Breached

*Boom—* With a deafening crash, the western gate of Northwind Keep swung violently open. Rusted iron mechanisms turned and groaned with a harsh, grating screech as the massive drawbridge slowly lowered, spanning the wide moat to meet the opposite bank. "Who's the traitor?!" "Damn it, someone opened the gates!" "Quick! Raise the drawbridge!" "No good, they're coming in!" "Everyone, prepare for battle!" The interior of the city dissolved into utter pandemonium. Shouts, bellows, and curses rang out ceaselessly; in the mayhem, no one could tell friend from foe. The dragon-blooded kin, who had been waiting outside the walls for what felt like ages, surged eagerly onto the drawbridge and flooded into Northwind Keep like a roaring, irresistible torrent. Spearheading the assault were hulking ogre shield-and-club warriors, followed closely by rifle-wielding hobgoblin skirmishers and tribal lizardfolk fighters. "For the Cinder Nest!" "Take Northwind Keep!" While House Lakeman's grip on the city defense force was tight—near the absolute pinnacle of what a feudal lord could achieve—the garrison within the walls was far from a solid monolith. And after the red dragon descended in person with his ultimatum, even the most loyal members of the Shield of the Eagle could not help wavering. Out of every ten garrison soldiers, perhaps one or two had resolved to mutiny—and that alone was enough to shake the foundations of Northwind Keep. What followed was simple. The mutinous soldiers secretly made contact with the player spies lurking in the city, gathered their forces, and staged a revolt. Catching the western gate commander completely off guard, they killed him and threw open the gates that had stood unbreached for over a century. The man leading this mutiny was named John. His wife had died at the hands of the so-called "devils," making him once the most loyal of the Duke's soldiers. When he drove his blade into the commander's chest, the man's expression was frozen in utter shock—the commander never could have imagined that John, who had been mockingly nicknamed the "Loyal Dog," would ever turn traitor. As agreed beforehand, the mutineers tied red bands around their right arms and turned their weapons against their former comrades. "Kill these vampire lapdogs!" "For our families!" "To stay alive!" John raised his standard-issue longsword and roared at the top of his lungs. And so, the dragonkin of the Cinder Nest, the mutineers, and the loyal city guards clashed within the city in a chaotic melee. As House Lakeman's deepest seat of power, Northwind Keep naturally wouldn't surrender without a fight like Teluo City. Shared interest was always the strongest bond. Many of Northwind Keep's elite factions had long since tied their fates to House Lakeman's chariot, leaving them no way out. They knew that once the Duke, the great tree sheltering them, fell, their own fates would be grim—perhaps worse than death. Thus, resolved to fight to the bitter end, they miraculously managed to hold the dragonkin of the Cinder Nest at bay in the narrow passage past the gate. "Die, human!" An ogre swung a barbed morningstar, brutally mashing the soldier before him into paste. Gripping a massive hide shield, he charged like a heavy tank through a hail of arrows from the city garrison. Yet a shard of bitter ice struck true against the thick arm gripping the spiked club. The shard exploded, unleashing a bone-chilling frost that slowed the ogre's movements. It was *Ice Knife*. Spellcasters loyal to House Lakeman had entered the fray. "Charge!" "Kill the monster! Avenge our comrades!" The coalition soldiers were just about to rush forward to bring down the ogre. *Bang! Bang! Bang!* Bullets whistled from the hobgoblin skirmishers' rifles, dropping soldiers one after another. Shortly after the Battle of Trier, players from the Storm Armory had developed rifled muskets with vastly superior accuracy, giving rise to skirmish tactics that favored flexible, independent small-unit warfare. "For the Cinder Nest! For endless food!" "Charge!" The ogres held their great shields high and pressed the charge, advancing like a moving stone wall. Icicles, flames, acid, radiant light... The spellcasters unleashed a downpour of magic upon the dragonkin. Several ogres fell in varied, gruesome ways, yet not a single one showed even a hint of fear. The simple minds of these ogres held little room for anything beyond fighting and eating. Death to them was quite literally daily bread—in the wastes, starving ogres frequently held makeshift funerary feasts, burying their fallen kin directly into their bellies. Nor was the Cinder Nest defenseless. Beyond the hobgoblins picking off soldiers with their firearms, the players joined the fray. In an instant, a dazzling array of magical auras erupted from the Cinder Nest's ranks, showcasing player tactics that were far more varied and unpredictable. "Their firepower is kind of crazy!" "Paladins, get up front and hold the line!" "Someone drop a Haste on me! Hit me with Haste and I'm invincible!" "Cleric, pop a Sanctuary, hurry!" Buffed with *Haste*, the bare-chested monk player "Dawei Tianlong" scrambled along the walls and leapt from above, crashing straight into the garrison's ranks. Looking around at the panicked soldiers, who had no idea where this enemy had dropped from, he bellowed with gusto: "I want to fight ten!" "*Flurry of Blows!*" His fists flew too fast to track, leaving only rapid *thud-thud-thud* impacts echoing in the air. His strikes, infused with ki, slammed brutally into the soldiers. Seven or eight men collapsed around him in rapid succession, the tremendous force caving in their armor with distinct fist impressions. This formidable monk player had engaged full-on Dynasty Warriors mowing mode. "Hahahaha!" "Avatar mode activated! I'm completely cracked!" Dawei Tianlong tore through the crowd, roaring in pure exhilaration, his shaved head spattered with blood coughed up by the soldiers. The garrison quickly took note of him, directing a volley of arrows his way. *Whoosh—* An arrow streaked straight toward his bare head. "*Deflect Missiles!*" Dawei Tianlong snorted coldly. Gathering ki in his hands, he caught the speeding arrow barehanded, reversed its momentum, and whipped it right back. The arrow plunged between the archer's eyes, killing him instantly. "Hmph, trying to show off your paltry tricks before an expert!" "Mere trash mobs dare sneak-attack me? What a joke—" Before the words left his mouth, arrows rained in from every direction. A monk could deflect missiles, but he was no eight-armed Arhat. His bare torso was promptly turned into a pincushion. "Overestimating his limits..." an archer sneered. "This monk's life... totally worth it..." Sprawled on the ground, Dawei Tianlong gazed blissfully at the flood of contribution points and experience scrolling across his panel before his screen faded to black.