Steel and Mana

Chapter 338 – The Siege (2)

Chapter 338 – The Siege (2)

The moment Kiva looked at the flying... whatever it was they brought along next to the Judgment, he couldn't help but suddenly face the thought that Ishillia's fate was sealed.

His Master stood next to him atop the highest balcony of his palace, the early evening wind whipping at his robes, being the only sound between the two as they were watching the scene play out without blinking. Pascal's expression was frozen into one of pure disbelief, his relatively constant anger momentarily gone. It was as if his wrath was simply scared out of his soul because of what he saw. His hands gripped the railing so tightly that his knuckles turned white, the feeling of solid matter in his grasp failing to anchor him in the reality he could scarcely comprehend.

"What... is that?" Pascal asked, sounding like a child.

Beside him, Kiva sucked in a sharp breath, hearing his Master speak, his body going rigid as if the sheer sight of the monstrous thing before them had locked his limbs in place, sealing his mouth. What should be his answer? Was there any? He didn't know. It was big. It was oval. It flew. It could... It could be anything. His blank expression was enough. It looked like a mirror to the dread that was now suddenly growing in Pascal’s chest.

The airship—if that was even the correct term for the eldritch horror in the distance, as it was not the size or shape of a ship at all—was not of this world. That was what both of them thought. It was an impossibly massive construct, dwarfing their largest airship, the Judgement, flying next to it. It wasn't even made of wood... The way it shone it told them it was of metal. As for what was inside of it? Nothing good. Nothing natural. They were sure of that.

The old Emperor could feel more than Kiva. There was a low hum resonating through the air, vibrating in Pascal’s bones, a feeling that told him that the flying monster was indeed that. A beast. Because he could feel a beast's core in it... no. Not only one. There were... two. It floated with an effortless majesty, an iron fortress in the sky, now making him thin of the two ships Kiva brought back. Suddenly... He didn't know if that would be enough. Worse, as the sun was going down, the shadow that thing cast on the land felt alive, constantly creeping, growing, consuming, putting a suffocating presence on every Ishillian.

Pascal’s mind kept reeling. This was no mere war machine... This was a Vasa. It was true then... That red hair... They returned. He was sure that what he felt was the same kind of terror the ancients felt when facing that accursed bloodline. They returned, and they brought back the ancient terror!

It was an act of defiance against the gods themselves. The same thing that brought the Vasas to their demise. They dared to challenge the Gods... His thoughts raced, scrambling for a solution, for a way to protect not his people, not his city, but himself. However, the sheer scale of the thing left him feeling small—insignificant. He had always prided himself on his ability to remain calm under pressure and to think clearly when others faltered. Even if his rage keeps getting the better of him nowadays... Yet... now, his mind felt empty, his thoughts crashing against each other, canceling any idea he may have.

Then, his eyes finally registered them.

Looking down from the flying fortress, there they were. Titans, clad in steel and magic, walking amongst the mortal army. Monsters... beasts... no, they had to be the Avatars of the Vasa. Only they would come up with something hideous, mixing monsters and humans, wanting to merge the two bloodlines together. Creating abominations.

Pascal’s blood turned cold as he took in their inhuman design. They carried weapons far beyond his sudden comprehension, but he could feel the power simmering in each of them. They, too, were giving off the feeling of beasts, with their cores hidden under their metal armor. How?! How?! They shouldn't have them, not this many, not this many mages either?! How could there be so many magic-capable people in their ranks?! Especially talented ones who could control a monster?! No, this was impossible. This was a nightmare. This wasn't reality! Yet... Each step they took sent tremors through the ground, sending magical vibrations forth that traveled up Pascal’s spine and into his chest, a physical reminder that he was not in a dream.

At that moment, Pascal and Kiva both understood something. They had no answer to these behemoths.

Then, they finally looked at the spreading army surrounding the city.

It was a flood of iron-clad soldiers, something they expected—a mix of commoners, knights, and traitorous nobles. But there was one part of that army that made Pascal's blood freeze in his veins. They were big. Wearing black armor, faceless behind skull-like helmets, their ranks impeccable, perfect, moving like a singular entity. But it was not what made Pascal feel his mouth turn dry like a desert.

They gave off the feeling of magic. Every. One. Of. Them.

"Not possible..." He gasped, his eyes cloudy. If not for holding onto the railing, he would start swaying from the dizziness he felt.

Their armor exuded the feeling of magic, something that Pascal had never seen on the scale that was showing itself before the city. It should be impossible... It just... It had to be a trick. It couldn't be real. Yet the more he tried to feel out, extending his senses, the air around those men seemed to warp, giving off a wild, inhuman scent. Monsters. He could smell the blood of monsters. The sound of their march, echoing in his ears like a beast's roar, made Pascal gasp as he gulped down blood, wanting to escape through his throat.

True horror. That was what the two felt.

Even at his greatest, Pascal had never felt this much power in one place. It suffocated the battlefield, the city... him. It was pressing down on his mind like an actual physical weight strapped to his brain directly. It caused a thrumming, omnipresent force unlike anything he had ever known.

It was an entire army wielding magic if it was something common. If it was a gift, thrown to the masses, bestowed upon anybody they thought to be useful.

"Vasa..." Pascal grunted, finally coughing up blood, unable to hold it back anymore.

Kiva shuddered, hearing him mention the name. His body instinctively recoiled, his hands trembling as he reached for his chest to grab onto the protective artifact he wore, only to find no comfort in its familiar weight. His own magic felt like a pathetic little puddle compared to the vast ocean that was spreading around the city right in front of their eyes. He glanced at Pascal once, searching for an answer to what to do, but there was nothing. His Master's face was twisting back and forth. Rage, fear, terror, anger, desperation. All these feelings were showing on it at once. His jaw was clenched, and his eyes were fixed on the horizon as if he were trying to will the enemy away through the sheer force of his mind.

Of course, it didn't work.

Yet, on the other side of the same coin... Avalon was oblivious to their effect. They did not realize how terrifying they were. To them, this was just the finale of their war. An everyday occurrence that they wielded their Sovereign's inventions. That magic was with them. It was how it should be. Always.

Pascal gritted his teeth, forcing himself to suppress his fear, finally finding a way to return to reality. He could not show weakness, not in front of his people. Not in front of Kiva. Not if he wants them to buy enough time so he can start it... So, he straightened his back, his voice low but steady as he spoke.

“Four days…” he muttered under his breath, his fists clenched, speaking to Kiva. “We just need to last four days. Give me that.”

Of course, Kiva thought it was so his army would arrive... But Pascal was thinking of something else.

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......

I stood on the bridge of Camelot, right next to Kustov, my arms crossed as I watched my army surround the city below. It was a strangely beautiful sight, even if it was made for war and killing. It had a kind of artistic touch to it. Even if we would start painting with blood... I couldn't help but admire it from above.

“Alright,” I began, cracking my neck as I leaned forward, pointing at a section of the city’s outermost wall on the Imaginary.

I knew that my voice was carrying aboard not just the Camelot but into all my officers' ears, including Mirian and Elliot. The former was in her own mech, standing with her army as the others spread out, becoming the leading instrument for the different groups. We had to capture the bridges leading to the city first. They would be the spearheads to do it. Elliot was, to his own surprise, on the Judgement, helping us oversee the battle from there.

“Our first priority is testing the city’s magical defenses before we waste resources on a full-scale assault.” I continued. "Dear?"

I asked, my voice aimed at Sasha, who was now down below coordinating all of our howitzers. On the ground, her crimson hair, usually tied back in a tight braid, was now loose in the wind. She held her staff, looking like a proper war princess. I wasn't a mage, but when I sent her down, seeing her like that, I could feel the magic oozing out of her eyes. It was... glorious.

"We are ready." She answered promptly, no words wasted.

“Go ahead,” I said, smiling. "Fire a few salvos at the walls."

Only a moment later, as our army was still circling the land, the howitzers behind my troops began firing. Their aim was impeccable, and they trained well enough in the Pass throughout the years to hit their marks. And they would have. Still, as I expected from the start, Ishillia had its own defenses.

We watched as the red arcs of magic traveled perfectly through the air, burning brightly. They were just about to come downwards, heading at the walls, when about fifteen meters from their mark, a shimmering, blue shield appeared, blocking all of the shots.

"Merlin?" I asked, looking at him, standing not that far from me on the bridge.

"It came from the walls. It was an automatic reaction to the incoming magic." He said firmly.

“I guessed this would be the case...” I muttered, my voice cutting through the silence amongst my people. “Ishillia is a bloodline of mages, after all, so we need their protection exhausted before we move in. This will cost a lot of CC, but... Oh well!” A grin tugged at the corner of my lips as I watched the Imaginary and the slowly fading magical shield. “Let’s give them a good evening show. An actual firework.”

Sasha understood it well.

Across the battlefield, our howitzers continued firing. They did it in a sequence that sounded like weird orchestral music: booming, deep baritones singing the hymn of war, bombarding the city's magical defense without stopping. Even after the sun was down, we didn't stop. We kept at it.

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......

In the heart of the Imperial City, Pascal and Kiva watched in horror as the first spell descended, the sky splitting apart as the enemy army made its first move. The sound was deafening, like a thunderclap that shook the very foundations of the city. The magic struck the outermost defensive spells, and for a moment, there was silence—then, the world erupted in light and fire, the runes inside the Ishillian walls groaning as they withstood the incoming magic. Even as the magical barrier around the city flared to life, a shimmering dome of energy, it had no time to dissipate and rest... As more and more fire spells were raining down on the Capital.

Pascal’s heart sank as he watched the barrier flicker, its light dimming ever so slightly, something that not even Kiva noticed. He knew what it meant. They can't hold it up for forever. Not for four days. Not if the traitor whore continues to cast spells this quickly and this frequently.

"How... HOW?! No mage can cast spells so quickly..." He whispered, feeling himself swaying once again.

"Master..." Kiva’s voice was barely a whisper, trembling with fear and disbelief. “Master… what do we do?”

Pascal didn’t answer. Not at first... but they had to do something.

"Prepare the ships." He said, gritting his teeth. "Do anything you can and fly out, destroying their mages, raining fire on us! If not, the city's defenses won't hold out longer than dawn."