The Sovereign System.

Luke's heart pounded as the walls trembled beneath him. The fortress quaked as if an earthquake threatened to bring it down. At first, he struggled to grasp what was happening—until he looked over the edge.

A Holy Knight, clad in a crimson tunic and scale armor, had slammed into the gate. The impact reverberated through the walls like a thunderclap.

'This is bad!' Luke's thoughts raced. As he feared, these knights weren't ordinary soldiers—they were like Kayson, possessing monstrous strength. No wonder the Lhair army hadn't bothered bringing siege weapons. They didn't need them.

He turned toward the soldiers crouched along the ramparts.

"Archers! Into position!"

At once, two thousand five hundred men rose at his command, bows at the ready.

"Draw!"

The taut pull of bowstrings filled the air, but the sound was quickly drowned out as another violent tremor rocked the walls. Most of the soldiers steadied themselves, but a few lost their grip, loosing arrows prematurely.

Luke shot them a sharp glare but said nothing. 'Focus'. He raised his arm, then brought it down in a swift motion.

"FIRE!"

A hailstorm of arrows descended from the north wall. Enemy shields rose to meet them, deflecting some of the deadly rain, but it wasn't enough. Screams filled the battlefield as the arrows found flesh, cutting down soldiers and wounding many more.

"Draw!"

Again, the archers obeyed. But before they could release their second volley, another quake rattled the walls. Two soldiers lost their footing and plummeted over the edge. Their bodies slammed into the enemy ranks below, crushing a few before they were swiftly overwhelmed and butchered.

Luke clenched his jaw. This couldn't go on. They had to eliminate the Holy Knight—now. If they didn't, the gate would collapse within minutes.

His eyes locked onto a fallen bow near the edge of the wall—one of the archers who had tumbled to his death had dropped it. Luke seized the weapon and tossed his cane aside.

He yanked an arrow from a nearby soldier's quiver and stepped toward the ledge. Pain flared through his injured thigh, but he gritted his teeth and nocked the arrow.

The Holy Knight had moved back, preparing for another charge. There—a small gap between his helmet and scale armor. If Luke had any chance of stopping him, he had to hit that spot.

The knight tensed, ready to lunge forward.

Luke didn't hesitate.

"FIRE!"

His fingers released the bowstring, and time seemed to slow. He tracked the arrow's flight, silently willing it to strike true.

A sickening thunk echoed through the air.

The arrow buried itself deep into the knight's exposed neck at a sharp angle, lodging against bone.

The Holy Knight froze.

Slowly, his head turned toward Luke. Though his face remained hidden beneath the iron helm, Luke felt the searing intensity of his gaze.

A chill crept down his spine.

It was like staring into the eyes of a demon.

For a heartbeat, Luke braced himself, expecting retaliation.

But then, the knight choked, spewing a thick spray of blood before collapsing face-first onto the ground in a lifeless heap.

A single chime rang in Luke's ears.

[DING]

[1/5 Subordinates killed]

"R-Retreat!"

The cry of panic spread through the ranks as the soldiers nearest to the fallen knight recoiled in terror. The moment their strongest warrior collapsed, fear took hold, overriding their discipline. Instead of pressing the assault, they turned and fled from the relentless barrage of arrows.

Luke exhaled sharply in relief—but he didn't let up.

"FIRE AT WILL!" he bellowed.

The archers loosed another wave of arrows, cutting down the scattered enemy soldiers as they scrambled for cover. Luke wasn't about to waste this golden opportunity. With their numbers already at a disadvantage, they had to maximize every kill.

He shut his eyes and activated Eagle Eye.

Instantly, his vision expanded, giving him a bird's-eye view of the battlefield.

The constant tremors told him everything he needed to know—similar assaults were happening at every gate. The Lhair army hadn't retreated entirely. They were simply throwing more bodies at the walls, using brute force rather than strategy.

Luke's gaze darted to the other gates. The enemy had clearly underestimated the remaining forces in Clayton City, but that hadn't stopped their reckless advance. At every entrance, Holy Knights led the charge, slamming into the gates without hesitation, tearing down defenses like living siege weapons.

It was suicide.

'These people are savages…'

What kind of general wasted soldiers like this? Why not regroup and rethink their approach? The sheer disregard for their own troops disgusted him.

But strategy or not, their blind charge was working.

Luke's eyes narrowed as he scanned the east gate—it was in critical condition. The wood had already begun to splinter, and a few more impacts would likely bring it down.

"Shit," he muttered, deactivating Eagle Eye.

Wasting no time, he tossed aside his cane and broke into a jog along the ramparts, each step sending sharp jolts of pain through his injured leg. His muscles screamed in protest, but he forced himself forward.

If the gates fell, the city was lost.

"Kayson! What the hell are you doing?!" Luke shouted, nearly stumbling as he reached his friend.

Kayson stood at the edge of the ramparts, directing archers to fire down at the knight leading the charge. But the arrows were useless—scale armor and shield bearers protected the enemy too well.

Hearing Luke's voice, Kayson snapped his head around, his eyes widening in shock. He had clearly not expected to see Luke running.

There was no time to explain.

"Skewer the bastard with a spear!" Luke barked.

The ominous groaning of the east gate sent a chill down his spine. The wood was about to give way. If they didn't stop this now, the entire fortress would be breached.

Kayson nodded, gripping a nearby spear. He took only a moment to aim before launching it downward with all his strength.

A bloodcurdling scream erupted from below.

Luke skidded to a halt and peered over the edge.

The knight lay sprawled on the ground, the spear impaling his leg and pinning him to the earth like an insect caught in a trap. He thrashed violently, his pained screams echoing over the battlefield. No matter how much he struggled, the spear refused to budge.

Luke was about to shout for another strike, but Kayson didn't need the instruction.

Without hesitation, he grabbed another spear and hurled it.

The weapon found its mark—piercing straight through the knight's chest and the screaming was stopped.

Much like the northern front, the enemy forces on the east scattered upon witnessing the Holy Knight's death. Their charge dissolved into a chaotic retreat, leaving behind a sea of bodies.

Luke exhaled sharply, a wave of relief washing over him. He turned to call for Kayson, intending to reposition their forces to support the other walls—

But before he could speak, the rhythm of the war drums changed.

His stomach twisted.

Immediately, he activated Eagle Eye and scanned the battlefield.

The Lhair army was pulling back—falling into formation toward the west. They weren't fleeing; they were regrouping.

Luke's eyes narrowed as he tried to estimate the enemy casualties. At a glance, they had lost at least eight thousand men in this first clash. Nearly thirty percent of their total forces wiped out in under twenty minutes.

A disastrous loss for any competent general.

And yet, instead of relief, an unsettling chill crept into Luke's bones.

A General who needlessly sacrificed thousands of men wasn't just incompetent—he was dangerous. His thoughts drifted to Hayden Hart, a man known for his ruthlessness. Hayden was cold, calculated—he would never waste troops like this.

But this enemy General?

He was reckless, merciless. The kind of man who viewed his army as nothing more than expendable tools.

"Are you okay, brother?"

Kayson's voice pulled Luke from his thoughts. A firm hand gripped his shoulder, grounding him in the present.

"Y-Yeah, I'm fine," Luke muttered, shaking off the unease. "The enemy's pulled back for now, but they're regrouping. I need to speak with the Masters."

"You mean the Generals?" Kayson corrected with a smirk. "Let's go see them together."

The two made their way along the east wall, passing groups of weary soldiers. One of them stepped forward and handed Luke his cane.

Luke nodded in thanks and accepted it.

Kayson chuckled. "You don't really need that, do you?"

Luke twirled the cane lightly in his hand, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Probably not," he admitted, "but it was a gift from your father. It'd be rude not to use it."

Kayson let out a small laugh, and for the first time since the battle started, the weight on Luke's chest lifted—if only slightly.

When they reached the north wall, Luke's gaze swept over the battlefield.

The Lhair forces were still reorganizing. At a glance, they had roughly twenty thousand men left. Their formation was tighter now, more disciplined. This wasn't a full retreat—they were preparing for another assault.

Atop the ramparts stood two figures, their backs rigid as they observed the battlefield in silence.

Luke and Kayson stepped forward.

"Generals," Luke called, standing beside them. "We've come to make our report."

Master Gale didn't turn. "Speak."

"We've killed two of the Holy Knights," Luke stated. "Though it took some effort."

He continued before either general could respond. "I believe these men are blessed by the gods. Their strength is unnatural—they're essentially living siege weapons. If we want to hold Clayton City, our priority should be eliminating them first."

He wasn't just saying this because of the system quest. It was vital. The more of these knights they removed, the lower the chance of the city falling.

Master Gale finally nodded. "You're right. No ordinary human should be capable of threatening fortress walls without siege equipment."

For the first time, his gaze shifted to Luke.

"How did you kill them?" he asked, a hint of curiosity in his otherwise stoic tone. "None of our arrows could pierce their armor."

Luke hesitated—just for a moment.

There was no reason to hide it.

"I aimed for the gap between the helmet and scale armor," he answered truthfully. "I lodged an arrow in the knight's neck."

With his Eagle Eye passive and a decade of bow mastery, Luke's aim was nearly flawless. At this range—no more than forty feet—his chances of missing had been slim.

"I see…" Master Gale murmured, his expression unreadable. "And the other?" he asked, raising a brow.

Luke nudged Kayson subtly. They had talked about this the night before—Kayson needed to start speaking up in meetings. Now was the perfect moment.

Kayson cleared his throat, standing a bit straighter. "I threw two spears, General," he stated firmly. "The first pinned the knight to the ground. The second went through his chest, finishing the job."

"What?!"

Both Masters turned to him, eyes wide in disbelief.

Kayson met their gazes without flinching, though he shot a quick glance at Luke. "I suppose… it could be said that I, too, have been blessed by the gods, Generals."

Luke couldn't help but grin. Kayson had stuck to their plan. While it was plausible for Kayson to possess a divine blessing, the real truth would be harder to swallow—especially if it brought the existence of the system into the equation. It was better to keep it a secret.

Master Gale's eyes darkened. "Does your father know about this?" he asked, his voice quieter now.

Kayson shook his head. "No, General. This… has only manifested recently. I wasn't even aware of my full capabilities until now."

It was a carefully crafted half-truth. There was no way for them to prove otherwise, and if anything, the Generals would be relieved to have someone like Kayson on their side.

"Very well." Master Gale stroked his beard thoughtfully. "This is good news."

He exhaled through his nose, casting another glance at the battlefield. "Those Lhair bastards never expected to lose so many men in the first exchange. But we cannot become complacent. They will likely change tactics now."

His gaze shifted back to Luke. "As for the Holy Knights, our priority is to hold out as long as possible. We are not to engage the enemy first under any circumstances."

The moment the words left his lips, a sharp whistle cut through the air.

Luke's blood ran cold.

The hair on his neck stood on end.

Then—

A sickening crunch.

His head snapped toward the source of the sound, disoriented. What was that?!

His breath caught in his throat.

Master Gale—who had been speaking just a second ago—was now sprawled on his back, a spear jutting from his chest. The sheer force of the throw had sent him skidding across the stone. He hadn't even had time to react.

He was dead.

"M-Master Gale!"

Luke's heart pounded as he whipped his head toward the Lhair army.

There—standing tall among the retreating soldiers—was the largest of the Holy Knights.

His massive frame loomed over the battlefield, his fingers still outstretched, holding his follow-through.

He had thrown that spear.

Luke's vision darkened at the edges, his rage bubbling over.