Dust and debris choked the air. Takeshi stood amidst the wreckage, blood trickling from his temple, breath coming in heavy gasps. “Hold your ground! Don’t break formation! Triangle defense position!” he shouted, his voice nearly gone. “The initial defense magic has been triggered! Who’s responsible?” He spun his spear, fending off two enemy soldiers who’d slipped through the spiral trap. “We can’t fall back; we have to use the protective spell!”

  Mira sprinted to the left, grabbing a young man who’d fallen. “Hurry! To the inner corridor! Don’t look back, Shinta!” Shinta was sobbing, her body trembling. “They… they’re all gone, Mira-san...” Mira held back her tears. “Not everyone. You’re still here. We can activate the restoration magic from that relic. Grab my hand; we’ll get out together!”

  On top of the wall, Fitran kept watching, his eyes sharp as knives. “Takeshi! The situation’s becoming critical! You’re losing too much blood; we need healing magic support now!” he whispered into the air, then waved a red flag. “Activating high-level defense spells! Set up formation immediately! I need you on the left!”

  The screech of metal and the crack of bones echoed, the last roar of the iron dragon sounded, then—

  WUUUUUUMMM! “Arghhh! The 7th Magic Mountain is live!” one of the soldiers shouted. “All units, hold your ground at the critical points! Draw energy from the nearest magic source!”

  The second wave of spiral energy slammed into the ground, creating a swirling vortex of blue and red fire. Both enemy and ally left behind in the corridor screamed— their voices fading quickly, swallowed by flames and falling debris. “Don’t let them through! Barrier magic! Right now!” Takeshi shouted with fervor, blood dripping more heavily. “Get ready to call for reinforcements! We have to hold out until the emergency siren sounds!”

  Wu Xianying stood among her reserves, her face cold, nearly insane with rage. She fixed her determined gaze onto the soldiers in front of her. “Qihuang Shin! Are you dragon warriors or cowardly rats?” she bellowed, her voice slicing through the gray morning. “Hold the line! Protect our backs! Set up defenses at the perimeter! Get ready to unleash your magic power!”

  A nearby officer approached, his voice trembling, “Your Highness, the magic trap… even the iron dragon can’t escape. We need to consider a backup plan.”

  “Are you saying we should retreat before the enemy even attacks? Gather all your magical abilities! If the iron dragon fails, we must fight with what we have! Or do you want to watch this force crumble away?”

  Wu Xianying shot a fierce look, her eyes ablaze. “You wanna die here or head back to your grandma like a coward? Gather the remaining troops—we're pulling back—but torch everything we can before we go! Get your strongest fire spells ready; we can't leave any enemy survivors!”

  A soldier interrupted, “But Your Highness, if we burn the battlefield, they'll also gain power from the remnants of our magic!”

  “Better to create an explosion that'll shake them to their core! This is war, not a game! Build a defensive wave strong enough to hold off their next attack!”

  Down below, Hana held the trembling kids close, trying to shield them from the chaos. The rumble of explosions and war cries sounded like thunder from another world. “Stay calm, little ones,” Hana said softly, doing her best to soothe them amid the turmoil. “Mom will protect you. We have to be as strong as the soldiers above.”

  Mira appeared at the basement door, her face smeared with soot, panting heavily. “Hana, everyone who could be saved is here. But we need to move fast. The enemy's forces are closing in!”

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  “What’s happening out there, Mira? Is there a plan to fight back? We can’t just hide!”

  Mira shook her head, “The protective magic is still up, but they’ve learned our spells. We need a new strategy, and we need it now!”

  “Hana stared at Mira for a long moment, then bowed her head, whispering, ‘Thanks. You’re safe, Mira. We… we’re all still alive. But we can't hold out much longer.’”

  “We won’t give up, Hana. We’re the descendants of brave warriors. They won't destroy what we’ve built. Focus on strengthening those protection spells.”

  A small child huddled close to Hana, his small voice cracking, “Mom… will my dad come home?”

  Hana squeezed her eyes shut, holding back tears. “Your dad is a brave warrior. He’ll find his way home, sweetheart. Just pray for him. But remember, we have to be ready for the worst.”

  Above, Takeshi collapsed, his knees bloodied. A young soldier rushed over, tugging at his arm. “Takeshi-san, hurry! The corridor is about to collapse! We need to escape to the split point!”

  Takeshi nodded, gritting his teeth against the pain. “Have we activated the magic portal yet? We can’t get trapped here!”

  “Yeah, but the enemy's penetration magic is destabilizing it. We need more time before the magic light can flare back up!” the young soldier replied, gasping for breath.

  “Listen, we’ve got a little time. This wound hurts like hell, but we can’t back down! Remember the debris, the flames, and the bodies of enemies charred in the spiral corridor – they’re counting on us!” Takeshi said softly, his voice filled with resolve.

  Shinta looked at Takeshi with tear-filled eyes. “You’re the hero today, Takeshi. For everything you’ve sacrificed, I’ll make sure your names are remembered!”

  Takeshi offered a bitter smile, feeling the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. “There are no heroes today, Shinta. Just stubborn folks like us. What’s courage if we can’t wield strategic magic? All of this would be for nothing!”

  “You think we can turn back darkness? We can use light magic to boost our strength, even if it’s just a bit! I’m ordering you, gather all the shards of the spell, we need to be ready!” Shinta's voice trembled, fueling Takeshi’s resolve.

  Takeshi nodded earnestly. “Every detail matters, Shinta. If we can stand here to protect everything we love, I’ll sacrifice myself!”

  In the tower, Nobuzan held her breath, cradling her swollen belly with both hands. “We need to change our tactics. I sense a wave of magic from the north; they’re building up their forces!”

  Fitran descended from the tower, his body coated in dust and sweat. He met Nobuzan on the stone steps, his own body trembling with anxiety. “You made it,” Nobuzan whispered, her eyes glistening, “But how many didn’t?”

  Fitran looked down, his voice barely audible. “Too many didn’t. The assault was brutal. The enemy used their destructive magic cleverly. But they fell back, and Yamato still stands, for now.”

  Nobuzan let out a heavy sigh, holding back tears. “How do you feel sacrificing so much for a single victory? Is this sacrifice worth the lives lost?”

  Fitran stared into the remnants of the flames at the west gate. “I don’t feel like we’ve won, Nobi. When the blood flows, no victory can erase it. All that’s left is the weight of responsibility for this home that still stands,” he replied, his voice heavy. “And tomorrow, this blood might want revenge. We need to be ready, maybe with protective magic or defensive tech.”

  Nobuzan nodded slowly, tears falling onto the ground. “You’re right. But tonight... tonight we can cry, Fitran. For all that’s lost, and for all who are still fighting,” she said, her voice trembling. “We have to ask the Wind Mages for help to strengthen our defenses. We can’t let this assault destroy any more.”

  They stood in silence beneath the fading morning light, gazing at the ruins. “In the distance, the sound of Qihuang Shin’s war drums slowly faded behind the mist,” Fitran observed. “But we’re late, and we can’t let their magic control the battlefield again.”

  “We’d better gather with the remaining forces and plan a counterattack,” Nobuzan suggested, her face set with determination. “We need to use protective magic strategies and strengthen our lines before they strike again.”