A blood-red moon.
Its light was scorching and restless, radiating an unsettling aura.
Before the towering city walls stretched a boundless sea of monsters—leaping, running, flying—as they surged forward in a tide.
The sheer oppressive force bearing down upon them was enough to suffocate anyone. Yet the warriors atop the walls, even Lesser Devils and Dark Goblins—the races commonly considered least suited for battle—showed no fear. Instead, they displayed astonishing calm and courage.
Every one of them had already endured countless trials like this. In such an environment, even the most cowardly person would forge an iron-blooded will.
At the commander's order, high-energy magic crystal cannons spewed deathly light. Ballistae, catapults, and all manner of war machines fired in unison, reaping monsters by the score.
However, the enemy's numbers were beyond imagining. Even the improved magic crystal cannons could not avoid their cooldown periods. Catapults had close-range limitations and could not stop enemies that had rushed beyond their effective range, while ballistae needed reloading and readjustment of their firing angles. After a single volley, the enemy army had already reached the city walls.
The commander gave another order. The warriors on the battlements raised long tubular weapons in unison, while the archers within the walls nocked their arrows and aimed them skyward.
The enemy drew closer and closer, yet the commander did not give the order. The warriors remained remarkably calm as well. After countless bloody lessons, every race, whether professionally trained soldiers or ordinary fighters, understood the importance of unity, coordination, and obeying command in such battles. Though that commander was not the strongest, his command abilities had been tested through blood and fire time and again, earning the trust of all.
"Fire!" the commander finally ordered. The tubular weapons spat tongues of flame. At the same time, locust-like