Just after Veylin warned the soldiers under his command...
Boom!!!
A thunderous blast erupted to the west, and the earth trembled.
Veylin stopped and turned toward Brintanhe Fortress.
The sky there had turned orange-red. Hundreds of fireballs trailed long tails of flame as they tore through the blizzard, raining like meteors onto Hector's front lines.
The shock waves swept up billows of snow. Even several kilometers away, they could feel the ice beneath their feet groaning.
Prince Wilander was certainly giving it his all.
To support Veylin's flanking maneuver, the veteran commander had made an extremely risky decision-he had dismantled the twelve giant defensive ballistae on the fortress walls and the counterweight trebuchets behind them, then pushed them onto a snowy slope less than a kilometer from the enemy positions to fire at close range.
It was an attack that left him no way back.
Without the walls to shelter them, those ballistae and the soldiers operating them were sitting ducks.
But the results were astonishing.
That frenzied barrage tore open a corner of Hector's outer defenses.
Explosions, battle cries, and the roar of clashing magic mingled together, drawing the Blackflame Army's full attention.
Eyes that had been wandering aimlessly now all turned west.
The Magic Cannons atop the fortress began charging with a low hum, preparing to deliver a devastating strike against the prince who apparently had a death wish.
[Move through at full speed!]
Veylin seized the fleeting opportunity.
The moment the order went out, their marching pace surged.
The soldiers no longer tried to muffle their footsteps. They broke into a run across the snow. Direwolves dragged sleds over the ice, leaving twin tracks behind them. Everyone raced against death, using the deafening bombardment as cover to cross this most dangerous stretch of open ground.
The blizzard