The chaotic infighting aboard the stranded ships came to an abrupt halt as Captain Connor’s voice rang out.

  “Stop fighting among yourselves! look!” he bellowed, pointing past the wreckage of their crippled ships.

  The clashing swords stilled, and all eyes turned toward the horizon. A fresh wave of boats, smaller but numerous, was rapidly approaching from beyond the debris-filled waters.

  A commanding voice echoed from the reinforcements.

  “Captain Connor! We are here to reinforce you—by the orders of Dame Lana!”

  Relief flooded Connor’s chest. Dame Lana had sent reinforcements. This wasn’t just a glimmer of hope—it was a real chance to escape.

  Their ships were trapped, the masts reduced to splinters thanks to the enemy’s devastating ballistae. They had no way of setting sail, no way of retreating. But now, with these reinforcements arriving on smaller boats, some of his men could jump ship and escape to open waters.

  If they could make it back to the Ronin House, they could warn Lady Jessica, regroup, and decide on to move forward.

  Yes. That was the only path forward. Leaving behind the slaves… That was unavoidable. It infuriated him to think that Ravenna would have them, but there was no other choice. The mission had already crumbled. Survival was now the priority.

  Connor cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted toward the reinforcements, his voice urgent.

  “Alright! Just stay there! We will swi—”

  Before he could finish, a thunderous TWANG split the night. A storm of javelins, launched from the ballistae on the port wall, tore through the air like harbingers of death.

  The first volley struck the approaching boats with terrifying precision. Wood shattered, splinters and gore exploding in every direction. The cries of dying men filled the night as bodies were flung into the sea, staining the water a deep crimson.

  The slaughter didn’t stop there. Another volley followed. Then another.

  One by one, the boats were annihilated. Some capsized instantly, their occupants sinking beneath the waves. Others caught fire as the lanterns struck their hulls, sending burning men screaming into the ocean.

  The relentless assault continued until only a quarter of the boats remained afloat. The once-promising reinforcements had been reduced to a pathetic, bloodied remnant.

  Silence fell over the stranded ships. Connor stood frozen, his breath shallow, his mind struggling to comprehend the devastation. The range… the accuracy… the sheer firepower of those ballistas—

  It was beyond anything he had ever seen. Their masts being destroyed was already an incredible display of power, but to strike down fast-moving boats from that distance? It defied reason. It shattered every expectation of siege weaponry.

  This wasn’t just battlefield dominance. This was warfare rewritten. Then, Ravenna’s voice came again, cutting through the heavy silence like a blade.

  “Very bad idea, Captain Connor.” From her point on the port, Ravenna’s tone was amused but laced with quiet menace.

  “Just surrender. Or…” She let the words linger in the air before continuing, her voice dipping into something colder. “…I might have to start taking drastic measures.”

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  Captain Connor clenched his fists. His men—those who hadn’t succumbed to fear—turned to him, waiting for orders. But what orders could he give? They were stranded, outgunned, and the only reinforcements they had were now dead in the water.

  Up on the fortress wall, Hughes exhaled slowly, lowering his spyglass. He had personally given the order for the ballistae to fire, but even he was stunned by the results.

  “This…” He muttered to himself, his mind racing. “This will change how defensive battles are fought forever.”

  Eastern Coastline – In the Waters

  Dame Lana gripped the oars tightly, her knuckles white. The rhythmic sound of water splashing against the wooden hull filled the tense silence as she and her remaining crew rowed away from their broken ships.

  Her mind was already made up—the mission was a failure.

  The slaves had to be abandoned. There was no saving them now. Escaping with as many men as possible was the only logical choice.

  She glanced over her shoulder at the dark, open sea stretching before them. The plan was simple—regroup in open waters, assess their losses, and decide the next course of action. Captain Connor, whom she had sent half her crew to reinforce, would likely be making the same decision.

  "This is the best option," she muttered under her breath, trying to reassure herself.

  But before she could take another breath—

  A silver streak of light ripped through the darkness. Lana barely had time to process it.

  The moment she caught sight of it, the projectile punched straight through her boat, slicing through the air with a horrifying whistle.

  Then—pain. Unimaginable pain.

  Her vision blurred as her body was torn apart mid-air, sent flying into the sky in a mess of blood and shattered bone.

  The last thing she saw before everything faded into black was a sea of destruction—every single one of her crew’s boats being obliterated by another relentless volley of ballista javelins.

  Screams echoed across the water. Then—silence.

  Eastern Coastline – Atop the Dunes

  John stood atop the towering dunes, watching the massacre unfold.

  From his elevated vantage point, he had a clear view of the ballistae’s devastating precision.

  The rapid-fire mechanism, powered by spring-mechanism, unleashed volley after volley, cutting down every last fleeing boat before they could reach open water.

  Within mere minutes, the sea was no longer a refuge—it was a graveyard.

  One of the knights galloped up beside him, breathing heavily.

  "Vice Captain John!" the knight reported, his voice filled with awe. "The targets have been completely eliminated! No survivors!"

  John smiled, his grip tightening around the reins of his horse."Good." His voice carried a cold satisfaction.

  He turned his gaze toward the wreckage near the shore. "Now! We ride toward the ships and bring the slaves into the city!"

  A chorus of affirmations followed as his unit turned their steeds toward the coastline, galloping toward their next task.

  Western Beach – The Layered Rock Formation

  The first rays of dawn began to creep over the horizon, casting a soft golden hue over the battlefield. The clash of steel had ended.

  Dame Aisha stood amidst the fallen, bloodied and victorious.

  Keith and his men had been wiped out. Their ambush had failed, and now, their bodies lay scattered across the rock formations, lifeless and still.

  She took a deep breath, wiping the sweat and blood from her brow before turning to her knights.

  "Alright, men!" she called, her voice filled with unwavering authority. "We ride to the coast and escort the slaves into the city!"

  There was no hesitation. Her knights mounted their horses, their armor glinting in the soft morning light, and thundered down the rocky path toward the beach.

  Southern Port – The Last Stand of Captain Connor

  The silence was deafening. Connor stood on the deck of his crippled ship, staring at the absolute carnage around him.

  The bodies of his men floated lifelessly in the bloodied waters. The reinforcements he had pinned his hopes on were nothing but wreckage. The enemy had not only outmaneuvered him—they had outgunned him on a scale he never thought possible.

  His mind was a storm of conflicting thoughts. He had spent years building his name, years earning his place. And yet, all of it had crumbled in a single night.

  He clenched his fists, trembling with frustration, shame, and most of all—defeat.

  His crew was exhausted, broken, and trapped. Their rations wouldn’t last long, and with the Imperial Army undoubtedly on its way, even if they fought back, it would only delay the inevitable.

  His men were greenhorns, inexperienced and already turning on each other out of fear and desperation. If left unchecked, they’d tear each other apart before the enemy even arrived.

  He took a deep breath, forcing himself to swallow his pride.

  There was no escape. No hope. Connor exhaled sharply and finally shouted the words that sealed his fate.

  "W- We surrender!" The words tasted like poison on his tongue.

  But he knew—it was the only choice left.