Smoke curled in the distance, thick and dark, rising like a warning into the early morning sky. But above the Vice Mayor's mansion, the air remained still—no sign, no signal.
Perched on a low ridge overlooking the town, Hando narrowed his eyes. Frustration tightened the scars on his weathered face. His hands curled into fists as he scanned the town for the hundredth time.
Still nothing.
"Damn that bastard Elric," he muttered, spitting into the dry, cracked earth. "Useless piece of shit."
From his vantage point, he could see it all too clearly: the Rust were being slaughtered. One by one, they fell—pinned down by precise archers, their bodies tumbling into the jagged depressions carved into the ground by the burly man leading the enemy front. Each thunderous slam of the warrior's fists sent shockwaves rippling through the soil, launching clumps of dirt and jagged stones into the air. Mud splattered across the battlefield, mixing with blood.
The monster hadn't even reached the town walls yet—and still, the Rust were already being cut down like weeds.
Worse still, the open space ahead was a deathtrap. Arrows rained down in waves, their tips ablaze, creating a fiery curtain that lit up the battlefield in searing orange flashes. The screams of the dying monsters mingled with the crackle of fire, filling the air with smoke and the stench of burning flesh.
Damn that warrior.
To the east, bursts of lightning flared—brief, blinding flashes that lit up the battlefield in harsh snapshots. With each strike, the shrill, inhuman screams of monsters tore through the night, followed by the low, menacing hum of the cannon recharging.
He couldn't see much from the west, but he knew that the situation there was no better.
"These troublesome warriors," he hissed under his breath, veins pulsing at his temple. "They're ruining everything."
Hando's jaw tightened. "If this keeps up," he growled, "our advantage will vanish before we even join the fight."
By now, the signal should've gone up.
Carson was supposed to deal with the Awakened warriors inside—stop them from helping the soldiers, let the Rust tear through the defenses, and leave the town wide open for the taking. Once the ranks were broken, that would be their moment to strike from the outside.
But nothing was happening. No signs of struggle. No shift in momentum. The soldiers were still organized, still fighting with purpose, together with the Warriors.
"What the hell are they waiting for?" he hissed. "Half of the Rust are already dead!"
"Brother, what do we do? There's still no signal. We've already lost half the Rust, and the city's defense wards are still up," Jarik said, his voice low but urgent. The burly man, his skin darkened by sun and battle, clenched his axe with unease.
Hando's jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the town. The plan had been simple—Elric would eliminate the Mayor and the officials and bring down the wards from within. Carson would neutralize the Awakened warriors. Then the Rust would tear through the town, clearing a path for the bandits to swoop in: loot the stores, capture half the townsfolk, burn what remained, and vanish before reinforcements could arrive.
But nothing was going to plan.
"They should've moved by now," Jarik pressed, glancing toward the unmoving gates. "Unless—"
"Unless that snake Elric got cold feet," Hando growled.
"Then what should we do, brother?" he asked, his voice carrying a hint of nervousness.
Hando knew things were spiraling out of control. But… Carson was also inside. He wouldn't fail. If he hadn't made his move yet, something must be stalling him.
Still, Hando couldn't afford to wait. The Rust were being slaughtered. The longer they hesitated, the more their forces bled.
Beyond the hill, the city's archers still rained flaming arrows from the walls. He could hear the twang of their bows and the sizzling whump of arrows landing in Rust flesh.
Hando took a sharp, cold breath. If Elric had betrayed them or been compromised, that meant he couldn't send the signal.
Carson would do his part. Now, it was their turn. Even if some bandits died, they were expendable.
He raised his hand.
A red flare shot into the air, screaming upward before exploding into a bright, bleeding bloom above the clouds.
"Brothers! ATTACK! Make this town bleed!" Hando roared, his voice shaking the ridge.
"Take everything! Burn it down if you have to—gold, food, women—it's all ours tonight!" he bellowed, pointing his blade toward the town. "If they scream, make 'em scream louder! If they run, hunt 'em down! No mercy, no retreat—this place falls before sunrise!"
"NOW MOVE!"
Battle horns blasted across the plains, deep and thunderous.
From the treeline in the west to the jagged rocks of the east, the bandit forces surged forward like a black tide. They howled like wolves as they trailed behind the monsters.
—-
On the edge of the town, as the bandits charged from all three sides, the defending soldiers stood ready. Their eyes were sharp, breaths steady. Bows were drawn taut, crossbows loaded, swords unsheathed, and spears braced against the earth. Shields gleamed under the flickering lights, held firm by those in the front line, already locked in a tight defensive formation.
Officers stalked behind the lines, barking commands over the growing din of drums and war horns. Their voices were sharp, cutting through the tension like blades. Nearby, a team of medics and backup units stood by, ready to pull the wounded from the fray.
The air was thick with anticipation.
Then, without warning, the first to move was Hanti.
With a furious roar, he sprinted toward the oncoming Rust. His armored boots pounded the ground, his breath hissing through clenched teeth. As a hulking Rust leapt at him, snarling, he swung his fist in a powerful arc.
The blow landed with a sickening crack.
The monster's body twisted midair from the sheer force, its chest caved in, bones shattered. It was hurled backward, crashing into the dirt with a heavy thud, kicking up a cloud of dust and blood.
"FIGHT!" Hanti shouted, his voice echoing across the field like thunder.
The soldiers roared in response.
The front line surged forward, shields raised and spears leveled. The ground trembled beneath their boots as they met the enemy head-on, steel clashing with fang and claw. Arrows flew from the walls in rapid volleys, hissing through the air like angry hornets. Crossbows fired with heavy thunks, bolts slamming into the waves of charging Rust and bandits alike.
Screams filled the air—human and inhuman alike—as battle erupted in full.
On all three sides of the town, chaos erupted in sync—clashing steel, falling bodies, and battle cries rising like a storm. The defenders held firm, resisting the tide with grit and fury.