Chapter 1024: Act 195 – Fatan Port
At Fatan Port, the main city wall was in ruins, with many sections collapsed by magic, debris strewn everywhere. Amidst the swirling smoke and dust, imperial soldiers clad in red and white battle attire surged forward, stepping onto the shattered walls. On the still-intact parapet, troops wearing the same colors were gradually gaining the upper hand, as numerous siege ladders were being hung from the battlements, allowing more and more red and white soldiers to flow together into a torrent atop the wall. In contrast, the bluish faction representing the port’s defending forces was retreating, and in fact, in most areas, the battle was nearing its end, transitioning into street fighting.
The shift in the situation seemed to have occurred only moments ago, as Sidney had summoned the Wrathful Angel Euphemia to annihilate all undead in the valley, after which the port guard had launched a counter-offensive and regained control of the Cliff Fortress. However, the respite was short-lived, as the White Legion soon arrived on the battlefield to launch a fierce assault. The imperial side, led by the Grand Mage Toniger from Sennian, unleashed magic that obliterated the Cliff Fortress nearly without cost, leaving behind a bottomless pit hundreds of meters wide. The port guard suffered heavy losses in this bombardment, and due to Brendel’s earlier orders, Charles did not allow Toniger’s mages to retaliate—the disparity in strength between both sides was quite evident anyway.
The White Legion immediately turned its assault towards Fatan Port. Although the port guards, boosted by their previous victory, fought fiercely, the overwhelming difference in strength was evident from the start. The imperial mage corps quickly brought down the main city walls of Fatan Port, thus leading to the earlier scenes.
Delphine, under the cover of her companions, transferred their position to a small cloister. She listened to the earth-shaking sounds of battle from the front lines and soon realized that the port guards were still unable to stand their ground.
The empire deployed its infantry on the front lines; these formation soldiers advanced along every street, forming movable walls made of shifting square shields. Behind these shields, heavily armored infantry could be seen, almost entirely encased in armor with only their eyes visible beneath their metal faceplates. They wielded spears several meters long, thrusting them through gaps between the shields, creating a forest of spearpoints gleaming menacingly.
The archers of the port guard were practically powerless against these metallic fortresses, with only an occasional marksman managing to shoot an arrow through a shield gap or hit a visible eye. However, as infantry fell, heavily armored soldiers immediately filled their places, patching gaps in the formation; the few casualties appeared no more significant than pebbles thrown into the sea.
Though the advance of the guardsmen was steady and unhurried, it was despairing. Pressured by the situation, the port guards in the western district attempted a desperate counter-charge, but the outcome was dire. The battle unfolded rapidly, with an entire squadron nearly annihilated in under fifteen minutes, and few were wounded; most remained cold, lifeless bodies lying in the streets.
It became clear to all that the White Legion’s guardsmen were rightly dubbed the “Dragon Spear Phalanx” in the Second Holy War; this was no mere title.
On the rooftops, there were also White Legion Fire Eagle shooters active, clad in red-trimmed white cloaks. These ranger units actually originated from the Red Legion, but in the Year of the Hare, the Silver Queen aimed to develop similar troops across other legions, gradually drawing a large detachment of Fire Eagle shooters from the Red Legion to bolster the other three legions. However, the subsequent progress of this plan was not ideal, as most Fire Eagle shooters were in fact rangers sourced from the mountainous areas of Floating Cloud Hill, Anziluwa, Anzeruta, and Anzelin. The other three major legions primarily drew their ranks from the peasants or mountaineers of Mezz, Meihotofen, Ludwig, and the countryside of Cloak Bay. The disparity in their talent for archery and understanding was stark; although finally, some outstanding marksmen emerged, they still fell far short of the original expectations.
Yet, after the plan stalled, the Silver Queen did not return the detached Fire Eagle squad to the Red Legion, allowing them to remain within the three legions as a special formation. These Fire Eagle shooters each had different experiences, with the White Legion’s squad having even engaged in battles against the Crusian Silver Flag Knights in the Alca region in the Year of the Pillar, so they wore a falcon tail feather on the left breast of their cloaks to distinguish them from other Fire Eagle shooters. Within the White Legion, these shooters were commonly referred to as “Hawkmen.”
These Hawkmen cautiously crouched on the rooftops, advancing in groups of two or three in a skirmish line, bringing immense threats to the port guard. Often, when the squad leaders, knight commanders, or great knights of the port guard poked their heads out, they would be met with unpredictable volleys of cold arrows, which were astonishingly accurate, nearly causing the lower command structure of the port guard to collapse.
As for the soldiers of the port guard and White Lion Guard who were clinging to temporary positions, the Hawkmen systematically picked them off with rockets and refraction shots, showcasing their mastery. The rockets from the Fire Eagle shooters could create explosive effects similar to fireball spells, while refraction shots were used to target enemies sheltering within buildings; solid fortifications were near nonexistent in their sights.
If the guardsmen were like a plain, blunt heavy sword, capable of easily breaking through the enemy’s defense from the front, then the Fire Eagle shooters were akin to a nimble, sharp paring knife. The two blades complemented each other perfectly, rendering them fearsome in urban combat.
The port guard quickly lost their first and second lines of street defenses, and the Erluin White Lion Guards encountered difficulties in the initial battle. Although they managed to halt the advance of the White Legion toward the Fosha Temple, they paid the price with the heaviest casualties since the beginning of the conflict. On Delphine’s map, Fatan Port had nearly lost a third of its territories in an instant, with significant street corners all planted with flags representing the empire’s red and white colors. The empire’s displayed ferocity plunged all present into silence.
Even the imperial nobles were taken by surprise—
Although every imperial citizen might have heard tales of pride about their empire since birth—the legends inherited from the time of the Holy War about the Burnite Legion, Anderson’s Legion, Odrefice Legion, and Donnart Legion—these four legendary legions had gradually evolved into today’s four major legions of blue, white, red, and black. However, without having genuinely stood against them as adversaries, people could not comprehend their true might.
The glory of the empire, the majesty of the empire, the strength of the empire—it was no empty proclamation.
“What should we do?” Baron Ludwig’s wrinkled face was pale, “Should we retreat to Fatan Fortress?”
“No,” Earl Orkans shook his head, “Retreating now would cause a collapse in morale, and it is not yet time.”
“But if we don’t retreat, when the old wolf’s minions push forward, we won’t be able to hold out!”
Earl Orkans gave a wry smile, “I didn’t expect that old fellow would possess such caliber.”
Others cast their eyes toward the Chancellor’s daughter in her wheelchair, as if seeking a solution from her, but Delphine’s expression was solemn, and she merely nodded in agreement with the former’s view.
The onslaught was truly suffocating; previous judgments had been overly optimistic. The opponent had yet to deploy Griffon Knights and Silver Pegasus Knights, or else they would never have made it past noon. In fact, even now, the entire port defense line could collapse at any moment; the port guard felt like a string stretched to its breaking point, and no one knew when it would snap.
It must be noted that the White Legion was one of the more adept legions in both defense and field fighting among the empire’s four major legions. Their pride—the guardsmen—were in truth a powerful defensive infantry, while the Earth Dragon Knights could not be tasked with siege battle.
“Has the empire stopped its advance toward the Fosha Temple?” she suddenly asked.
“Yes,” the noble who brought this news stepped forward to answer, though Delphine’s reference to the White Legion as ‘the empire’ left him feeling a bit unsettled. In fact, most present still viewed this war as a civil conflict. He composed himself, then replied in an incredulous tone: “Absolutely, Miss Delphine, I can’t fathom how those Erluin people did it; they seemed to have pushed back the legion’s attack head-on.”
…
The White Legion was also puzzled by the fighting strength of this enemy on their front. An overwhelming cacophony echoed from the Erluin defense, sounding almost mad. On this side of the street, the various knight commanders within the White Legion exchanged glances; they had previously organized three assaults, each devastatingly repulsed. The casualties on the Erluin side nearly reached three to one, yet they continued to rush forward, entirely unacquainted with death or fear.
The street was in disarray, as both sides had fought so fiercely that they had no time to recover their dead. Blood stained the road, and every stone on the street seemed soaked in blood, reflecting a peculiar radiance, to the extent that soldiers below had vividly nicknamed this street “Blood Street.” Nonetheless, the Erluin defenders clung steadfastly to several crucial intersections, refusing to yield a single step, as if they believed that the legion could not advance a fraction without their complete annihilation.
The junior officers of the White Legion had been through numerous battles, but they had never faced such a brutal contest before, resulting in nearly a third of the front line’s heavy infantry being lost. In fact, by now at least three squads had been completely decimated and had withdrawn from the front lines.
The Hawkmen on the rooftops likewise faced formidable opponents, and their plight was even worse—they encountered a swift ranger unit predominantly comprised of sharp-eared elven soldiers. Not only were they incredible archers, but their skill in stealth was spine-chilling. The Hawkmen first realized their presence when they were nearly within thirty feet, resulting in a concentrated volley from the opposing ranks that nearly obliterated their unit.
The White Legion soldiers, reacting to this belatedly, wanted to pursue, but the elven sharpshooters had already unfurled their cloaks, leaping to other rooftops with grace. They then turned back to fire upon the White Legion, inflicting heavy casualties among the ranks of heavy infantry, killing several knight commanders.
The attrition within the White Legion’s frontline was largely attributed to these elven archers, and ultimately, the commander of the White Legion had no choice but to mobilize several neighboring Hawkmen squads to this sector to lighten some pressure.
Yet it merely alleviated the pressure; although the amassed Hawkmen far outnumbered the elven squad, they were still firmly pressed. After countless ambushes, these shooters from the Red Legion finally realized that their opponents could, in fact, turn invisible.
The Hawkmen on the rooftops were suppressed to the point where they dared not show their heads. At this juncture, the battle had devolved into a stalemate. Even if the White Legion was undaunted, they could not advance recklessly without sufficient cover, nor could they disregard the Erluin’s unwavering stance of fighting to the last, and even their most reckless efforts might not result in a breakthrough. Moreover, there were not enough junior knight commanders among the frontline heavy infantry to counter the precision shots from the elven archers.
“The opposing side should be the Erluin’s White Lion Legion,” one knight finally spoke after a brief silence, unable to restrain himself. “Their fighting spirit is somewhat beyond my expectations, and I’m now very curious how those second-line legions from Anzeruta maintained an advantage over these guys on the heights.”
“No, those are not purely the White Lion Legion; they wear white lion cloaks on their shoulders, distinguishing them from the others—perhaps they are a special formation similar to our Hawkmen. Did you notice? Their attire resembles that of the historically recorded White Lion infantry.”
“But regardless, the truly fearsome ones are those elven archers,” another knight furrowed his brow and said, “Where do they come from? We’ve never heard of such a ranger unit in Vaunte; their skills are too exceptional to be obscure. It’s evident that urban combat is not their primary battlefield; this ranger unit is truly the kings of the jungle.”
“Could they be wind elves?”
“No, those are tree elves, but tree elf shadows shots do not resemble this; their performance in urban combat is far inferior to that of this ranger unit.”
“Well, whoever they are, I can at least be sure that this ranger unit will be renowned after today.”
The first knight looked at his fellow companions, who seemed at a loss, frowned, and waved his hands, “You’ve gone off-topic, now we need to discuss what we will do next. The higher-ups require us to cooperate with the southern assault and capture the Fosha Temple within an hour. But these Erluin folks are like madmen; others won’t care to listen to our explanations; they’ll only scoff at our inability to deal with a bunch of country bumpkins.”
“This is quite a difficult problem to solve; if these guys are still merely considered bumpkins, then I can’t help but question our own combat effectiveness.”
“You should indeed reflect on your performance,” a dignified voice interjected. Upon hearing this voice, everyone present instinctively stiffened and turned to respectfully bow to the speaker, “My lord!”
Entering the circle was none other than Lord Lushir, the commander of this unit. His solemn gaze scanned his subordinates, and he replied, “No need to deliberate; the orders from above have been given.”
“What? Is there aerial support from above, my lord?”
“No,” Lushir answered succinctly, “This is Duke Ambronner’s command; he has ordered us to immediately halt our assault and fall back to the Golden Needle Valley to stand by.”
“What!? Why? Capturing Fatan Port is within our reach!”
“There is no why; the attack has been obstructed. Have you seen the Bugan fleet? This is an order; execute it immediately.”
“Yes—” The knights fell into silence but still nodded in agreement.
