Belrog, an Iron Guard centurion, smashed the skull of a skeleton soldier with the edge of his shield, sending bone fragments and foul black mist splattering across his helmet.
Before he could even draw a breath, three ghouls lunged at him from different directions. Half of the dwarven soldiers around him had already fallen. The shield wall was riddled with cracks, and the defensive line was as tattered as a hide torn open by claws; skeletons and zombies poured through the gaps in a never-ending stream.
Farther away, the Lich—suspended in mid-air and wearing a crown of ice crystals—seemed to be admiring a bloody play, the blue ghost-fire in its eye sockets flickering with cold indifference.
"For Khagurem—!" Belrog let out a hoarse roar, preparing to meet the lunging ghouls, even though he knew this might be his final charge.
Just then, a rhythmic, thunderous sound of marching steps came from the rear flank—
Led by two stout, burly warriors who moved like mobile fortresses, five hundred elites of the "Shield of Khagurem" slammed into the flank of the undead army like a red-hot iron hammer!
Yggdrasil and Balin were at the forefront.
"Shield wall, advance! Push the line back for me!" Balin roared, his greatshield slamming forward, sending three shadow wolves attempting a sneak attack flying. The troops behind him formed several small but indestructible "mobile shield arrays," plowing through the sea of undead like iron plows.
Yggdrasil followed closely behind, lightning coiling around his massive axe.
"—Lightning Blade!"
With every swing, a crescent-shaped arc of electricity sliced through several enemies, sending charred remains scattering to the ground.
Under this impact, the originally swaying right-wing defense was briefly stabilized. The soldiers’ fighting spirit was reignited, and they began to push the enemy back.
But this brief window of victory lasted less than a few minutes—
"Balin! The sky!" Yggdrasil’s voice dropped low for the first time.
Several Bone Dragons ended their circling, their massive maws opening to spew forth vast clouds of green dragon breath!
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"Scatter, now!" Balin bellowed.
The first wave of dragon breath was like a curtain of death covering the entire section of the defense. Dozens of dwarves didn't even have time to scream before they, along with their thick armor, were melted into boiling black water. Someone’s half-body was still struggling when, in the next instant, they were trampled over by their comrades; the cries for help were abruptly silenced. The ground was left with bubbling black pits, the air filled with a pungent, scorched stench. The remaining shields let out a piercing hiss as they corroded, metal and leather dissolving into fragments simultaneously.
Others couldn't escape in time and were struck by the dragons' wings, their bodies swatted away like rags, smashing against the rock walls into a blur of mangled flesh.
The soldiers had barely caught their breath when a second wave of dragon breath poured down from the other side, completely erasing an entire section of the shield wall. The gap was instantly filled by the undead tide. Ghouls fell upon them like hungry wolves, dragging away several soldiers who were not yet dead; the sounds of chewing and bone-cracking echoed through the blood-mist alongside the screams.
A young dwarf’s eyes lost focus. He dropped his weapon and retreated frantically, knocking over his comrades and allowing more enemies to pour in. A veteran cursed while swinging his axe, shouting, "We can't hold!" His voice was thick with terror.
"Retreat! Get to the walls first!" Yggdrasil ordered.
"But Chairman Hag—" Balin instinctively protested. The Chairman was still fighting a bloody battle in the center; how could they retreat?
"He won't die that easily!" Yggdrasil’s voice was like thunder through gritted teeth. "If we stay here and fight a hard battle, we’ll only be worn down to death by the things in the sky! Staying just means a few more corpses!"
Having said that, he grabbed Balin and began to command the troops to make a tactical withdrawal toward the ramp of the rear city wall. The dwarven soldiers fought hard behind him, using their shields and bodies to buy time for their companions’ retreat. But the troops fell batch after batch, blood merging into small rivers in the mud.
Yggdrasil continuously threw out lightning-attribute magic along the way, the bolts shattering the encroaching monsters, but the horde was too vast; he could only fight while retreating.
Balin stayed close to his side, holding his greatshield to block a charging two-headed wolf beast. His shoulder was numbed by the shock, but he held on through gritted teeth. Though he was unwilling to retreat, after seeing his brothers burned into charred corpses by dragon breath with his own eyes, he finally understood that this was the only choice.
Finally, they reached the city wall ramp near the inner defensive line. Yggdrasil looked back, seeing Hag Ironmane in the distance, still standing alone in the center of the monster tide wielding his axe like a fortress swaying in a storm. But more monsters were submerging him like a black tide.
"Hag... you better hold on." He whispered a single sentence, then pulled Balin and led the surviving troops to leap onto the city wall.
No soldiers cheered for them. The dwarves on the wall only watched in deathly silence. Because everyone understood—the right wing no longer existed.
The distant sky grew increasingly grey, the clouds heavy as lead. A black rain began to fall. The catastrophe had only just begun.
The right wing has fallen. Even with the strength of Yggdrasil and Balin, the sky belonged to the Bone Dragons. Now, with the city's power core destroyed and the flanks gone, the black rain begins to fall. In RR terms, this is the "Darkest Hour."
If you're gripped by the despair of Khagurem, please follow and rate the story. Can anyone survive the coming storm? See you in two days for the next chapter.
