Chapter 300: Siege

Late at night, dark clouds covered the crescent moon and the broken stars, leaving only pitch darkness between heaven and earth.

Points of fire flickered on the city wall of Wochez, and from time to time, a team of guards holding torches walked by, guarding against the possibility of a night raid by the enemy.

Even though Wochez had been occupied for a long time, the public security in the city was still not particularly stable. The tough and harsh management policy, coupled with the panic about the sacrifice, made the Dark Cult still unable to suppress the resistance sentiment of the residents in the city.

In the city, small-scale conflicts occurred frequently. Either the sound of swords colliding came from the gloomy alleys, or someone launched an assassination in a place with complex personnel like a tavern.

The ferocity of the Nord people was just like this.

This kind of thing made the military officer responsible for public security here extremely annoyed, and he was often woken up by people while sleeping.

"My lord, it's not good, it's not good!!"

Tonight, a rush of knocking on the door rang out again, waking up Dakkal, who had just fallen asleep with the help of alcohol.

As one of Fenrir's extremely capable subordinates and also one of

But being woken up in the middle of sleep is incredibly irritating, especially when it happens once or twice almost every day; who could stand that?

"What is it??"

Even though his morning grumpiness had reached his boiling point, Dakar barely managed to maintain his dignity, stopping himself from bursting into a tirade immediately.

"The city gate has fallen, and a group of people is already slaughtering their way toward the castle!!"

The voice outside the door was laced with a hint of panic amidst the urgency, as if the speaker had seen something inconceivable.

"What? How is that possible? With just those pathetic resistance forces inside the city?"

Shocked, Dakar immediately flipped out of bed and barked sternly: "What are you still standing outside the door for? Come in and help me put on my armor!"

The armor of the Doomsday Thunder is extremely heavy; once worn, one is like a small steel fortress, but because it is too heavy, it is best to have someone help when putting it on.

Just a few minutes later, Dakar was fully armed, his pitch-black armor shimmering with a deep, eerie glow under the lamplight.

And he also took advantage of this time to understand exactly what had happened in the city.

It is said that about ten minutes ago, for some unknown reason, two well-equipped cavalry units suddenly appeared in the city square; one of them charged directly at the city gate and, after opening it, engaged in fierce combat with the garrison.

As for the other unit, it had already attacked the exterior of the castle, and the Doomsday Thunder on night watch, along with other castle guards, were struggling to hold them off.

Shock, surprise, and disbelief filled Dakar's mind.

The resistance in the city shouldn't have such power; a month ago, he and Lord Fimbul had sacrificed at least a thousand surrendered Nord soldiers in the Sea God Plaza—how could the enemy still have so many people in the city?

And they were well-equipped cavalry? Where had they hidden those horses?

"This is truly hellish!!"

Dakar cursed angrily, but he wasn't panicked in his heart because his strength was immense; his mastery of the "Holy Flame Art," passed down from the sect's high-level members, was extremely deep, making him second only to Fimbul in the Doomsday Thunder Knight Order.

During the six months of campaigning in Nord, he hadn't encountered any particularly troublesome opponents, and the knights of the Doomsday Thunder were invincible, often driving the Nord armies across the mountains and plains.

They were certainly not disposable items like the Python Fang.

Therefore, even though the situation seemed very critical now, Dakar, carrying a flame-shaped greatsword, did not walk with much haste, but instead gathered soldiers along the way.

Before long, the fully armed warriors around him were gathering in greater numbers, totaling nearly two hundred, half of whom were Doomsday Thunder directly under Dakar's command.

The sounds of shouting and killing were also drawing closer, occasionally interspersed with roars like thunder.

Not until he rounded a corner did the intense battlefield suddenly appear before Dakar's eyes.

On a long flight of stairs, black and white colors were locked in a life-or-death struggle, and the banner the enemy was flying was very unfamiliar—it looked like some sort of creature that was neither eagle nor lion.

And in the crowd, a figure glowing with silver-white light was slaughtering everyone; the longsword in their hand, under the infusion of Qi, shone like the stars, and every flash brought forth a streak of blood-red color.

Watching his subordinates retreat step by step under the enemy's assault, Dakar let out a loud shout and charged up, raising the flame-shaped greatsword in his hand, with pitch-black flames burning fiercely on the silver-bright blade.

Allen, who was leading the Griffin Knights in a continuous advance, saw an extremely arrogant fellow charging straight at him and subconsciously unleashed a Chain Lightning.

The bursting electric light shattered the rising black flames, leaving the opponent standing stiffly in place; then, with a flash of silver light, the sharp sword tip pierced directly through the observation slit of the helmet.

With a *crack*, Dakar's life vanished along with his shattered skull. Allen didn't even pull out his own sword; instead, with a casual wave, a mace from the ground automatically flew into his hand.

When dealing with enemies in heavy armor, this thing is still the most effective.

The remaining Dark Cultists, seeing their commander struck down by the opponent in just one move, were terrified, but their worship of the Dark God allowed them to quickly steady their minds. With shouts of "For the coming of the Dark God!", they charged at the silent Griffin Knights who knew only how to fight.

But when it comes to morale and courage in battle, how could these people compare to a knight order that fears neither death nor pain?

Soon, the knights wearing the new Griffin armor swiftly crushed the darkness, and then, under Allen's orders, they carried out a purge of the enemy forces within the castle.

For Dark Cultists who could join the army like this, there was almost no possibility of persuading them to repent; keeping them alive would always be a disaster.

By the time Allen had completely occupied the inner castle, the battle at the city gate had also basically ended, as most of the enemy's elite were in the inner castle, guarding valuable prisoners, warehouses stocked with weapons and armor, and supplies of grain and grass.

As for the city gate, in their view, it wasn't particularly important; after all, when Fimbul left, he had defeated the Nord lords around Wercheg one by one. Barring any accidents, it should be impossible for the enemy to gather organized troops.

Unfortunately, the army Allen was commanding now was the accident that had drifted here.

Of course, this misfortune only applied to the Dark Cult; for the Nord lords following behind Allen, this was a matter worth rejoicing over.

After drifting for nearly half a year, they had finally reclaimed a town; the stable and affluent life of a noble seemed to be beckoning to them.

Soon, the cultists in Wercheg were cleaned out completely. They had occupied it for too short a time, had almost no popular support, and had done nothing but things that angered both gods and men.

Not only did they engage in mass sacrifices, but they also plundered the grain that the civilians needed to survive the spring and summer, transporting it to Sargoth as military rations.

How could such behavior not invite hatred? Therefore, those enemies who were defeated and fled the battlefield had nowhere to hide and were often tied up by the martial Nord people and delivered to Allen.

It was three days later by the time they finished cleaning up the enemies in the city. The eight lords of various sizes who had participated in the siege gathered in the banquet hall of Wercheg, preparing to distribute the spoils of war.

With Haidayar's announcement, almost every lord received a village, gaining a territory to settle down and make a living.

This made everyone satisfied, but when Lord Haidayar announced that Wercheg belonged to Allen, some dissenting voices appeared from below.

Yarl Tacias, whose territory was originally near Wercheg, expressed his opposition. The family of Yarl Gangdayaer had lost Wercheg, and according to the kingdom's laws, the fief indeed needed to be redistributed.

However, Allen's status was merely that of a mercenary; he had not established a vassal relationship with Ragnar. From a legal standpoint, he was not qualified to receive a fief, and this was something he could not accept.

Allen looked at Tacias, who was full of confusion and defending the kingdom's interests, and did not get angry. In this sensitive period, loyalty was not necessarily a bad thing.

With a calm expression and a flat tone, he said: "I am not ruling Wercheg in Ragnar's name. The contract I signed with him was for the counter-attack against the Dark Cult occupying Tihr. I think the current Nord Kingdom temporarily lacks the capability for this. I will continue to abide by the contract as long as Ragnar is prepared."

"Next, I will occupy Wercheg in my own name and rebuild a stable kingdom in this chaotic world."

Hearing Allen's words, which did not conform to tradition, Tacias's face was full of surprise. This kind of act of declaring oneself king could never be recognized. If just anyone dared to call themselves king, what would the five people sitting on thrones think?

Ragnar, Yaroglek, Harlaus, Graveth, and Sanjar could not possibly recognize Allen's status.

Looking at the incredibly surprised Tacias, Haidayar, who had been silent on the side, spoke up: "In this turbulent and chaotic world, whoever has the ability, whoever has the power, and whoever can lead us to repel the invasion of the Dark Cult is the king. Ragnar is indeed of noble status, but he is currently trapped in Sargoth and unable to move. I believe it won't be long before the Nord Kingdom ceases to exist."

"Tacias, your family has also been passed down for hundreds of years, but if Lord Allen hadn't led us to repel the enemies in Wercheg, would your territory have returned? Do you dare to claim that Luar belongs to you? Without territory, how can you speak of honor and tradition?"

At this point, Haidayar's expression was very cold. He scanned everyone present and continued: "If anyone does not recognize my statement, you are free to leave. In two days, we will go to reclaim Elbuk Castle. At that time, you just need to make sure you don't hold us back."

At this moment, Allen looked at the lords present, smiled, and spoke in a gentle tone while saying things that could be considered dangerous.

"These past few days, we have indeed cleared out most of the enemy forces near Wercheg, but there are still small groups of enemies who saw the situation was bad and fled. If you act alone, you will very likely run into them. Even if you don't run into them, I believe it won't be long before the enemy commander, Fimbul, returns."

Speaking of this, the smile on Allen's face became even brighter.

"Although the Dark Cult's most important target is Sargoth, that fellow Fimbul has a very arrogant personality and could never endure even the slightest failure. I will have a battle with him sooner or later here; it is not wise for you to leave Wercheg at this time."

Although he spoke very tactfully, in reality, this was no different from a threat. It was as if he were pointing at their noses and saying: with your strength, without my protection and without the walls of Wercheg, you will die a miserable death if you go out.

However, this was also Allen's sincere reminder; with just Tacias and those few lords around him, they couldn't even withstand a single charge from the Doomsday Thunder.

Leaving at this time would truly mean dying without a burial place; everyone present understood this truth.

Allen was also very helpless. If this were a game, he would have expelled those who didn't listen to advice one by one long ago.

Who cares about their allegiance? Go die wherever it's cool.

It's just that this isn't a game. To gather strength as quickly as possible and let the soldiers exert their proper combat effectiveness on the battlefield, he really has to rely on these people.

In this place called Calradia, knowledge is very closed off; civilians are almost unable to effectively manage fiefs and command armies, or rather, deep-rooted feudal thinking makes them unable to do such things at all.

Now, under the coercion of the Dark Cult, Allen doesn't have enough time to restart education and break tradition. It's too late; he can only choose the way of ruling most suitable for this era.

Therefore, Allen maintained the greatest patience for these nobles who could still get things done. He believed that these Nord nobles, who were still somewhat clever, would make the right choice.

Time passed bit by bit in silence. Haidayar had clearly taken a stand on Allen's side. He looked at the nobles who were still hesitating in the hall and gave Yarl Olaf an extremely subtle wink.

In fact, Haidayar was also worried that if they kept dragging things out like this, an impatient Allen would make other choices. From the very beginning of the migration, he had understood the current situation: the way of war had changed.

The example of Jormungandr told him that a powerful combat force had clearly exceeded the role of city walls, and they didn't have the advantage in human-wave tactics either, so finding a powerful force to protect oneself was the best choice.

"I agree with Lord Haidayar's statement. Ragnar might already be dead by now. Besides, when your fiefs were occupied by the enemy, did he send troops to protect you? We now have the right to choose a new follower; this does not count as breaking the contract. I have decided: from now on, I'll follow Lord Allen. If he tells me to go east, I won't go west; if he tells me to mount a horse, I will never chase a chicken."

When Olaf stood up and made his choice, the other lords also secretly breathed a sigh of relief. They didn't want to be the first person, so they were just waiting for such an opportunity.

Soon, Allen obtained the weakest of all his thrones, named the Radiant Empire, which clearly meant he was going to fight the Dark Cult to the end.