Eighty meters… seventy meters… sixty meters…

As the distance to the wooden wall closed, the intensity of the attacks escalated. The number of slaves dwindled rapidly, their bodies carpeting the grass to become grim stepping stones for those behind them.

Terror overwhelmed several slaves. Dropping their sacks, they turned and sprinted desperately toward the fortress, hoping for salvation. But the sharp wooden stakes and iron meat-hooks hidden in the grass skewered their legs, turning flesh into a bloody mess. They screamed, yet refused to stop their stumbling advance.

“Ah!… Ah!… I… I am a Greek!… I am a Greek!!…”

The heart-wrenching cries stunned the soldiers on the wall. One by one, they turned their eyes toward Tspites, their gazes pleading.

Seeing this, even Tspites hesitated.

But in that moment of indecision, a dozen Bruttian warriors, obeying their chieftain’s command, charged out from their formation. Treading over the discarded sacks, they hurled javelins at the slaves who were blocked by the abatis and unable to advance.

The agonizing death screams of the Greek slaves hardened Tspites’s heart. He made his decision and roared, “Keep firing!”

Countless arrows, seemingly carrying the sorrow and fury of the archers, rained down… Finally, the remaining slaves and the Bruttian executioners within range were almost entirely wiped out.

Although the slaves were nearly naked and defenseless, the fact that two thousand people had been killed or wounded in the trap zone in such a short time—without even reaching the trench in front of the wooden wall—caused the Bruttian chieftains to inhale sharply in shock.

“Great Chief Pianlun, look…” Bergum looked at Pianlun, hesitation written on his face.

“Send warriors from the other tribes to continue filling the traps. We are almost at the city wall!” Pianlun’s tone was cold and unyielding, his face masked in ruthlessness. Having come this far, he had to test the enemy’s strength no matter what; he would not retreat easily.

Thousands of Bruttian warriors, paired up with one holding a shield and the other clutching a sack, began to advance toward the wall in a loose formation.

Tspites desperately wished the enemy would move slower, giving his soldiers’ aching arms a little more time to recover.

“Loose!” He swung his arm down once again.

The Bruttian warriors clearly possessed more combat experience than the slaves. Seeing the arrows blotting out the sky, they immediately halted, crouched down, and curled into balls, using their shields to protect their bodies. The arrows struck like torrential rain, creating a cacophony of thuds and clacks. The screams of soldiers were noticeably fewer than before.

However, when they advanced to about thirty meters from the wall, the abatis obstacles stalled them. The fortress defenders unleashed hell—not just arrows, but javelins joined the fray. For a moment, projectiles poured down like a waterfall. Casualties among the Bruttian warriors spiked, and they began to rout.

“Great Chief!” Even Petaru couldn’t hold back his concern.

“Attack again!” Pianlun hardened his heart and issued the order. “Elder Petaru, lead 4,000 warriors to attack the northern wall! Elder Bergum, attack the south! Elder Nycou, take your men and storm the center! Do not rush; follow the plan. Clear the obstacles, fill the trench, and then begin the siege…”

The soldiers on the wooden wall cheered the Bruttian retreat, but it wasn’t long before the enemy offensive resumed. This time, they moved in tight clusters of dozens, the front ranks holding large wooden shields the size of door planks.

The road extending from the fortress gate was the only path without traps, left open by the Third Legion as a sally port. Now, Bruttian warriors were pushing a wooden cart piled high with earth-filled sacks toward the gate.

The experienced Tspites knew that blindly firing at a well-protected enemy would only waste arrows and stamina with little effect. He ordered his soldiers to hold their fire, waiting for the enemy to expose themselves from behind the great shields.

However, the wooden cart in the center remained the primary target for the Theonian light infantry. The hundred-meter stretch of road was soon littered with the bodies of the Bruttians pushing the cart. Yet, Nycou’s furious roars drove the terrified warriors forward, wave after wave, until they finally struggled to the edge of the trench. They prepared to dump the mountain of sacks into the ditch.

“Oil jars!” Tspites shouted unhurriedly.

A dozen slingers hoisted amphorae of olive oil, temporarily collected from Besidiae city. With the same force they used to hurl stones, they smashed the jars accurately onto the wooden cart. The pottery shattered, splashing oil everywhere, instantly turning the cart into a fuel bomb waiting to be lit.

“Fire arrows!” As Tspites gave the command, he personally loosed a flaming arrow.

Five or six fire arrows struck the cart, instantly igniting a blazing inferno. The fire spread to the Bruttian warriors pushing the cart; engulfed in flames, they rolled on the ground in panic.

“Idiots! Quick! Push it down! Push the cart down!!”

Seeing the critical situation, Nycou roared in rage. Throwing aside his shield and risking being shot, he shoved aside the hesitating warriors and charged forward. Ignoring the searing flames, he gripped the handles of the cart with both hands and pushed with all his might.

Inspired by his desperation, the Bruttian warriors rushed to his side to help.

The cart burned. Javelins and arrows concentrated on their position.

Under Nycou’s lead, they shoved the cart forward. With a loud crash, the entire burning cart toppled into the trench. The sacks inside half-filled the three-meter-deep, three-meter-wide ditch, crushing the sharpened stakes at the bottom. A Bruttian warrior could now step on the sacks and cross the trench in a single stride.

Just as the warriors were celebrating their success, Nycou collapsed into a pool of blood, his body pierced by two javelins…

Nycou was dead!

When Pianlun heard the news, a desolate chill rose in his heart. Although his relationship with Nycou was merely average, the death of a fellow chieftain felt like a grim omen—if the lips perish, the teeth freeze.

By this time, having paid a heavy price, the Bruttian warriors had reached the edge of the trench and began throwing sacks into it.

Pianlun finally gave the order: “All forces, siege the city!”

Ten thousand warriors, divided into two waves, shouldered long ladders and lifted battering rams, closing in on the walls.

As the Bruttians blew the horn for the general assault, the Theonian bugles also sounded. Soldiers of the First and Second Battalions began to ascend the walls.

seizing the moment while the Theonian soldiers were rotating shifts, Bruttian warriors stepped over the corpses of their comrades and rushed to the edge of the trench. The Third Legion soldiers immediately hurled a dense rain of javelins, sending the struck Bruttians tumbling into the ditch…

The Bruttian warriors who reached the foot of the wooden wall looked up and cursed silently. The Theonians had constructed the wall with countless sharp wooden stakes protruding diagonally downward from beneath the battlements. This made it impossible for the ladders to rest flush against the wall. Even if a warrior climbed to the top of the ladder, there was still a gap between him and the battlement, undoubtedly increasing the difficulty of the siege.

Just as a Bruttian warrior was distracted by this realization, a stone plummeted vertically and smashed squarely onto his head.

“Good hit!” Krellu patted the Besidiae warrior who had thrown the stone and shouted loudly, “Kinsmen, kill them ruthlessly! Don’t let a single Consentian go back alive!”

The battle raged fiercely. Theonian soldiers and Besidiae warriors used javelins, stones, long spears, forked poles, and swords… doing everything in their power to block the Bruttian siege.

Besides swarming up ladders like ants, the Bruttians also used battering rams. Groups of a dozen warriors, hugging massive logs under the cover of javelin throwers, slammed not only against the gate but also against the wooden wall itself. Pianlun and his commanders believed that since the Theonians had built the wall in such a short time, it couldn’t possibly be sturdy.

They were right. The wall constructed by the Theonian soldiers consisted of double-layered wooden palisades filled with earth excavated from the trench, topped with wooden planks to form a walkway. Due to the tight schedule, the earth filling hadn’t been fully compacted, nor had the palisades been meticulously reinforced.

Realizing the enemy’s intent, Drakos had to divert some of his forces to concentrate attacks on these exposed “suicide” squads.

However, Pianlun had more than just these two methods of attack.

“Chiliarch, look! Fire!” a soldier shouted to alert Adrianx.

He hurriedly looked down and saw flames rising from the base of a section of the wooden wall. Several Bruttian warriors were pouring oil from pottery jars onto the wall, fueling the growing blaze.

“Shoot that man!” Adrianx commanded his soldiers to throw javelins while shouting anxiously, “Pour the sand! Pour it down! Quick!…”

Because of the rush and lack of materials, the wooden wall hadn’t been fireproofed with treatments like paint. Fortunately, when Drakos discussed defense with his chiliarchs, he had anticipated this issue and placed sacks full of earth and sand along the walkways.

The fire was eventually extinguished, but Adrianx’ expression remained grim. He went down the line, reminding every officer and soldier to pay close attention to any enemy below carrying pottery jars or oil skins, ordering them to do everything possible to prevent them from getting close to the wall.

***

The siege battle was bloody and cruel. Every time Pianlun saw a ladder pushed over and his warriors falling from the ramparts, he felt a pang of heartache. Yet, as the commander-in-chief, he had to keep his eyes on the battle’s progress. He moved forward again and again to get a clearer view, eventually reaching the edge of the trap zone.

Perhaps the field of corpses unsettled his warhorse; it snorted and pawed the bloody earth restlessly.

Pianlun truly hadn’t expected that the Theonians could build such a relatively complete fortress defense system in just three days, nor that their soldiers would be so experienced and tenacious in defense.

Seeing the Bruttian warriors struggling and moaning at the foot of the wall, Pianlun’s confidence began to wane…

In contrast to the northern section of the wall—which was strictly disciplined, well-coordinated, and impregnable—the southern section, defended by the Besidiae warriors, was plagued by disjointed command, weaker combat effectiveness, and lower morale. After an hour of sustained defense, Bruttian warriors began to vault over the battlements.