On the walls of Brelli's cousin's city, Al's army swarmed over the ramparts using various scaling tools. The two sides clashed in close-quarters combat, and the battlefield echoed with deafening war cries.
The ramparts were a crush of bodies, a press of steel against steel. In such a densely packed melee, combat techniques were useless. It all came down to which side had better coordination, superior equipment, and higher stats.
Most of Al's army was newly recruited, consisting of low-tier and low-level soldiers.
Though they charged fiercely with staggering momentum, they suffered heavy losses.
Brelli's cousin watched his men easily fend off the attack from Al's army and burst out laughing. "Al, where are those High-Tier Soldiers of yours from before?"
"Why aren't you sending them up?"
"Afraid they'll just be throwing their lives away?"
Al ignored his taunts, silently commanding his army to reduce the intensity of their assault.
