Chapter 18: A Counterattack

Dragumo sighed. He couldn’t rely on any reinforcements from the Caucasus in the near future. Although the first batch of reinforcements had entered the city, these new recruits clearly couldn’t yet be considered true soldiers. Perhaps only after this bloody battle could they truly grow stronger, but did they even have a chance?

The Knothosians, trapped outside the castle, seemed determined to take control of these fortresses. He had underestimated their courage and determination—despite suffering such heavy losses, they refused to give up. From another perspective, it was understandable; if it were him, he too would never back down meekly.

The three thousand reinforcements, though integrated into his main forces, were losing members at least three times faster than his own troops he had trained personally. Lacking experience against magical attacks and combat skills against enemy assaults, they suffered heavy casualties. Dragumo was heartbroken, but this was the price of growth.

He wondered how much longer he could hold out under these circumstances. All available forces had already been deployed, Newman and his men had done their best, and the city’s defenses had been nearly destroyed by the enemy mages. Fortunately, the intensity of their magical attacks was also declining significantly.

The mobilized Livonians were also struggling to hold on. Dragumo even feared they might, in desperation, launch a counterattack in hopes of gaining the Knothosians’ mercy. Thankfully, that hadn’t happened yet, but it was hard to say how long it would last. Dragumo had never trusted the integrity of these mortals.

The last ballista finally broke down. Continuous use had exhausted the soldiers operating it and worn out the ancient device. When it fired its last stone with all its might, its throwing arm snapped off due to overuse. The rebound force from the rotating magic metal spring shattered the entire frame, knocking down several soldiers caught off guard.

Dragumo didn’t even bother to go check on it. He had more serious issues to consider. Losing a ballista was forgivable, but if the soldiers’ morale dropped, it might never recover—meaning the entire front line could collapse.

A loud cry of shock came from the city walls, instantly tightening Dragothmo’s nerves. Could it be that his predictions were correct? Had the soldiers collapsed? A wave of silent despair flashed through Dragothmo’s mind, but he quickly regained his composure. Even if something unexpected had happened, he would turn the situation around!

Rushing to the foot of the city walls, Dragothmo climbed the stairs along the top in a few strides. However, the situation didn’t seem as bad as he had imagined. The soldiers were still standing firm at their posts, armed with spears and shields. Their gazes toward the city walls below were strange and surprised, filled with confusion.

Following their gaze, Dragothmo looked into the distance and saw a scene he could hardly believe.

The Cnossoans seemed to have suddenly stopped attacking. Even their frontline commanders appeared at a loss. They seemed to be in the midst of issuing orders, but the chaotic commands only added to the confusion. The entire course of the battle was halted, and even the half-orc soldiers were thrown off by this sudden change.

Dragothmo immediately realized this was not some trick or ruse. The Cnossoans couldn’t possibly use such a convincing performance to deceive him. They also knew he wouldn’t launch a counterattack under these circumstances. Yet, the scene still tempted him. If something unexpected really happened, it could be a perfect chance to turn defeat into victory. But could it be a trap?

Fumer almost bit his lip in frustration as he issued the order. He knew what consequences this order would bring. After building up so much effort, everything could be ruined in one fell swoop. He understood that it would be much better to delay and withdraw when the fighting subsided by evening. He also knew that the current situation could easily lead to a counterattack from the enemy, but he had no other choice.

If he couldn’t withdraw his troops from the battlefield quickly, reorganize them, and head north at full speed, then this entire invasion of Nicosia might result in the Cnossoan army being buried here.

Fumer had never hated the Besarabians so much. These utterly shameless scoundrels were even worse than the orcs in the northern wastelands who didn’t follow rules. They claimed to stay out of the conflict between the Northern Alliance and the Nicosians, maintaining a hypocritical stance of neutrality, yet they suddenly launched an offensive eastward at this critical moment!

And when they sent troops, it was 30,000 strong, including 10,000 fast-moving cavalry! The 30,000-strong army surged into Hesse and Livonia like a flood, instantly breaking through Hesse’s weak defenses. Hesse’s defense system collapsed in an instant, and their own troops had no choice but to retreat at full speed without even a proper response.
In Livonia, their vanguard arrived so swiftly—almost non-stop—covering hundreds of miles in just one day, reaching a distance of less than 80 miles from them.
This was a complete conspiracy! A perfectly planned and well-executed scheme! A massive plot designed to drive Knoso into utter despair!
Fremel’s fingers almost crushed the reins in his hand from the pain as he trembled all over. Facing such chaos, he could only hope that his opponent would be exhausted or too fearful to fight due to not understanding the situation. Only then could his soldiers, already too tired to even walk steadily, get a chance to retreat. But would it succeed?
There was no time for deception or illusions. Any delay could mean total annihilation. Fremel had no choice but to order a retreat at all costs—save as many as possible. If the enemy really launched a counterattack from the city, he would have no other choice but to fight to the end.