Chapter Ninety-Two: The Onslaught

Bang!

With a dull thud, after several days of fierce battle, the city gate atop the outer walls finally collapsed and fell into the hands of Nadir’s forces. As the gates fell, the original commander within Roya quickly realized the dire situation. He led the army in a slow retreat into the inner city, hoping to hold their ground a while longer.

Yet, despite his intentions, the knights and soldiers around him had lost heart—their morale was utterly crushed, their spirits sunk into gloom. The fall of the Ancestor God, witnessed by all under the sun, dealt a blow too great to recover from. Here, everyone had worshipped the Ancestor God since childhood; such a sudden demise was a devastating shock.

Even when the royal family, seeing the danger, claimed that the Ancestor God was merely asleep, the lost faith could not be restored. After all, the Ancestor God’s death was witnessed in broad daylight by the eyes of all—no matter what the royals declared, doubts remained. What’s more, since that day, the High Priest who had once released the Ancestor God had mysteriously vanished, further fueling suspicion among the city’s nobility.

In truth, only a select few knew the facts. On that fateful day, the royal guards found the High Priest’s corpse within the temple—his death was horrific, having been caught in the blast of divine power and perishing alongside the Ancestor God. To calm the city’s nobles and avoid spreading panic, his disappearance was announced instead.

Within this strange, heavy atmosphere, as the outer walls were breached, countless nobles within the city began to harbor their own designs, secretly wavering in loyalty.

After all, even if Aedis’s policies clashed with their interests, it was not to the point of total enmity. Even though their autonomy was stripped away, their lands and noble titles remained recognized and could still be passed down. With that assurance, and with the current state of affairs so dire, their resolve was easily swayed.

Thus, a few days later, several envoys quietly entered the city.

Leading them was a handsome, dignified man whose eyes betrayed a trace of weariness—he was Kezel, second prince of the former Duchy of Brook. He walked silently through the city, accompanied by his chief knight, Gedil, who watched the path ahead.

Around them, dozens of knights hovered, both as a guard and perhaps with other intentions.

“I never expected, after so many years away, that I would return under such circumstances,” Kezel said with a wry smile, glancing at the bewildered soldiers all around.

“My lord, is it truly wise for us to enter so openly?” Gedil asked, hesitating as he surveyed their surroundings.

“It’s of no concern,” Kezel replied, eyes fixed ahead. “With the Ancestor God fallen and most of the nation’s power destroyed, the city’s nobles are surely plotting their own futures. Especially now, with the King of Roya—my so-called young nephew—barely in his teens, I doubt his orders carry any weight beyond the palace walls.”

He sneered, “At a time like this, even if he wished to kill us, the city’s nobles would intervene, perhaps even protect us outright, fearing retribution should the city fall and the victors seek vengeance.”

Gedil nodded quietly, noting the respectful, ingratiating air of several noble knights nearby. His hand, however, remained close to the sword at his waist, his aura poised to erupt at a moment’s notice.

They had not progressed far before countless knights arrived to relay messages, steering them away from the royal palace and toward another direction. Kezel glanced behind him—indeed, their path led toward the nobles’ quarter in the inner city, not the palace.

He understood at once, a gentle smile blooming across his face.

Just as he had expected, in the days that followed, the king remained unseen, while one prominent noble after another hurried to meet him. Kezel saw through their intentions clearly: though they came under the pretense of offering comfort before the king could receive him, in truth, they were probing, seeking reliable news, or even secretly pledging their allegiance.

But as a former prince, Kezel was intimately familiar with such tactics. He smiled unceasingly, offering promise after promise, until all trace of worry vanished from the nobles’ faces, replaced by delight.

It was not until the following evening, as the sun set, that Kezel finally departed a noble’s residence with composure. Behind him, a host of smiling nobles escorted him out of the city, the scene more reminiscent of an alliance than that of enemies.

Throughout, Kezel never once set foot in the royal palace, but instead departed the city by another route.

That night, as tumult spread through the darkness, Nadir launched another assault upon the city. This time, nearly half the knights and guards atop the walls abruptly turned their arms inward, helping Nadir’s forces open the gates. Led by numerous noble collaborators, they surged straight for the royal palace.

With the walls breached and only a handful of high priests—who had recovered some divine power—left to hold the line, the palace’s feeble defenses proved futile. Within a single night, the royal palace fell.

Nadir’s troops sacked the palace and temple, leaving no trace of the royal family or the priests who had worshipped the Ancestor God. The palace reeked of blood for an entire night, and it took days for the stench to clear.

Cruel as it was, the massacre of the royal family broke the will of all remaining resistance. The factions that had still dared to oppose now trembled, unwilling to persist, and chose surrender instead.

Thus, Roya was finally conquered.

Nadir left Bazel and others in charge of a garrison, while he himself led his army south, preparing to join forces with Aedis and march together against Balo City as planned.

Half a month later, the two armies united. Aedis’s original forces joined with Nadir’s, numbering twenty-five thousand in all, and with the newly conscripted reserves for the siege, their numbers swelled to forty thousand. They advanced in great force, descending straight upon the walls of Balo.

That same month, Aedis surrounded Balo City with his army. Under the relentless barrage of arrows and bolts, Balo’s situation became dire.

Even so, the cost of a direct assault was steep; casualties mounted higher than at any point since Aedis had raised his banners. In previous sieges, advance preparations and the aid of his followers had enabled cities to fall with ease, breached by inside and outside forces alike.

This time, however, the defenders were ready. They had driven out the followers of the God of Nature long ago, and the true brutality of siege warfare in this era was finally laid bare.

Yet as blood was spilled upon the land, countless warriors, led by their knights, surged forward, leaving carnage in their wake. In the shadows, a faint power of slaughter began to stir and boil.

That month, Balo City was nearly taken several times. In desperation, the King of Balo summoned their Ancestor God, only to be repelled by the apparition conjured through the divine arts led by Aedis.

After several more months, amidst shouts of jubilation, Balo City fell. The king took his own life in the palace, and the royal family was exterminated by Aedis.

Thus, around Aedis, several great city-states were toppled, leaving only a handful of weaker ones in the vicinity. The tide of conquest had begun to surge irresistibly forward.