Chapter 275: Chapter 52: A Wall of Flesh and Blood to Fill the Mountain Ridge

The burlap sack tumbled to one side, stained with fresh, warm red.

Black bread and rotten vegetable leaves scattered out, rolling into the dust.

In the crowd, a scrawny little girl hiding in her mother’s arms stared blankly at the half-loaf of bread that had rolled to her feet. A GULP echoed from her throat.

Her mother quickly covered the girl’s eyes and held her tight, her own body trembling, teeth chattering.

The squad leader sheathed his shortsword without a glance at the body on the ground. He hissed orders to the surrounding soldiers, "Drag it away! Clean this up! When’s the next patrol rotation? All of you, stay sharp! Watch your posts! Anyone caught looting or rioting will be executed on the spot!"

The soldiers silently carried out their orders, dragging the body away and crudely covering the bloodstains with sand.

The young soldier stood frozen, his hands trembling slightly. He kept his head down, not daring to look at the center of the square again.

The soldiers maintaining order were already exhausted. Their armor was stained not only with the foul blood of monsters but also with marks from quelling internal unrest.

After a long and grueling struggle, their eyes held nothing but numb exhaustion and a hint of violence that could erupt at any moment.

In the command center on the top floor of the fortress, the atmosphere was suffocatingly tense.

The Ironspine Duke, Hakon Perik, stood before a massive tactical sand table, his gray-blue eyes fixed on the defensive nodes being relentlessly marked with blood-red "X"s.

His iron-gray armor bore several new dents and scorch marks, some still emitting a burnt smell.

Cardinal Saint Cyril sat to the side with his eyes closed, his face ashen. The hand gripping his Golden Scepter trembled slightly.

Valken Metropolitan Bishop stood before the observation window, his ice-blue pupils reflecting the Purgatory-like scene below. The chill emanating from him seemed to lower the room’s temperature by several degrees.

"Lord Duke! The second section of the west wall! Scorching Beasts are attacking in coordination with a massive swarm of Frenzied Flying Cockroaches! The line is about to break!" a Knight, his armor blood-soaked and helmet missing, burst in, his voice distorted with anxiety and exhaustion.

"Send in the Forbidden Guard to plug the gap." The Ironspine Duke didn’t turn his head. "Tell their Commander that if he can’t hold it, he can bring me his head. Have the Templar Order reserves cover the flank and focus on clearing out the Flying Cockroaches."

The Knight staggered out to obey the command.

Only the continuous sounds of distant explosions and collapsing structures filled the room.

"The outer defense system is nearing its breaking point," Valken’s voice was as cold as ice. "Elite combat personnel have been reduced by over forty percent. A total collapse of the outermost wall will occur within thirty hours."

Duke Hakon’s gray-blue eyes swept over the teeming, numb masses in the Lower District.

His voice was hoarse but firm:

"The pressure on the main wall is at its limit. The third and seventh sections have developed structural cracks, and we have a severe shortage of relief troops. But the bigger problem is the abandoned patrol path on the eastern ridge."

He pointed to a small pass marked on the sand table. "A scout sent a message back with his last breath. At least three ’Razor Hounds’ with a small pack of high-speed monsters have bypassed the outer perimeter. They’re flanking us quickly along that all-but-forgotten path. Their target is most likely the Inner Castle or the supply depots."

Valken Metropolitan Bishop’s face was like cold iron. "The Templar Order must focus its strength on defending the core area; we can’t spare any units for a sortie. The nobles’ elite private soldiers are also tied up at various chokepoints. And the regular guard lacks the ability to intercept agile monsters in that kind of complex terrain."

Bishop Saint Cyril slowly opened his eyes. The dense web of bloodshot veins made him look ten years older, but the hand holding his Scepter was perfectly steady.

He looked at the Ironspine Duke. "Star Speaker, it seems the ’flame’ ignited by the ’key’ we invested has burned too brightly. The reaction from the ’orchard’s’ guardians has exceeded our expectations. Now, the breach on the eastern ridge must be sealed, in the fastest, most efficient way possible."

His gaze also fell upon the Lower District.

During the brief silence, only the stench of blood on the wind and faint screams served as a backdrop.

"So," Duke Hakon turned to face the two Bishops, "it’s time to use the buffer layer. They’ve eaten our food for ten days and taken up space in the fortress. Now, it’s time for them to serve their final purpose."

Valken Metropolitan Bishop snorted. "It’s about time. We took them in precisely for a moment like this. Use their flesh and blood to fill that path, to slow or even bog down those monsters, buying us time to adjust our defenses and rally our elites. That is their only value."

Bishop Saint Cyril nodded slightly. "Use survival as bait and fear as the driving force. Herd them to a pre-selected narrow area on the eastern ridge. There’s no need to issue them proper weapons; clubs and stones will suffice. Even bare-handed is fine. The key is their numbers, and the chaos and obstruction they can create before they die."

He paused, then added, "You can promise that any survivors will receive priority resettlement and extra rations afterward."

Duke Hakon’s expression was indifferent. "I’ll arrange for it at once. Knights from the Peric Clan will guide them to the designated location and ’assist’ them in establishing a defensive line."

"Be quick about it," Valken Metropolitan Bishop stressed. "We don’t have time to waste on persuasion. If necessary, let the soldiers’ swords and whips teach them how to charge forward."

The three leaders quickly reached a consensus.

As if it were all a matter of course.

The Ironspine Duke’s order was quickly relayed to the Lower District as a cold, merciless command.

"Attention, everyone! Emergency conscription order!" An officer of the Peric Clan—his armor caked in filth and blood, his eyes weary but forcing a ferocious glare—stood on a ruined low wall and roared in a hoarse voice, "A safe evacuation route has been discovered on the east side! The Lord Duke, in his mercy, has granted the able-bodied a chance to help defend the passage and cover the retreat of the women, children, and elderly! After the battle, all participants will be greatly rewarded, their compensation doubled! Their families will be given priority for safe housing and extra rations!"