The System notification pulsed a second time, harsher now, the blue text burning brighter against Jonah's vision.

  [FINAL WAVE IMMINENT]

  [OBJECTIVE: SURVIVE THE GOBLIN HORDE]

  [FAILURE PENALTY: TOTAL ANNIHILATION]

  [NO RETREAT. NO REINFORCEMENT. NO MERCY.]

  The words hung in the air like a death sentence. Jonah felt the shift ripple through his defenders, that moment when determination cracked and something darker tried to claw through: primal fear, overwhelming terror at the green tide spreading across every approach.

  Someone screamed.

  A woman near the eastern platform dropped her spear and bolted from her line, creating a gap that the goblins were too far away to take advantage of.

  I need to stop this before it becomes a full rout.

  "Kill anyone that runs," Jonah said.

  Justin's grin stretched wide, a manic gleam dancing in his eyes. Lightning crackled between his fingers. "Finally. Something fun."

  The woman made it twelve steps before the bolt caught her between the shoulder blades. She dropped without a sound, smoke rising from the impact point. Another bolt slammed into her body, then a third and fourth, without an ounce of mercy.

  Silence descended upon the entire human army.

  Holy... I definitely need to keep him close. I can't imagine what he would turn into if he were alone to do whatever he wants.

  Every defender within sight had frozen, eyes locked on the body.

  Jonah frowned as he saw a few more hesitate, almost on the brink of trying to run.

  "Hold the fucking lines!" Jonah's voice carried across the lines. "Anyone that breaks ranks will not make it five paces! I will not have your selfishness be the death of us all! Either we survive this together, or we die together!"

  The panic that had been building shattered against his words. Faces hardened. Grips tightened on weapons. The fear remained, but it transformed into something useful.

  It was cruel, but it was necessary to keep them alive. Running during a confrontation was one of the worst things Jonah had ever witnessed. Thousands dead because some idiot created a gap within the lines to save their own hide.

  Most that ran died anyway.

  Jonah turned back to the approaching army.

  The goblins had organized into distinct layers. Fodder first, the smallest and weakest of their kind, carrying crude weapons and wearing nothing but scraps. Behind them, shield ranks formed a mobile wall of wood and scavenged metal. Hobgoblin push units waited behind those, larger creatures with whips and iron-shod clubs, ready to drive the fodder forward regardless of casualties.

  Individual shamans scattered throughout the formation, green light already gathering around their staffs. Not the circles yet. The Warboss was probing and looking for weakness.

  Speaking of the Warboss.

  Jonah's eyes found the creature at the army's rear, massive and rotund. A mountain of green flesh that stood head and shoulders above even the largest hobgoblins. Its club was less a weapon and more a tree trunk wrapped in iron bands, thick enough to crush a man into paste with a single swing.

  The war beasts flanked the Warboss in a loose formation. A dozen of them. Four-legged nightmares covered in matted fur and armored scales, each one the size of a draft horse, with jaws that could bite through steel. Hobgoblin handlers held them on chains that looked far too thin for comfort.

  They weren't moving. Not yet.

  Sacrificing the fodder first. Drain our resources, exhaust our defenders, then send the elites to finish the job. Standard attrition warfare.

  Jonah had seen this pattern before. Different levels, but the same brutal battle plan that was effective. Cheap lives thrown away to create openings for expensive ones. There was a reason it reoccurred more than any other tactic throughout the many levels.

  The drums started.

  A rhythmic thunder that vibrated through the corrupted ground, synchronized across the goblin formation. The sound was primitive but effective, creating a heartbeat that the army moved to. Fodder goblins began shuffling forward, their pace quickening with each beat.

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  "Hold fire! Wait for the walls!" Jonah shouted.

  His defenders held position. Ranged weapons stayed ready but unfired. Mana remained conserved. The temptation to strike first, to thin the approaching horde, was almost overwhelming.

  Jonah felt it in the tension of every person on the line.

  But striking now would waste resources they couldn't replace. The fodder had to reach the walls. Had to bunch up at the base. Had to create the conditions for his prepared defenses to work.

  More importantly, they needed mana and energy to fight off the elite in later phases of this battle.

  The drums accelerated in pace.

  The goblin charge became a sprint, thousands of green bodies surging forward in a screaming mass. The sound of their footsteps merged with their shrieks, creating a wall of noise that pressed against the defenders like physical force.

  "Steady! Eyes front!"

  The first goblins reached the fortifications and slammed into them.

  The walls held.

  Twelve feet of scavenged metal and reinforced debris, angled to deflect charges and prevent easy climbing. Goblins slammed into the barriers and rebounded, piling against each other as more arrived behind them.

  Exactly as he planned it.

  The base of the walls became a compression zone. Goblins fighting to climb, pushing against those who'd arrived first, creating a mass of bodies that grew denser with every second. Some tried to boost others upward. Others scrabbled at the smooth metal surfaces with claws that found no purchase.

  "Flammables! Now!"

  The order triggered coordinated action across the northern line. Defenders tilted containers, sending streams of motor oil and lighter fluid cascading down the wall faces. The liquid splashed across green skin, soaked into crude leather armor, and pooled in the spaces between packed bodies.

  "Fire!"

  Torches followed. Burning cloth wrapped around stones, dropped from elevated platforms into the oil-soaked mass below.

  The world ignited in red and orange.

  Flames erupted across the base of the walls, spreading faster than natural fire had any right to move. Goblins shrieked as their oil-soaked bodies became fuel, the fire jumping from creature to creature in the compressed mass. The heat washed upward, forcing defenders to lean back from their positions.

  The goblins tried to retreat.

  They couldn't.

  The mass behind them, the ones who hadn't seen the fire and only knew they needed to push forward, kept coming. Hobgoblins with whips drove the rear ranks onward, lashing any creature that tried to turn back. The press of bodies forced burning goblins against those not yet aflame, spreading the fire further.

  And still more arrived, wave after wave, climbing over their dying kindred, smothering flames with their own bodies.

  The fire died because corpses piled so deep, so fast, that burning flesh was buried under fresh flesh before it could spread. Layers of dead and dying goblins accumulated, the ones on top screaming as they were crushed beneath more arrivals.

  The stench hit like a physical blow.

  Burning meat. Ruptured organs. Viscera. The copper-sweet smell of blood mixing with the sulfurous reek of scorched hair and the acrid bite of smoke. It rolled up the walls in a wave of nauseating foulness that made Jonah's eyes water.

  Someone vomited. The sound triggered others, defenders retching over the walls, adding to the horror below, their bodies rebelling against the assault on their senses.

  Jonah's stomach heaved. He forced it down through sheer will, swallowing bile and refusing to let his body betray him.

  "Rocks! Glass! Shrapnel! Everything you have!"

  The defenders recovered enough to comply. Heavy stones crashed down into the goblin mass, crushing skulls and shattering bones. Glass bombs, jars and bottles filled with broken shards, shattered on impact and sent razor fragments slicing through green flesh.

  The death toll mounted.

  Bodies piled higher. The base of the walls became a ramp of corpses, goblins climbing over their dead to reach positions where defenders could strike them down. Each new layer of dead made the next layer's climb slightly easier.

  Attrition. They're paying in bodies to create siege ramps. Classic goblin tactics.

  Jonah tracked the broader battle while managing his section. The eastern line held strong, the funnel system working as designed. The western section under Derek showed stress but hadn't broken. The southern perimeter faced lighter pressure, most of the army concentrated on the northern and eastern approaches.

  Green light flared across the goblin formation.

  "Shamans! Multiple contacts, northwest sector!"

  The spotters' calls came rapid-fire as individual shamans began casting. But something was different. The lights weren't isolated points; they were connecting, linking together in patterns that made Jonah's mana sense scream warning.

  The shaman circles began moving. They were starting their coordinated casting.

  Jonah had to prevent it.

  "Suppression teams! Concentrated fire on the linked casters! Single shots won't cut it anymore!"

  The mages on the elevated platforms responded. Instead of individual bolts targeting individual shamans, they launched volleys—three mana bolts at once, then four, five, and up to seven attacks converging on the same target.

  A shaman circle's outer member took the concentrated fire. The creature's barrier shattered under the combined impact, and the bolts tore through its robed form. The circle's pattern flickered, almost fully destabilized, but the surviving shamans completed their casting.

  A wave of sickly green energy rolled toward the northern wall, a blanket of corrosive magic that covered a twenty-meter section.

  "Brace! Shields high!"

  Defenders raised their protection. The magical wave washed over them, and metal began to hiss. Where the energy touched exposed skin, blisters formed instantly. Screams joined the cacophony.

  "Medical runners! Get the burned to Rebecca!"

  The exchange continued. Shaman circles formed, began casting, and suppression teams hammered them with concentrated fire. Some circles died before completing their spells. Others got attacks through. The defenders learned to recognize the glow patterns and to prioritize the casters who were furthest along in their channeling.

  Bodies fell on both sides.

  A mage on the bus shelter platform took a direct hit from an acid bolt and tumbled backward, her face dissolving before she hit the ground. Her replacement was in position within seconds, continuing the suppression fire even as medical runners dragged the corpse away.

  The Warboss roared.

  The sound cut through the battle noise like a physical force, deep, resonant, and filled with frustrated rage. Jonah found the creature in his peripheral vision and watched it gesture violently at the northern wall section where the fire had been most effective.

  One of the war beasts lurched forward.

  Hobgoblin handlers struggled with their chains as the creature responded to its master's command. The beast was massive, easily twelve feet at the shoulder, its armored hide scarred from previous battles. It charged toward the wall with a speed that belied its bulk.

  "War beast incoming! Section seven! Brace for impact!"