The dawn arrived with a thick ocean fog that clung desperately to the coastal cliffs. As the sun crested the eastern peaks, the combined allied army marched down the mountain pass to finally besiege the western shipyards.

This was no longer a simple skirmish or a quick infiltration. It was a full-scale war for control of the ocean.

Iron-Scale structured the vanguard with precision. He placed his heavy infantry at the absolute front, ordering them to lock their star-iron shields together to form an impenetrable turtle shell against incoming artillery.

Aaron and his Kingdom Knights formed two cavalry wedges on the left and right flanks, keeping their lances lowered to prevent the enemy from attempting an encirclement.

Elder Syra positioned her wire-equipped Kobolds and Grey-Fin assassins directly behind the shield wall, preparing to launch them over the enemy frontline the moment the gap closed.

Down in the valley, the Fourth Continent had arranged an equally terrifying defense.

The main gates of the harbor stood wide open, but the entrance was completely choked by thousands of heavily armored pikemen locked in a dense phalanx. Ballista crews lined the towering stone walls, aiming heavy iron bolts down at the approaching army.

Behind the pikemen, lines of battle-mages chanted softly, projecting a shimmering kinetic barrier over the frontline to absorb magical bombardment.

Iron-Scale brought his army to a halt just outside the effective range of the wall artillery. He stepped out from the protection of the shield wall, his boots crunching loudly against the gravel.

Gulag followed right behind him, resting her heavy mace comfortably over her shoulder while eyeing the enemy ranks with predatory hunger.

Aaron rode his warhorse slightly to the right, his glowing silver greatsword already drawn.

"I expected a Conqueror!" Iron-Scale’s voice echoed across the open expanse, amplified by his draconic aura. "Where is Ghizlan?"

The ranks of the enemy phalanx parted smoothly. Three high-ranking commanders stepped forward to stand before the gates. They wore ornate, gold-trimmed armor that designated them as Ghizlan’s personal lieutenants.

The center commander, a scarred veteran wielding a crackling lightning-wreathed halberd, sneered at the Vanguard forces.

"Commander Ghizlan is waiting for you at the docks," the lieutenant shouted back, his voice dripping with condescension. "But you are not qualified to meet him yet. He ordered us to test your metal. If you want an audience with the Conqueror, you have to prove you are worthy by surviving us first."

Gulag let out a low, rumbling laugh that vibrated in the chests of everyone nearby. She cracked her neck and tightened her grip on her weapon.

’He is using his own top officers as a filter,’ Iron-Scale thought, analyzing the dense enemy formation. ’He wants to bleed our stamina and force us to reveal our tactics before we ever reach the fleet.’

Iron-Scale drew his star-iron blade. He didn’t bother offering a counter-speech or trading diplomatic insults. He simply raised his sword toward the sky and snapped it downward.

The war began instantly.

"Advance!" Iron-Scale roared. 𝕗𝐫𝐞𝕖𝕨𝐞𝗯𝚗𝕠𝘃𝐞𝚕.𝐜𝗼𝚖

Thirty thousand Vanguard soldiers surged forward like a localized earthquake. The Fourth Continent ballistas fired immediately, sending iron bolts the size of tree trunks whistling through the fog.

The projectiles slammed into the Vanguard’s locked shields with deafening crashes, but the star-iron held firm, deflecting the lethal payload upward.

"Break their barrier!" Aaron commanded, signaling his rear guard.

The Kingdom spellcasters raised their staffs, unleashing a synchronized volley of fireballs that soared over the Vanguard and crashed violently against the enemy’s shimmering kinetic shield. The magical explosions temporarily blinded the frontline defenders.

Taking advantage of the chaos, Iron-Scale engaged his pneumatic spools. The twin grapples fired over the shield wall, biting into the stone archway above the enemy phalanx. He launched himself through the air in a blur of motion, soaring straight over the sea of pointed pikes.

He detached his wires mid-flight and dropped directly into the center of the three lieutenants, swinging his blade in a lethal arc to sever the halberd-wielder’s weapon entirely in half.

Gulag hit the front lines a fraction of a second later. She didn’t bother trying to slip past the pikes. She planted her boots, roared a terrifying battle cry, and swung her iron mace with raw force directly into the center of the phalanx.

The blunt impact shattered shields, snapped weapons, and launched a dozen heavily armored soldiers into the air, instantly creating a bloody crater in the enemy’s unbreakable defense.

Hundreds of Kobolds and Grey-Fins fired their own spools, using the momentum to vault over Gulag’s breached opening. They dropped into the panicked infantry ranks like a rain of blades, turning the disciplined formation into an absolute slaughterhouse.

Deep within the harbor, the ocean water lapped quietly against the hull of the flagship. Ghizlan sat cross-legged on the wooden deck, entirely surrounded by the heavy chains anchoring the vessel to the seabed. He kept his eyes closed and listened to the thunder of artillery echoing from the main gates.

The air vibrated subtly. He could feel the sudden flares of aura clashing a mile away as the vanguard breached the frontline.

’Let them bleed,’ Ghizlan thought calmly. He didn’t move an inch to help his men. He was using his top officers as a filter to separate the elite from the fodder. If these invaders were truly capable of threatening the homeland, they would survive the meat grinder and reach the docks. Until then, he simply waited for his challengers to arrive.

Back at the ruined gates, the chaos of the battlefield swirled around the central courtyard.

Iron-Scale landed flawlessly after severing the center lieutenant’s halberd. He flicked his wrist, shaking the excess blood from his star-iron blade as the enemy commander scrambled backward to draw a secondary sword.

To his left, Gulag stood amidst the shattered remains of the infantry phalanx. She rested her mace on her shoulder and laughed as the second lieutenant, an armored brute wielding dual axes, stepped over the corpses of his own men to confront her.

Aaron spurred his warhorse through the gap Gulag had created. He leaped from the saddle before the beast even slowed down, landing heavily beside the Vanguard commanders. He raised his silver greatsword and locked eyes with the third lieutenant, a nimble spellcaster whose hands dripped with corrosive magic.

The surrounding infantry instinctively backed away. They formed a wide circle as the killing intent of the six warriors saturated the air.

Gulag cracked her neck and flashed a grin at Iron-Scale.

"A wager," Gulag proposed, her voice rumbling over the din of the surrounding slaughter. "Whoever breaks their target first earns the right to fight Ghizlan alone."

Iron-Scale shifted his stance and leveled his blade toward the center lieutenant. "I accept. But knowing well I would win, it would be a bit anticlimactic."

They both turned their heads slightly to look at Aaron, waiting to see if the local knight wanted in on the contest.

Aaron tightened his grip on his hilt until his leather gloves creaked. His eyes burned with decades of suppressed hatred as he stared past the lieutenants toward the distant harbor.

"He slaughtered my brother on these exact docks when the harbor first fell," Aaron said, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper. "This is personal. I am claiming the Conqueror’s head."

Gulag chuckled and lowered her mace. "Then you better kill fast."

The three lieutenants flared their mana cores simultaneously, unleashing a suffocating wave of pressure to intimidate the challengers.

Iron-Scale didn’t waste a second. He engaged his pneumatic spools and launched himself forward in a blur of motion. Gulag roared and sprinted directly at the axe-wielder, her boots shattering the paving stones with every step. Aaron charged the spellcaster, his silver blade igniting with brilliant light to cut through the oppressive magic.

The battle for the shipyards had officially commenced.