Chapter 442: The Battle Ends

Flames roared fiercely, thick smoke billowing into the sky.

The fire was truly devastating.

Ropeni Grant stood silently before the northern gate of Rockhold Fortress. A gentle breeze shielded her, forming a protective barrier that kept the choking smoke at bay. Behind her, dozens of Steel Ranger soldiers stood in formation, each wearing fully enclosed arcane helmets. The goggles on their helmets glowed faintly red, signaling their vigilance against any magical anomalies in the surroundings.

The fire had spread from the northern district’s armory, consuming watchtowers and barracks, effectively dividing the inner city into isolated sections. Under normal circumstances, the fortress’s troops could have contained such a blaze. But with the collapse of the great protective shield, order inside the fortress had completely broken down. Even if someone tried to rally the defenders, the raging inferno was beyond control.

This fortress was finished.

Ropeni Grant lowered her gaze to the two still-warm bodies at her feet. After a long silence, she raised her hand and lightly rubbed her fingers together.

She had imagined countless times how she would wield the power of vengeance once it was hers—how she would torment the sinners, prolong their suffering, and savor the sweet pleasure of revenge. But now, having finally had the chance, she realized she lacked the patience for any of that.

She didn’t even have the patience to let those people take another breath.

The last two names on her list had been crossed off. Ropeni exhaled softly, suddenly feeling a hollow emptiness.

Executing certain individuals herself was part of her pact with Duke Gawain Cecil. She could hand over everything in Rockhold Fortress to the founding duke—the fate of everyone in the city, alive or dead, would be decided by House Cecil. But a select few—including the first to fall, Viscount Carol—had to die, and had to be dealt with by her own hand.

“Lady, the emptiness after revenge is a natural feeling,” a voice interrupted her reverie. It was Solderin, the high-ranking elven ranger, speaking in a tone both cold and strangely calming. “Don’t be confused by this emptiness. You have finally freed yourself from hatred. There are still many things left for you to do.”

“Thank you,” Ropeni steadied herself and replied. “Ranger, as an elf… you must have seen and experienced far more than I have, and you seem much wiser.”

“Elven minds differ somewhat from humans’. It’s hard to say who is wiser, but I have indeed seen more. Also, no need for formalities with me.”

“Very well. I know you were once Duke Gawain Cecil’s comrade-in-arms,” Ropeni said, seeking a distraction. “What kind of man is Duke Gawain in your eyes?”

“I am still his comrade,” Solderin smiled faintly, then shook his head. “As for what kind of man he is… that’s a difficult question. His personality changed somewhat after his resurrection seven centuries ago, but he still often gives me an inscrutable feeling. He’s always thinking beyond what we can see. Seven hundred years ago, he pondered a refuge beyond the wasteland; seven centuries later, he’s already contemplating another era entirely. So if you want to follow him, my only advice is this: keep pace with him as best you can. Even if you don’t understand, it’s better than falling behind in confusion.”

Those who fell behind seven centuries ago were swallowed by the wasteland. Those who fall behind now won’t fare any better. Solderin’s intuition on this was unshakable.

Ropeni fell into thought. Suddenly, Solderin lifted his head, eyes fixed on the smoke-shrouded streets of the inner city. His hand rested on the string of his short bow.

Around them, the Steel Rangers raised their arms, disengaging safeties on their thermal ray guns and shields. The heavy weapons specialists hoisted their individual railgun launchers onto their shoulders, aiming down the street.

A ragged group of knights and soldiers appeared through the smoke and fire.

Ropeni looked up and recognized the commander leading them: one of Sir Mariland’s most trusted royal guards.

The royal guard saw Lady Ropeni and the strange black-armored warriors standing silently behind her—these well-equipped, magic-infused soldiers were clearly not from Rockhold’s garrison. Their presence alone confirmed the truth of what Sir Mariland had said before departing.

Finding Ropeni Grant and her “sabotage team” was no challenge—they stood boldly in a clearing in the northern district. But gathering a group of soldiers who could still follow orders and fight amid the chaos had taken precious time. Many had already died defending the southern walls and various watchtowers and arrow towers inside the city. The survivors were in disarray, with almost no one left obeying commands. The hundred or so soldiers around the royal guard were nearly all that remained of the fortress’s defenders.

Upon seeing the two bodies at Ropeni’s feet, the royal guard realized the lady had likely finished what she came to do.

Though dressed as laborers and stable hands, the faces were unmistakably familiar.

The royal guard didn’t understand why Ropeni had singled out these two southern nobles for death, but he was determined to fulfill Sir Mariland’s orders—

The fortress was lost. The southern wall was collapsing. The two beams of energy continued sweeping every high point in the city. Before the Cecils could break in, all defenses had already been paralyzed. But at least, he would keep Ropeni Grant here.

Before the soldiers could launch a futile attack, Solderin spoke first, his voice cutting through the smoke-filled street: “The battle is over, soldiers of Rockhold Fortress—the walls have fallen. Continuing to fight is pointless.”

The royal guard silently drew his sword. “I have my orders.”

“Knights like you are rare in this age,” Solderin frowned at the guard. Though the soldiers and other knights wavered upon hearing the walls had fallen, this knight’s resolve remained firm. Solderin couldn’t help but sigh. “If only those southern nobles had your courage and awareness… then perhaps they wouldn’t have all died at Shattered Ridge.”

The knight seemed not to hear him and took a step forward.

Suddenly, the air near him twisted. A strange, hammer-shaped object materialized midair. Magical runes on its head flashed, and a spring-loaded mechanism shot out, striking the knight’s head with brutal force. Though he reacted slightly, the attacker’s stealth was too great—there was nowhere to dodge. The hammer slammed down, and the honorable knight was sent flying, unconscious before he hit the ground.

The surrounding guards and soldiers barely registered what had happened.

A swift shadow darted through the air, and in the blink of an eye, Amber’s amber figure emerged behind Solderin. She held a bizarre weapon—a mechanical hammer fused with runic devices. Only after reaching a safe spot did she exhale deeply. “Wow… that was intense… I thought I was a goner…”

Solderin glanced at the half-elf rogue out of the corner of his eye—mainly at the “mechanical war hammer” in her hands—and thought to himself that, after “Explosive Shot,” here was another supernatural skill that could be adapted for the Steel Rangers.

“Power Cudgel,” he mused. Who was the genius who came up with this…

After catching her breath, Amber looked up at Solderin. “Gawain… the lord’s battle is over. The highest commander of Rockhold Fortress has been captured. The fighting is about to end—time to minimize casualties.”

Even in this moment, the half-elf still respectfully said “lord.”

Solderin nodded at the news, then turned to the confused, disorganized Rockhold defenders. “Soldiers—lay down your arms. Your highest commander has fallen. Surrender now is no dishonor.”

Ordinary soldiers didn’t care much about “honor” when surrendering; this was mainly for the knights still hesitating.

As expected, when given a way out, most knights surrendered as readily as the common soldiers.

The last defenders of Rockhold Fortress dropped their weapons. The Steel Rangers moved forward to take prisoners. Solderin approached the deeply unconscious royal guard and looked down at him.

“Stopping a knight’s brave act this way is hardly honorable, but the lord has ordered that after victory, unnecessary losses must be minimized. Your courage is admirable, knight, but the battle is over,” Solderin said, shaking his head slightly. “You will understand this in time—after reeducation, you will become an honored citizen of House Cecil.”

Outside Rockhold Fortress, on the bow of the Aurora sailing down the Whitewater River, Gawain and Sir Byron watched the fortress walls crumble under relentless cannon fire. The disarmed Sir Mariland stood pale beside Gawain, staring at the nightmare unfolding before them.

The calibrator beams still swept the sky. The fortress’s last two towers were collapsing.

In the river beside the Aurora, Tyr surfaced from the churning water. The sea witch’s eyes were wide and unblinking as she stared at the “Prism Cannon” mounted on the ship’s deck.

In truth, she had been watching for some time. The pure, violent magical beam sparkled in her eyes, clearly captivating the sea witch’s interest.

A signal flare rose from Rockhold Fortress, followed quickly by a second.

Gawain exhaled softly. “It seems Solderin’s battle is over, and Ropeni Grant’s team survived intact.”

The cannon fire from Hill Two gradually ceased. The massive calibrator prism cannon finally powered down its destructive focusing crystal. The roar of pumps, amplifiers, and mana cores beneath the deck slowly faded. The ship’s arcane arrays folded their steel wings.

The Whitewater River fell silent.

Gawain glanced at Sir Byron. “We can go take control of our northern gate now.”

Sir Byron smiled, about to reply, when a sudden splash interrupted him.

Gawain saw a mermaid leap out of the water, splashing down hard onto the deck of the Aurora. With a quick flip, she righted herself like a carp, her tail fin wobbling as she propped herself up. Til, Miss Til, pointed at the rainbow cannon on the deck, her eyes fixed on Gawain. “Make one of these for me, too!”

Then, as if reconsidering her words, she added, “If you need anything, just say the word!”

(Note: The “Power Knockout” is an improved version of the rogue skill “Knockout” used by Cecil—using a mechanical powered war hammer to strike an enemy’s head with great force, causing temporary or permanent unconsciousness.)

(The End of This Chapter)