The Lord: In Another World, I Have a Summoning Card !-Chapter 35 : The Night of Bloodshed (6)

Suddenly, the breach opened—like the very maw of hell—unleashing an unstoppable flood of orcs.

The attackers surged forward like a tidal wave, as if the chains that had bound them were shattered, and nothing could stand in their way anymore.

In response, the defenders within the fortress moved swiftly, attempting to plug the breach with their own bodies. The officers led the front lines, shouting orders and urging their soldiers to advance and block the widening gap.

But here lay the problem...

The human heavy infantry, despite their bravery—and except for the special summoning forces—were physically far weaker than the orcs in this kind of close-quarters combat.

Each orc soldier, with his massive body and taut muscles, outmatched an average human, often requiring two or three soldiers to halt or push back a single orc.

At the heart of that iron clash—where steel trembled against steel and weapons screamed through the air—the human soldiers were being driven back, step by step.

Though they fought valiantly, the orcs’ superiority in strength, size, and ferocity caused the fortress defense to gradually crumble with every passing moment.

The fortress’s design was never meant for interior combat, but rather to prevent any breach to begin with. Now that the path had been opened, the inner passages became narrow choke points that hindered movement for both defenders and attackers—but it favored the orcs, who never stopped at the first setback.

At the corridor leading to the first courtyard, the human commanders arranged the defense lines in a semicircular formation, using the wall corners to reduce the enemy’s maneuverability.

Archers stood behind makeshift wooden barriers, while spear-wielding infantry formed the front line, ready to slow the orc’s advance as much as possible.

The decisive battle was approaching!

Along the entire northern wall, the archers and crossbowmen—comprising 30 elite crossbowmen, 250 new recruits, and an additional unit equipped with their own specialized spears—shifted their aim toward the breach, targeting the orcs pouring through the gate with light bows and crossbows.

Arrows rained down like a storm, cutting down even more of the Abyssal Orcs that had begun to gather within range!

The trench at the front was now overflowing with orc corpses, and the pathway grew wider and wider.

But this only triggered the advance of even more orcs!

With bared fangs and claws, wielding crude weapons in their hands, and roaring furiously, they leapt through the fortress gate—now gradually being destroyed—and charged toward the inner gate!

However, the orcs weren’t fighting chaotically after breaching the outer defenses.

The assaulting force, led by Gherom, moved in a coordinated manner—advancing in small squads, shifting positions strategically, while constantly applying pressure to the weakest points.

Gherom himself didn’t rush in from the front. Instead, he remained in the second line, observing the flow of the battle and only intervening when necessary.

The clash inside the courtyard was short and brutal.

Furnis, who had been appointed as the commander of two hundred fortress defenders—most of whom were summoned troops—stood tall, watching the orcs surge through the five-meter-wide gate without a trace of fear on his face.

Instead, he shouted loudly, rallying the soldiers around him, raising his spear high, and thrusting it forward with practiced precision!

Hundreds of orcs were charging the front lines.

Each orc brandished a crude sword and let out a guttural roar, relying on the iron chains wrapped around their bodies and their naturally bulky builds—like heavily-armored infantry—to push through, aiming to break the fortress’s spear phalanx.

In their memories, these orcs had broken through human spear battalions many times before—during their annual invasions of the northern human kingdoms before winter.

However, this time, the humans forming the spear line wore full-body heavy armor, and they seemed armed to the teeth.

To the orcs, this outcome was expected—fragile humans were nothing more than helpless lambs before two-meter-tall orcs that couldn’t be easily slaughtered!

Unfortunately for them, those thoughts reflected what orcs believed about other human soldiers—mostly untrained young nobles.

But that assumption was completely wrong!

Thwack!

As the first orc approached the spear phalanx, a sharp spear pierced through him. Thwack, thwack, thwack!

To his right and left, three long spears struck his body in an instant.

Yet this wasn’t the first unexpected orc to fall, nor was he the first to be killed by a spear.

Outside the fortress gate, more orcs charged in, slipping through the breach, swinging their heavy swords as a growing tide poured into the gateway.

Only to face the sharp, ready spears of the waiting defenders!

They were met by a relentless wall of long, straight, and deadly spears—striking one after another like waves, like the ebb and flow of the sea.

And so they fell in waves!

The chained orcs suffered devastating losses!

Within the first courtyard, the sounds of battle rose like a storm—the clashing of steel mixed with shouted orders and cries of alarm.

One of the human summoning officers, a young man named Edran, shouted as he swung his short sword:

"Seal the side passage! Don’t let them flank us!"

Then he turned sharply to the standard-bearer beside him:

"Get to the upper floor—tell Commander Gabriel we need reinforcements immediately, or we’ll lose this position in minutes!"

The other man didn’t argue. He sprinted off, leaping over barricades and trenches, sweat pouring down his brow.

On the other side, deep within the orc ranks, Akar shouted beside Gherom:

"The left flank is slowing down! The defense there is fierce!"

Gherom didn’t respond right away. He stared in the direction indicated, then spoke in a low but firm voice:

"Send in the third support squad. Push from the far side. Let the warriors advance under cover from the archers."

Then he turned to his aide:

"If they burn out their strength over there, the whole line will collapse."

The aide bowed and dashed off to carry out the command.

Above the battlefield, Gabriel and Arthur stood, observing the chaos below through a viewing slit in the wall. Gabriel murmured to himself:

"He’s not charging like the others... this isn’t an invasion—it’s a siege, creeping from within."

"Sir Arthur," Gabriel said, his voice tense, "the soldiers on the front line may collapse at any moment. The fortress can’t hold for much longer..."

Arthur had also noticed the signs—the defensive lines were weakening one after the other. He responded in a deep voice:

"Yes. I’m aware." He gave a curt nod.

Then he turned to his aide.

"We’ll implement the plan... immediately."

Without hesitation, Gabriel snapped a salute and issued his command:"Take command of the crossbowmen and head to the castle tower—establish a strategic firing position!"

"Understood!" Gabriel responded, his eyes shifting to the northern wall and battlements, which were clearly five meters higher than their current position.

He understood Arthur’s intention immediately.

No nonsense. No delay.

He took fifty additional crossbowmen and four light ballistae, and moved toward the northern wall of the fortress.

At the castle platform, Gabriel ordered the reassembly of the light ballistae, positioning them for a clear line of fire.

Their objective: target the orcs pouring through the fortress gate.

Even though the distance stretched several hundred meters, Gabriel was able to pinpoint the breach in the gate and coordinate fire directly on the incoming orcs.

In fact, the increased distance allowed the four light ballistae to deliver even greater impact when firing from the flank!

Their fire support significantly eased the pressure on Vernis and the soldiers of the first defensive line, who had been on the brink of being overwhelmed.

Victor, still stationed atop the fortress wall, shouted with unwavering authority:

"Fall back to the center of the fortress!"

The command triggered a new surge of frenzy within the orc army. Bloodthirsty and relentless, the orc soldiers continued flooding into the fortress, engaging in brutal melee as they pressed deeper into human territory.

But this was the moment when the value of rigorous training and enhanced troop quality revealed itself.

The defenders did not crumble under the pressure.

Instead, a pre-planned, organized retreat unfolded with precision. Soldiers pulled back in tight formations, one unit covering the next. There was no wild panic, no desperate stampede. Each man knew his role and position in the fallback maneuver.

"All units, maintain formation! Anyone who breaks the line will be executed without mercy!""The Oversight Team will enforce this!" came the stern warning from Victor’s aides.

Thanks to the timely order, the defenders managed to avoid total collapse.The orcs, though eager, were denied the chaos they craved—no open gaps to exploit, no fractured lines to tear through.

Now, the battle was fully inside the fortress.

What was once a defense at the outer gates had transitioned into a fierce struggle within the inner walls of the stronghold itself.

Blades clashed, blood spilled across the stone floors, and the once-orderly halls of the fortress echoed with cries of war.But the defenders, though battered, were not broken. Their organized resistance now had a chance to turn the tide.

On the other side, deep within the orc ranks, Akar shouted beside Gerom, his voice cutting through the chaos of battle:

"The left flank is slowing down! Their defense is fierce!"

Gerom didn’t respond immediately. His sharp eyes followed the movements of the defenders, who were holding their ground with unexpected tenacity. After a brief silence, he spoke in a low but blade-sharp tone:

"Send the third support unit. Push from the far side. Let the soldiers advance under the cover of the archers."

He then turned to his aide, his gaze still fixed on the battlefield:

"If their strength is drained there, the rest of the line will collapse... The breaking point is near."

The aide bowed quickly, then dashed off to carry out the order precisely.

Suddenly, a shout came from Dugrel on the opposite side:

"The defenders are retreating! They’re falling back to the upper floor!"

A faint smile formed on Gerom’s lips—not of joy, but of confirmation. Things were going exactly as he expected.

He spoke calmly, as if giving instructions in a training drill:

"Don’t chase them recklessly. Hold your positions here first."

He raised his spear, its tip pointing toward the abandoned gate, and spoke with quiet authority:"Let Kargas lead a unit to secure the gate from the inside. His Nugh tribe bore the brunt of the assault on the fortress, taking the front line and suffering the heaviest losses. Their contribution was great — and I’d rather not risk a surprise attack from the rear. It’s only fitting they hold the position."

He then turned to Akar, his gaze sharp."Akar, you’ll lead the main force alongside Dogril and the other tribal chiefs. I want relentless pressure on every front. Don’t give the enemy a chance to breathe, let alone regroup. If any of them tries to escape..."

He trailed off and turned, his eyes locking onto a small group standing behind the main commanders. They didn’t wear ranks, but their presence said everything. Their dark armor drank in the light, and their eyes gleamed like blades dipped in blood. These were the elite — the ones who had survived the deadliest skirmishes and spilled the most enemy blood in this campaign against the Kingdom of Alon. Half were from his own tribe, Azaz; the rest were his most loyal and ruthless warriors.

"You’re with me," he said, his voice low — yet it rang with a force the stone walls could not contain."We’re heading straight to where the human commander hides... to the heart of the fortress. I’ll take that man’s head myself."

His gaze drifted to the stairway leading upward.But before he could take a step, one of the assault leaders approached, his face tight with worry, sweat beading across his brow."Commander, we’re advancing, but something isn’t right... There was almost no resistance at the first defensive line, and the stairways leading to the upper levels are completely deserted."

"Even if it’s a trap," Jerome replied after a pause, his voice like ice, "it’ll be their mistake to think it can stop me."

Akar moved to speak again, but Jerome silenced him with a simple gesture — the conversation was over.

He turned and strode toward a narrow corridor that led deeper into the fortress. With each step, the base of his war spear struck the stone floor with a steady, echoing rhythm.

"I can smell them," he murmured, eyes shadowed and distant. "The commanders of this fortress... they’re still here. And the chest they stole from me — it must be nearby. Either it’s with them, or one of them has it. I want both."