Cassian barely had time to exchange a glance with Shera before orders were being barked. Their squad regrouped fast, falling into formation with the rest of their platoon under Shera’s command. Alix was already there, straight-backed and serious, with Kalso standing off to the side looking a little out of place.
Cassian noticed the same thing the others did — no one was rushing forward, no battle cries, no charge. Instead, the whole line seemed to be... waiting. Watching. It didn’t feel like a battlefield; it felt like they’d all just paid for tickets to some grim show they weren’t sure they wanted to see.
"Why aren’t we moving?" Robert muttered under his breath beside Cassian.
"Don’t know," Cassian said, eyes narrowing as he caught sight of Naset up ahead, standing with the Earl’s officers. The man’s focus wasn’t on them but on the field beyond.
It was then Cassian saw them — soldiers in the Earl’s colors moving forward in perfect rows, each man carrying a massive tower shield that gleamed dully under the pale light. No war cries. No shouting. Just the heavy rhythm of boots hitting dirt and shields locking into place, like the start of some carefully choreographed play.
Cassian moved up beside Kalso, who looked far too eager for the situation. "What’s going on?" he asked.
"Cass," Kalso greeted with a quick grin before lowering his voice. "Princess Aria’s going in. They’re setting up a battle formation."
Cassian’s eyes shifted to the line of soldiers hauling the massive shields into place. He’d read about battle formations before, but seeing one in person was different. Judging by the wall of tower shields locking together, this one looked built for defense.
He squinted out across the open plain. The furthest thing he could make out was the dark smear of the treeline, nothing moving but the grass swaying under the wind. "And against what, exactly?" he asked.
Kalso opened his mouth to answer, but the ground beat him to it. A low, steady vibration rolled under their boots, faint at first, then growing with each passing second.
Cassian’s eyes locked on the treeline just as the first branches began to sway unnaturally. A ripple moved through the forest, trees shaking as if something massive was plowing through them. Then the sound hit — not one roar, but hundreds, all bleeding together into a deafening wave.
The first to break the treeline were wolf-like beasts, their matted fur streaked with black and crimson, jaws unhinged too wide to be natural. They bounded low to the ground, covering distance with terrifying speed.
Behind them came the heavier steps — ogres with gray-green skin and clubs made from uprooted trees, each step making the earth shudder. A pack of hulking orcs followed, crude armor strapped to their barrel chests, tusks glinting.
Cassian’s gaze jumped higher when a troll lumbered into view, towering above the wolves, its hunched back dragging vines and broken branches with it.
And they weren’t alone. Boars the size of horses barreled forward, tusks curved and wet with old blood. Something long and segmented slid between their legs — Cassian caught a glint of chitin, a centipede the length of three wagons weaving through the stampede. There were other insect shapes behind it, clicking and chittering, though at this distance, he couldn’t make out their exact forms.
A mutter passed through the ranks around him. Cassian didn’t join in. His eyes were fixed on the sheer number of them, a living tide pouring out of the forest, kicking up dirt and shaking the ground until it hummed in his bones.
"Fucking hell..." Kalso’s voice dropped to a sharp whisper. "Those trolls are five stars, easy. Hell, everything out there’s at least four...."
Cassian’s gaze swept the incoming tide, and even with his training, his gut tightened. Kalso wasn’t exaggerating. He could see the strength in their movements — raw, brutal power. For most of the soldiers here, even a single one of those things would be a nightmare.
Even for him, taking one down would mean using the war armor, and that was just one. Every single one of them moved with the weight and presence of at least a second-circle warrior, some even pushing into third-circle levels of strength.
And the confusion settled in right alongside the dread. Back in Magisteria, he’d seen stronger monsters, sure — ones that could wipe the floor with these things individually — but not in these numbers. This wasn’t natural. Not even close.
Everyone knew the cult was behind the monster waves, but this... this was on a different level. Too many bodies, too much force. No normal group could control a horde that size. Yet there it was—hundreds of meters of open field swallowed by fur, claws, and chitin, and more still spilling out from the treeline like a flood.
The defensive line waiting for them wasn’t a messy crowd of soldiers either. Cassian noted only four clear ranks: the first two lines were all armored troops with tower shields locking into a wall of steel; the third was entirely mages, robes swaying as they took position; and behind them, a line of soldiers holding long spears that caught what little light the gray sky offered. Scattered between them were small clusters of robed figures—a fifth line, though broken up in key points instead of a solid wall.
His gaze caught on a single figure that stood out from the rest. White armor traced with gold markings, a stark contrast against the dark steel around her. Even from here, Cassian recognized the crest stamped across the chestplate—the Karmen Earldom’s emblem. Which meant that had to be her: Princess Aria Kiew Karmen.
She didn’t shout or posture as the monsters thundered closer. Just stood steady in the middle of the formation, silver spear in hand tipped with a crescent blade that gleamed like moonlight. Her voice cut clean across the field, carrying even over the roar of the horde:
"Everyone, Linked Arrowhead Formation!"
Cassian blinked as the formation shifted. The soldiers moved like clockwork, stepping into precise positions. Shields overlapped, spears angled forward, and the rhythm of it all made it clear this wasn’t some last-minute scramble.
The soldiers shifted fast, snapping into formation like they’d done it a hundred times before. Each arrow-shaped section locked together, forming a jagged wall of shields with reinforced tips of five men bracing for the charge.
The first line slammed their tower shields into the ground, digging in. Right behind them, the second line lifted their own shields upward, creating a slanted roof over the formation. Cassian realized it would block anything dropping from above.
Behind the wall, mages began to chant, voices low but steady. The fourth line of spear-wielders crouched slightly, positioning their long weapons between the gaps, ready to jab upward at anything that vaulted the shields.
At the connection points between each arrow section, Cassian spotted the extra mages. They didn’t join the chanting — they were holding their spells, waiting for the right moment.
At the back, Princess Aria stood on higher ground, silver spear in hand, the white and gold of her armor catching the light as she watched everything lock into place.
The rumbling grew louder. The first monsters — wolves with matted fur and glowing eyes — tore through the treeline, charging low and fast. Behind them came the heavier shapes: trolls as big as houses, orcs and ogres rushing like a wave, boars the size of carriages, and a writhing line of giant centipedes that made Cassian’s skin crawl even from a distance.