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From the Denian Kingdom to the holy land of Kalosia, and even to the sacred ground of the elves, Ketal had always been the ones on the defensive. Holding the line, shielding the last sanctuaries of light from the advance of evil, was his role in previous battles. However, now, the tables had turned. For the first time in a long while, he was the one launching the attack. It was exhilarating, almost joyous, to feel the momentum shifting.
“We’ve tried everything we could think of to break through the fortress,” the Archbishop said, his voice grave, “but none of our efforts have succeeded. The walls are simply too strong. Here, let me show you.”
With a subtle gesture of his chin, the Archbishop signaled to the gathered mages of the Mage Tower. They sprang into action, loading a magical ballista, a siege weapon far more powerful than any Ketal had seen on the journey to the Deep Sea. The ballista was charged with runes and ancient enchantments, humming with destructive energy.
The weapon’s great bolt was drawn back, its magical tension crackling in the air. Then, with a thunderous report, it was released. The bolt shot through the sky with blinding speed and slammed against the fortress wall.
A tremendous explosion echoed out, shaking the earth beneath their feet. Dust billowed up, swirling through the air and momentarily hiding the fortress from view. When the haze cleared, everyone stared at the wall, searching for damage.
“Only a scratch,” the Mercenary King muttered. He frowned as he surveyed the result.
The...
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