Yet the kingdom's army was by no means outdone.
Wyverns screeched harshly in midair, while hobgoblins and ogres unleashed frenzied war cries. The deafening clamor shook the heavens, making the entire snowfield seem to boil.
"For the Kingdom of Cinders!"
"For the Lord of Cinders!"
"I'll tear you all to pieces!"
"Conquer the Northlands! For the Great Red Dragon's grand design!"
They roared one battle cry after another, their shouts reverberating across the wasteland.
The Coalition had poured everything into this fight. Ninety thousand elite human soldiers from across the Northlands nations, more than five thousand Starfallen, and over a thousand extraordinary beings from across Elezerg had converged here.
Publicly, the Coalition proclaimed they had amassed an army of five hundred thousand, vowing to annihilate the evil blight known as the Kingdom of Cinders.
They occupied the southern bank of the great river, having fully fortified it with earthworks and trenches, their defensive lines stretching for more than ten li.
The kingdom, for its part, gave them ample respect and treated the threat with genuine seriousness. Mobilizing its primary domestic military might, nearly sixty thousand assorted dragon-blooded soldiers, kingdom transcendentals, and elite Starfallen took up positions along the north bank, assembling like a mottled, roiling tide.
Though slightly outnumbered, their morale and ferocity far eclipsed that of their foes—after all, those massive steel cannons and rifles were hardly mere decorations.
Separated by the river, the two massive hosts faced off. Over a hundred thousand soldiers sprawled across the snowfield, like two titanic torrents on the verge of collision, poised to whip up unimaginable, churning waves.
Even the Auril and Inaki rivers—revered as the "River of Beginnings" and the "River of Giants," spanning dozens of meters across—seemed like mere drainage ditches between two behemoths, appearing narrower than ever before in the shadow of the looming clash.
Never in the thousand-year history of the Northlands had a war reached such a scale.
According to scholarly estimates, even when factoring in the serfs who were treated as mere "gray cattle," the entire Northern United Kingdom had a population of only four to six million—and that was counting the fallen Principality of Lakeman.
Excluding the former Principality of Lakeman and factoring in the recent massive exodus of people fleeing to Northwind Keep, the true number would be even lower.
Feudal realms like those in the Northlands could not compare to the kingdom. Fielding this army of ninety thousand had stretched them to their absolute limits, exhausting every scrap of their war potential.
To preserve their dynasties' rule, the northern nobles had wagered virtually everything on this gamble of war. In the process of mobilizing troops and requisitioning grain, they had starved and beaten tens of thousands of common folk to death.
Social tensions across the entire Northlands had reached an unprecedented boiling point, with the aristocracy's exploitation of the serfs pushed to its peak. It was little wonder the "Spark" movement had spread like wildfire across the land.
In stark contrast, the Kingdom of Cinders had hardly suffered any disruption to its foundational industries. Everything continued operating in orderly precision. To the kingdom's populace, the war merely meant a surge in lucrative orders, allowing them to earn more gold coins—they simply had to work a bit harder.
Even the legendary "Battle of the Seven Kingdoms" that had nominally unified the Northlands in the annals of history—which boasted a million combatants in propaganda—had actually involved only about a hundred thousand men, with individual noble houses fielding forces that rarely exceeded ten thousand.
This was a confrontation unlike any Anzeta had ever witnessed, a war that would decide the ultimate fate of this land.
On the northern bank, the grand music played on. Satyrs performed with fervor, and the magical power woven into their melodies drove the monstrous troops into a frenzy, eliciting passionate battle roars.
Above the Coalition army on the southern bank, chanting angels from Mount Celestia plucked harps and sang radiant, holy hymns, soothing the nervous hearts of the assembled forces.
At the blare of a clarion horn, Coalition archers and crossbowmen drew their bows and released a dense shower of arrows across the river.
Yet ogre greatshield soldiers and armored land drakes held the vanguard, absorbing the bulk of the barrage, their massive shields and plating bristling with dense clusters of arrows.
"Heave-ho! Heave-ho!"
Braving the ceaseless rain of arrows, ogres hoisted the colossal wooden bridges from the backs of the land drakes onto their shoulders, laboriously heaving them upright.
They pushed the massive log bridges forward, slamming them down to bridge the gap across the great river and link both banks.
*Boom!*
A thunderous crash resounded, making the ground itself seem to tremble.
Bearfolk druids of the kingdom then raised their staves. A faint green aura glowed as thick roots sprouted from both ends of the giant timber, driving deep into the soil on both riverbanks to firmly anchor the structure across the water.
The trunk surfaces widened and flattened, morphing into proper bridges.
Throughout this process, the Coalition forces merely kept up their volley of arrows without rashly charging forward to disrupt the work.
They were still blind to the kingdom's overarching tactics and had no effective means to halt this feat. To their minds, the moment the kingdom's army began charging across the river would be their best opportunity to strike.
Grand Duke Leo gazed across at the opposing army with a solemn expression. Devoid of fervent passion, he gave a flat order:
"Send the Undying up first. Let's see what they're made of."
Following the widespread subversion of their serfs, the players absorbed into the Principality of Bosque had become the new cannon fodder of choice. Duke Leo had proven exceptionally "open-minded" in accepting these individuals of unknown origin.
"Their army has grown stronger."
"We cannot judge the Kingdom of Cinders by common logic."
Beside him, Trischka voiced his deep anxiety. "Indeed, Your Grace. That is precisely what is most terrifying about the Kingdom of Cinders.
"For thousands of years, our Northlands remained virtually unchanged, preserving a stable order. But this kingdom is different. That monster continuously leeches the vitality of everything around it, swelling into such a behemoth in just a few short years. In the words of those southern scholars... they are constantly evolving."
Grand Duke Leo said in a deep voice, "They will not have the chance to continue, because we will win this war.
"Pass down the order: send the Undying to the vanguard to draw their fire."
"Yes, my lord!"
The herald mounted his horse in haste, raising the battle standard to relay the command throughout the ranks.
Still, with an army of a hundred thousand men, even a battle-hardened veteran like Grand Duke Leo had never commanded a war on this scale.
...
"Now this is the sword-and-sorcery war I signed up for."
"This is the true romance of the battlefield."
Gazing at the distant monstrous legion, the player named Teutonic Knight, clad in plate armor, polished his silver sword until it gleamed.
Facing the terrifying army of the Kingdom of Cinders, there was not the slightest fear on his face—only sheer exhilaration.
Teutonic Knight was an experiential player who had come to Elezerg solely to immerse himself in fantasy warfare. For that reason, he had eschewed Northwind Keep—the spawn point recommended by countless guide-makers—and instead picked Strafburg, which aligned far better with his medieval ideals.
Now, he was already the leader of the players within the Coalition faction, and had even been personally knighted by Grand Duke Leo with a sword tap, attaining the noble title of Honorary Knight.
"Fantastic! The Duke is sending us to the very front!"
"Everyone, let's show these kingdom bastards what we've got!"
"Chop off that red dragon's head! Charge with me!"
Teutonic Knight swung onto his steed, brandishing his silver sword high and pointing it enthusiastically toward the legions across the river.
*Yes, this is it! Clashing against players of the opposing faction—this is the war I wanted! Pure exhilaration!*
Led by Teutonic Knight, five thousand Coalition players surged forward one after another into the fray, reduced to mere instruments in the opening probes between the two armies.
Chapter 315