R?chard, perched on a forward roof, had already struck—two enemy soldiers lay in the dust, one with a chest pierced by an arrow, the other rolling in the toxic mist, throat pierced by a precise arrow. Siegfried took a few steps, facing the warriors with glacial serenity flowing in his veins, his breath measured despite the chaos. Juuh'ma and the knights still at his back. The first looter surged, a short blade aiming at his right flank in a furious whistle but the knight pivoted, his sword describing a perfect arc. The metal screamed at contact, a sharp creaking resonating as he deflected the attack, then, in a fluid movement, he planted his blade in the assailant's throat.

  On the squadron's right side, two enemy women leapt toward them, their steel claws ready to shred their faces while another did the same from the left. A calculated attack. The Stoneskin reacted in a flash. He swung his arms and made his chains whistle from both sides, the gold links wrapping around the three warriors during their leap. Without effort, he pulled to bring them to him, the three adversaries crashing on the ground with a crash.

  "Now, knights," he ordered in his heavy voice while the women moaned in pain.

  Dragar's men plunged their lances into the warriors' bodies, reducing them to eternal silence. They returned to defensive position, shields raised.

  Seeing the chains still wrapped around his companions' bodies, another assailant wanted to take advantage of this moment to hunt Juuh'ma from his flank. He plunged a halberd toward his massive chest, a cry of triumph on his lips. From the corner of his left eye, Siegfried had already seen him coming. While pivoting, he executed an ascending parry and projected the weapon into the sky, tearing it from the assailant's hands in a sharp metal sound. Juuh'ma took advantage of this opening to project the man into the air with a brutal shoulder charge. The looter crashed against a burning stall a few meters further.

  A Solheim soldier, a fellow with copper hair and stained armor, lowered his shield to send his lance, like a javelin, the weapon impaling in an Ashengard warrior's thorax. But before he could raise his shield to get back in formation, a lance pierced his abdomen in turn. The Golden Lance collapsed in a rattle of pain. Taking advantage that the enemy warrior had his guard lowered, R?chard removed all glimmer of life from his irises with a simple shot that pierced his skull.

  A seventh rushed at the Vaan Hart's back, his short blade aiming at an opening under his ribs. This time, it was his Shield who anticipated. He leaned with all his body to the right to send one of his chains to catch the looter's ankle, like a serpent?s crawling at full speed toward its prey. He lifted his immense arm, making the man drag on the ground to end up suspending him like a hung grisbouc, head down. Without a single word from his brother, Siegfried turned on his heels and thanks to a rotation of his entire body, he sent his sword horizontally with such ferocity that he cut the enemy in two. The top of the body fell on the ground in a pool of crimson liquid. With an ample movement, the N'zonki sent the soldier's remains toward a warrior armed with a scimitar near the fountain in the middle of the square. The bottom of the body struck the looter and made her stumble, her boots sliding on the wet ashes. She couldn't get back up. An arrow from young Desrosiers whistled from the heights. The arrow, fast as a shadow, perforated her skull and nailed her to the ground.

  Imperturbable, the paladin pivoted toward yet another adversary who surged, his short blade brandished under a cape. With a precise blow, he plunged his sword under the floating fabric—the point traversed a lung without resistance, a cry escaping as the looter collapsed, his blood mixing with a bubbling puddle.

  Despite the chaos that had intensified around them, Solheim's formation had managed to stay united until a black arrow perforated one of the Golden Lances' thigh. The man collapsed in pain, and wanting to hold onto his teammate, he made her stumble too, thus breaking their defense.

  Only two shields remained raised.

  Without thinking, the remaining looters threw themselves with barbaric howls into the fray. An axe struck down on a shoulder in a crimson explosion while those on the ground were finished off by lance blows. It was in this chaos that a colossal shadow emerged from an alley, cleaving the smoke. A giant clad in polished ebony armor brandished a two-handed greatsword whose blade so dark seemed to drink the Sun's light. He dominated the square with his presence, a titan among mortals, almost as tall as the Stoneskins. He advanced toward Siegfried, his steps making the cracked slabs tremble.

  The knight froze, emptying his mind of all distraction. A savage aura emanated brutally from him, his ashwolf skin floating slightly in the burning breeze.

  From his perch, young R?chard felt a shiver run through him. At the heart of this maelstrom, his chief evoked a patient predator, his green eyes fixed on the colossus, catching every movement and detail: the trembling of his fingers on the massive guard, the cracking of his boots on the pulverized ground, his breath rumbling under his helm. The giant shouted, his voice thundering over the crackling of flames.

  "I'm going to crush you, Solheim dog!"

  Motionless, Siegfried didn't respond.

  His shoulders lowered imperceptibly.

  "Rrrhhhhh..."

  Through his clenched teeth, he let escape a long and deep breath, a controlled rattle, as if expelling fury from his chest. The tumult around him died. There was nothing more than the weapon's weight in his hand, the earth under his boots... and his prey.

  Anchored there, he forgot the rest. There was nothing more than the titan, only the titan. For at his back stood his brother. He didn't need to watch the rear, nor fear assault. He entrusted him his life without reserve. He was his ultimate rampart, his living Shield.

  A looter burst on his left, blade raised to strike—Siegfried didn't flinch—and Juuh'ma interposed, his chains snapping like a steel whip. The N'zonki deflected the blow with raw force while from his height, R?chard granted eternal rest to the warrior with a simple arrow, at the base of the neck. Another warrior attempted a sneaky attack from behind—the paladin remained stone—the colossus's palms blocked the assault before delivering a frontal kick that projected her into a cloud of dust.

  Not a twitch. Not a diverted gaze. Only the titan existed.

  Finally, the Ashengard giant decided to attack. Greatsword raised above his head, he struck it down violently, a roar bursting from his throat, the air whistling under the power of the blow destined to cut the knight in two, from head to feet.

  It was at this moment that Siegfried moved. With a quick step to the right side, his sharpened senses catching the air's displacement and the ground's vibration, he dodged with agility and ease the devastating adverse attack. In a titanic impact, the massive blade crashed on the ground in a deafening crash and pulverized the slabs in a cloud of dust. Before the adversary could raise his gigantic weapon to prepare a second attack, Siegfried executed a double descending attack, like a blacksmith striking his anvil. He drove the colossus's sword even deeper in an explosion of sparks and stones.

  Siegfried's glacial pupils glittered in the flames' gleam, his controlled breath lost in the ambient crash. The giant tried to withdraw his greatsword from the ground.

  In vain.

  The paladin pivoted with all his body with his brutal grace, each muscle tense channeling his power in an implacable weight transfer. The ground cracked under his heels in a dull rumble rising from the pavement like a moan from the earth itself. Then in a heartbeat and while he turned his body toward the enemy, he executed a slight step forward, so fast and so lightning that the ashes stuck to his body seemed suspended in the air, creating a persistent image of the Solheim knight.

  Deliberately, he made his longsword sing along the massive blade frozen in stone. A second rain of sparks burst in a furious crackling, illuminating the air saturated with soot, the metal screaming under pressure.

  "RRRAAAAHHHHH!" the Vaan Hart howled in a primal and fierce cry that tore his chest.

  All the power accumulated in his body was released. His blade traced a devastating ascending diagonal in a steel flash with such fury that the blow split space and the smoke present around them in a mortal whistle to bite his enemy's flesh. From hip to shoulder, the edge lacerated the giant. His chest opened like a carcass offered in sacrifice in a scarlet deluge that splattered the slabs in a symphony of red and steam.

  The colossus wavered, his gleaming ebony armor cracking under the impact, before collapsing in two disjointed sections. The shock of his fall resonated, a deep and definitive crash that made the square tremble, his remains spreading in a glowing puddle. The heat of the superheated pavement sucked the blood, steam volutes rising in spirals, as if the very essence of the titan evaporated under the Sun's oppressive brilliance while Siegfried removed the blood from his longsword with a sharp backhand before sheathing it.

  The surviving looters wavered. Their gazes betrayed a nascent terror. Three of them scampered, their purple half-capes disappearing in the smoke volutes. Leaping near a chimney on a neighboring framework, R?chard reacted with mortal precision. He notched three arrows in rapid succession, his fingers dancing on the string. The first whistled and pierced a nape. The second pierced a chest in a muffled cry. The third found the flank of the last who collapsed in a faint moan, his body rolling on the incandescent debris.

  Bow still in hand, the young archer adjusted an additional arrow, ready to strike when a white flash tore the horizon.

  Siegfried didn't have time to react. The sound struck him like an invisible punch, a titanic roar accompanied by a wall of burning air. The shock wave mowed him down. His feet lifted off the ground, his body projected backward like a rag doll. He crashed against the pavement in a brutal impact. Lungs emptied.

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  Around him, warriors fell in a crash of metal and muffled cries. Some clung to debris, others rolled several meters, their shields torn from their hands. Only Juuh'ma remained standing.

  On the roofs, R?chard gripped the chimney with all his strength while the breath passed above him in a howl, tearing tiles that exploded in flight. He pressed against the stone, closed his eyes. The wind slapped him violently, hot, charged with dust and ashes.

  Then silence.

  Not a true silence. A deafening silence where only reigned the sharp whistling in the ears, the world spinning, the brain trying to understand what had just happened.

  Lying on his back, stunned, Siegfried blinked his eyes toward the sky become even darker. His lungs burned. He wanted to move but couldn't. He wasn't paralyzed, just stunned, as after a mace blow full in the head.

  However, in this unreal silence, a new noise was heard. Distant at first, metallic, a grinding that rose, amplified, until becoming unbearable.

  Somewhere in the distance, toward the port, something enormous yielded under millennial tension. The sound that pierced the air seemed interminable before a monumental crash made the earth itself tremble.

  From his position, Siegfried then saw something that seemed impossible to him. A gigantic water column burst toward the sky like a white liquid pillar, rising, rising, defying gravity for an instant frozen in time. Then it reached its apex and fell back.

  The deluge struck down on Port-Foam.

  Tons of water swept through the alleys in a roar, carrying debris, ashes and smoke. The black water invaded the square, extinguished the last braziers in furious hissings. The smoke finally dissipated.

  The knight coughed, spat. Cold water flowed on his face, in his eyes, in his mouth. He tried to get up—impossible. Something heavy weighed on his chest. A dull pain pulsed in his ribs. With effort, he turned his head and saw a collapsed wall section that nailed him to the ground.

  Around him, chaos continued. Buildings collapsed in dull roars, projecting splinters of wood and barely warm embers. Tiles and pieces of framework fell in cascade, crashing on the flooded slabs in explosions of water and dust. While blurred silhouettes of soldiers staggered or collapsed, their armors tarnished by filthy water and blood, the paladin felt a heavy warm hand rest on his pauldron.

  "Still alive, my brother?" Juuh'ma asked him, crouched at his sides.

  He raised his hand toward the Stoneskin who squeezed it in return.

  "Still. Help me lift this..."

  He didn't have time to finish his sentence when the colossus was already placing himself before the block. He bent his knees to seize the stone block with his two hands, lifting it without difficulty to free the knight, in a cracking of pulverized stone.

  "On your feet my brother," he thundered in his deep voice piercing the persistent whistling in the Vaan Hart's eardrums.

  With his fist, the paladin tapped the enormous chest of his brother as thanks. The gesture tore a grimace from him, his ribs protested. He coughed violently, his jerky breath struggling against the poisoned air, his squinted eyes searching the disorder through a veil of dust.

  His ears still whistled, a sharp buzzing that made sounds distant, muffled.

  "What... What was that?" he questioned, coughing once more. "I've never felt anything like it."

  "Magic?" Juuh'ma proposed, unconvinced by his own words.

  "So powerful?" he replied with just as much uncertainty, his gaze turned toward the ominous sky. "It seemed like the Red Mount's eruption they described to us..."

  He stopped, his gaze filled with worry. He swept the summits of the ravaged square's buildings.

  "R?chard! How are you?"

  He inhaled to shout louder. Mistake. His throat burned like fire.

  "R?CHAAAAAAARD?"

  No response came, only the roar of a few still lively braziers. He clenched his teeth and shouted again despite the pain that lacerated his throat.

  "R?CHAAARD! ANSWER ME!"

  The cry tore a coughing fit from him. He spat black dust, his throat scraped by soot.

  "Look my brother," the N'zonki told him while pointing his finger above a roof, designating Feather who descended in spiral to land near a pile of debris. "She must have found him."

  About twenty meters away, the boy lay unconscious at the foot of a dislocated framework, his bow half engulfed under a chaos of shattered tiles. The shock wave had torn him from his elevated post, his body tumbling down the sloping roof in a brutal roll before his body crashed against the pavement in a heavy impact.

  From the square, the two brothers observed the raptor taking debris with its talons to fly away to throw them further. They couldn't see it from below but Feather freed her master's face. After several small beak taps on the skull, the boy opened his eyes, an atrocious pain shot through his ribs. With a shoulder movement, he chased the debris.

  "Thanks, it's the second time you save me today," he called to her still sitting with a wide smile brightening his blackened face.

  Feather unfolded her wings in a quiver, happy to see her friend safe and sound, her gray plumage tarnished by soot.

  R?chard's ears, reddened and burning under the ardent breath's bite, finally seized his squadron chief's cry, who shouted for the third time.

  "R?CHAAAAAAARD! BY SOLAR?S, ANSWER ME!"

  He straightened halfway, his boots slipping on the slippery slates, and launched a cry downward, his voice piercing the din.

  "Here, Sieg! I'm fine! What was that thing?"

  Nodding with a gleam of relief crossing his steel gaze, the knight roared back at him.

  "We don't know, R?chard! But perhaps your eyes could tell us more!"

  He paused.

  "And Feather? Is she okay?"

  "She's fine, Sieg!"

  "Can you climb on that tower and tell us what you see?" he asked, indicating an edifice that overlooked the place.

  The young archer acquiesced. He pulled a cloth from his pocket, wiped his face and stood up. Pain still pulsed in his ribs. He ignored it and rushed toward the tower.

  The ascent was brutal. His hands gripped a cracked cornice. His fingers trembled under the effort. Stone after stone, he climbed, his arms' muscles burning with each pull. Reaching the summit, the wind whipping his blond hair, he swept the horizon with his gaze.

  And understood.

  Since the beginning of the assault, he could glimpse A?gardyne's statue's bust rising above Port-Foam, like a millennial sentinel watching over the port. Now, it lay half in the sea, broken, defeated. Its titanic legs had disappeared. Only two gaping holes still smoked at the place where its feet had once been anchored in stone. The King's Chains, these steel bonds that had carried the kingdom's commerce for centuries, had sunk into the depths.

  R?chard felt his throat tighten.

  He turned his gaze westward. Two enemy ships approached rapidly, too rapidly, the south port's quays. Further, in the dust fog floating above the water, silhouettes fled—small boats moving away from the port, their oars beating the water with urgency. They cleaved the troubled waves toward a third ship anchored in open sea.

  By reflex, the boy notched an arrow, his fingers gripping the string. Useless. Too far. Much too far. He clenched his teeth, lowered his bow, then shouted downward.

  "Sieg! The canal entrance is in ruins. They destroyed the King's statue! I also see boats joining a ship in the distance. They're escaping these dirty rats!"

  "That noise..." Juuh'ma said to himself, conscious of what had just happened. "There was therefore their true goal. Destroy our commercial route with Emporium."

  Also understanding what the King's Chains' destruction implied for the kingdom, Siegfried nodded gravely in response. He placed his two hands around his mouth so his voice could carry further.

  "R?chard, is the enemy still there?"

  "Yes! Two of their ships just docked at the south port. Another is in the middle of the bay but their departure is close," he replied shouting from the tower's summit.

  "And the drawbridge?"

  The young archer squinted to see better.

  "It's raised. And I don't know by what miracle, it seems still intact!"

  "Lower it right away! If Dragar and his men are still standing, they must at all costs reach the port before the enemy flees!" his chief commanded, who had grasped in an instant what remained for them to do despite defeat.

  "I'm going!" he cried while his slender silhouette plunged out of the paladin's view, his boots striking the rickety steps with desperate agility.

  Siegfried turned toward the soldiers still alive who were on the square, and others who had just emerged from an adjacent alley, a handful of shadows clad in iron staggering in the dust.

  "Listen to me, sons and daughters of Solar?s!" he thundered with authority before drawing his weapon to point it at them. "Alert all Solheim's fighters. The battle is over and we lost it. But there is no reason for us to stop, knights. Evacuate the inhabitants outside these cursed walls. Move them away from this chaos!"

  He caught his breath.

  "Once souls are saved, smother the remaining flames by all possible means! We must save what can still be saved! The N'zonki and I, we rush to the port to catch the last fugitives! FOR SOLAR?S!"

  "FOR SOLAR?S!" Solheim's sons and daughters repeated in chorus and with determination, their faces smeared with a mixture of water, soot and blood.

  They scattered like shadows in the devastated alleys, their armors tinkling in a metallic echo.

  Siegfried crossed Juuh'ma's gaze and they launched westward, their boots hammering the dark water that still carpeted the ground. While the port profiled in the distance like an indistinct silhouette drowned in corrosive mist, the Stoneskin spoke while running.

  "I finally understand why Feather couldn't see any civilian bodies on the ground."

  "This bird is incredible," Siegfried replied, breath short. "I thought she was wrong... But if their goal was really to cut our maritime economy, killing civilians made no sense. And their rapid retreat after success... it smells like a vaster plan."

  The colossus stopped dead, his chains tinkling slightly.

  "How so a vaster plan?"

  The Vaan Hart slowed in turn, relieved to catch his breath.

  "Remember Dame H?lda's lessons on the fundamental principles of the art of war. To bring down an enemy you know is stronger, you must play with intelligence and weaken him progressively. And that's exactly what just happened."

  He coughed, spat one last time black dust.

  "Maritime commerce at a standstill, the country already has one knee on the ground. And now that I think about it, I'd bet my hand that the Fort-Shadow convoy disappearances are part of this plan."

  "Our economic route cut to the west. The ores feeding our forges vanishing to the east," the N'zonki began to say. "But if your thoughts are right, my brother, we must warn the captain as quickly as possible because only a person knowing the kingdom like his shadow could act thus... It could even be..."

  "It could even be that this person is at the capital and is a high-ranking officer. As Lieutenant H?lw?nd thought," the paladin finished, turning toward him with a gaze worth a thousand words. "For the moment, let's stay focused on our mission and not draw hasty conclusions. But let's nevertheless keep this in our minds."

  He clenched his fists, his knuckles whitening under the grime, a fierce determination hardening his features. The answer pulsed somewhere at the heart of this chaos, buried among the fleeing silhouettes vanishing toward the port.

  He set off again. Each step was a small victory against the dull pain in his ribs, but he continued. Because that was what a paladin of Solar?s did.

  Even when all was lost.