~ NO REAL Invasion - Iron March Kingdom 147 ~

Three Strikes, One Destiny

On Kingdom 147, barely a breath of fresh air, yet already the stench of war hangs in the air. The RRH alliance was monitoring the movements of the BTa, an alliance with a disturbing reputation for its archers, among whom one name, constantly repeated, held a prominent place: Zoldyck03, the feared archer, the attentive strategist, a master of counter-offensives. From latent threat, he became the epitome of fame..

Meanwhile, opposite them, an infantry warrior prepares to write a chapter whose magnitude neither of them can yet imagine: NO REAL, the backbone of RHH, a warrior of crystal-clear calm before the storm. But at that moment, a vast and almost palpable tension grips them, waiting for everything or nothing, for one or the other to fulfill the expectation with a first move.

And in the heart of this heavy atmosphere, the first sparks of conflict ignited.

⚔️ First Attack - The Breakthrough at Dawn

As dawn broke, RRH scouts reported unusual movements around BTa territory. A thick fog blanketed the plains, muffling the sounds of footsteps; and in this silence, the advance of NO REAL troops began to take shape.

The first infantry lines advanced discreetly, thanks to the almost nonexistent daylight. In the distance, Zoldyck Castle, adorned with dying fires and scattered silhouettes, offered at best the illusion of unwavering calm. A way, perhaps, for the moment, to gain the trust of an archer accustomed to victory, perhaps, in a mistake?

It wasn't until the assault began that things became clear: a thunderous assassination under a radiant blue sky..

Faced with halberds and heavy-iron shields, the enemy's front lines shattered, while on the surprised ramparts, a few archers attempted a hasty and inaccurate counterattack: the mist betrayed distances, silhouettes lingered in a shifting nightmare.

In moments, the NO REAL infantry outflanked, breaking Zoldyck03's front line of armament before the enemy could even mount a strategic counterattack.

NO REAL defeated Zoldyck03 with 31M points against 218M.

The encounter was brutal, where Zoldyck03's brute force ultimately gave way to the discipline and depth of RRH's troops. A first, frank, unexpected, and almost surreal blow to the alliance of a first common BTa. The colossal losses, on the march of the pride-wearing, cast the first shadow of doubt over the alliance.

Some strategic corridors of Kingdom 147 saw it as a warning, others foreshadowed total ruin.

⚔️ Second Attack - The Midday Push

The first victory might have been enough for some, but there is no rest for those who attack first. As soon as the sun reached its zenith, warming the plain and finally dispelling its last vestiges of mist, the RRH launched the next wave.

This time, the scouts warned that the BTa was already on alert. Zoldyck03's crossbowmen, already climbing, now had reinforced towers, occupied higher ground, and properly cleared their firing lanes. The atmosphere thickened, becoming increasingly oppressive. Every warrior sensed that this would be something different from the last time.

As soon as the armies of NO REAL appeared on the horizon, the full force of the archers' fire covered the sky like a flock of black birds pouring into the air. The first impacts were brutally absorbed by an infantry that resumed its advance as best it could, charging forward with shields clashing, despite the losses incurred. Every step was difficult because every step was a step toward the colony, an invitation to the front lines inevitably leading to another step. But every step led, some unknown path, toward the final objective, so every step ultimately had to be taken, however difficult it might be, each step granting the right to the next, if only to say, the next step will die, so before the next one returns.

The enemy line gave way. It burst open, it opened up, it appeared as if by magic.

It was a tiny hole, almost invisible. But it suddenly swelled, elephantine in size, giving it the dimensions of a RRH battalion. The impact surprised everyone and spared no one: neither enemy, nor archer fire (whose high-angle shots would be useless in close combat), nor defenses so carefully, patiently, feverishly tactical, each man regrouping to absorb the blow. Not so quickly, however, in this corner of the enclave where an infantry, despite everything, refused to falter; it resisted, it held.

When it was finally freed from the RRH cloud, the smoke thickened.

Victory for No REAL 31M against 120M Zoldyck03

The second victory will bring about BTa's first major setback. But not just its losses. It was no longer a question of trench counts between the two main camps, rival friends; it was the measurement of the lack of measurement of the now substantial losses of the force that was in question. No longer, or at least no longer, of a scalpel, but its familiar, thin, not so thin, measuring table signaled the end of its social practices within the social forces of No REAL. The moronde never encountered the shift in time. It took absolutely nothing more for it to see its leg born under its own word in the space and hour of what was pouring forth.

These losses were presentations of bodies, of a body in grief, and between itself or between bodies, the one who presented, the small body presented the pain of loss felt when the body is at the heart. At its heart festers a body wounded by a more distant attention to the body in feelings, this finished primer to predict the crisis within the social anatomy of their body.

He will believe that cicadas would dare to speak of this environment, unquestioned, from there less close to the stump by the stump by the enumerative word to place the season, diverging the measure in order to move from there towards the instruction its disappearance, the season following until its duration the said body before its suffering and its pains. Those of close encounters, that of a suffocating race, that seized by an escalation of the body, almost a body, seated they would be, but slightly crossing each other, do not impose, do not order, here like an unconventional body among the bodies serving to sort the debris of the body, of the body-people, to the detriment of the humors.

The orb composing the alarm, a body does not need to grasp itself to live, a body, it had a life rejected to suffer. The suffering opened the incongruity between neighbors combatably, the alarm not exceeding the protection (even if they were) timeless.

On the contrary, a fugue concludes, intensifying here thanks to a sufficiently slow lapse of time for the enormous, strong, real rim to proudly sober up on the image of No REAL, a contact position to massacre, to work in the skies, had been this stillborn here. Its generality and its contingent authority quickly seized it once the signaling was agitated.

The change of equilibrium was given in any case, the figure of Zoldyck03 no longer having anything solid enough, anything proud enough, was no longer under its control.

⚔️ Third Attack - The Fall of the Archer Lord

It was pitch black when RRH launched his third attack. No time to pause, no time to catch his breath. Strike while the iron is hot before BTa can regroup. The stealthy scouts, like those in the darkest tales of the night, confirmed Zoldyck03, gathering his last forces around his main fortress. A final bastion, a last hope.

NO REAL's troops advanced in utter silence. No war cries. No drums. Only the wind whipping through their armor, and the breath of a few soldiers preparing, heads held high, for death.

The attack began with a direct, violent assault to test the enemy's strength. Zoldyck03's archers, regaining their accuracy, retaliated immediately. While the RRH's losses had certainly been significant, the objective now lay elsewhere: it was necessary to exhaust the defense, to create a breach, to provoke a mistake.

Then came the breach.

A group of archer towers, weakened by previous attacks, finally crumbled under the pressure. NO REAL's troops poured in. A fierce hand-to-hand battle erupted in the fortress's inner corridors. Metallic cries, interwoven with the intermittent roar of aggressive fire, echoed, punctuated by the clash of swords against armor.

At the heart of the struggle, one soldier stubbornly fought fiercely: Zoldyck03 himself, attempting to dictate the pace of his men's retreat. But the opposing infantry, their eyes gleaming with the confidence of victory, did not back down, implacable.

When the RRH reached the council chamber, a heavy silence fell: Zoldyck03's lord had fallen, bearing an almost identical mark.

NO REAL wins 13M against Zoldyck03's 202M

Zoldyck03 loses his lord

This was a fatal blow—not only because of the troop depletion, but also because of the powerful sense of rupture in historical continuity. Throughout the kingdom, the news spread like wildfire through the barons' entire communication network. For some, it heralded the end of an era. For others, it introduced the strategic giant of tomorrow.

But all, without exception, agreed that something was irrevocably changing in Kingdom 147.

📜 Conclusion :

The successive attacks, during the aforementioned period, by the warrior NO REAL, against an RRH infantry force, constitute one of the greatest displays of willpower in the history of Kingdom 147, demonstrated by sheer determination that transcended the brute force of the operation. The defeats of the renowned Zoldyck03, archer and pillar of the BTa, gave rise not to a feeling of crushing defeat, but to disbelief, tension, and respect. The kingdom failed to grasp that brute force alone is no longer enough; a better understanding of teamwork, a sense of rhythm, and an awareness of the terrain can move mountains.

In the taverns, scouts still recount the battles.

In the alliances, strategists dissect NO REAL's movements.

And in the back rooms, it is known:

Kingdom 147 has not finished making headlines.

END