In the darkness, the rustling grew louder.
Closer.
Closer.
Then—shapes emerged.
A hundred meters from the trench, shadows peeled away from the forest. Thirty figures stepped into the faint moonlight, silent as ghosts. No shouting. No wasted movement.
They spread out.
A slow, deliberate semicircle.
Encirclement.
The pale light caught their weapons—spears and blades glinting like cold stars in the night.
At their center stood a man taller than the rest.
Bareheaded.
His face was a map of scars.
Unlike the last commander, he didn't rush.
He studied.
Measured.
Calculated.
Then—
"You two," he said hoarsely. "Forward. Scout."
Two soldiers stepped out reluctantly. Low to the ground, cautious, they advanced like rats testing a trap. Their spears probed the earth, stabbing grass, mud, anything suspicious.
On the wall, Colin and Goff didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
The entire outpost held still.
Even heartbeats seemed to vanish.
Suddenly—
A misstep.
One scout yelped as the ground gave way beneath him. Half his body plunged into a hidden pit, his ankle twisting violently.
"Useless trash," the commander spat.
The second scout froze, then moved even slower. He circled wide, scanning carefully—until his spear caught a thin line barely visible against the dirt.
A tripwire.
The commander's lips curled.
So.
The rats had teeth.
"Archers," he ordered casually. "Rattle them."
Five bows rose.
Whoosh—whoosh—whoosh—
Arrows arced high, not aimed to kill, but to test.
They struck wood and stone with dull thuds.
"Down!" Colin whispered harshly.
No one moved.
No one answered.
The outpost became a corpse.
The commander watched.
Waited.
Nothing.
His patience snapped.
"Advance!"
The soldiers moved forward, careful, deliberate. They had mapped enough of the traps to navigate safely.
Step by step—
They entered the cleared ground before the trench.
Fully exposed.
Now.
Colin inhaled.
Then released a short, sharp howl.
"Awooo—!"
Strings snapped.
Three arrows tore through the night.
One struck clean.
A soldier didn't even react—an arrow punched through his throat. He collapsed silently, blood spilling through his fingers.
The second missed.
The third—
Goff's—
Buried deep into a thigh.
The scream that followed shattered the silence.
"Hold formation!" the commander roared, eyes blazing. "They've got a few bows, nothing more!"
Then—
"Rams forward! Break that gate! The rest—climb! Kill them all!"
The assault began.
Four men surged forward, carrying a heavy log capped with iron.
BOOM—!
The gate shuddered.
Wood splintered.
Dust fell.
Behind it—
Colin braced.
Feet dug in.
Back pressed against reinforced timber.
The impact rattled through his entire body.
Beside him, Lena, Finney, and others threw their weight forward, screaming as they held the support beams in place.
"Hold!" Colin roared.
BOOM—!
Another strike.
A crack split across the gate.
Elsewhere—
The walls came alive.
Soldiers charged the trench.
Some fell.
Screamed.
Vanished into spikes.
But others followed.
Stepping on bodies.
Climbing higher.
The wall proved slick.
Too slick.
So they adapted.
A man crouched.
Another climbed onto his shoulders.
A living ladder.
"Now!" Linna shouted.
Four women drove sharpened poles forward with all their strength.
Pfft!
One pierced straight through a soldier's chest.
He hung there for a moment—
Then fell, dragging another down with him.
Chaos erupted.
Arrows flew.
Stones crashed.
Screams filled the air.
At the corner—
A soldier reached striking distance.
His sword rose—
Then—
Boiling water poured down.
A scream ripped through the night.
He dropped, clawing at his face, writhing in agony.
But they kept coming.
More.
Relentless.
Furious.
Climbing over the fallen.
Through pain.
Through fire.
Colin saw it.
A weak point.
One section of the wall—
About to break.
His heart sank.
No more waiting.
He raised his head and howled—
Twice.
Sharp. Urgent.
"Awooo! Awooo!"
On the wall—
Linna's eyes lit up.
Wild.
Fierce.
"Sisters!" she roared. "Send them to hell!"
Together, they heaved.
The massive log, wedged and waiting, shifted.
Scraped.
Tilted—
Then dropped.
Like thunder.