Detour

Klein no longer looked below. His gaze passed over the routed soldiers' heads and fixed on the larger, far more dangerous shadow surging out of the darkness at the end of the street.

The Sauron main force had arrived.

The final battle was about to erupt before this barrier built from stone, timber, and cold, ruthless resolve.

The longsword in his hand lifted slightly, reflecting the leaping firelight, just like his heart at that moment—cold and unshakable.

The routed soldiers' wails and pleas failed to delay death's descent. Instead, they became the prelude to the Sauron attack.

The wolf-and-tiger-like Sauron vanguard charged into the mass of routed men without the slightest hesitation. Blades flashed, blood burst, and in mere moments, those remnants who had lost all will to resist were hacked down to the last, clearing a frontal zone for the assault.

The cries of misery stopped abruptly, replaced by the Sauron warriors' even wilder battle roars!

"For Sauron! Break it!" an officer roared.

The true assault had begun! The Sauron soldiers surged toward that tall, sturdy barricade like a tide.

They tried to repeat their old trick, crashing forward with great shields, chopping with battle axes, attempting to destroy or topple this final barrier.

However, this barricade, personally overseen by Klein, was far beyond comparison with the crude outer fortifications.

Thick logs and stones were sunk deep into the ground, the structure was solid, the sandbags packed tight, and the sharpened stakes along the top made climbing exceptionally difficult.

"Hold! Spearmen, thrust!" Klein's steady voice rang out behind the barricade. He himself stood in a relatively safe position with a broad view, calmly commanding the battle.

Relying on the terrain, the defenders put up a stubborn resistance.

Dense spears stabbed out again and again like venomous snakes from firing