Tormis had warned me that we couldn’t win through force of arms. Even if we won this battle, dealing a painful blow to Pandorum, strategically speaking, we would lose the war. The enemy’s resources, human and material, far surpassed ours. If the Pandas lost at Condor, they would come again and again, until they smoked us out into the wildlands of Dorsa. Condor’s capture or destruction was a question of time. We had already seen that our enemies could fight in all time zones, outnumbering us every single time. They were really the strongest alliance in Sphere of Worlds, and defeating them required a completely different approach.
I had an idea which exactly.
Tormis had pointed me to a high-standing spy in our alliance. When I told the leaders about him, I also described my thoughts about changing our combat paradigm. They didn’t listen to me — they had enough thinkers already. The Northerners wanted to fight and held out hope for their allies’ support. How many castles did they have to lose to realize that Pandorum couldn’t be overpowered by force?
I slowly shook my head in refusal. Cey-Rus chuckled, momentarily raising his eyebrows, and said, “You don’t want to squander your credit on trivialities? Then we were right to trust you. So, will we die together?”
“Aren’t you scared of losing the Compass?” I asked him in turn.
“No, it’s locked. So, are you ready?”
Pandorum’s flying armada once again advanced on the castle. Artillery started to rumble, beam lasers firing up. A thick cloud of dragon riders swiftly descended on us, surrounding Condor from all sides. Below, invincible to siege weapons, waves of Ancient Arachnids easily traversed the vertical slopes. Our mages burned them down with hundreds of AOE spells, but the metallic beasts easily resisted elemental magic. Unscathed, they dove out of Grand Fires, breaking through icy glaciers and surviving being hit with giant boulders. Only Ball Lightnings and Greater Lightnings dealt acceptable damage. But even if one six-legged beast fell off the wall and dropped down, another took its place. We clearly couldn’t hold them, and they were about to break into the gallery.
Players started shouting right next to me. A giant arachnid leaped at us, spinning in its place and marking everyone with scarlet beams resembling laser sights. Its lower limbs burned scalding hot, and two combat appendages lengthened, transforming into jagged scythes. Arrows and spears bounced off its metallic body. The arachnid spat out an emerald blast at the enemies around it and charged forward, rapidly swinging its extremities. Along the way, green spheres split away from it, rolling in different directions. Like clamshells, they opened up, spawning bronze humanoid warriors with shells instead of the lower body. I had already seen these “legionnaires.” Our raid had fought them in Helt Akor. That battle was far from easy. I had met the arachnids as well — in the Ziggurat, the resting place of the Colossus. They were hardy beasts who resisted almost everything. I had to use Fiery Lightning on each of them.
The bronze legionnaires armed with spears and shields quickly rolled around the gallery, attacking the defenders. All weapons could do against them was create sparks; most spells were powerless as well. We hadn’t prepared for such opponents!
“If you have Whirlwind, it’s time to use it!” Cey-Rus yelled, pointing at my shining sword. Evidently, he meant an ability of Aelmaris, but I hadn’t unlocked it yet — the sword’s experience bar was only three-quarters full.
One of the legionnaires came upon us, menacingly swinging its wide blade. The elf held out his unarmed hand, and the bronze warrior stopped as if hitting an invisible barrier. Taut, Cey-Rus made a sideways gesture, and the monster was pushed aside, thrown from the wall. My new friend was pretty good at Telekinesis!
In the meantime, the arachnid was busy slaughtering players with lightning-fast strikes of its scythes and green blasts of energy, effortlessly ripping our catching nets and resisting the slowing spells. No wonder — one creature like that was designed to battle a moderately powerful party. Only a newly arriving siege golem managed to stop the Ancient machine, grappling with it in melee. But the Watchers didn’t have many such golems, and three more spiders jumped on the wall to replace the one that was crushed. They also started scattering the bronze “eggs,” spawning more legionaries. Cey-Rus cut down another one of them and gestured for me to follow him — and flee.
Balian the Raccoon: We won’t hold them!
Komtur: Use scrolls and weapons with lightning damage! Focus fire!
Evil Mook: Is anyone controlling these creatures? Is this a summoning spell or what? How do we stop them?
Olaf: I can’t understand why there’s so many... They have someone who can control Ancient mechanisms. Most likely, this person’s aboard one of the ships.
Evil Mook: Everyone, retreat into the clan hall! Barricade and defend the corridors!
So what should I say? A chaotic massacre broke out on the walls and the ring-shaped gallery. Arachnids and legionnaires shot around like crazy, raising destruction among the ranks of defenders. They completely ruined our plans. Using their ability to ascend vertical surfaces, the spiders climbed the open platforms inside the towers, squeezing through the arrow-slits and narrow gaps. A bloodbath followed, causing castle artillery to weaken its pressure. Packs of shrieking birdies swarmed Condor, and Crow’s raiders met dragon riders in mid-air, desperately trying to hold them off. The circle of ships closed in, unrelenting, shooting down ordnance slots one by one.
The clan hall was a mess. Everyone was screaming while trying to barricade the passageways and organize the defense. Building a functional shield wall seemed impossible, thanks to the numerous players and their birdies scurrying around in confusion. I saw most elite Watchers go upstairs to the inner sanctum of the citadel — the throne room holding the Key to Condor. Capturing the castle keep with the Key meant taking
