As the Rust approached the front gate, Tanti stepped forward. He raised both arms and slammed them into the ground.
"Hap!"
Cracks split open beneath the charging beasts, the ground shattering with thunderous force. Tremors rippled outward, shaking the earth beneath the defenders' feet. Some Rusts stumbled, their massive frames colliding with each other like collapsing towers of flesh and bone. Others plunged into sudden pits, their claws raking at the crumbling edges as they fell, roaring in fury.
From atop the barricade, archers loosed another volley.
"Loose!" came the cry.
Flaming arrows whistled through the sky like comets, trailing fire and smoke. They slammed into the fallen Rusts, igniting flesh with explosive bursts. The impact sent sparks flying and lit up the dusk in flickering orange and red. The acrid stench of burning hide filled the air, smoke curling into the wind.
Screams and howls pierced the chaos—but the Rust were relentless.
"They're still moving!" a young soldier cried, eyes wide with disbelief.
As if immune to pain, the creatures clawed forward, their skin crackling with flame, their limbs blackened yet still thrashing. Even those impaled or set ablaze refused to die. Their glowing red eyes locked onto the town's barricades—unblinking, feral, their snarls deepening into primal rage.
"Don't let a single one reach the wall!" Hanti commanded the nearby defenders, his voice like steady thunder in the storm of battle.
On the west side, the Rust burst from the trees like a wave of darkness, their guttural growls echoing through the woods. The ground quaked as they charged, shaking the roots of the forest. In response, thick roots erupted from the earth—some like spears, others like grasping hands—impaling several beasts and ensnaring others mid-stride.
Grayson stood tall on the slope, his hands raised, fingers twitching with control. Each motion summoned another wave of roots, moving with eerie coordination—like a puppeteer directing a tangled symphony.
"Hold them at the tree line," he commanded, his voice low but steady. "Don't let them spread."
But even as the roots tangled around limbs and torsos, the Rust thrashed with savage desperation. Some bit clean through the thick bark, tearing the roots apart with bone-crushing jaws. Others clawed themselves free and lunged forward, bloodied but unrelenting.
"They're tearing through!" someone shouted from the western barricade.
"They're eating the bloody roots!" someone shouted, voice tight with disbelief.
Grayson grit his teeth, the strain visible in the tremble of his hands. "Then we bury them in it."
From the ramparts, defenders launched a volley—not of fire, but of stone. Buckets of jagged rocks were flung from catapults and slings, arcing high and falling fast like iron rain. The sky above the treetops was briefly filled with a storm of gray.
"It's a pity that we can't use fire here!" a soldier exclaimed on the western wall. "If the forest catches, we'll all be in trouble!"
Cracks of impact echoed as stones slammed into Rust skulls and spines, cracking bone, shattering limbs. Several fell, crushed or pinned. But more took their place, crawling over the bodies of their own kin.
On the east side, Thilde's voice rang out with sharp commands.
Rither stood beside a towering metallic cannon mounted atop a stone outcrop. The weapon looked crude in design—patched metal plates, exposed wiring—but it thrummed with barely-contained power. Lightning crackled wildly across Rither's gauntlets as he raised a compressed orb of condensed electricity. The orb pulsed and flickered like a captured storm, its glow casting sharp shadows across his face.
With a grunt, he slammed the orb into the cannon's core. The weapon whined in response, its internal coils sparking to life, arcs of blue lightning dancing along its barrel. Static filled the air, lifting the hairs on the defenders' arms.
"Charge complete," Rither muttered, his voice calm beneath the rumble of thunder he carried.
Nearby, Thilde crouched on the wall, her eyes glowing faintly—her enhanced vision zooming across the battlefield as she barked orders. She could see every detail: the blood-caked maws of the Rust, their spines jutting like fractured armor, their movements twitchy and unnatural. She focused in on one of the larger ones, a hulking figure with a maw that stretched far too wide, drool hissing where it struck the stone.
"They're clustering at the northern edge," she reported coldly. "Now's the shot."
Rither narrowed his eyes, then nodded and released his hold.
The cannon unleashed a blinding burst of light and sound. A bolt of pure lightning screamed out, splitting the air with a deafening crack. It arced down the slope, exploding in a flash of white-blue energy as it hit the Rust horde.
The explosion lit the battlefield like a second sun. Creatures were thrown through the air, limbs torn, chests burst open by the electric surge. Smoke and ozone filled the air, and for a moment, the ground itself seemed to tremble beneath the fury of it.
Thilde didn't blink. "Direct hit. But it's not enough. They're still coming."
Through the rising smoke, the silhouettes of the Rust emerged—blackened, burning, twitching... and still moving.
Rither spat onto the ground. "Then I'll just keep shooting."
Seeing that, although killing the Rust was harder than expected, they weren't truly unkillable, the defending soldiers felt a surge of hope. Their morale spiked. With the Awakened Warriors fighting alongside them, they believed they actually stood a chance.
On the other side of the battlefield, as the Rust were taken down one after another, Hando began to panic. Although he could see that the Awakened Warriors were struggling to subdue them quickly, some of the beasts were still being killed. The total number of Rust they had brought was under fifty—it wouldn't take long before all of them were wiped out.
The plan was falling apart.
"Where the hell is that bastard Carson?!" Hando muttered through clenched teeth, his eyes darting across the field. "Why isn't he doing anything yet?!"
Carson was supposed to stop the Awakened Warriors. There should have been chaos inside the town, a commotion that would split the defenders' focus. But now… there wasn't even a signal. Not a sound. Nothing.
Sweat beaded on Hando's forehead despite the cool air. The weight of uncertainty pressed down on him like a stone.
What hell is Carson up to? he thought bitterly, his fingers tightening around the reins of his horse.