To be honest, the Ottomans were somewhat unprepared this time, and Khrulyov's charge through the artillery fire had shortened the distance for the Russian army considerably.
But battlefields changed in the blink of an eye. A difference of merely a dozen seconds could reverse the situation for both sides.
Although the Ottoman troops guarding Topkapi Palace had launched a counterattack the moment they discovered the Russian army's massive assault, inflicting heavy casualties on the Russians, they had clearly underestimated the Russians' resolve this time.
The first wave of Russian troops had already reached the defensive line meticulously designed by Shturko, yet the advantages and disadvantages of this rudimentary defense were both glaringly obvious.
Its advantages were that it was sturdy and cheap, but its flaws were equally apparent—for instance, once Russian troops reached the barricades, they could simply use them for themselves.
And the Ottoman army had only one objective: drive the Russians back.
Thus, the two sides swiftly entered the stage of close-quarters combat, their soldiers tangled together in a brutal melee. As far as the eye could see, the entire battlefield was an Asura hell, filled everywhere with the sounds of slaughter.
As the first Russian troops climbed atop the walls, the Ottomans no longer had the strength to stop the Russians from approaching the palace walls.
"Russians! So many Russians!"
A soot-covered guard had been frightened into incoherence. Dowager Sultana Shevkyevza did not underestimate the situation. She had heard the earlier bombardment, as well as the cries of battle outside, and went straight to the point.
"Can we hold them?"
The guard nodded reflexively, then shook his head again.
"Sultana, there are too many Russians. They've already charged onto the walls, and Lord Ozer is resisting them with all his strength.
"But it's chaos outside. I'm afraid