https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-121-Ascension-and-Terrifying-Illusions/13676274/
Chapter 122: Siege
Within the Duchy of Lakanman, Telo City.
Once the fiefdom of the legendary General Tanner Lakanman, this city was known as the "City of Valor," home to over ten thousand souls. As a key military stronghold guarding the northern frontier—Northwind Keep—Telo City had long stood as a bulwark against relentless northern incursions. Its people were hardy and courageous, to the point of being said to possess "excessive martial spirit." For centuries, they had endured assaults from Frost Giants, orcs, even white dragons—yet never once had they fallen.
The Scannar people were like iron nails, stubbornly driven deep into the heart of northern Anzeta.
But now, fear gripped the city.
For seven long days, an endless horde of monsters had encircled Telo City. All supply lines were severed. No food, no water, no people—nothing could enter or leave.
Yet shortages of supplies were not the worst of it.
The true terror was the crumbling of morale.
For decades, the people of Telo had known only peace. They had forgotten the glory of their ancestors, lulled into complacency by years of quiet stability. Their enemies, however, were a different story—Ashenkin forces, fresh, fierce, and brimming with bloodlust.
And worse still: the city’s own elite—many of them drawn from Telo’s ranks—had been shattered in the last great battle. The city had wept for days afterward. The blow had broken its spine.
Dragon Riders screamed through the sky above, casting down countless surrender letters like snowflakes.
"Will they slaughter us all?"
"What should we do? Maybe we should just surrender?"
"Even the Allied Forces’ finest were wiped out!"
"How can we possibly hold against such an army?"
Whispers of despair spread like wildfire through the streets.
But the City Defense Force had sealed the city in iron grip. Martial law was enforced with merciless strictness. Anyone caught spreading panic or undermining the defense would be seized instantly as a traitor.
The city’s ancient walls—cracked and scarred by centuries of war—stood as silent witnesses to its storied past. The defenders stood rigid at their posts, eyes fixed on the horizon, yet powerless to strike. The enemy was too far. Even the city’s trebuchets couldn’t reach them.
Atop the wall, Dawson Vileur Earl stood motionless, his gaze fixed upon the encircling darkness.
"Lord," a City Defense Force captain hurried forward. "We’ve caught another group of traitors."
Dawson’s voice was cold steel. "Execute them all. Leave no room for mercy."
The captain flinched, then snapped to attention. "Yes, Lord!"
"Again..." Dawson muttered, fists clenched. "Have they forgotten their ancestors’ honor?"
He turned to his aide. "How much food and water do we have left?"
The aide hesitated, then spoke gravely.
"Three days. At most."
"Already, people have died of thirst. Their families dragged corpses to the square, weeping. We’ve detained them—temporarily. But the situation is spiraling. Riots are growing. Our troops are stretched too thin. We don’t have enough men."
A heavy shadow fell over Dawson’s face.
Was surrender truly the only way?
No.
Never.
This was not just about survival—it was about honor. About the centuries of struggle. About the legacy of every ancestor who had stood where he stood, defiant and unbroken.
With a voice like iron, he ordered, "Go gather the people. I have something to say to them."
"Yes, Lord."
In short order, under the stern pressure of the City Defense Force, the starving, thirsty, and angry civilians were herded beneath the city walls.
"I’m so hungry…"
"Is the Earl finally going to give us rations?"
"Those city guards—my family starved, and they just hauled off the corpses like trash!"
"Please, just end it…"
Then, a steady, powerful voice rang out from above.
The crowd stilled. Refugees and citizens alike looked up.
There stood Dawson Vileur Earl, face stern, towering above them on the battlements.
"Citizens! Telo City stands at the brink of annihilation—this is the most perilous moment in a century!"
"But do not fear. Do not falter. Our ancestors lived here. Our forebears built this mighty city. Look upon these walls—walls that have withstood giants, orcs, dragons! No enemy has ever conquered us. And this time will be no different!"
A voice from the crowd dared to ask, trembling:
"And what about food? Water?"
"Lord, forgive me, but courage needs sustenance to survive."
Dawson’s expression faltered—just for an instant.
Then he straightened, voice ringing like a war drum:
"Courage and will—those are your sharpest swords, your most deadly spears!"
"No water? No food?"
"Impossible! Citizens, don your armor. Grasp your weapons! They are out there—waiting for you, beyond the wall. Take them with your own hands, with your own blades!"
…
Unbeknownst to Dawson, hundreds of meters beyond the city’s edge, in the open fields, a lone figure watched through a crude telescope.
"Boss, can that mortar even fire?"
"It looks so damn cheap."
Battlefield Wheelchair Man adjusted the aim with exaggerated care, addressing his companion, Steel Tide.
Before him stood a two-meter-long smoothbore cannon—no proper carriage, just a massive, hulking Ogre seated on the ground, his broad shoulders bracing the weapon like a living tripod.
Steel Tide leaned in. "It should work. At least it won’t explode. I used the cannon frame budget to build my Gundam. But… you really know how to handle this thing?"
"Fine. I’ll try."
Battlefield Wheelchair Man stared at the distant city wall, eyes gleaming with excitement.
"Look at that outfit—definitely a big boss."
"Daitou, shift left a bit."
The Ogre grumbled, jerking his shoulder sideways.
"Too far. A little more… about the width of a steak."
Battlefield Wheelchair Man struggled to find a unit the Ogre could understand.
"Wait—too much!"
"No, no—there. That’s it!"
"Loading the round—"
The second Ogre hoisted the heavy shell, clumsily inserting the fuse.
After endless fiddling, the wheelchair man gave up.
"Ready—FIRE!"
BOOM!
The earth trembled. A thunderous roar split the air.
The shell arced high into the sky—then crashed into the moat before the city wall, detonating with a violent explosion. A massive crater split the ground, sending debris flying.
"Damn it—what the hell happened?!"
Dawson, mid-speech, staggered as the ground shuddered beneath him. Dirt and stone rained onto his ornate armor.
"Was that thunder?"
"Did the enemy attack?!"
"Run! Run for your lives!"
Panic erupted. The crowd surged, screaming, pushing, trampling. Chaos reigned.
(End of Chapter)
Chapter end
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