Walking In

After paying a visit to the mountain range on the other end of the Godtear Rift, Richard led his followers back to the central bridge. This section of the Godtear Rift suddenly rose up from the depths, levelling out at less than a hundred metres deep. A giant, kilometre-wide bridge had been built here, supporting passage between the north and south.

This was where the most decisive battle had been fought between Gaton and the locals of the plane. The bloodbath had lasted weeks, and despite repeated attempts Gaton’s soldiers hadn’t managed to break through the wall of flesh and blood. Every inch of this bridge had been stained crimson as the cost, but he had been rebuffed.

Ever since then, both sides had built sturdy fortresses on either end of the bridge. Their fortifications were constantly stretched further and further into the bridge until they were now only a kilometre apart. The central gap was a land of death; an unknown number of soldiers lay here, and the blood didn’t run dry even in the heat of summer.

Standing atop the keep, Richard looked towards the other side. One could see an entire half of the enemy fortress clearly from this position, and he had to admit that those defences were solid. Thousands of soldiers had been gathered in the camp behind the gate, and ballistae were everywhere.

The locals were quite smart, shielding the terrace of their own keep with a tall wall. This wall not only served to block his line of sight but also made for a barrier against siege weapons. It wouldn’t be easy to launch a frontal attack.

Having seen the defensive layout of both sides, he walked back into the command centre and looked towards the holographic map table that had been set up in the hall. Several mages were adding information to the map right now, making the surrounding areas more and more accurate.

Unlike most magic map devices, this one could be detached from the table itself. This made it extremely valuable as it could be carried along with the army and set up on any random table. Crafted by the same dragon blooded gnome that had crafted Discra’s Ire, it wasn’t a custom product by any means but it was quite expensive. Only the best generals of Norland could have one or two of these things. Naturally, this was something Richard had bought himself; Gaton had never possessed the wealth to splurge on such things.

As he pondered over the map, Olar walked in and reported that the army’s reorganisation had been completed. The elf had been sent here after the first mountains they visited to work on this task. Having served Richard from before he had issued a single command on a battlefield, he knew exactly how to set things up.

Richard nodded and called Senma into the command centre, pointing outside the fortress, “Bring the first and second regiments forward into attack position. Have the light infantry stay right behind, and mobilise all the garrison troops as well. Everyone should be ready for dispatch by dusk tomorrow.”

One of Senma’s brows arched up, “We’re attacking the city?”

“No, just wait for us to be let in.”

“To be... let in? Why would they do that?”

“Well, if they don’t let us in, then we can fight. You’ll know when you get there.” Richard reached out and touched a location on the map, adding a tiny bit of mark several troop movements along the bridge. This mobilised two-thirds of their current troops, but even so the attack would be extremely difficult. It wouldn’t be impossible to break through, but too many losses would be sustained along the way.

However, Richard ignored her questioning gaze as he picked up his sword case and strapped it behind him, “Alright, let’s go to the frontlines and play with them a little.”

Senma followed behind as he headed to the front of the fortress, gathering his followers and a group of local soldiers along the way. A number of soldiers in beautiful armour stirred on the enemy wall, their elites staring at Richard in alarm.

Richard smiled and turned to Tiramisu, “Go check how strong the powerhouses of this plane are.”

Both of the ogre’s mouths went wide in a smile, “Don’t worry Master, I’ll fuck them in the ass!”

“Oi! If you have the time to learn swearing like that, go read some more books!”

“I am reading, Medium Rare only knows to eat!” the Tiramisu head suddenly screamed.

The single-eyed head turned around and glared at its brother, “If I didn’t eat, how would we get so big?”

“But Master said to read!”

“You’ve been reading that book for three months, are you done yet?!”

While the heads were arguing with each other, Tiramisu jumped off the fifteen-metre-tall wall. His landing shook the bridge, and as he dragged a heavy two-handed hammer behind him he took large steps towards the centre of the dead zone.

“MY NAME IS TIRAMISU!” his voice thundered through the enemy fort, “COWARDS OF THIS PLANE, WHO DARES TO COME DOWN AND FIGHT ME?!”

The roars of the ogre echoed endlessly in the valley, causing it to sound like a million men had roared in tandem. His aura flared into visibility, green and red lights floating away from his body as his mana and energy were mobilised. For a moment, all of the local powerhouses felt their hearts quiver.

Tiramisu was the first of Richard’s followers to have broken through to the saint realm. At this point, the two-headed ogre was neither a mage nor a warrior but a strange mixture of the two. His power was also unbelievably great, making him capable of decimating both ordinary human saints and grand mages.

Seeing nobody respond, Tiramisu laced his voice with mana, “COWARDS OF THIS PLANE WHO DARES TO FIGHT ME?”

This blatant provocation caused a commotion amongst the enemy troops. The morale immediately started to fall as not one person came forth to take up the challenge. There was a legendary being guarding the fortress, but he couldn’t be mobilised easily against a mere saint. There were a total of only two legends on this entire plane, and one of them was currently recuperating from his injuries. The other could not afford to be done in by any dirty tricks.

When the ogre called out for the third time, the enemies finally broke. A burly man jumped off the wall and rushed towards Tiramisu, 2.5 metres tall and the same light green as the rest of this plane’s locals. However, he didn’t even come up to the chest of the massive ogre.

The man seemed to focus on brute strength, but he showed surprising agility in covering the distance in only a few steps. However, Tiramisu laughed at the greatsword in his hands and took a few steps back to make room.

Entering his sword stance and mobilising all his internal energy, the man looked up at Tiramisu with a fierce expression on his face, “I am the—”

“Don’t waste my time!” Tiramisu waved him off, “You can tell me who you are if you’re not dead after this.”

The warrior’s face twisted with rage and he roared, his huge sword stabbing straight towards Tiramisu’s belly. The ogre just smiled, not doing anything as a cyan glow lit up on his armour in defence. The man, who was surprised by the slowness of his opponent, saw his sword tip just bend away with a screech, his stab blocked halfway through as the blade turned around completely.

The defence of this armour was unimaginable! Even the royal armour couldn’t match up! The burly man was surprised. In all their previous fights, even the enemy generals hadn’t possessed armour worthy of their level. Now, this ogre’s armour was approaching the legendary realm in power!

The surprises didn’t end there. Green sparks flashed across Tiramisu’s body as he suddenly sped up, a chilling whistle ringing through the air as his giant hammer instantly crashed down on his opponent. The warrior was horrified, barely bringing up his marred blade to block.

As hammer and sword intersected, there were no bright sparks. Only a thunderous roar rang out as the man was slammed to the ground, his knees crumpling instantly. His arms still held onto the giant sword, but the arc of the blade grew even more pronounced. The enchantments on it glowed as they were completely destroyed.

Tiramisu laughed loudly, his hand almost flashing out of sight as he raised his hammer once more. A powerful smack sent both man and sword flying dozens of metres away, only to fall on the floor like a broken doll.

Within just two strikes, this local saint had been killed.