Return of the Fallen Nobleman With an SSS-Rank Talent-Chapter 91: To resist [3]

The Migzar forces’ camp, with the wind blowing the flags.

The fabrics fluttered vigorously, setting the rhythm of a camp that, despite its apparent stillness, was far from calm.

The soldiers moved back and forth in their heavy armor, its clanging echoing everywhere. As for the knights who hadn’t made a move... well, not all of them had made a move.

Some stood motionless, watching, waiting like pieces that had not yet been moved.

They were waiting for orders from General Darion, who looked at them with a calm expression, but in his eyes there was still a cruel, vengeful glint.

It wasn’t calm... it was control.

His mood was at rock bottom; according to the reports he had received moments ago, the front line of the attacking soldiers had suffered miserably, falling into a trap that appeared to have been carefully planned.

It hadn’t been a simple defeat. It had been calculated.

What I reported was that he had deliberately allowed them to break through his first line of defense and that he would let them in only to trap and eliminate them, obviously.

A clean and efficient trap.

Darion didn’t even care about them, nor did he intend to give them—not under the current conditions, which seemed to be in a sort of stalemate. Neither they nor the forces have made any real move.

As far as he was concerned... they were already dead.

He had only ever used foot soldiers—whose lives were as disposable as leaves in war—but had deployed no more than one or two knights at most, and the report he received gave him a glimpse into Adam’s strategy.

His mind was already racing ahead to the next move.

"That bastard’s methods are unique: sacrificing a few soldiers to wipe out all of mine. Why didn’t I ever think of that?"

There was no anger in his words... only interest.

Darion let out a sigh, somewhat weary; he hadn’t expected this first clash to end that way, with the death of his front line.

But it wasn’t the end either.

I have to change my approach to the attack...

The thought came to him clearly, without a trace of doubt.

He wanted to attack differently, but he didn’t see it as very feasible, mainly because the enemy had the advantage of the terrain; he was familiar with it, while they were not. And he saw that when they suffered the surprise attack.

It wasn’t just a minor disadvantage. It was decisive.

He wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice... Besides, he couldn’t split his forces; that would be stupid and would weaken him.

Splitting up meant losing control of the field.

Sure, it could have worked out... but the chances of everything going to hell were much higher, so now you have to hold on and keep this stalemate going.

Waiting... was also a decision.

...

After the death of all of Migzar’s soldiers at the hands of the knights, driven by rage and vengeance.

The silence that followed wasn’t immediate... it came gradually, as if the field itself were exhausted.

Alisha covered her mouth to keep from vomiting everything she had eaten a few hours earlier, but part of her felt relief. Now they were at a stalemate, and she didn’t know how long it would last.

That relief... was what weighed on her the most.

But this was enough to regroup and hold out longer against the next attacks until the arrival of reinforcements from the Tubor family—thanks to the efforts of her son and Selene, who was currently in the city.

That time... was all she had managed to secure.

She let out a long sigh and raised her head once more toward the battlefield.

She forced herself to look.

The sight was by no means pleasant; on the contrary, it was horrible and terrifying—a sight she was used to, but one she had to get used to; she couldn’t leave everything in the hands of her husband and son.

Not after making that decision.

All she could see was death—corpses here and there, some intact, others missing limbs, organs covered in mud and dirt; the blood had already turned a darker shade, and the flies were already feasting on them.

The smell was more than she could bear.

Alisha swallowed hard and looked away, but that image was etched in her mind, and she would likely dream about them for months to come.

She looked at a soldier standing beside her, and he told her to give the order for everyone to regroup and reorganize the lines; there was no point in continuing the fight.

The pressure had eased enough to allow it, though the danger remained.

In the distance, Alisha could see more banners and enemy reinforcements, which were not advancing.

They were holding back. Waiting.

She sighed again; she hadn’t done much, but she felt extremely tired. Maybe it was because she had been thinking so much.

Or maybe... because of what she had had to decide.

...

A few hours later, the sun rose again, its golden rays tearing through the dark sky like a wolf’s mouth, slowly replacing the moon.

The transition brought no relief. It only made everything more visible.

Alisha was already in a position to see everything perfectly without putting her life at risk.

The height gave her an advantage... but not control.

In the distance, Migzar’s army could be seen attacking once again, though its soldiers advanced without haste, making the situation far more problematic and unpredictable.

It wasn’t carelessness. It was intentional.

With each step, the ground would vibrate slowly, as if they knew the outcome had already been decided.

That confidence... was the most dangerous thing of all.

Alisha stood on the wall, the blood of the fallen still fresh on the stones beneath her feet. The first assault had been perfectly repelled, but it hadn’t been a victory—it had merely been... time bought.

Time was running out.

Her eyes dropped for a moment. The city gates were littered with the bodies of enemies and many... of her own men.

"Ma’am."

Lucas’s voice came from behind her.

She didn’t need to turn around to know he wasn’t bringing good news.

"We’ve lost nearly a third of our men at the entrance."

A third... Alisha closed her eyes for a second, trying to process all the deaths that had occurred in this first clash.

The number wasn’t just a figure.

Lucas continued:

His tone remained firm, but there was tension beneath the surface.

"But we can still hold the wall. If we concentrate our forces, the various points are covered by our mage and more knights."

It was a logical option. Safe... on the surface.

Yes, they could concentrate on the wall and hold out until the very end.

Resist. Hold out. Wait.

Yes, that would make the enemy reconsider its attack and look for an alternative that would give it the upper hand and allow it to claim the city one way or another.

Or worse... that it would find a way to break through them.

There was always a "but."

And that "but"... was deadly.

"No," she finally said.

The decision was immediate.

Lucas frowned.

He hadn’t expected that.

"Ma’am?"

Alisha looked back at the enemy army; it was far stronger and could withstand a prolonged siege. If they stayed on the wall... they would be worn down, surrounded, and crushed.

It was only a matter of time.

"If we play defense... we lose."

It wasn’t a guess.

It was a conclusion.

"Then..."

Lucas hesitated because there weren’t many options left.

"What do you propose?"

Alisha didn’t answer right away. Her gaze swept across the field, taking in the formations. And then she saw it: a small opening.

Not in their formation, but in their behavior.

Something... they could exploit.

"They’re confident..."

"Ma’am?"

"They’re advancing like this... because they’re confident. So let’s break that."

Lucas fell silent.

"...A counterattack?"

"No."

Alisha shook her head slowly.

"A strike."

"That’s risky."

"Everything is risky."

Alisha didn’t hesitate to reply, her gaze never leaving the enemy, and she continued.

"But staying here... is dying more slowly."

...

A few minutes later.

Then the doors swung open.

The soldiers poured out.

Their teeth clenched, their jaws taut from the strain of hours of killing. Their breath condensed into thick clouds that mingled with the metallic, visceral stench that filled the air.

A warning cry cut short when someone realized what they were seeing.

"NOW!"

The cry sliced through the air like a knife.

The group advanced.

They advanced, and the first enemy soldier managed to lower his spear.

A soldier, using the edge of his shield and a sharp, wet blow, shattered his nose and drove his facial bones inward with a crack that sounded like a dry branch snapping.

He fell backward with his arms outstretched, his spear rolling away, blood gushing from what had once been a face.

The second man tried to turn. Another soldier’s sword struck him in the side, right where the chain mail met the helmet. It entered at an angle, slicing through his ear, neck, and shoulder.

The man let out a gurgling sound as he brought his hands to the side of his head, which was no longer attached to the rest of his body.

"FORWARD!"