Bound, Headquarters Secured

Boom.

A wave of condensed sword force tore down from above and split across Ebonreach's walls, catching every Starborn warrior unlucky enough to stand in its path.

None of them survived contact.

Against warriors averaging a hair past level 40, Sir Gareth Thorne's mere presence read as something closer to divine judgment than combat.

Even a casual, unremarkable strike from him carried enough weight to end most of them outright. To stand near his blade was to die.

To meet it directly wasn't even a contest.

The rest of the guard matched that intensity in their own lanes.

Mages and archers poured sustained fire down from range in a steady, merciless rhythm, while the melee contingent, buoyed by wind-step and levitation enchantments laid down by their own casters, leapt the final stretch onto the walls.

They hit the battlements already moving, and they tore through the defenders at close range.