Lord Summoner's Freedom Philosophy: Grimoire of Love
Chapter 256: Protect Arkansas (6) The Second Round

Chapter 256: Protect Arkansas (6) The Second Round

Lyan woke up to the gentle light of dawn filtering through the curtains. He blinked, adjusting to the soft morning glow, and found himself lying next to Belle. She was still asleep, her chest rising and falling rhythmically. He admired her serene beauty, the calmness of the moment a stark contrast to the chaos that had become their daily lives.

Next to Belle, Ravia, and Josephine were sprawled out, their exhausted bodies evidence of the passionate night they had all shared. Lyan smiled softly, the memories of their fervent session playing in his mind. He gently brushed a strand of hair from Belle’s face, waking her with a tender touch.

"Good morning," Belle murmured, her eyes fluttering open. She smiled at him, her gaze warm and loving.

"Good morning," Lyan replied, his voice a low whisper. "Did you sleep well?"

Belle chuckled softly. "As well as I could, given how busy we were last night."

Lyan smirked. "Busy is an understatement."

Belle sat up, the sheet falling away to reveal her naked form. She stretched, her movements slow and graceful. "You know," she began, her voice teasing, "I had to use a little magic to ensure Alina and Xena stayed asleep. I wanted our time together to last."

Lyan raised an eyebrow, a mixture of amusement and concern in his eyes. "You didn’t have to go that far, Belle."

She leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear. "I wanted to. I wanted you all to myself."

Before Lyan could respond, Belle slipped under the covers, her lips finding his shaft. He gasped, his body responding instantly to her touch. Belle’s mouth was warm and inviting, her movements skilled and deliberate. She took her time, savoring every moment, her eyes never leaving his.

Lyan groaned, his hands tangling in her hair as she brought him to the brink again and again. The pleasure was overwhelming, her expert ministrations pushing him to the edge repeatedly. Belle squealed in delight as she felt his release, her own pleasure evident in her soft moans.

After several rounds, Belle finally pulled away, her lips swollen and her cheeks flushed. She climbed back up to his side, a satisfied smile on her face. "I think we should get cleaned up," she said, her voice breathless.

Lyan nodded, summoning a barrel filled with hot water using his magic. They washed each other in the warm, soothing water, their touches gentle and intimate. The water cascaded over their bodies, washing away the remnants of their passion and leaving them refreshed and ready for the day ahead.

As they finished washing, Lyan noticed a change in the air. The morning calm was replaced by an unsettling fog that seemed too thick and unnatural. It was as if the world had suddenly decided to hold its breath, shrouded in an eerie silence. He quickly dressed, his senses alert, every movement filled with purpose.

"It’s time," he said, his voice steady but urgent. "The enemy is here."

Belle’s eyes widened, her hands shaking slightly as she hurried to dress. "What do we do?" It’s not strange that she’s shaking, it’s her first time facing such a war.

"Get the others and take your positions. Be safe," Lyan instructed, his voice carrying a reassuring strength. "We have another round to win."

Belle nodded, her face set with determination, and dashed off to wake Ravia and Josephine. Lyan made his way to the gates, his mind focused and sharp. The fog, undoubtedly the work of Ravindor’s mages, was dense and foreboding, but he had been prepared. His gargoyle and summoned stones had been watching the gates, their presence a silent but vigilant guard.

High above the city, the gargoyle perched on a spire, its eyes glowing with an ethereal light, allowing it to pierce the unnatural fog. It relayed its observations to Lyan through their magical bond, each image a snapshot of the enemy’s approach. The summoned stones, scattered strategically around the perimeter, acted as silent sentinels, vibrating subtly whenever enemy forces neared.

As Lyan reached the gates, he received a mental alert from the gargoyle. The enemy was advancing, using the cover of the fog to mask their movements. He quickly ascended the walls, joining Gildevart and Borton, who were already there, their expressions grim but resolute.

"Lyan," Gildevart called out, his voice carrying over the din of the mustering defenders. "We have a situation."

Lyan joined them, his eyes scanning the battlefield. The fog was thick, a blanket of gray that obscured vision and muffled sound, but he could make out the shapes of Ravindor’s forces advancing. "They think they can use this fog to their advantage," Lyan said, his voice cold and calculating. "But we’ve been watching."

Borton nodded, his demeanor serious, his eyes hard as flint. "Our guerilla tactics have forced them to attack with more forces. They’re desperate, and desperation can be exploited."

Lyan turned to Gildevart. "What’s the plan?"

Gildevart gestured to the map spread out before them, the contours of the city’s defenses etched in intricate detail. "We need to hold the gates and push them back. The enemy is led by Varkas, a seasoned general. He’s likely to be aggressive, hoping to overwhelm us quickly."

Lyan studied the map, his mind racing through possibilities and contingencies. "We’ll use their aggression against them. Have our archers target their mages and disrupt their formations. The fog will make it difficult, but our scouts can guide the archers."

Borton grinned, a feral light in his eyes. "And my men? We’re ready to hit them where it hurts."

Lyan smiled, a grim determination settling over his features. "Perfect. We need you to strike their supply lines. Create chaos and confusion. The more disarray we cause, the easier it will be to repel them."

Gildevart nodded in agreement. "Let’s move. Every moment counts."

The battle began in earnest as Ravindor’s forces approached the walls. The fog, thick as soup, swallowed the sounds of the initial skirmishes, but soon the clamor of battle broke through. Arrows flew through the air, their fletchings whispering death as they pierced the fog and found their marks among the enemy ranks. The sound of steel clashing echoed through the streets as Lyan’s forces met the attackers head-on.

Lyan moved through the ranks, his presence a beacon of strength and confidence. He barked orders, directing his troops with precision and clarity. "Hold the line!" He said. They are making a perimeter inside the gates. The gates are opened enough for the enemies to enter with only a small amount.

With this formation, every soldier of the enemy faction would die before they could even swing their sword.

Gildevart stood beside him, his eyes scanning the battlefield through the haze. "Their mages are concentrating their spells on our defenses. We need to take them out or they’ll damage to our walls!"

Lyan nodded, his mind working quickly, calculating every move like pieces on a chessboard. "I’ll handle the mages. Keep the pressure on the infantry."

With that, Lyan raised his hands, summoning a powerful gust of wind. The air around him swirled violently before exploding outward, dispersing the fog around the mages. The sudden clarity caught them off guard, and they were exposed to the archers’ deadly aim. One by one, the mages fell, their spells faltering, and the oppressive fog began to lift. On his way, there are infantries holding axes that are attempting to ruin the walls foolishly, but they are only decoys since they are using such heavy armor. The main troublesome ones are the ones throwing ladders and ropes towards the top of the walls.

Whoosh!

"A-Aargh!! F-Flames!?" One of the enemy soldiers that is climbing the ladder got burnt together with the ladder.

"Don’t think that you could climb here that easily, fools," Josephine snorted as a small fire appeared from the tip of her index finger. Her monster child, Magria the Magma Bear, is running all over the place, breathing flames towards the enemies’ ropes and ladders, cutting their hope to climb the walls over.

Borton and his men struck from the shadows as they left the city from the back gates which were not being watched by the enemies, their guerilla tactics wreaking havoc on the enemy’s supply lines again. Fires erupted behind the enemy lines as the Brave Rings’ attacks disrupted their logistics and created chaos, forcing the enemies to also leave some soldiers to protect the supply lines, splitting their army into several parts. Borton moved with lethal precision, his great sword flashing in the dim light as he cut down any who dared to stand in his way.

"Keep your foot!" Lyan shouted, his sword flashing as he cut down another attacker. "We have them on the run!"

The defenders rallied, their spirits lifted by Lyan’s leadership and the success of their strategy. They pressed forward, driving the enemy back step by step. The Ravindor forces, disoriented and demoralized, began to retreat, their once confident advance now a panicked rout. They are losing more soldiers than they expected.

Lyan’s mind remained sharp, even in the heat of battle. He knew that a retreating enemy was still dangerous, like a cornered beast. "Open up the sphere! Open the formation!!"

With that order, the enemies became confused. The panic made the soldiers froze. If they retreat now, they would only become an easy target for the archers. And looking at how the soldiers are getting more and more entering the gates, it makes an illusion for them to see a false hope that their attack from the ground is getting useful and working, leading them to go forward rather than retreating.

Gildevart moved to his side, his face flushed with the exertion of battle but alight with determination. "Keep your lines! We should kill as much as we could!"

"Then let’s finish this," Lyan replied, his voice cold as steel.

"We’re joining this time," Ravia and Josephine appeared from his back.

Ravia and Josephine, fierce warriors in their own right, joined Lyan at the forefront of the gate that faced the enemies that entered the gate the first. Together, they formed a vanguard that cut through the enemy ranks with brutal efficiency. Ravia’s twin daggers danced through the air, each strike precise and deadly. Josephine wielded a heavy mace, her powerful blows crushing any who dared to challenge her.

As they fought, Lyan could feel the tide of battle shifting decisively in their favor. The fog had dissipated, the enemy mages neutralized, and the defenders were pressing their advantage with relentless force. Borton’s guerilla tactics continued to wreak havoc on the enemy’s rear, cutting off any hope of reinforcement or retreat.

"Another win, I guess," Lyan uttered.