Chapter 276: Chapter 52: A Wall of Flesh and Blood to Fill the Mountain Ridge

Beside him, dozens of fully armed, hard-faced soldiers of the Peric Clan wielded sharp blades and leather whips, silently forming a semicircle to effectively seal off the main exits leading from the square to the upper district.

Their gazes were like razors, sweeping over the sallow, emaciated, and terrified refugees below.

The crowd in the square fell deathly silent for a moment before erupting into chaos and disbelief.

"A safe passage? Didn’t they say all the passages were sealed a few days ago?"

"They want us to hold back the monsters? With what?"

"I’m not going! It’s a suicide mission!"

"My child is still so young..."

The din of doubt and fear swiftly grew.

"Silence!" The officer waved his hand sharply, a vicious glint in his eyes. "This is a direct order under martial law! Anyone who disobeys will be treated as an enemy collaborator and executed on the spot! Cooperate, and you might just have a chance to live!"

The soldiers behind him took a uniform step forward, their blades drawn half an inch and gleaming coldly.

"Listen up!" The officer’s voice cut through the commotion. "Those of you willing to fight for a chance for your families to survive, gather over here now and receive your... tools."

He pointed to the other side of the square, where several dilapidated wooden crates, once used for storing junk, now stood open. Inside, one could make out crude wooden clubs, rusty farm tools, and even just sharp rocks.

"Move it! The passage will only be open for a limited time!"

The soldiers began to roughly shove the crowd, using their scabbards and whips to drive forward those who hesitated or tried to retreat.

Cries, pleas, and curses once again filled the air.

A thin man tried to shield the wife and child behind him, only to be brutally whipped across the back by a soldier. The lash split his skin, and he collapsed with a horrific scream.

His cry was swallowed by the greater chaos.

Just then, a female voice—slightly rushed, yet filled with unquestionable authority—rang out:

"Stop!"

At the edge of the crowd, Elizabeth hurried over, accompanied by several Maids, their faces filled with dismay and alarm, and a Royal Knight.

Her face was pale, with heavy dark circles under her eyes—a clear sign she had not slept well for days. But at this moment, her dark eyes burned with undisguised anger and compassion.

"What are you doing?" Elizabeth’s voice trembled slightly with emotion as she pointed at the refugees being driven toward the wooden crates like cattle. "They are civilians! Subjects under the protection of the Kingdom and the Church Court! They are not soldiers! How can you force them to their deaths?"

Her arrival brought the scene to a momentary standstill.

The soldiers recognized the Princess. Their movements faltered, and they looked toward their commanding officer.

The officer’s expression shifted. He clearly hadn’t expected the Princess to be here.

Steeling himself, he placed his right hand over his chest in a simple salute, but his tone remained stiff. "Her Highness Elizabeth, this is an emergency wartime conscription order, jointly signed by the Lord Duke and the Bishop. A breach has opened in the eastern defensive line and requires... manpower to fill it. This is for the safety of the entire fortress."

"Using the flesh and blood of civilians to plug a breach in the defenses?" Elizabeth’s breathing grew ragged. She took a step forward, her voice rising. "Is *this* what you call protection? In my capacity as a Princess of the Vilt Kingdom, I order you to cease this action immediately! Open a real safe passage and evacuate the women, children, and elderly! Breaches in the defense should be handled by soldiers!"

"Your Highness..." The officer’s face showed his struggle. "A military order is absolute. I’m afraid I cannot comply. Besides... this isn’t just an order from the Lord Duke. It is also a decree from His Eminence, Saint Cyril Cardinal."

At the mention of the Cardinal’s title, the officer seemed to stand a little straighter, and the eyes of the surrounding soldiers turned cold once more.

Elizabeth swayed, her face growing even paler.

"Even a Cardinal has no right to trample on life like this!" she bit out, forcing the words through her teeth. But the conviction in her voice had clearly weakened.

Her status as a Royal Princess seemed pale and powerless before the combined, absolute authority of the Ironspine Duke and the Cardinal.

As they stood at a stalemate, the sound of steady, oppressive footsteps approached.

A middle-aged Great Knight, clad in the Refined Plate Armor of the Peric Clan and flanked by a small squad of Elite Knights, parted the crowd and strode forward. His Shoulder Armor bore the emblem of crossed hammers and a mountain.

His face was grim, his gaze like a hawk’s. He first gave Elizabeth a slight nod of acknowledgment. 𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦

"Her Highness Elizabeth," he said, his voice deep and steady. "This place is dangerous. It is no place for you to linger. The arrangements for the eastern defenses were a decision by the high command, intended to secure the core of the fortress at minimal cost. Your mercy is admirable, but at this moment, I must ask you to consider the greater good."

He turned his head and said coldly to the officer, "Continue carrying out your orders. The Lord Duke and the Bishop are awaiting a report."

"Yes, Lord Rodrick!" The officer, as if granted amnesty, straightened his back and waved for his soldiers to continue driving the refugees.

"You..." Elizabeth began to say, but was cut off by the Great Knight known as Rodrick.

"Your Highness," Rodrick said, turning slightly. He nodded to a tall, solemn-faced female knight behind him, who was also clad in the Knight’s Light Armor of the Peric Clan. "Alison, escort Her Highness the Princess back to her safe residence in the Inner Castle. You are to ensure her safety."

"As you command, my lord." The female knight, Alison, stepped forward and gave Elizabeth a standard knightly salute. Her voice was clear, yet held a tone that brooked no refusal. "Your Highness, please come with me. It’s too dangerous here."

"I will not leave!" Elizabeth stood her ground stubbornly. Tears welled in her eyes as she watched the soldiers resume their brutal work and listened to the desperate cries rising from the refugees. "I demand to see the Ironspine Duke! I demand to see Bishop Cyril! They can’t do this..."

"My apologies, Your Highness." A complex emotion flickered in Alison’s eyes, but her movements were swift and decisive.

She moved forward swiftly. Under the guise of supporting her, she subtly applied her strength and took hold of Elizabeth’s arm. Simultaneously, the other two accompanying knights moved in concert to block off Elizabeth’s Maids and her Royal Knight.

"For your own safety, please forgive our discourtesy," Alison said in a low voice, half-forcing Elizabeth to turn and walk toward the stairs leading to the upper district.

Her strength was perfectly controlled—enough to make it impossible for Elizabeth to break free, but not enough to cause her pain.

"Let me go! You can’t do this! You..."

Elizabeth’s protests were cut off by Alison’s calm, firm voice. "Your Highness, please be calm. This is war."

Her voice carried an almost inaudible sigh.

Elizabeth was forcibly led away from the square.

The last thing she saw as she looked back was the soldiers thrusting clubs and stones into the hands of the dazed, desperate refugees. They drove them forward like a muddy, expendable torrent, surging toward the "safe passage" on the eastern ridge—a path echoing with the roars of monsters.

From a high vantage point in the rear, a Peric Clan officer reported emotionlessly to a Messenger Soldier, "The buffer layer has been deployed to the eastern ridge as planned. The vanguard of the infiltrating monster swarm has been engaged, and their advance has slowed significantly. With support from the guard, we estimate they will be delayed for one to two hours."

Inside the command center, Duke Hakon’s face remained impassive as he received the Messenger Soldier’s report. He simply gave a slight nod to Saint Cyril Bishop and Valkendu Metropolitan Bishop, who were standing beside him. "The breach is plugged, for now."

His gaze returned to the burning city walls and the chaotic refugee area below. In the depths of his gray-blue eyes, there was only an icy coldness.

Sacrifice was one of the oldest and most effective laws of war.

Saint Cyril Bishop closed his eyes. The tip of the Golden Scepter in his hand flickered with a faint light, as if he were mending his injuries, paying no mind to the tragedy of lives being traded for time.

Valkendu Metropolitan Bishop, however, turned his cold gaze back toward the main front—a far grander and bloodier Purgatory.

On the eastern ridge, the short-lived, brutal firebreak ignited with human lives was now "burning" fiercely amidst the roars of monsters and the desperate wails of humanity.