The wall fell into stunned silence. Torches flickered and armor creaked. No one spoke at first, as if sound itself might provoke the sea of green into motion.

  Vel stepped forward slowly, eyes wide with astonishment.

  “That’s… wrong,” she said under her breath. “Orcs and ogres marching with goblins?”

  Her fingers tightened around her bow.

  “They slaughter each other as often as they raid settlements. They don’t unite. Not like this.”

  Cilian’s gaze remained fixed on the horizon.

  “They do,” he said grimly, “when someone forces them to.”

  Vel glanced at him.

  “The Surillian training pits,” Cilian continued. “They’ve been experimenting for years, trying a more efficient leveling system. They probably figured out how to control those monsters in their breeding pits."

  Another horn rolled across the night.

  “This,” he finished, “is likely one of their results.”

  He did not allow the weight of it to linger.

  “Positions!” Cilian ordered, voice cutting clean through the dread.

  Vel snapped into motion instantly.

  “Elven Guard with me!” she called. “Long-range formations form up! Rotate volleys. Aim for large targets first!”

  She was already moving along the wall, issuing crisp instructions.

  Cilian turned.

  “Saintess Lilian,” he said firmly. “Take Sunette and Agitha. Reinforce the main gate. Defensive blessings and triage. If the gate falls, the town falls.”

  Lilian nodded, face pale but resolute. The two paladins flanked her immediately as they hurried toward the stairwell.

  Then Cilian faced Xulian.

  He hesitated just for a breath. His jaw tightened before he spoke.

  “Xulian… I need your help elsewhere.”

  Her eyes met his.

  “I need you and Luim to assist in stabilizing the interior,” Cilian continued. “Assassins, fires, scattered guards. We need the town secured so we aren’t crushed from both sides. You and Luim are the fastest responders here.”

  He paused for a moment.

  “Can you assist him? Regroup the internal forces. Secure the streets. Buy us time.”

  Worry sat plainly beneath the command. Xulian looked at him for a long second. Then her eye softened into something faintly amused.

  He really is that kind of male lead, she thought. Carrying everything like it’s solely his burden. Cute. And a little foolish.

  Before he could add another word, she turned, grabbed Luim by the sleeve, and vanished. Luim’s startled yelp snapped off mid-echo as both disappeared like mist cut by wind, leaving the fragrance of flowers lingering in the air.

  Cilian blinked once at the empty space. Then exhaled and turned back to the battlefield. There was no time to dwell.

  Xulian and Luim reappeared atop a slanted rooftop several districts away. Tiles rattled softly beneath their sudden arrival. Luim staggered once and took a breath. “A warning would be appreciated...”

  Xulian was already scanning the streets below. Fires. Smoke. Running civilians. Clashes in alleyways.

  “We should split,” Luim said quickly, regaining focus. He pointed toward a brighter cluster of torchlight and an organized movement in the distance. “Commander Brill is rallying near the east barracks and market square, where our returning forces were stationed. Your mobility is better in support there.”

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  He turned and gestured in another direction.

  “I’ll head for the Adventurers’ Guild. If anyone can still fight, they’ll be there. I’ll gather them and spread word about the army outside.”

  Xulian nodded, not wasting words. Luim vaulted off the opposite side of the roof, temple robes snapping as he descended.

  Xulian remained a moment longer. Wind tugged lightly at her hair as she watched the chaos unfold.

  Something doesn’t fit. If the goal was assassination, tonight made no sense. Too loud, too broad, and too destructive.

  They could have ambushed Cilian on the road, poisoned supplies, or collapsed terrain. It was a cleaner method. And the assassins inside the manor…

  Too weak.

  Level fifteen to fifty operatives were not sent against elites like Cilian and Vel based on the strength of their levels. And definitely not when a saintess traveled with three dedicated guardians alongside them.

  They knew the strength of this group. So why commit underpowered forces?

  Her eyes narrowed slightly.

  Unless…

  They weren’t there to win. They were there to search for something and to buy time.

  What would they be looking for?

  Her gaze lifted toward the distant wall line.

  Then she moved, air folded, and her figure blurred forward across rooftops in swift, silent arcs as she bounded across rooftops, feeling the power in her body fully unleashed.

  Find Brill. Stabilize the town. Then get to the walls.

  Because whatever the enemy truly wanted— it had already begun.

  ***

  Steel rang through the streets like fractured bells.

  Commander Brill stood at the center of controlled chaos, blade carving arcs through encroaching figures in shadows that retreated then lunged again. Around him, civilians huddled behind overturned carts, shattered stalls, and rubble while his soldiers formed a tightening perimeter.

  “Shields up! Rotate forward!” Brill barked, pushing one of his men back, saving him from a dagger thrust from a figure that appeared and disappeared underground. The formation was thin. Too thin.

  His forces had splintered across the district, some fighting fires licking up timber walls, others chasing infiltrators through alleys that twisted like trap corridors. Every call for reinforcement echoed back with the same answer.

  Engaged. Delayed. Overrun.

  Then the enemy changed tempo. Black-clad figures reached for flasks at their belts. Glass shattered. Liquid fire went down their throats. A pulse rolled through the battlefield as bootsteps sharpened, blades blurred, and movements snapped into lethal precision.

  “Level boosters…” one soldier muttered.

  Brill clicked his tongue. “Hold the line! Protect civilians!”

  As finished, a ripple of dark mana coiled above a nearby rooftop. Brill’s eyes snapped upward like a hawk. A tall figure stood silhouetted against the flaming haze, cloak writhing like living smoke. A status window flickered into view.

  [Level 52 / Main Class: Beast Tamer / Sub Class: Slave Contractor / Title: Contract Summoner]

  “Summoner!” Brill roared. “Take him!”

  It was too late. Sigil flared on the ground around the figure. The air split with a chorus of snarls as shapes poured out of the ruptures that were coming from those sigiles and flooded onto the streets. Large bodies with matted black fur, golden sinister eye and fangs like drawn daggers.

  “Dire wolves!” a soldier warned, readying his weapon.

  Dozens of level 15 to 26 Dire wolves rushed like a tide into battle, the black figure giving a cold smirk as he waved his hands like conducting an orchestra of slaughter.

  The defensive ring shattered on the combined impact of shadows and wolves.

  “Civilians behind me!” Brill commanded, stepping forward as his blade ignited with an aura. “Spears, brace! Don’t let them through!”

  He moved like a fortress given legs, intercepting lunges, turning killing bites into glancing blows, buying seconds with steel and will. His remaining men rallied to him, forming a desperate knot of resistance.

  But pressure mounted. Every fallen wolf was replaced by two more snapping at the gap. A sudden blast rocked the street to his left, and smoke swallowed the line of sight.

  A soldier screamed, and Brill pivoted to plug the breach but lost position. Just a step, just enough for a figure in the smoke behind him to detach from a shadow. An assassin’s blade slid toward the seam beneath his armor in a silent and precise strike.

  No warning reached him, and no shout came in time because the strike never landed. Instead, something whispered through the air. A thin sound like silk tearing, and the assassin’s head separated cleanly from his body.

  For half a heartbeat, no one understood what they were seeing. Then the body folded. The head struck stone and rolled. Confusion rippled through both sides.

  “Wh—”

  Then the wolves faltered mid-leap, mid-snarl, mid-stride. They collapsed as one, as their limbs gave out, bodies hit stone, and dust rose. Silence crashed down after them. Even the summoner froze.

  Before the last carcass finished sliding across the cobbles, a figure appeared, standing behind Brill.

  No footsteps. Just a presence like a ghost.

  Xulian, with her sword still dripping blood on her side. Her green eyes were cold, distant, threaded with something sharper than anger that cut through everyone present. She looked at the fallen beasts scattered across the street.

  Her voice came out quiet and flat.

  “I’m really starting to hate wolves.”