With the battle reaching such a fever pitch, there was no longer any reason to hold back. Edgar commanded, "Have the Winged Misbegotten begin harassing from above to draw some pressure off the main wall. Trolls, advance with the catapults!"
The Southern Army's soldiers were undoubtedly inferior to the enemy's, forcing Edgar to deploy his unique units sooner rather than later. Holding back wasn't an option; playing this card early might prevent greater losses. His only nagging concern was the true siege of Stormveil Castle itself. To put it bluntly, the vast majority of his reserve troops were earmarked to be spent in that final assault.
But would these current losses prove too severe? If they exceeded a certain threshold, it would undoubtedly jeopardize the subsequent plans for Stormveil Castle. Noticing the troubled look on his face, Frieren spoke up.
"Don't worry," she reassured him. "I have measures specifically reserved for formidable fortresses like Stormveil. Just focus on getting us to its gates."
"But from what I understand," Edgar countered, "magic with significant physical destructive power is rare in the Lands Between, let alone spells capable of breaching fortress walls."
"A truly skilled mage commands a diverse arsenal," Frieren replied simply.
Her confident tone convinced Edgar to trust her. After all, his superior had performed countless miracles; she was their greatest asset for achieving victory.
"As you command."
At Edgar's command, the Southern Army advanced in disciplined formation, establishing a new position further forward under the cover of aerial harassment. Simultaneously, teams ascended the high ground flanking Stormgate to set up catapults. The defenders had anticipated this and constructed small bastions, but these were too small to hold out for long.
Unlike the naturally defensible Stormveil Castle, Stormgate suffered from the critical weakness of being overlooked by the surrounding hillsides. Consequently, the slopes became the site of the most brutal, grinding battles.
War cries and curses filled the air as soldiers clashed in brutal mêlées. Fighting raged across the high ground, the main road, and the walls themselves. The stench of blood hung heavy on the wind, punctuated by deafening rumbles.
A dark, overwhelming tide of attackers surged up the slopes, appearing endless from a distance. Defending their narrow bunkers, Godrick's soldiers felt their scalps prickle with fear but somehow managed to hold their ground.
"Hold the line! Keep holding! If we break, Stormgate falls!" one yelled, though the grim reality was that their situation was perilous.
Aerial combat had already erupted. Stormhawks ripped through Winged Misbegotten as the opposing forces circled and clashed high above. Occasionally, a falling corpse would plummet onto a tower, crushing soldiers below – nowhere was safe.
"Auro," Frieren asked the Black Knife Assassin curiously, "was the Shattering on this scale?"
"Far grander," Auro replied. "I doubt the Lands Between today could even assemble a combined army encompassing the likes of the Fire Monks, Cleanrot Knights, and Redmanes."
"I've never witnessed anything like it," Frieren mused. "It's quite spectacular."
In truth, this was Frieren's first time experiencing such a massive legion war within the 'game'. Not just as a frontline commander, but at all – even in her 'real' life, battles of this magnitude were unheard of. Perhaps such conflicts only occurred once a decade? It helped that, unlike others, the inhabitants of the Lands Between seemingly didn't require traditional supply lines.
Regardless, it was certainly an eye-opening experience, and distinctly characteristic of this land, with such diverse forces gathered. Under her direction, the Spirit Ashes held the main pass firmly, turning the former campsite before the gate into a shielded thoroughfare for the Southern Army.
Overhead, arrows rained down, whistling past, threatening to pierce flesh at any moment – a constant dance with death.
Additionally, Misbegotten, Demi-humans, Trolls, and the Living Dead assisted with basic tasks like hauling supplies and loading siege engines. While simple work, it saved considerable labor, sustaining the relentless, high-intensity assault on the front lines. Normally, these creatures, plagued by aging bodies and undead traits, would be prone to errors, often making their use counterproductive. However, Frieren's soul magic had altered this awkward dynamic, enabling them to participate effectively even amidst intense conflict.
The most daring were undoubtedly the Dragon Communion Squad. Some hefted scaling ladders, charging right up to the base of the walls, while others maneuvered a battering ram towards the iron-barred gate.
"We absolutely cannot let them break through!" the defending commander roared. If the main gate fell, the center would collapse. Lacking numerical superiority, they could easily be overwhelmed – a disastrous outcome. The defenders fought back fiercely, showering the attackers below with logs and heavy stones. Many were crushed senseless or met their end instantly, their souls presumably returning to the Erdtree. Meanwhile, long spears and pikes jabbed relentlessly through the gaps in the gate's iron bars.
Bodies piled up around the main gate as both sides fought to a stalemate – the attackers unable to break in, the defenders unable to drive them back.
"Ram harder! Faster!" bellowed an officer, trying to set a rhythm, but mere urging was futile. The defenders' engineers worked frantically, making constant repairs. When patching wasn't possible, they jammed the entrance with debris, all while coordinating the volleys of stones and logs from above.
Sieges are complex, requiring coordination on multiple fronts. Right now, the key battle raged atop the walls. Giant boulders, hurled by the catapults, slammed onto the ramparts one after another. Godrick's soldiers struggled to hold on, suppressed and pinned down, especially by the relentless arrow volleys that kept their heads low.
In stark contrast, the Southern Army, twenty thousand strong, had the numbers to rotate weary troops to the rear for treatment, mitigating casualties and maintaining peak fighting condition.
Frieren, meanwhile, observed the entire process patiently, offering only basic healing magic as support. She needed to gauge the overall combat capability of her soldiers. This assessment would determine how much of her own energy she needed to reserve for confronting the enemy's key figures directly – after all, Margit and Godrick were likely formidable opponents. How much magical power could she afford to expend supporting the army versus saving for those duels? Ideally, she preferred to conserve her strength, as it would also be needed for consolidating her rule later.
CRUNCH!
With a deafening groan, the first outer, reinforced gate buckled and collapsed. Hearing the crash, the attackers roared with excitement – breaking through was the ultimate goal! They surged forward with renewed determination. This inevitably placed immense pressure on the defenders behind the gate.
"Rotation! Quickly, get the second unit up to reinforce! Hold the line! Buy time for the engineers!"
The commander reacted swiftly, but his soldiers couldn't necessarily match his speed. By the time reinforcements scrambled into position, alarming cracks had already appeared on the second, and final, gate. True, their mission wasn't to halt an army of twenty thousand with this single checkpoint, but they had hoped to inflict far heavier casualties than they had managed so far.
...
Elsewhere, on Stormhill.
Bernahl, who had been keeping cover, rose to his feet. He needed a better vantage point, a view of the higher slopes where the battle now hinged. That terrain was the key; whoever controlled the high ground would likely dictate the pace of the siege. The fighting there was savage – a chaotic, bloody mess where bodies piled high. Blood literally flowed like rivers around the base of the two bunker towers on the hillside. Waves of attackers charged, died, and were replaced, while the defenders were steadily worn down, their position becoming untenable.
"How many years has it been... since this world witnessed war on such a scale?" Bernahl mused, watching from his vantage point. The last time was likely during the Shattering itself. Perhaps any commander capable of wielding such destructive force could rightly be called a demigod.
Those original demigods all possessed the Golden Lineage, impeccable pedigrees granting them inherent legitimacy and an undeniable aura. In stark contrast stood this new Tarnished, Frieren, who had built her forces from nothing, relying purely on her own efforts. It evoked an atmosphere reminiscent of the rise of the first Elden Lord himself.
Even though Godfrey had been exiled from the Lands Between for ages, the legends persisted. Everyone knew the Warrior King had started with nothing and conquered all, possessing the absolute quality of a true monarch. Now, after so long, Queen Marika had summoned the Tarnished to break the deadlock, to stir the stagnant waters. Whose foundations would be washed away by the tidal wave Frieren represented?
ROAR!
Suddenly, the battlefield shifted. Flying Dragons descended upon the hillside bunkers, routing the remaining defenders. They seemed unusually focused, lacking their typical frenzied instability, and even emanated the faint aura of soul-healing Frieren often employed. With a few hand signals, the silver-haired girl directed them to secure the position.
Frieren had apparently 'recruited' these dragons while passing Lake Agheel earlier. Her initial thought had been to try taming or puppeteering magic, but she discovered the great beasts were surprisingly willing to pledge loyalty to a powerful presence. Simply exerting her aura had been enough. Perhaps her extensive contact with ancient dragons and their kin allowed them to sense a familiar, trustworthy power? Whatever the reason, it didn't matter; pragmatism always came first for Frieren.
"She actually managed to command Flying Dragons!" Bernahl thought, stunned.
Events unfolded too quickly for Bernahl to dwell on his shock. The hillside bunkers had fallen, and now the Southern Army attacked Stormgate from a commanding height. Simultaneously, the Dragon Communion Squad relentlessly battered the iron gate, which groaned under the strain, emitting tortured screeches.
The Southern Army held the advantage in numbers, while Stormgate, despite repairs and reinforcements, simply couldn't accommodate enough defenders. Its garrison of barely a thousand men was putting up a desperate resistance.
Then, a command flag waved, pointing towards the gate – the signal for the final assault.
With heaven-shaking war cries, the attackers surged forward, massing before the entrance. The sheer weight of bodies pressed against the gate caused it to shudder violently. It was clearly at its breaking point. The only remaining question was: how long until it gave way completely?
"Level the gate!"
The strategic advantage gained from the Flying Dragons securing the hillside bunkers wasn't merely an extra attack vector; it provided a dominating aerial position over Stormgate. Defenders on the walls glanced nervously upwards at the menacing dragons circling overhead, their hearts pounding.
"Eyes front! Hold your positions!" an officer shouted.
But the warning came too late. Trolls swiftly maneuvered catapults into the captured bunker positions. A giant boulder soared through the air with a menacing whistle, casting a large shadow before slamming down onto the ramparts with crushing force.
WHAM!
A single such impact could cause irreparable damage to the narrow walls, potentially even triggering a section to collapse. Stormgate, after all, was not a world-class fortress like Stormveil, designed to command an entire region. It was far more vulnerable. The impact shattered battlements, and temporary reinforcements crumbled.
"Quick, push the boulder off!"
Worse than the damage, the massive stone blocked movement along the wall-walk. Defenders scrambled, straining with all their might to dislodge it. With a mighty heave, they finally sent it tumbling down into the courtyard below. The sudden crash provoked angry shouts from soldiers fending off attackers at the gate: "Why are you throwing that down here?! How are we supposed to hold the line—"
Before he could finish, a long spear thrust through the gate's bars, silencing his complaint forever.
But dislodging one boulder didn't end the barrage. The catapults on the other hillside were also loaded and taking aim.
WHAM! WHAM!
A continuous bombardment hammered the ramparts. Though the firing points were few, their suppressive power was immense, sending defenders scrambling for cover, heads down. Despite their commander's furious urging, a large section of the defenders remained huddled down.
"You worthless cowards! You're leaving the gate exposed!"
Freed from the suppressing fire from the walls, the Dragon Communion Squad redoubled their efforts with the battering ram, striking with increasing force. The iron bars of the gate groaned and buckled, emitting a grating screech that set teeth on edge. They were determined to be the first unit to breach the gate, certain of earning Lady Frieren's favor.
Their rivals in this were the main vanguard force, who, no longer pinned down by fire from the walls, were now rushing towards the entrance two steps at a time.
Stormgate groaned under the immense pressure. The relatively small fortification was now crammed with thousands of defenders, packed shoulder-to-shoulder, enduring the constant impacts of falling boulders – a truly miserable situation. Reports of trampling deaths began to emerge, a sure sign that utter chaos was imminent.
"They're about to break through! Should we engage?" the Ancient Hero of Zamor asked eagerly.
Frieren, however, calmly shook her head. "Not necessary. Conserve your strength for now. The toughest challenge lies ahead. I'll finish this quickly."
It wasn't time yet. Having assaulted Stormgate before, she knew its limitations. Restricted by terrain, even with repairs, it wasn't a truly formidable obstacle. The key was simply to take it swiftly and avoid delays.
"I will ensure efficiency," the silver-haired girl declared, raising her staff. Once more, she activated an enhancement for her Spirit Ashes. Immediately, the spectral warriors surged up the scaling ladders onto the ramparts.
First blood on the walls!
The Spirit Ashes met panicked defenders and utterly crushed them. Led by Tyr, they charged rampantly, clearing the area around the ladders in a single, unstoppable sweep. Seeing Frieren's spectral legion breach the defenses, the regular soldiers behind them surged upwards with renewed vigor, swarming onto the battlements. Already, a hundred Southern Army soldiers had gained the top of the walls.
The moment the two sides met, all-out slaughter ensued. One side fought desperately to establish a foothold, the other to hurl the invaders back down. Flesh and blood flew as broken bodies constantly tumbled from the ramparts, splattering onto the ground below like sacks of mud. At this moment, the walls were the most brutal place in the entire battle.
Fortunately, the charge of the Spirit Ash legion eased the pressure on the regular troops. However, even these spectral warriors began to suffer losses under the intense, close-quarters combat, a testament to the ferocity of the fighting. Seeing their purpose served and wishing to conserve energy, Frieren dismissed some of the weaker Ashes, such as the Demi-humans.
She was quite satisfied with the performance of her Spirit Calling Bell. While the Ashes weren't always directly useful to her, they were undeniably beneficial on the battlefield.
CRASH!
With a final, splintering crack, the main gate burst open, revealing an unobstructed path.
Impatient Southern Army soldiers surged through the opening, cutting down anyone in their path. Roars echoed through the confined space as blades flashed, and countless bodies hit the ground. Fighting devolved into a chaotic brawl over every inch of ground, the complex environment making formations impossible – it was pure mêlée, soldiers pairing off in desperate duels.
"Rally forces! Support the courtyard!" the defending commander yelled, realizing the danger. But it was too late. The chaos on the walls prevented them from effectively engaging the enemies who had breached the interior.
It had to be admitted: Edgar had expertly controlled the battle's tempo, methodically coordinating the assaults from the walls and the gate to form a pincer movement. He linked the various breakthroughs, ensuring no single point advanced too quickly and exposed a weakness. He might not be a legendary general, but his sensitivity to potential openings and his knack for preemptively avoiding errors – this steady, calculated approach – caused the defending officers of Stormgate immense suffering.
"Break out! Retreat!"
Holding the position was now pointless. For a fortification of this size, having the enemy breach the inner courtyard was tantamount to falling completely. Following contingency plans, Godrick's soldiers began their withdrawal. Their priority was to cover the retreat of the recently assembled conscripts – mostly Living Dead. Though frail and barely sentient, they were valuable laborers, crucial for future fortification repairs.
With the order given, the defenders started streaming out of Stormgate, hoping to reach the safety of the main castle, Stormveil, in time.
"Watch out! Flying Dragons are blocking the path!" someone cried in despair. Normally, they could handle dragons with mounted ballistae, but in the current chaos, having abandoned heavy equipment, organizing any kind of counterattack was impossible.
This momentary hesitation proved fatal. Large numbers of Southern Army soldiers poured out of the captured gate in hot pursuit. Simultaneously, forces descended from the high ground to cut off the retreat.
Stormveil Castle wouldn't simply abandon its garrison; a relief force was mustering within its walls. However, the fierce gales howling across Stormhill impeded their advance. To make matters worse, a thick fog suddenly rolled in – clearly Frieren employing magic to sow confusion and deter the reinforcements, making them wary of acting rashly.
It was a simple enough trick, requiring little technical skill, but remarkably effective at amplifying panic on the battlefield. The enemy reinforcements gradually lost their bearings. In truth, getting disoriented is easy enough even in a large crowd, let alone fog.
Riding Torrent at full speed, Frieren charged straight through the now-conquered Stormgate, casting minor spells as she went, until she reached the far side of the pass. She was concerned her own troops might advance too recklessly and fall into an ambush from Stormveil.
Thanks to Torrent's incredible speed, she quickly outpaced her own pursuing soldiers, then overtook the fastest of the fleeing defenders. Just like that, she positioned herself between the routed garrison and any potential aid from Stormveil Castle, presenting an imposing figure ready to make a stand. An army of one.
As the fully armed, silver-haired girl stood resolutely in the middle of the path, the approaching relief force from Stormveil Castle was forced to pull up short. The faces of the Stormveil knights were grim, but they dared not advance a single step. They were caught in a difficult position, a stalemate. Did they dare engage Frieren, the renowned 'Magic-Slaying Swordstress' right now? If they suffered heavy losses, the entire rescue attempt would be meaningless.
There was no exchange of words between the two sides, only a silent, tense standoff. One side aimed to relieve Stormgate and rescue the routed soldiers; the other stood firm to prevent it. Would battle erupt here and now? Only if they were prepared to challenge a warrior whose power potentially rivaled that of a demigod.
After a moment's hesitation, the relief force commander made the difficult decision – they turned back.
Godrick's remaining soldiers trapped outside Stormgate watched helplessly as their hope vanished, swallowed by the closing encirclement. Immediately, the trapped remnants dissolved into chaos: some fought to the death, others surrendered, and the rest scattered, attempting futile escapes. Their formation had utterly disintegrated.
Frieren paid no mind to the desperate cries for mercy behind her. Instead, she gazed towards the small shack high on Stormhill. Her magical senses had detected a familiar presence earlier – Bernahl had been observing the battle. Now, she sensed him depart, perhaps with a wry smile and a wave. This wasn't the time for reunions; both had their own paths to follow. There would be time to discuss the war for Stormveil later.
"Until next time," Frieren murmured, ever composed in farewell, before turning her full attention back to the immediate aftermath of the battle.
"May news soon spread through Limgrave... that the world has begun to change," Bernahl murmured from afar, offering a silent blessing. If a Tarnished could definitively claim Stormveil Castle and wield its Great Rune, the symbolic significance would be immense.
But first, she has to win.
Stormgate wasn't even a proper appetizer. There had been no clash between truly powerful core forces, nothing of real substance. Stormveil Castle itself, however, was teeming with formidable warriors – Crucible Knights and Margit the Fell Omen himself stood ready. Frieren would have to face them all.
With a final glance towards the imposing castle, Bernahl turned and strode away, disappearing quickly.
____________
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