Chill moisture streamed across the Glass Dome above Ironkeep's Royal City, and the gilded colonnades cast long, mottled shadows in the moonlight.
A faint golden glow from the remnants of rusted machinery drifted through the air, but it could not mask the cold decay seeping from the gaps between the bricks.
A battle between past and future was about to erupt.
After passing through the outermost fortifications, the Expedition Army first reached the alleys where the Royal City's inhabitants had once lived. Broken machines now roamed the tangled maze of streets and houses.
Of all forms of warfare, street fighting was undoubtedly among the most troublesome.
Thus, the Ashen Clan began by using its customary defensive formation to test the enemy's strength.
Gradually, however, they discovered that these metal hulks moved very slowly.
Though strong enough to shatter stone, their attacks were easy for even ordinary soldiers to dodge with a little care.
Once the soldiers realized this, their formation quickly began to change.
Depending on the number of enemies, the Ashen Clan shifted into five-member teams that surrounded their targets.
This encirclement formation was the best approach Gron had devised over the course of several battles.
The soldier at the front carried a heavy shield and a slender spear to draw the enemy's attacks, while two others used Nail-Spears to deliver piercing strikes.
Of the remaining two at the rear, one provided ranged support with a crossbow, while the other relieved exhausted soldiers to maintain the team's fighting strength.
Back on the Black Shell Plains, the Ashen Clan had relied on this tactic to reliably surround and kill individual beasts several times stronger than themselves.
Contrary to their expectations, however, the Nail-Spears forged from refined iron produced only tiny sparks when thrust against those old metal shells.
"Even after all these years, these antiques still have impressive defenses."
Gron watched the battlefield with a grave expression. "If these metal things weren't so slow from years without maintenance, this would probably be a brutal battle we could win only by throwing bodies at them."
But even then, the Ashen Clan would never retreat a single step.
Gron jumped down from the platform and picked up his spear and shield. He had fulfilled his duties as commander; now he had to head to the front line.
Unable to fly or spit corrosive acid, and possessing almost no special talents, the Ashen Clan could do only one thing-and it was what they did best: fight doggedly to the bitter end.
They used armor and the Armored Nail in place of sharp fangs and claws, and uncompromising discipline to compensate for their less agile bodies.
The Ashen Clan was desperate to prove to the Sunfire God that they were not a burden.
Moving through the battlefield, Gron soon found his target: a large machine two or three times the size of the other metal shells.
The great metal monster was rampaging through the Expedition Army. One arm had already broken off, and it was using its sole remaining arm to wreak havoc on the army's formations.
"You're the one!"
Gripping the Nameless Long Spear he had recovered from the ruins of another civilization, Gron charged straight at it, veins bulging and joints whitening from the force of his grip.
The large machine noticed him as well. The instant their gazes met, it charged.
It, too, had realized that its opponent seemed to be an important figure among the invading enemies.
As Gron ran, his breath condensed into white mist in the freezing air. His sole intact eye remained locked on the large machine charging toward him.
The two immediately clashed, and the large machine slammed its intact arm into the ground like a warhammer.
The ground shook at once, countless cracks spreading wildly outward from the machine like slithering snakes.
But Gron had anticipated that moment. He sprang back just before the blow struck, then leaped while the machine's arm was still extended, driving his spear viciously toward its head.
A tremendous clang rang out, and the two immediately separated. Their first exchange was over.
Gron was unscathed, but he moved more cautiously now. One of the large machine's eyes had been pierced, yet it remained as vigorous as ever.
"Just as I thought. An injury like that does nothing."
The Snail Shaman was right. These machines aren't insects anymore. They won't stop unless we crush them completely into powder.
Though the large machine had lost an arm and an eye, its fighting strength had barely diminished.
A single blow to the ground had caused a horrifying amount of destruction.
After a brief assessment, Gron realized an uncomfortable truth: he might not be able to withstand even one hit.
"Need a hand, Commander?"
It was Mortas's voice. Gron did not need to turn around to know that the emerald-green Mantis Lord was the only one who would dare speak at a time like this.
Unlike the Ashen Clan, which fought head-on at the front, Mortas's Hunter Clan kept hunting down isolated machines from the shadows.
Those slow-moving metal shells were excellent prey. Though poison was useless against machines, traps and the clan's renowned skills still proved effective.
Without the Hunter Clan continually wearing down the enemy from the shadows, the Ashen Clan could never have held out this long.
"Hmph. Do whatever you like. Just try not to die."
"That goes for you too, Commander. If something happens to you, I'm not confident I can command the whole army."
Even though their relationship had improved somewhat, the two insects still could not resist bickering on the battlefield.
Yet their swiftly changing fighting stances revealed their unspoken coordination.
Meanwhile, after briefly freezing up, the large machine finally recovered from its sluggishness.
Its armor had lost its luster, the patterns upon it had long since blurred, and even its vocal apparatus no longer worked properly. Its murmurs sounded like someone speaking in a dream.
"For... the king!"
But even so, even with its body decayed, it still pressed forward without hesitation.
Its enormous bulk charged at the two insects with unstoppable speed. They reacted instantly, retreating in opposite directions, one to the left and the other to the right.
For a moment, the large machine could not decide which one to pursue, and crashed straight into the wall behind them.
Between Gron and Mortas, one was fragile and the other had only a single layer of armor. Neither could withstand even one blow.
Nor had either of them considered matching the machine in a battle of endurance. If anything, their only chance of victory was to end the fight quickly.
When they saw the big brute crash into the wall, both recognized a perfect opportunity.
They immediately unleashed their strongest attacks.
Mortas rapidly gathered power where he stood. Once white light shone from his entire body, he leaped into the air and hurled his distinctive steel Nail-Spear viciously at the large machine.
Gron's approach was even more straightforward and brutal. Using the Soulfire Arts he had grasped during the Snail Shaman's demonstration, he poured all the energy in his body into his spear and hurled it with all his strength.
Bang!
Mortas's Nail-Spear broke through the protective plate over the energy core in the large machine's chest.
Boom!
Gron's spear flew cleanly through that opening, followed by a tremendous explosion.
Just like that, the war machine built with the finest craftsmanship of an ancient civilization was utterly destroyed.
The sight sent the surrounding soldiers' morale soaring, while the metal shells continued their stubborn resistance in silence.
The battle was far from over. Gron and Mortas exchanged a glance, then went back to supporting their respective clans.
Until the next offering to the Sunfire God, they were still rivals.
On a distant raised platform, the Snail Shaman once again revealed an inscrutable smile.
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