~An Hour Earlier~

Lord Raegon’s army marched forward, their disciplined steps sending vibrations through the ground as they moved like an unstoppable force.

The sheer size of the approaching army was enough to make lesser men waver, but the warriors of Westmont stood firm just outside the gates of their town, watching, waiting.

The town’s forces numbered fewer than five hundred, a fraction of Lord Raegon’s army, but they did not stand in fear. Their weapons were sharpened, their minds ready for battle. They had no illusions about what was coming.

Raegon wasn’t the kind of ruler who simply took land. He took lives and they were all aware of it. That was why he was feared by others.

Everyone who surrendered to him was either killed or enslaved.

Westmont would be no different.

That was why there was no question.

They would fight.

A sudden movement in the distance caught their attention.

A lone rider, draped in silver-plated armor, galloped toward them at full speed.

He was a messenger.

And everyone knew exactly why he was coming.

Lord Ellian, standing at the front of his army, watched the rider approach with cold, calculating eyes. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, but he did not draw it. Not yet.

The rider pulled his horse to a sharp stop just meters away from Westmont’s defensive line. The air was tense, heavy with unspoken words. The forces of Westmont remained silent, watching as the man remained in front of them all.

Then, the messenger spoke.

“By the will of Lord Raegon, Ruler of the Velthorne, the Southern Dominion, Master of Iron and Fire, you are ordered to surrender!” His voice rang out with practiced confidence. “Submit now, and Lord Raegon shall show mercy. He shall absorb your town into his dominion, sparing your lives. Those who resist will face destruction. Those who obey will serve under his rule as laborers.”

Silence followed.

The warriors of Westmont did not flinch.

Lord Ellian stepped forward.

His voice, though calm, cut through the air like steel.

“Return to your master,” he said. “Tell him we do not bow to tyrants, neither shall we bow to the Butcher of the Northern Front.”

The messenger’s face twisted.

“You are making a mistake,” he warned.

Ellian’s expression remained unreadable.

“You have three minutes to leave,” he said, his tone unwavering. “If you are still within my sight after that, you will not be delivering any more messages.”

Behind him, a few mercenaries shifted, some already reaching for their bows.

The messenger hesitated for only a moment before pulling on the reins and turning his horse sharply.

He galloped away, dirt and dust kicking up behind him as he raced back toward Raegon’s army.

As soon as the rider disappeared, a scout descended from the watchtower, sprinting toward Lord Ellian with urgency in his every step.

The man halted abruptly, breathing heavily, but he did not waste time.

“My Lord,” he panted. “The enemy force is at least three times larger than ours. However, most of them are foot soldiers.”

Ellian’s eyes narrowed. “And their distance?”

“Less than two miles,” the scout reported. “They will reach us within minutes.”

Ellian nodded once. He already knew what needed to be done.

“Archers!” he called.

One hundred warriors stepped forward.

These were not ordinary archers.

They were mercenaries, trained in battle far beyond the average foot soldier. The town didn’t lack them in numbers because of how welcoming the people of the town were towards them and now, they were willing to help. Every single one of them.

Each one carried a runed bow, an ancient relic of war. The moment they nocked their arrows, the air hummed with energy.

The arrows themselves began to glow, a pulsing red light moving from the shaft toward the tip.

The warriors of Westmont had never lost a battle on their own soil and that was why the town remained strong till date despite being a small, easily absorbable town.

And they would not lose today.

From the distant hill, Lord Raegon’s army emerged.

A sea of armored men, banners raised high.

They looked unstoppable.

But Lord Ellian knew better.

“Hold,” he commanded, his voice calm but absolute.

The archers remained still, their fingers steady on the strings.

The enemy drew closer.

“Hold.”

The glow of the arrows brightened.

And then—

“Loose!”

The first volley of arrows screamed through the sky, their runed energy intensifying mid-flight.

The moment they hit the ground, they detonated.

Booom! Booom!! Boooom!!!

Explosions ripped through the enemy ranks, consuming soldiers in fiery bursts.

“Arghh! My eyes!”

“My arm!”

Men screamed. Armor melted. Bodies were flung into the air like ragdolls.

The chaos spread instantly.

Lord Raegon’s army, so confident in their numbers, was suddenly thrown into disarray.

But Ellian did not let them recover.

“Again!” he commanded. “Westmont’s not theirs for the taking!”

A second volley was already prepared.

One hundred arrows launched into the sky once more.

Before the dust from the first explosion had even settled, a new wave of devastation rained down upon the enemy ranks.

Boom!!

Booom!!

Over two hundred men fell in an instant.

Lord Raegon’s army, which had once advanced with unstoppable momentum under the command of their lord, now hesitated.

Ellian allowed himself a small, satisfied smirk.

They had underestimated Westmont.

And now, they would pay the price.

The battle had only just begun.

Lord Raegon clenched his fists as he watched his men fall one after another. Arrows rained down mercilessly, each one exploding upon impact, tearing through his ranks like a plague of fire and death.

His forces had barely advanced, and already, over a thousand warriors had perished.

Westmont was supposed to be a small, insignificant town—one that would crumble under his overwhelming numbers.

But instead, they were fighting like lions, their archers alone cutting down his men with terrifying efficiency.

Raegon gritted his teeth.

“If this keeps up,” he muttered, his voice laced with frustration, “they’ll cut my army in half before we even reach them.”

He would not allow that to happen.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep