip hard and gave a solemn, heavy nod. In that moment, they turned their backs on the mountain. They did not look back.
At the summit, Rhine reached the zenith of his explosion!
"GET... THE HELL... AWAY FROM HER!!!"
BOOM—!!!
The flames erupted like a dying star. With a primal surge of strength, he actually swung his arms, physically hurling the massive crystalline monolith through the air!
CRASH—!!!
The giant slammed into the pile of jagged rocks, the impact shattering the stone. The debris scattered, and the great boulder that had been burying the explosives was finally shaken loose.
Rhine didn't waste a heartbeat searching for the fuse. Instead, he slammed a single, open palm violently against the frozen earth.
BOOM!!!
The collective flames within his body poured out in a singular, devastating torrent, flowing like a river of molten lava into the cracks of the stone. All it took was a single spark. One point of ignition to awaken the mountain's buried fury.
He let out a primal, guttural roar: "THEA!"
"HOLD ON TO ME!!!"
"—DON'T YOU DARE LET GO!!!"
Down the mountain path, Owen gritted his teeth, his muscles bulging as he carried the semi-conscious Gerald on his back, sprinting into a desperate retreat. Beside him, Gareth and Milia cut a path through the chaos, a lethal weaving of arrows and blades.
Lena was the last to look back.
She saw him—a silhouette standing amidst the raging inferno. Lonely. Shattered. Yet unyielding. Her hands trembled violently. Then, she bit her lip until it bled, turned away, and fled.
The flames had entered the earth. They raced along the line of the "Fire Rope" like the awakened wrath of a dormant ley line.
In the next heartbeat—BOOOM————————!!!
Heaven and Earth seemed to tear asunder. The entire summit of Starfall Cliff erupted in a cataclysmic explosion. Layers of bedrock buckled; sheets of ancient snow disintegrated. Massive boulders cascaded down like a tidal wave of stone, plunging into the lightless abyss below.
The crystalline monoliths were utterly swallowed by the fire and the collapsing earth. The wolf pack let out a collective, haunting wail as the majority of their number fell with the crumbling ridge.
The light of the blast—white, searing, and absolute—devoured everything in its path.
At that exact moment.
The foot of Starfall Cliff.
The Grand General's encampment.
RUMBLE—!!!
The shockwave hit. The ground beneath the tents groaned and shuddered. The Grand General ripped open his tent flap, his expression twisting in sudden alarm.
"What happened!?"
A soldier dropped to his knees, his voice trembling with panic. "Reporting, General! There has been a massive explosion... it seems to have come from the very peak of Starfall Cliff!!"
The General's pupils constricted. Without a second's hesitation, he barked out his orders: "Scouts—all of you, move out! Confirm if this has triggered a major avalanche!!"
"If there is even a sliver of risk—signal the alarm immediately!"
"The entire army must be ready to evacuate at a moment's notice!!"
"YES, SIR!!!"
Five scout riders galloped out of the camp instantly. The atmosphere in the camp tightened to a snapping point, like a bowstring drawn to its limit.
Not long after, the first signal flags were sighted from the front. A messenger sprinted back into the tent.
"General! All five scout teams have reported back!"
"Avalanches have been sighted in multiple sectors—but the scale is limited! The main camp will not be affected!"
The Grand General slowly let out a long, heavy breath. Yet, his gaze remained dark and ominous.
"...Good," he said, his voice dropping to a cold, low rasp. "Prioritize rescue operations in the affected zones. And send another cavalry unit—find out exactly what caused that blast."
The soldier was about to withdraw when another rider thundered into the camp, throwing himself off his horse and stumbling into a kneeling position before the General.
"General! The scouts report—a massive pack of white wolves has been spotted at the summit... they are in pursuit of five fugitives!"
The Grand General froze, a flicker of surprise crossing his face.
This scene masterfully heightens the tension by shifting the threat from the supernatural (the wolves) to the clinical, overwhelming force of the military. The "iron wall" (人墙) appearing at the end of the forest path is a classic, heart-pounding trope that signals the group has moved from the "frying pan" into the "fire."
Here is the refined English translation and narrative polish for 28(9):
Chapter 28(9): The Iron Threshold
In the next heartbeat, the Grand General's gaze sharpened, turning as lethal as a whetted blade.
"Five of them..."
He repeated the number under his breath, a flash of cold realization flickering through his eyes. "Could it be—is it truly them?"
He did not hesitate. His command cut through the air with absolute authority. "Signal the perimeter—Full Interception! No one—not a single man, nor a single wolf—is permitted to cross the blockade!"
He paused for a fraction of a second, his tone dropping into a deeper chill. "Priority—capture those five alive."
On the mountain forest path.
The group sprinted through the shadows, their boots shattering the frozen crust of the snow. Every breath felt like inhaling liquid fire.
Whiz—!
Gareth loosed an arrow mid-stride, the shaft burying itself in the skull of a lunging white wolf. He spat a curse through gritted teeth. "Damned beasts... how can there still be so many of them!?"
Owen was drenched in sweat, the weight of the unconscious Gerald on his back beginning to drag at his pace. His movements were becoming heavy, sluggish. "Curse it all... we can't keep this up... I can't run fast enough with him on me!"
"Keep moving!" Lena barked, spinning on her heel to deliver a brutal horizontal sweep with her spear.
CLANG!
The steel tip of her spear repelled a white shadow that had come inches from her throat. Her voice was frantic but decisive. "We'll hold the rear! Don't you dare stop!"
Suddenly, Milia skidded to a halt, her pupils constricting into pinpricks. "Ahead—!"
"There are people!"
Every head snapped forward. At the end of the forest path—dark silhouettes stood in rows. They weren't trees.
They were men.
A literal wall of black armor straddled the path, cutting off the world beyond. The steel of their plate was grim; their spears rose like a forest of thorns, the cold tips glimmering fitfully in the dying twilight. They were orderly, silent, and suffocating.
It was a barrier—utterly insurmountable.
Gareth's breath hitched in his throat. He let out a low, defeated rasp. "...Of course."
"They've been waiting for us at the foot of the mountain this entire time."