The advance to the wall on top of the Cockatrice wasn't comfortable.
But it was fast. Fast enough that Leda and Dioscuros gave up following me after a few meters.
They knew that, despite my no longer having the towers, I still had the mages — who, even weaker without the Magic Tower's reinforcement, would still manage to considerably disrupt the advance of two isolated targets. And they knew, too, that my Yokais were no joke.
Unfortunately for them, the dirty tactic hadn't worked completely.
Now the fight would be between armies.
And, honestly, that was the best I could hope for in that moment. Against those two, alone and without towers, I would last seconds. Against an army, I had wall, I had Arachne, I had two hundred and forty bodies with dragon's blood. Armies die slowly. And, the more slowly things happen, the more time I have to think — which is the only weapon I really trust.
"My Lord… what do we have to do?"
Morgana and Livina ran to me alongside Eris as soon as the Cockatrice climbed the wall and descended on the other side, her claws scratching the stone on the way down.
The confusion in their eyes came from one thing only: they had probably already been warned by Eris about the disabled towers. And, unfortunately, they weren't only mine.
With the two territories merged, the item took everything. Her towers were dead too.
"They have an item that probably disables one or more constructions within a specific radius… We need to think fast about a new tactic. I suggest abandoning the walls and focusing on the gate and the climbers."
Eris didn't seem to quite understand the reason for what I was doing. But she agreed anyway.
The truth was simple: without the towers, there was no way to protect the wall. A wall without magical cover is just a taller ladder with the step facing the wrong way — and, against creatures that climb, the only thing that matters is what waits down below.
So the plan was this: assemble a defense line for those who got past the wall, while I pulled the mages back into the disabled towers. From there, they would still have range and height to attack — only, now, with my entire army between them and the enemy.
There was a cost to that choice, and I knew well what it was. Abandoning the wall meant accepting that the enemy would enter. It was no longer a question of preventing it — it was a question of choosing where they would die after entering. I was, officially, trading a defense for a slaughterhouse.
The only real problem was those two Burmans.
But, about that, I had an idea.
Or, at least, the beginning of one. The kind of idea you don't share with anyone before the hour, because, said out loud, it would sound exactly like what it was: desperation shaped like a plan.
✦ ✦ ✦
"Prince! Come to me!"
My shout made the great griffin descend from the sky in seconds.
"My Lord?"
"I'm going to need your help. I need you to watch the two Burman Lords — I need to know their position at every instant. Use whatever is necessary for that, but keep your distance. If you get hit by that Burman woman… I don't think even you would hold up."
The truth is that the mission I was giving the griffin was dangerous.
Watching two specific Burmans in the middle of hundreds of others was much harder than it seemed — and I felt those two were cunning enough to manage to shake him off. Or, worse, bring him down.
In the end, what I needed was just a bearing.
"If you lose the trail, that's fine. It's better to lose the trail than to lose you."
"Understood, my Lord."
And, before Prince took flight, Arachne advanced to me.
Her size made the ground tremble with each step — but I knew what that was. Worry. She always gave me the freedom to make my own choices without putting herself in the middle, but that never meant that seeing me in danger gave her any pleasure.
"Hey… hey… it's all right, daughter."
I ran my hand over the cracked chitin of her face.
"We're going to need to line up the Yokais near the wall. I'm going to leave you with as many Inheritance warriors as possible. You and I are going to the gate. Call the Urskra, and the owl-bear too. All help is going to be necessary."
Arachne didn't wait even another second. She shot off in the direction of the stable.
With eight legs and nearly twelve meters of height, she was the fastest creature I had within those walls. Sometimes I asked myself what she would have been if I hadn't received her. Probably something terrible. Probably something free.
✦ ✦ ✦
Morgana and Livina, standing at my side, awaited their own orders.
Morgana I sent to the Magic Tower. It was also disabled — but it remained the tallest structure in the kingdom, and that gave a shooter of that caliber the capacity to bring down the maximum of enemies with the minimum of effort.
She didn't argue the order. Not a word. She just adjusted her crossbow on her back, looked at me one last time — in that way she looks when she wants to say something and decides not to — and began to climb. I should have said something. I didn't.
Livina would stay with me.
And, before the enemy arrived, I ordered her to place her summons inside the perimeter. The Treebeards would be the first barrier the instant the gate fell — living wood in place of dead stone.
"Sorry… I'm nervous… I'm afraid."
Eris was frozen where she was hidden behind me.
And, for the first time since she arrived, she found herself in a situation in which her cavalry could do absolutely nothing. Fola herself had asked me to take care of her before departing for the north gate — after all, cavalry isn't the best unit in the world for protecting a person standing still.
But being in front of the gate, hearing horns and footsteps growing on the other side, transformed anyone into an extremely fearful person.
Honestly, I could see it out of the corner of my eye: the rhythmic pounding outside made her body want to lie down on the ground. And, even so, she remained standing.
It was then that the strong smell of urine rose.
"Sorry… sorry…"
She repeated the word without managing to look at me.
"Don't worry. We're going to survive — and you're going to go home."
Her eyes of desperation, which were getting lost on the horizon, turned in my direction.
And she began to calm down. Not much. But enough to keep breathing properly.
I didn't comment on the smell. Nor did I look down. There are humiliations we spare others simply by pretending they didn't happen — and, for someone who remained standing even with their entire body begging to lie down and curl up, that was the least I could offer.
✦ ✦ ✦
Beside her, I set up a perimeter with the Urskra.
In the end, they remained as eager as they always were. Only bigger. Fuller, of heavy and strong appearance, with that look of those who spent months waiting for the hour to be good for something.
Now was the hour.
I remembered when the youngest fit in a corner of the stable, fighting over food and biting his own tail. The Oasis doesn't give time for childhood. Neither for creatures, nor for people.
And, even though he still wasn't as tall as the father or the brother, he would have to be there anyway. Unfortunately, there was no room to spare anyone in that battle.
After all, that could be the last one.
If Eris knew how to ride, I myself would have put her on top of the father Urskra. But she preferred to stay planted exactly where she was.
Among the Urskra, another creature stood out. Smaller — but, most certainly, stronger than all those Urskra together.
The owl-bear was a level B creature. The Urskra, at most, reached level C. And the reason was simple: unlike them, the owl-bear could use magic. Not an excellent magic, nor of high impact — but enough to protect itself. And to protect whoever needed it.
"FireWood, your function is to protect her. And nothing beyond that. Understood?"
The owl-bear just nodded.
He knew that what I was giving him wasn't an easy mission. But it was, also, the least dangerous mission of all — because I was almost certain that, the instant the gate broke, Eris would run to the tower.
And I wouldn't blame her for it.
In that moment, the great Centaur and her cavalry were the units I most needed. Besides, I was certain Eris possessed some item stored away capable of protecting her. People from noble families always do.
"Very well, everyone. This is the hardest fight of our lives. Please… don't die."
✦ ✦ ✦
Fortunately, with the units I had, I managed to position at least one Yokai accompanied by two to three Inheritance warriors at each point of the line.
I wasn't sure how strong a common Burman unit was. I believed it was inferior to a Lord — but, most certainly, at least ten times stronger than a normal human.
What I knew was something else: in raw power, my warriors were as strong as a Burman Elite unit.
That should mean something. Two hundred and forty elite units — in a race that, by definition, shouldn't manage to produce even one.
But only when the battle began would I know what this meant.
And that was the part that squeezed my stomach. I had built two hundred and forty soldiers with a power that not even I understood properly, betting the entire kingdom on an ability I discovered by accident less than a week ago. If those warriors weren't worth what I believed they were worth, everything would end before the middle of the night.
"They've arrived, my Lord."
And, right after, an enormous pounding pulled me from the stupor.
The gate was being broken. Once. Twice. Three times — and the reinforced wood screaming with each blow like something alive.
I felt the pounding rise up through my boots before hearing it. And, behind me, the entire line locked — that specific silence of two hundred creatures holding their breath at the same time. Not even the Urskra were growling anymore.
I already had an idea of what kind of unit would be doing that.
"Focus on the creature that enters! It's more dangerous than whoever controls it!"
My shout came out at the exact moment the gate yielded.
And then I saw it.
The first thing to cross the opening wasn't a soldier.
It was a foot. A single foot, the size of a cart, crushing the remains of my gate as though they were twigs.
✦ ✦ ✦
Nearly seven meters tall.
That was the first thing my head registered — before the scales, before the teeth, before any other detail. The height. Because height, on a closed field, means something very specific: reach you don't have.
Dark scales, a chest broad enough to plug the entire opening of the gate, and two colossal legs sinking into the earth with each step.
"You really are just like him."
That came out of my mouth without my noticing.
Because, apart from a few details, that creature was identical to what I saw in drawings as a child — in the school books, in the movies that played late at night. A tyrannosaur. One so exact it became uncomfortable: two different worlds, two universes, and the same form repeated as though someone had copied the lesson.
It was an absurd thought to have in that moment. But it was what came: a farm boy memorizing names of dinosaurs that would never be good for anything, and, twenty years later, one of them crossing the gate of his house. The universe has a very specific sense of humor.
The enormous creature let out a scream, showing its giant teeth.
And, on top of it, the unit that commanded it: a small Burman, almost frail next to the monster, holding what seemed to be a steel whip.
The creature's back was marked. Not from battle — from the whip. Old lines crossing new lines, layers upon layers, the entire history of a life written in scar. That animal didn't march out of loyalty. It marched because it learned what happens when it doesn't march.
The whip cracked once in the air. And the creature advanced.
Before it took the third step, Arachne bit it by the neck.
The scream that came out of that creature was one of pain — and of fear. Because Arachne was much more than that. Much larger. Much stronger. It had no chance at all: in seconds, the colossal body was already withering while my daughter sucked every drop of its blood.
The rider was hurled off by the fall, rolled across the earth, and tried to get up. A Yokai got there first.
It was then that I understood why the Burmans sent those things first. They weren't battering rams. They were bait. Each of those mounts occupied one of my heavy pieces for long enough for the infantry to cross the opening behind it.
Only, in place of the first, two more entered.
"Arachne is busy… LET'S GO! AHHHHHHH!"
✦ ✦ ✦
I advanced with the shield and the armor.
And Pegasus flew straight into the face of the second — which began to scream in desperation while its own snout was torn like butter. The sound of pain from that enormous creature hit my ear in a way that, for a single second, I almost felt pity.
But I didn't have time. There never is.
Because the third saw me coming. And advanced to bite me.
Before it managed to, an arrow went through its eye.
Morgana. From atop the Magic Tower, from more than two hundred meters, in the middle of a field with hundreds of moving targets.
She chose that target among all the others. She chose it because it was the one coming at me. And, for the third time that day, I asked myself what I had done so right in life to deserve those two at my side.
The creature screamed and began to thrash — and I took advantage of exactly that moment. I jumped onto its head, driving the shield between the scales to hold on, and advanced in the rider's direction.
"So you like whipping creatures? Take this."
I transformed my sword into a spear.
And ran it through his face — breaking the nose, crossing the skull, coming out the other side. That Burman's eyes closed gradually, and I just kicked him aside, like someone clearing trash from the path.
I looked at the fallen reins. At the whip dropped on the scales. For a whole second — a second too expensive in the middle of a battle — I considered trying.
Unfortunately, controlling that creature demanded some kind of command I didn't know.
And I hated that more than I expected to hate it.
Because, without the command, that animal would keep thrashing blindly in the middle of my kingdom, crushing allies and enemies without distinction — and, with seven meters of blind panic loose inside my lines, my soldiers would die at the feet of something that didn't even know it was killing. It wasn't its fault. It didn't choose to be there, didn't choose the whip, didn't choose who rode on its back. But war doesn't ask who chose what.
I advanced to its head, which was still thrashing, trying to tear out the arrow buried in the eye.
And ran the spear all the way through.
The creature fell, creating an enormous crash, kicking up earth and dust in every direction.
I climbed down from its still-warm body, with the spear dripping, and looked at what remained of my gate.
Three mounts brought down in less than two minutes. Under any other circumstance, that would have been cause for celebration. But I knew all too well the mathematics of that place: if they spent three creatures of that size just to open the door, it was because they had far more than three to spend.
✦ ✦ ✦
On the horizon of the broken gate, the Burman units were already a few meters away.
Row after row. Stepping over the corpses I had left without even looking down. And I, for the first time since I arrived at the Oasis, didn't have a single tower to protect me — only my body, the mark, and what I had built with my own hands.
The moment had arrived.
I planted my feet. The rib still bit from within with each breath, the patched arm protested inside the armor, and my entire body begged for the bed I hadn't seen in nearly two days.
None of that mattered.
I looked to the sides one last time. Livina with the Treebeards formed behind me. Arachne sucking the third body. Pegasus with her beak still wet. The Urskra growling around Eris. And, up high, Morgana's small silhouette reloading.
All alive. For now.
It was the last time that night I managed to look at all of them at once.
That was my entire kingdom. Everything I built since the day I arrived with nothing, curled up in an open field, waiting for the first monster to find me. Houses, walls, towers, creatures, people. Years of work — and, outside, an army that intended to transform all of that into nothing before the sun rose.
I really wanted that "for now" to last more than ten hours.
"Blood Magic."
After my status rose, I noticed one thing: Blood Magic could be activated without the preparation time from before.
Of course the consumption remained the same — resistance and vitality draining from me like an open tap I myself couldn't close. But there was no time to think about prices.
The enemy was at my door. Or rather: at the hole where my door used to be.
And I would gift them with steel and blood.
The mark responded before the thought finished. I felt my own blood heat up inside my arms, the vitality draining out as an advance payment — and, when the first Burman row crossed the opening of what was once my gate, I was already running in its direction.