The pervasive artillery fire seemed to have become the background noise of this world. Its thunderous roar echoed beside the ears of those atop the city walls and those below them.
When the war began, the mercenaries might still have had some thoughts, wondering how they could win this battle, what rewards they would reap after victory, and how they would spend them.
But when blazing flames burned fiercely beside everyone, all those enchanting, beautiful, terrible—every last fantasy—vanished completely.
The mercenaries simply moved forward blindly, operating the weapons in their hands, obeying orders, launching attack after attack step by step.
When the blood and corpses of their companions fell beside them, they might suddenly come to their senses, only to keep moving forward blankly amid the unending artillery fire.
They controlled mechanical weapons, yet seemed to be weapons controlled by others themselves.
A brilliant red radiance struck the heavy city gate, leaving a clear dent before slowly dissipating.
That was the last shot from the gigantic weapon that resembled mountains.
The most thunderous and terrifying cannon fire briefly fell silent.
Even the artillery fire that formed the background noise of everything seemed to grow quieter.
How long would it stay silent? Dozens of seconds, or perhaps several minutes?
The figures standing before the city gate had no time to think about that. When that thunderous massive cannon fell silent, it was time for them to work.
They had to charge to the gate and use artillery, sledgehammers, and anything capable of destroying it to smash that gate with all their strength.
If the gate broke open, they would rush inside, kill the defenders within, and kill everyone who resisted.
Until no one resisted any longer, until both the flames and artillery fire fell silent.
That might be the moment this