Dawn's Light climbed to the high ground, watching the bustling yet orderly position before him, his thoughts surging.

This wasn't his first time on the battlefield... At the age of fifteen, he had already charged into battle as a squire, following his lord, and after adulthood, he had earned the reputation of the First Knight of the West.

War should no longer be unfamiliar to him.

But here, he felt a completely different atmosphere.

Before a battle, nobles would shout, reward, and feast, all to boost the morale of their troops. As a result, the free folk and mercenary camps would often be immersed in a chaotic carnival. Except for the absence of wine, the scene was no different from an open-air market. Whenever this happened, the knights would always mock their subordinates for being as stupid as donkeys, forgetting themselves over a few slices of cheese bread, unaware that they were exchanging these things for their lives.

At that time, Feilin. Sirte also agreed, believing that only nobles knew how to fight, and without the whip of a commander, even the largest number of free folk would be nothing more than a pile of loose sand.

It wasn't until Duke Ryan was utterly defeated by a group of miners from Border Town that he realized the truth was somewhat different from what he had thought.

However, at that time, he had fulfilled his desire for revenge and did not continue to investigate further, instead focusing all his energy on his wife, Eileen.

Two years later, Dawn's Light, having decided to join the general staff because of a conversation with his father, realized that war had completely transformed.

If the discipline displayed by the First Army during the past month of marching and trekking had already astonished him, then the professionalism shown by the soldiers at this moment was enough to shame most nobles.

Without any need for encouragement, everyone knew their task perfectly: several trenches were dug at the bottom of the slope, with the topsoil all packed into cloth bags, creating simple low walls in front of the gun emplacements. The trenches were also interspersed with barbed wire and makeshift wooden chevaux de frise, making a frontal breakthrough almost as difficult as capturing the walls of a major city.

Multiple buffer zones were also set up behind the defense line, so even if the gun positions were breached, the battle was not over. The witches of Taquila not only served as a barrier to protect the artillery camp, but were also a reserve force ready to support the front line at any time.

And at the top of the slope in the rear was the core of the First Army's attack—six fortress cannons were erected high, pointing directly towards the Devil's Outpost. The artillerymen were calibrating their firing parameters, making final preparations for the upcoming offensive.

All of this required no individual instructions from the commander. In just one day, the First Army had transformed this place into a proper battlefield.

Feilin had witnessed the power of the new firearms during artillery drills, but that was always external—the operators of the weapons ultimately had to be people.

And these soldiers composed of free folk were what impressed him the most.

Even a knightly order formed by a great noble would find it difficult to achieve such a disciplined and well-organized team.

Although he had been able to sense the changes in the civilian population while in Neverwinter City, compared to the impact of the scene before him, it seemed insignificant.

"Now you know, right?" A familiar voice suddenly came from behind Dawn's Light, "The answer to that question from before."

Feilin turned around and nodded to Sirte, "Yes, Father."

Why, when His Majesty announced that he would unify Graycastle in just a few months and simultaneously advance on Hermes and the Kingdom of Dawn, did the general staff not only not strongly oppose it, but instead formulate a bunch of seemingly incredible plans?

Because with weapons like these and warriors like these, no one on the continent could stand against him, or rather... the other opposing forces were simply not worth mentioning.

"It's a pity that His Majesty has expressly forbidden nobles from joining combat units," Feilin said with a hint of regret, "Rather than sitting in a room, I'd rather try fighting alongside these people—"

"Personal bravery is no longer important. The general staff is the most suitable place for you," the knight said with a smile, "Besides, what if something goes wrong fighting against an unknown enemy like the devils? I'm still waiting to hold my grandson. Isn't Eileen's good friend the one who recently gave birth? You need to step it up."

"Father!" Feilin couldn't help but rub his forehead.

"Alright, alright, I won't say it," Sirte stroked his beard, "The sun is almost approaching the horizon. Let's go back to the camp. The artillery camp should be firing soon—I can't stand the sound of that thing."

"Yes," Dawn's Light glanced at the position one last time, then walked down the high ground with his father.

He should go to another battlefield and fulfill his duty.

...

At five in the afternoon, the shelling officially began.

The six cannons fired in sequence according to the pre-adjusted firing angles, instantly shattering the silence of the Fertile Plains.

After more than four hundred years, mankind once again set foot on this land and launched an attack on the devils.

First, two rounds of test firing were conducted to correct the errors on paper. When Sylvie gave feedback on the strike points, the sound of the cannons became uniform.

The improved 152mm fortress cannon was a little closer to its historical predecessor. To increase its range, the powder chamber was enlarged by an entire circle, and the shells were loaded in stages, making the rate of fire half a beat slower than that of a fully loaded cannon. But driven by higher chamber pressure, these cannons were powerful enough to pose a deadly threat to fixed targets ten kilometers away.

Increased range also brought an increase in weight and greater logistical pressure. The final solution was to disassemble four cannons and have them transported by Taquila's worm carriers.

No one could see the roar and flames when the warheads landed. This was a completely new mode of warfare. If they hadn't experienced multiple shelling battles, the soldiers would have found it hard to believe that they could destroy enemy strongholds and cities without facing the enemy directly, simply by repeating a few repetitive actions.

The reason for launching the attack at sunset was twofold: first, the Magic Eye's observations didn't rely on sunlight and could guide the artillery to correct the aiming points even at night; second, the Terror Beasts couldn't operate at night, leaving the devils with nothing to do but passively take a beating for the entire night.

The fortress cannons fired every two minutes. Apart from the faint rumbling from the horizon, the battlefield shrouded in night didn't seem to change much. But in Sylvie's eyes, the ground ten kilometers away was a completely different picture—

The airwaves from the explosions turned over the ground in the impact area, and more than half of the dozen or so black stone towers had been blown to pieces, especially the deflagration caused when the shells penetrated the Mist Storage Towers, which could instantly turn the dark black stones into erupting volcanoes.

However, she never saw a trace of the devils from beginning to end.

It wasn't until the next morning, when everyone thought the enemy had abandoned the outpost, that the change suddenly occurred.

A large group of devils suddenly appeared north of the First Army's position, one kilometer away from Hopebreak Slope!

At the same time, Sylvie also observed signs of dozens of Terror Beasts moving—these enemies that had disappeared for several days were rushing towards them like dark clouds.