In the days that followed, Shield City fell into a sort of eerie carnival.
The dwarves brought out all the liquor in their stores.
Ale, fruit wine, spirits—liquids of all colors shimmered with an enticing luster under the firelight.
They drank deeply, laughed loudly, and sang rugged battle songs.
Walking with their arms around each other's shoulders, they performed clumsy, shapeless dances in the streets.
The aroma of roasted demon meat wafted through the entire city.
Those monsters that once inspired terror were now propped over fires.
Sizzling with grease and sprinkled with salt and spices, they had been transformed into delicacies.
"Come! Cheers!"
"For Shield City!"
"For the dwarves!"
The sounds of clinking mugs, laughing insults, and singing blended into one.
But amidst this carnival.
Fortress Lord Balin and the other pillar dwarves kept a constant watch on the situation outside.
They did not join the revelry; they merely sat on the high grounds, mugs in hand, their gazes fixed on the pale blue barrier.
Outside, the demons were growing more numerous.
In less than a day, the number of Epic demons reached twenty.
Those behemoths stood upon the completely collapsed mountain slopes, looking down at the isolated city.
The mountains that originally surrounded Shield City had now completely collapsed.
Torn apart, rammed, and smashed by the demons, they were crushed inch by inch.
The city walls were exposed, the rocks covered in claw marks and cracks.
The mountain stone that once concealed Shield City had all fallen away, revealing suffocatingly hideous faces pressed against the barrier above.
They sprawled across the barrier, their massive heads almost touching the screen of light.
Blood-red eyes peered through the barrier, staring directly at the dwarves inside.
That look was not that of a predator watching prey.
It was like looking at a platter of food already served on the table.
Time ticked away.
No turning point appeared.
The second phase of the Dark Tide was slow to arrive.
The first day passed.
The second day.
The third day.
Boom.
An Epic demon swung a massive claw, smashing it violently against the barrier.
The light screen of the barrier, which had held for three days, trembled violently.
Crack.
A tiny fissure appeared on the surface of the barrier.
The dwarves' carnival came to an abrupt halt at that moment.
Everyone raised their heads, looking at that crack.
No one spoke.
There was only the howling of the demons outside and the ear-piercing sound of claws scraping against the barrier.
Mugs were cast aside; bonfires were stomped out.
Taking a final bite of charred demon roast and stuffing it into their mouths.
The dwarves gathered together.
They donned their sturdiest armor and took up their sharpest battle-axes.
Silently walking through the streets, they gathered around the Fortress Lord, waiting for the final moment.
No one spoke.
No one shrunk back.
The faces that were just laughing in revelry now bore only silent grit.
This was the resolve to fight to the death.
The barrier did not shatter all at once.
Instead, like a mirror, a single hole cracked open first.
Then, those fissures acted like living snakes, spreading frantically in all directions.
Crack. Crack. Crack.
The piercing sounds of shattering struck every heart, one by one.
Balin, after observing the state of the barrier, led the dwarven warriors to the South Gate.
At this moment, the structure of the South Gate had been devastated by the demons beyond recognition.
The Stellar Stone city walls, with a hardness comparable to the Legendary rank, had been destroyed and collapsed.
Demons were densely packed, clinging to the exposed barrier.
Crowding the areas where the cracks were most concentrated, they swung their sharp claws in attack.
Each strike drove the fissures an inch deeper.
"Fortress Lord, how much longer can we hold?"
Barna's voice came from the side.
Balin stared at the hideous faces outside with eyes full of killing intent, saying in a heavy voice:
"Three minutes."
He paused, turned his head, and looked at Barna.
"Has the little guy left yet?"
Barna nodded.
"He is already in position at the North Gate."
"Once the demons are drawn here by the breach at the South Gate, he will take the opportunity to leave."
Balin nodded.
A trace of relief appeared on his scar-covered face.
If Lin Gui died here because of them, even if his soul returned to the Silent Sea, Balin would never forgive himself.
He turned around, facing the dwarves behind him.
Among those warriors, some were young, some were old, some were covered in wounds, and some were already missing arms.
But they stood there, weapons in hand, their backs straight as iron.
Balin raised his battle-axe and roared.
"Dwarves!"
His voice was like thunder, exploding over the city walls.
"Thirteen years!"
"We have held this city for thirteen years!"
"Today might be the last day!"
His gaze swept across every face.
"But let me tell you."
He slammed his axe into the ground, sending stone fragments flying.
"Even if it is the last day, we must let these bastards know just how hard dwarven bones are!"
"Let them know how the name Shield City came to be!"
"Let them face the dwarven wrath with their lives!"
"Roar!!!"
The dwarves' roar shook the heavens, drowning out the howls of the demons.
Balin turned around.
His battle-axe was held high.
"With me."
He took a deep breath.
"Kill!!!"
He leapt up, charging toward the nearly shattered barrier.
Behind him was a tide of dwarven warriors.
However.
At that very moment.
Balin's voice was still echoing in the air, resonating throughout all of Shield City.
Clear as a clap of thunder.
So clear that all the dwarves noticed the anomaly.
The surroundings had fallen silent.
Balin's figure froze mid-air.
He was stunned.
All the dwarves were stunned.
They looked around at the barrier.
Then, everyone held their breath.
The demons that had been densely packed against the barrier, the demons that had been frantically scratching, howling, and ramming—
Suddenly, as if they had collectively lost their minds.
They stopped every movement.
They simply sprawled there, motionless, as if they had been frozen in place.
They didn't budge an inch.
Only those blood-red eyes remained open.
But within them, there was no longer madness.
Only a hollow void.
The atmosphere congealed in that instant.
The hands of the dwarves holding their weapons were trembling slightly.
The sound of thumping hearts was clear and audible.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three seconds.
And then.
The demons looked up in unison.
They looked toward the sky.
They looked in the same direction.
There, in the direction of the Withered Rift.
There, at the center of the Dark Tide.
A faint, indistinct whisper drifted from that direction.
The whisper was very light, very thin, as if floating from a very, very far away place.
But in everyone who heard it, their souls trembled.
Balin gripped his battle-axe tightly, feeling the soul-deep trembling with excitement,
As well as the absolute suppression that made him feel pressure even from thousands of li away.
He knew what this was.
The second phase of the Dark Tide had begun.
The Demigod demon hidden deep within the Withered Rift was beginning to awaken.
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