As Fisher's mercenaries poured into the breach in the north wall, Wolof stood atop the main tower, holding the command arrow for the last reserve force.
The wooden shaft of the command arrow was damp with his sweat, and the arrowhead trembled slightly in the Kakkō.
His entire body, from the soles of his boots to his jaw, was taut, so taut that every bone was transmitting the vibrations of the breach in the distant city wall being smashed open.
The mercenaries' short spears had already firmly planted the first line of shields inside the breach, and those behind them were pouring in, stepping over the corpses of their comrades.
If that breach cannot be defended, the city wall will no longer be a city wall, but merely a stone shell with its chest pierced.
A hand reached out from the side and pressed down on his wrist, which was holding the command arrow.
"Send your reserves over there," Barlow said.
He was standing in the shadow of the tower, his desert cloak fluttering slightly in the night wind blowing down from the city walls.
Wolof turned to look at him. The old king's eyes were bloodshot, and there was a small patch of dried blood on his cheekbone, whether it was his own or someone else's, he didn't know.
He looked at Barlow, offering no questions or rebuttals, but instead asking in a voice strained to its last shred of reason, "What about the other three directions? The east, south, and west walls—the rebels are already applying pressure on their flanks simultaneously, and all the reserves have been moved to the breach. How will they defend those three walls?"
Barlow withdrew his hand from Wolof's wrist, straightened his sleeve which had been bent askew by the hot wind from the city wall, and turned around, his profile briefly illuminated by the beacon fire.
"Don't forget, there are three Uchiha here."
He walked to the edge of the tower, with the burning city walls, the gravelly wasteland plowed countless times by artillery fire, and the sea of torches that was still pouring out of the darkness beneath his feet.
Roy and Mila were already waiting in front of the tower railing.
Roy unfastened his sword from his waist and held it in his hand. He leaned the scabbard against the railing, and the light from the distant rebel torches reflected on the blade, making it look as if a layer of smoldering fire was burning on the surface.
Mila stood beside him, wrapping the wristband strap around her wrist an extra time, pulling it tight, and biting the end of the strap to tie a knot.
She glanced at Barlow gestured with his chin toward the west city wall.
She nodded, turned and walked towards the west city wall, her steps small but extremely fast, the hem of her desert cloak stretched into a straight line behind her by the wind.
Roy slung the knife over his shoulder and headed east.
Barlow walked alone to the top of the breach in the south city wall.
Charles, mounted on that iron-gray sand horse, was directing the second wave of troops in coordination with the attack.
Just as he raised his sword halfway up the wall, he caught a glimpse of a figure falling vertically from the city wall.
He assumed it was a cornered garrison soldier attempting a suicidal charge and was about to look away to give further orders when he saw the man land with only a slight bend in his knees before straightening up, his feet leaving two radiating cracks in the gravel beneath his feet.
After he stood up straight, he neither charged, nor shouted, nor even drew his sword; he simply stood there.
He looked up and gazed in Charles's direction.
Across the smoke, Kakkō, and the chaotic battlefield hundreds of meters away, Charles couldn't make out the man's features.
But he saw a pair of red eyes.
Charles fell silent. His sword hovered in mid-air, the gleam on its blade shimmering slightly.
The moment he saw those red eyes, he understood one thing: the reason Wolof hadn't used the reserve team earlier wasn't because he hesitated, but because he had a better reserve team.
Barlow held the knife horizontally in front of him and began to Hand Seals.
Charles tightened the reins when he saw the Hand Seals; he had heard about it from the remnants of the army who had escaped from Katya.
"All siege forces—" Charles's voice was swallowed up by a sudden gust of wind that swept across the battlefield.
Barlow drew his last breath from deep within his chest, his chest bulging slightly, and exhaled the breath as flames from his mouth.
It was a curtain of flames that stretched across the open area outside the entire southern city wall.
Flames erupted from his mouth in a fan shape, pushing forward along the ground, burning the gravel in their path to a dark red color before shattering it.
The wooden wheels of the siege cannon carbonized into black ash the moment they came into contact with the flames, and the iron hoops on the cannon body twisted and deformed under the high temperature, emitting a sharp metallic wail.
Where the sea of fire swept across, the air was distorted and deformed by the heat, and the heat waves, carrying sand and sparks, formed small fire tornadoes that darted around the battlefield.
The rebels' shield wall was as fragile as paper in the face of the flames; the leather on the surface of the heavy shields in the front row blistered and bulged from the heat.
Then it spontaneously combusted, and before the shield-wielding rebels could react, their shields had become hot plates.
They threw down their shields and turned to run, but the flames were faster than them.
The rebels, seeing the inferno advancing towards them, began to tremble.
Some people threw down their weapons and ran for their lives, some knelt down and buried their faces in the sand, and many more just stood there, mouths agape, watching the curtain of flames roll in on them, with only one thought in their minds.
This is hell, this is hell.
At the same moment, outside the east city wall, Roy stood on a pile of sandstone fragments shattered by artillery fire.
His sword was already drawn and stuck in the sand at his feet, and his hands were Hand Seals.
Unlike Barlow's Hand Seals, which are precise down to the knuckles, Roy's Hand Seals have a rough and unrestrained quality, like punching a lock instead of using a key.
He inhaled his last breath, his cheeks puffing out like an angry pufferfish, and then he laughed, grinning as he Hand Seals hand seals, his lips twisted into a crooked arc by his Hand Seals -out cheeks.
Fire Release: Great Fire Annihilation.
The silica in the sand grains melted instantly into a liquid state under the high temperature of the Great Fire Annihilation, and was then pushed outward by the flame blast. During the cooling process, it solidified into twisted dark green glass ribbons.
The militia on the rebel flanks had no time to react. They were carrying ladders and charging toward the base of the city wall. The wood of the ladders went through the entire process of drying, carbonizing, and burning the moment they came into contact with the flames. The men carrying the ladders were still in a running posture when they found that all they had left in their hands was a burning stick.
The flames swept through the militia ranks faster than any cavalry charge. The front ranks were instantly engulfed, while those in the back turned to flee. But the sand beneath their feet had been softened by the heat, making it difficult to run. Some fell and never got up again.
Outside the west city wall, Mila also rolled down.
Her acquisitions were smaller in scale than her two brothers', but her methods of application were different.
She doesn't pursue wide coverage; she pursues precise suppression.
She gathered her Fire Release into more concentrated fireballs and sprayed them one by one towards the location where the rebels had set up their siege ladders.
Each fireball she spat out landed precisely at the junction of the ladder and the crenellations of the city wall. Flames exploded between the iron hooks and the sandstone, the iron hooks glowed red-hot and then slid off the sandstone, causing the entire ladder, along with the rebel soldiers still climbing it, to topple over.
She fired several fireballs in succession, and the siege ladders erected on the west city wall caught fire and collapsed one after another, with the dense explosions extending far into the distance along the base of the city wall.
Wolof stood atop the main tower, the command arrow in his hand having somehow slipped to the ground.
He leaned forward, his lips slightly parted, his hands bracing against the stone railing, his pupils reflecting the sea of fire that simultaneously ignited outside the three city walls.
During his decades-long reign, he witnessed countless battles: the cavalry charges of sand bandits, the advance of shield-bearers in phalanx formations, and the salvo of guns fired from warships.
He thought he knew enough about war, but he had never seen a war in which the course of battle could be changed by just a few people.
The defenders on the city wall were stunned. One musketeer remained motionless in the posture of loading ammunition, gunpowder leaking through his fingers.
A young soldier carrying sandbags to the top of the barricade stood still, the sandbags slipping off his shoulder and hitting his feet without him even noticing.
They weren't unfamiliar with fire; they were astonished that flames could be manipulated by humans.
The three seas of fire seemed to have been precisely demarcated with invisible lines, stopping just a few steps away from the city wall. The scorching heat waves could hit their faces, but the flames didn't even scorch a single piece of the sandstone wall.
This is the Uchiha, and this is what those Fan Flag represent.
Wolof loosened his white fingers from the stone railing, bent down to pick up the command arrow from the ground, and put it back into the quiver at his waist.
He turned around and gave new orders to the messenger behind him. His voice was no longer one of feigned composure, but the composure befitting a king who finally knew he would not lose.
"Pass down the order: everyone, hold your posts, take stock of the wounded, replenish ammunition, and repair the city's defenses. This battle is far from over."