Chapter 176: Reclaiming Three Bases

General Gulag charged down the eastern ridge. Her Troglodyte legions poured over the rocky incline right behind her. She vaulted over a defensive trench and swung her massive bone club into the reinforced timber gates of the primary forward base. The thick wood exploded into splinters. Her warriors flooded into the camp to dismantle the panicked cavalry before the riders could even mount their steeds.

On the northern flank, Human Commander Novus led the Vanguard’s mortal troops. He raised his star-iron longsword high into the morning air to signal the charge. His soldiers possessed lethal discipline and terrifying alchemical weaponry.

’Show these invaders the true might of the Spiral,’ Novus thought with a fierce grin.

He directed his front line to unleash a volley of alchemical explosives directly into the enemy barracks. The resulting blasts sent columns of fire into the sky and completely scattered the Fourth Continent’s defensive formations. The Vanguard humans rushed into the breach with their swords drawn to slaughter the disoriented enemy soldiers.

Simultaneously, the Iron Arbiter’s forces pushed through the southern tree line to complete the encirclement. Commander Torin directed his armored spearmen to flank the fleeing Fourth Continent troops.

Torin watched Novus coordinate the Vanguard artillery strikes and felt a renewed sense of hope. The combined assault was a flawless execution of Syra’s tactical planning.

The three forward operating bases collapsed completely within the hour. General Boros and his surviving officers found themselves entirely surrounded by a tide of dark metal and bone armor. The Vanguard had officially brought their holy war to the mainland.

General Boros spurred his armored warhorse forward. He swung his broadsword in a wide arc to cleave through the Vanguard front line.

“Break their ranks!” Boros bellowed. His surviving cavalry rallied behind him to form a desperate wedge. They aimed straight for the southern gap where Torin’s spearmen struggled to hold the perimeter.

Commander Novus spotted the maneuver and immediately redirected his forces. He sprinted across the burning dirt with his star-iron longsword raised high.

“Hold the line for the Spiral!” Novus shouted.

His human soldiers slammed their metal shields together to form an impenetrable wall. The Fourth Continent cavalry crashed into the barricade with a sickening crunch of bone and armor. Spears snapped, and warhorses screamed in panic.

Novus vaulted over a fallen steed to drive his blade cleanly through the chest plate of a charging rider. The Vanguard infantry fought with terrifying zeal to ensure not a single horse broke through the southern gap.

Boros carved his way closer to the perimeter. He parried strikes expertly and trampled Vanguard soldiers under his horse’s hooves.

’He is a seasoned fighter, but he is just a human like us,’ Novus thought. The human commander tightened his grip on his sword and prepared to intercept the enemy general directly.

Before Novus could engage, a massive shadow eclipsed the morning sun. General Gulag leapt from the ridge of a burning watchtower to land squarely in the center of the cavalry wedge. The sheer kinetic impact shattered the earth and threw dozens of riders from their saddles.

“I smelled blood down here, so I am here to taste it!”

She swung her bone club in a devastating horizontal arc and crushed Boros’s warhorse instantly.

Boros rolled through the dirt and sprang to his feet. He raised his broadsword to strike the towering Troglodyte, but a dark blur darted past his peripheral vision.

Iron-Scale slid smoothly across the bloody grass. He brought his sleek blade up in a swift, upward strike. The star-iron edge severed the tendons in Boros’s sword arm.

“You damn lizard!” The general dropped his weapon and fell to his knees in agony.

“Bind him,” Iron-Scale ordered his Kobolds.

The valley fell entirely quiet within the hour. The remaining Fourth Continent soldiers dropped their weapons and surrendered once they saw their general captured and their supply camps reduced to ash.

Syra quickly established a temporary command post inside the ruined remains of the central tent. She sat behind a charred wooden table and arranged her alchemical maps. Two Troglodyte warriors dragged General Boros into the tent and forced him to kneel before the Grey-Fin elder.

Blood dripped from the general’s ruined arm, but he glared at Syra with pure defiance. “You won a single skirmish, fish. The Fourth Continent has ten times this number waiting in the central plains. We will drown you in your own blood.”

Syra did not even look up from her maps. “You misunderstand your current situation, General. We did not cross the ocean to wage a conventional war. We came to eradicate the enemies of the Spiral.”

She tapped her staff against the ground and finally met his gaze with her slitted black eyes.

“Your naval blockade is resting at the bottom of the ocean. Your supply lines are currently burning behind you. You have absolutely no reinforcements coming to this valley,” Syra explained with absolute calm. “Tell me the exact deployment numbers stationed at the central plains, and I will allow your surrendered troops to live as prisoners of war.”

Boros spat blood onto the dirt. “I will tell you nothing.”

Syra opened a thick leather diary and dipped a quill into a small glass inkwell. She rested the parchment on the charred table and gestured toward Iron-Scale.

“Start with his remaining fingers, Commander,” Syra instructed. “We have plenty of time before the sun sets.”

The supreme commander stepped forward and grabbed Boros’s uninjured left hand. He forced the general’s palm flat against the dirt floor. Iron-Scale raised the solid metal pommel of his dagger and brought it down hard on Boros’s index finger.

A sharp, sickening crack rang out through the ruined tent.

Boros threw his head back and unleashed a blood-curdling scream. “Arghhh! You damned monsters!”

The general thrashed wildly to pull his arm back. The two Troglodyte guards simply chuckled. They tightened their massive grips on his shoulders and pinned him firmly in place.

“Stop squirming, meat,” one of the Troglodytes grunted, entirely amused by the struggle.

Boros gasped for breath and locked his bloodshot eyes on the Kobold. “Rot in the abyss!”

Iron-Scale offered a vicious, toothy smile. “We will gladly drag you down there with us.”

He moved his dagger to the next finger, followed by another loud snap echoed in the tent.

Boros wailed in pure agony. He spat a mouthful of blood directly onto the Kobold’s dark scales. “I will kill you! My cavalry will skin you all alive!”

’Mortal resilience always has a breaking point,’ Iron-Scale thought, wiping the bloody spit from his armor. ’He just needs a little more encouragement.’

Syra waited patiently by the table. Her quill hovered over the blank page to document the enemy troop counts. Boros clamped his jaw shut and refused to utter a single word about the central plains. He just let out pained, ragged gasps.

The tent flaps suddenly ripped open. Cassian marched inside, followed immediately by Apostle Lucian.

The envoy stopped dead in his tracks. All color drained from Cassian’s face as he took in the sight of the mangled general. The smell of fresh blood hung in the enclosed space.

“Gods above… what are you doing?!” Cassian yelled, covering his mouth in horror.

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