Within the flames, Behemoth stared forward. The borderlands of the wasteland resembled nothing less than a hell brought to the mortal realm. It was an unimaginable scene compared to the view beyond the edge of the cliff.

Stones burned and melted away. The ground boiled with such heat that it liquefied and sent sparks flying into the air. All the trees had long since been reduced to ashes, and there was no trace of any living creatures. A violet dome collapsed in an explosion, sending thick black smoke rising into the sky.

The ground was mushy. Behemoth thought it was difficult to take another step. Every time it tried to move, the molten ground clung to its ankles. The explosion had left quite a mark on Behemoth. The intense heat had pierced its rock-hard skin, damaging both the exterior and interior of its body.

These were no small injuries. Its combat power had significantly weakened. Even the old wounds from the war with humans fifteen years ago resurfaced, adding to Behemoth's torment.

A great number of monsters had perished. None had survived. They had all melted away, along with the stones beneath its feet, in a single explosion. Only a few latecomers climbing the cliff remained.

Behemoth let out a low breath.

Too many monsters that could have taken on annoying tasks had died. While it had enough forces to overwhelm the humans, the majority were now gone, leaving Behemoth uncertain about its victory.

Instinct told Behemoth to retreat and regroup for another day. But Behemoth rejected the warning of instinct. Its arrogance and rage clouded all reason, driving it forward.

How dare humans—those who once cowered behind walls and ran in fear at the sound of its roar—stand against it now?

There would be no more waiting. Behemoth had waited long enough over the years.

Crunch.

Behemoth lifted its foot. In a day, the ground would solidify. Then, it could march forward. Being momentarily trapped here was unexpected, but it would soon continue onward, killing everything in its path. Behemoth lowered its foot. The ground sank beneath it, clinging harder as if trying to pull it down.

Was the earth attempting to protect its humans until the very end?

If Behemoth had a humanlike face, it would have sneered. Ignoring the ground’s feeble resistance, it pressed forward. The mushy terrain was no obstacle. The earth seemed to rise and fall in sync with Behemoth’s steps.

Boom. Boom.

Like the rhythmic beating of a war drum, Behemoth's footsteps echoed with terrifying regularity. Approaching the end of the melted city, Behemoth looked up at the sky.

As the sun set, twilight covered the sky in a purple hue. Behemoth howled long and loud toward the heavens. The ground cracked beneath its feet, and even the clouds in the sky seemed to flinch. At the call of the king of monsters, the surviving beasts answered and gathered, using their dead comrades’ bodies to form a bridge as they approached Behemoth.

Forward.

The monsters snarled and roared, their fur bristling, their eyes glowing red, and thick saliva dripping from their snarling mouths.

As Behemoth took another step, the monsters surged forward. Though thousands had been lost, thousands still remained. The path before them was now darkened by the shadow of their advance, all moving toward the city of Myra.

Kill the humans.

The command imprinted in the minds of all the beasts was now at its zenith, driving their bodies to move with deadly intent.

Around 3,000 soldiers, 200 knights, and 10 mages stood ready.

It was a defense not against a siege but against an attack in the valley between the mountains, with the narrow path as their line of defense. At least the terrain was on their side. With no fortress in sight, the only defenses were some flimsy barricades and trenches, and the sounds of rattling weapons filled the air as soldiers stood in tense anticipation.

How long had they waited? The relentless sun above, and the heat radiating from the sun-scorched ground, had finally begun to subside, but the soldiers remained on edge, their eyes fixed on the path ahead.

Paola rested her favored mace on her knees. A long spear was tucked under her arm, and a short sword hung at her waist, perfect for one-handed strikes. She was calling upon the old version of herself, the one who had once slaughtered foes on the battlefield without regard for weapons.

“You seem to be carrying a lot of weapons.”

Paola turned to the voice. It was Christine. Paola shrugged.

“This is how I fight, Vice-Captain. I’m a soldier by origin, not someone who could afford to be picky about weapons.”

Paola set down the spear she'd been holding under her arm. The red-tipped shaft gleamed, showing it was well-maintained. Next came the mace, still stained with blood, and finally, her sword. Christine watched as Paola handled each weapon and tilted her head in curiosity.

“Isn’t it uncomfortable carrying so many weapons?”

Paola shook her head.

“This is the only way I know how to fight. I’m no legendary knight like our captain, who can cut down a hundred enemies with just a single sword. That kind of valor is something I can only dream of.”

Paola spoke with a self-deprecating tone.

“When my hands are empty, I feel anxious. In the end, I’m just a knight hiding behind the number of weapons I carry.”

For someone speaking so modestly, her movements with the weapons were anything but ordinary.

“Couldn’t you just say that knowing how to use many weapons is an asset?”

Christine asked. Paola shook her head again.

“That might be true on a battlefield, where I can snatch up any weapon at hand. But monsters don’t have weapons to steal. So I bring as many as I can. It’s the curse of someone who lacks a specialty.”

Paola jabbed her mace into the ground a few times, her brow furrowing in dissatisfaction. The feel wasn’t right.

“Damn. I should’ve switched it out.”

With a sigh, she looked back up at Christine.

“By the way, I haven’t seen Maxime around. Do you know where he is?”

Christine’s expression darkened.

“Did something happen?”

Paola asked, but Christine shook her head.

“The captain and I decided that he wasn’t fit to be here. We sent him back.”

Paola paused her jabbing.

“Was there a specific reason?”

“His condition wasn’t good. We felt he would only be a hindrance.”

Paola tilted her head in surprise.

“I’m surprised he listened. That Maxime, going back so quietly? He never listened to me when I told him to rest.”

Christine merely nodded without giving a clear answer. Paola eyed her with some suspicion.

Christine braced herself, expecting Paola to get angry, but instead, Paola calmly processed the information and nodded.

“You did the right thing.”

“You’re not upset?”

Christine asked, surprised. Paola chuckled.

“Why would I be upset? To be honest, I’ve been uneasy about that guy fighting with us. He’s a great fighter, no doubt, but it felt like he was dragging his sick body into battle. Whether he was really unwell or not, I couldn’t focus on fighting with that nagging in the back of my mind.”

Men who seemed hellbent on dying.

Paola recalled the conversations she’d had with Maxime. Should she repeat them to Christine, who cared deeply for him? Paola pondered for a moment, sensing Christine’s attempt to mask her own emotions.

“At least Maxime won’t be dying in this battle.”

Paola said with a hint of relief.

“I don’t know what’s happened to Maxime, but I’ve seen men with his look before. I’ve had to bury more than a few.”

Christine’s expression turned somber. Paola didn’t attempt to console her. Those emotions would be useful in the coming battle.

“So, Vice-Captain, I won’t be worrying about Maxime anymore. I need to focus on the fight ahead.”

Christine straightened her posture and offered a determined smile.

“Yes, I suppose it’s better to worry about those of us who’ll actually be fighting the monsters.”

“That’s right.”

Paola nodded.

“It’s us, not Maxime, who’ll be taking on this battle.”

For the first time since sending Maxime away, Christine smiled faintly.

Dong.

A bell rang. Christine and Paola both looked up. After a brief pause, the bell rang again.

Dong, dong, dong, dong.

The alarm spread rapidly, and soldiers began running. Though many of Myra's troops were likely facing their first real combat, their tense faces revealed a readiness as they gripped their weapons tightly.

“This might call for a month off after it’s over.”

Paola muttered as she saw the mass of dark creatures approaching.

“I’d say a month won’t be enough.”

Christine responded to Paola’s mumble.

Boom.

From the ranks of the monsters, a towering presence emerged—a creature as large as a mountain, with skin as black as obsidian and scorched red from burns.

Behemoth had arrived, halting its advance. At its command, the charging monsters also came to a stop.

Though it had no visible eyes, every soldier on the battlefield could feel its haughty gaze upon them, as if evaluating its prey.

Without any order being given, those standing in defense of Myra all raised their weapons in unison.

“For the kingdom.”

A soft voice murmured. It was one of Myra’s knights, a young woman who had never seen real combat. The veteran knights and soldiers from the wasteland cast her a glance, narrowing their eyes.

“The kingdom, huh. Let’s see if she still says that after ten minutes of fighting these things.”

“Well, we all had romantic ideas like that when we first fought, didn’t we?”

Realizing her words had drawn attention, the knight swiftly pulled down her visor.

“Well, all right. For the kingdom.”

Paola said to the wasteland knights. They looked at her, surprised.

“Didn’t expect you to say something like that.”

“What else are we fighting for?”

Paola smirked as she adjusted her grip on her spear with her left hand and her mace with her right.

“How about revenge?”

One of the knights suggested. The faces of the knights and soldiers changed. The mention of revenge lit a fire in their eyes. Broken walls, burning cities, the monsters that had slaughtered their comrades—their severed heads, limbs, and bodies.

“Revenge...”

Paola raised her mace and nodded.

“Revenge is better than fighting for the kingdom.”

The knights and soldiers around her began to echo the sentiment.

“Revenge sounds good.”

“Yeah, these bastards destroyed my home.”

One by one, the knights and soldiers shouted their battle cries.

“For revenge!”

“For the wasteland’s revenge!”

Aura surged from the knights’ swords. A rainbow of colors wrapped around their blades, releasing shimmering clouds of energy.

Sensing the aura, the monsters howled and shrieked, clawing at the ground and drooling, their eyes locked on the humans. They were ready to charge, but it was as if Behemoth’s presence alone held them back.

Behemoth opened its mouth wide, and from deep within its blackened pupils came the sound of a horn—a signal for war. At that moment, the monsters were unleashed from their chains, surging forward like a tidal wave toward Myra.