Werewolf Assault

Castian's gaze remained fixed on the sand table. Though it was only a rough draft, he could already see its feasibility.

What had once been a hopeless situation, one that could only be filled with lives, had now been completely turned around.

White Fang Fief and Grasshawk Fief were no longer positions they had to hold at all costs.

The sacred flame was no longer merely a fire for defending walls. It could sustain a defensive line, lure enemies in, and ultimately become a trap buried beneath the enemy army's feet.

And Blackpine Fief was no longer just a remote new holding. In Shien's plan, it was the anchor of the entire interior line.

Holy Knights needed fresh mounts, the wounded needed evacuation, supplies needed transfer, orders needed consolidation, and flanking forces needed somewhere to regroup.

Without a hub like that, troops shifting back and forth along the ridges would merely be running everywhere with nowhere to settle.

Castian stared at the terrain, his breathing briefly growing quieter.

He had spent the first half of his life defending the Eternal Night Wall, too. He knew how to survive Blood Moon Season.

He constantly tallied knights, grease, arrows, and how many more assaults the walls could withstand, then traded those resources for the corpses of monsters.

But what Shien had laid out followed an entirely different approach.

He was not calculating how many people would die. He was designing from a broader perspective, reshaping the entire Graymist Defense Zone into a battlefield mechanism that devoured men.

The shock in Castian's heart could not have been greater.

This boy was like an ore vein whose depths had yet to be reached.

Just when you thought you had seen his most valuable seam, there was another beneath it. Dig deeper, and there was