Waves

Charge in!!!!

Roslyn's roar rang across heaven and earth!

This farmer had spent his whole life being cautious.

He had never spoken so loudly, nor dared to.

But now, his roar shook the whole world.

The farmer he had once been was dead.

The soldiers were shaken by his roar.

"Kill!!" "Kill!!" "Kill!!"

They snapped awake in an instant. Like hounds unleashed, they let out earth-shaking howls.

They surged forward from all sides.

Roslyn charged at the head of the line, throwing his own body against the Wildlings.

"For Lord Suleiman!!" Roslyn roared, his voice drowning out the Wildlings' howls. "And for ourselves!!!"

The soldiers swarmed forward, instantly packing the narrow entrance until not even a drop could get through.

They fought the Wildlings at arm's length, bodies pressed against bodies.

In an instant, roars, biting, battle cries, the sound of weapons sinking into flesh, and the screams of the dying all blended together.

It was a death symphony of blood and fire, iron and flesh.

The gate was narrow to begin with, allowing no more than three people through at once.

Bronn blocked it at the very front.

Only a little over twenty Wildlings managed to pour in.

The Wildlings behind tried to shove those who had already squeezed inside forward.

But the Wildlings at the front were pressed back by the Flatlanders, bodies jammed against bodies.

People pressed together, shoulder to shoulder, blood mixing with blood.

The Flatlander soldiers and the Mountain Clans Wildlings were completely tangled together.

There was no formation or strategy anymore, only the most primitive and savage hand-to-hand fighting.

Anything that could hurt a Wildling was put to use.

Daggers, teeth—everything was turned against them.

A Flatlander gouged out a Wildling's eyeball.

A Flatlander fell, still breathing, but the people behind him trampled over him.

Suleiman's soldiers drew the daggers at their waists, raised them high, and stabbed viciously at the Wildlings' faces.

All decency had vanished.

Every Wildling and Flatlander shoved forward with reckless abandon, each straining with all their might.

For everyone, falling meant death! It meant being trampled by friend or foe alike!

This was the most primitive and bloodiest kind of close-quarters combat. There was no retreat, only advance.

The ground beneath their feet was soon soaked with blood, turning to mud.

With every step, they trampled something slick, unable to tell whether it was mud or entrails.

The rage in the Milk Snakes' chieftain's eyes froze.

He had never seen resistance this frenzied. These Flatlanders were like prey driven into a corner.

They were launching one last attack against their hunters.

He had thought a single blow would be enough to rout the Flatlanders.

But now they had become unbreakable, even pushing outward.

The Wildlings at the back kept shoving forward, while those at the front were desperately forced backward by the Flatlanders.

Under the crush, many Wildlings were squeezed to death.

Others were accidentally wounded by their companions' weapons.

At the narrow wooden gate, bodies were mangled and entrails spilled out.

Everyone who fell was trampled by countless feet, becoming part of the bloody mire.

People fought with their bodies pressed together, in a brutal, bloody struggle.

The Wildlings struggled to hold their ground.

But the Flatlanders' strength and fighting spirit were beyond anything they could have imagined.

They were pushing them backward, bit by bit.

They had underestimated how desperately people clung to life when cornered.

The Milk Snakes' chieftain knew they couldn't keep this up.

He tried to order the Wildlings to retreat.

To split their forces and attack through the wooden wall.

But his voice was drowned out in the deafening, blood-soaked chaos.

There was only slaughter, only shoving forward, only endless howls.

The fighters had lost themselves to bloodlust.

And someone had already set his sights on him!!

The Milk Snakes' chieftain continued to roar out commands.

He yanked one frenzied clansman after another backward.

Then he punched them, trying to bring them to their senses.

But every Wildling who fell got back up and pushed forward again.

The Milk Snakes' chieftain roared in fury.

But he would never roar again.

A dagger came flying.

It pierced straight through his eyeball!

"Get up there, you useless bastards!" Bronn hurled the dagger, then kept cursing at Suleiman's soldiers. "Get up there!" he yelled. "Move, you useless bastards!!"

He kicked the Suleiman soldiers who were being forced backward, one after another.

His tremendous strength drove them forward.

He panted heavily, his chest heaving.

The mercenary was covered in blood, some of it his enemies', some his own.

He was drenched in blood.

There was nothing he could do. He couldn't get away!

His fate was tied to that damned young noble's and this bunch of idiotic soldiers'!

All he could do was force himself to believe there was hope.

"Good... bro...ther! You... did... great!" Suleiman pushed the soldiers from behind, where they were packed together. "I'm... giv...ing... you... a... raise!!!!"

His exhausted lungs were about to burst, making his words come out haltingly.

Bronn didn't even want to look at him. He said nothing.

He kept kicking the soldiers forward.

The ground by the camp entrance had long since been soaked with blood, and corpses were piled high.

Both sides shoved against each other atop bodies trampled into pulp.

Both sides were utterly exhausted.

But one side was driven by the instinct to survive, and the other by the fury of revenge.

Just then, the earth began to tremble faintly.

At first, the tremors were slight, almost impossible to make out amid the fighting.

But soon they grew stronger, bringing with them a great rumbling roar.

"Damn it! Finally!" Bronn was the first to notice. He cursed in anger!

The fighters slowly began to feel the ground shaking beneath them.

The Wildlings were terrified. They had no idea what was happening.

But Suleiman's soldiers knew exactly what it meant!

Suleiman raised his sword high, opened his mouth, and drew in a deep breath for ten seconds.

"Brothers!!!!"

"Drive them out!!!!!" Suleiman roared.

The soldiers heard him.

They let out furious howls. They were no longer defending, but attacking with near-madness!

"Charge out!!!" "Push them out!!!"

They wrung every last ounce of strength from their bodies.

They stabbed with their blades, slammed into the Wildlings, and punched them in the head.

The stalemate broke in an instant as the Flatlander warriors unleashed astonishing strength.

They surged forward like a flood!

The Wildlings were horrified!

The sudden, ferocious counterattack and the violent trembling beneath their feet had caught them completely off guard!

The Flatlanders shoved and crushed the Wildlings at the front.

Those behind them had no idea what was happening.

They only felt as though a raging bull had smashed into them, forcing them backward!

Countless Wildlings lost their balance and fell into the bloody mire with roars.

Then those moving forward behind them, those being pushed backward ahead of them, and the advancing Flatlanders trampled them to death.

Under the Flatlanders' frenzied charge, the defensive line at the camp entrance

was pushed outward at a visible pace!

Instinct told them to flee the shaking ground.

But their companions behind them and the Flatlanders in front left them nowhere to run.

"Rumble, rumble, rumble, rumble, rumble, rumble, rumble, rumble!"

The sound drew closer, like thousands upon thousands of troops galloping, or the harbinger of heaven and earth collapsing.

"Water! It's water! The water's coming!!!" An archer standing on the wooden wall pointed toward the upper end of the valley and wailed!

They were the ones who would survive!!

A turbid torrent came rushing like a wild horse that had broken free.

It churned and roared, surging forward with thunderous force.

Trees were ripped up by their roots wherever it passed.

Boulders were swept aside with ease, and every obstacle was ruthlessly crushed.

"Quick! Run!"

At last, one Wildling reacted. He let out a desperate, furious roar.

He turned and tried to run up the slope behind them.

But it was already too late.

Desperate roars and furious curses echoed through the valley!

Suleiman's soldiers swiftly followed the plan Suleiman had laid out earlier.

They began climbing onto the wooden wall.

The deafening roar of the water instantly swallowed every shout and scream.

Those hit first were the Wildlings trying to flee through the entrance.

They couldn't even put up a proper fight.

The immense flood swept them up like leaves in a raging torrent, like tiny boats amid towering waves.

They vanished in an instant beneath the surging waters.

"Suleiman!" A soldier raised his sword.

Another soldier raised the sword in his hand. "Suleiman!!"

One after another.

"Suleiman!!!" "Suleiman!!!"

The people cried out. There were no elders, no lords, no nobles, no unison.

"Suleiman!!!!"

There was only one name: "Suleiman!!!!"

That sound! That name! It echoed through the river valley! With the floodwaters surging, it shook heaven and earth!