Time Travel? Rebirth? I Win This Time!

As night fell, peace once again descended upon the castle.

"Ugh!!" Mike Bai gritted his teeth as the arrowhead was pulled from his thigh, biting down on a rag to stifle his groan of pain.

After what felt like an eternity, Mike Bai, his face pale with exhaustion, inspected the arrowhead. Fortunately, it showed no signs of rust or contamination, and with proper disinfection, he would be fine.

"Sassan, how are the others?" Mike Bai asked weakly from his bed.

The castle was filled with the wounded. Those still fit for duty had already begun preparing for the next wave of defense, leaving only Sassan—who herself was injured—to attend to him.

"Lord Patrick fainted from exhaustion but has since awoken. The doctors advised he shouldn't draw a bow for a few days," Sassan reported. "The others only have superficial wounds; they should recover quickly."

"And the casualties?" Mike Bai asked, his voice low.

Sassan hesitated before answering. "Over two hundred knights of the Templar Order are dead or severely wounded. The remaining ones are all injured as well. As for the workers aiding with the defense, only five hundred have returned to the inner walls."

"What about Saladin's losses?"

"His casualties are at least double ours," Sassan replied.

"Is that so?" Mike Bai frowned, the situation growing direr by the moment.

The brief peace was fleeting. On the third day, as the sun rose, the beasts of war were once again unleashed.

Though limping, Mike Bai climbed to the main tower of the castle, watching the flurry of activity below. The defenses were solidifying, and the shrinking perimeter of the castle was working to their advantage, providing more manpower for the defense.

"Yesterday you won, Saladin," Mike Bai muttered to himself, his eyes narrowing at the enemy's flag. "But from now on, it's going to be your turn to suffer."

Suddenly, a shout rang out. "Take cover! The trebuchets are firing!"

A barrage of stone projectiles crashed into the fragile walls of the main building, breaking a massive hole in the stonework. Mike Bai barely had time to register the destruction above him before he was forced to limp away from the dangerous spot.

Once outside, the battle resumed. This time, the makeshift archers, previously untrained, were performing far better than expected. Mike Bai was puzzled at first, until Sassan whispered the reason to him.

Yesterday afternoon, while scavenging the battlefield, the Saracens had taken the captured Templar knights, nursing their wounds with care in hopes of collecting ransom later. However, the renegade workers who had once served the Saracens were executed on the spot.

"No wonder they fight with such fury," Mike Bai thought. "Betrayal is more unforgivable than any enemy."

On the outer walls, the Saracen archers continued their assault. But the temporary crossbowmen stationed on the inner walls had gained confidence after a day of brutal combat. They had become far more skilled with their weapons, and with the high ground and the protection of the walls, they shot with precision and ease.

The enemy archers were quickly suppressed, and the defenders had enough remaining energy to counter the advancing infantry.

"Quick! They're climbing up!" came the shout from a lookout.

Saladin's siege towers had been halted by the outer wall, and now his soldiers were attempting to scale the castle with rudimentary ladders. A massive crush of people filled the narrow gap between the inner and outer walls.

"Hot sand!" Otto barked. Workers swiftly carried barrels filled with scalding sand to a platform, where others spun a "hamster wheel"-like machine to hoist the sand up to the wall.

Buckets of hot sand poured down on the climbing enemies, searing their skin. The screams of the Saracens echoed as they tumbled down, while those below, splattered with the scalding sand, writhed in agony.

Mike Bai, sheltering on a stone observation platform above the gate, breathed easier now that the platform was immune to crossbow fire. Watching the ram approach, he pulled the lever. A soaked blanket was dropped in front of the gate.

The Saracens stared in confusion as the ram slammed into the heavy fabric, its power completely absorbed. It could no longer inflict any damage.

"Try shooting at me now!" Mike Bai growled, overturning a bucket of red-hot sand. It poured down in a torrent, causing the Saracens to shriek in pain, scrambling to avoid the hellish shower.

Despite the damage, the Saracens had the numbers. Several ladders were raised against the walls, and despite the defenders' best efforts, Saladin's soldiers continued to climb, driven forward by their officers.

Seeing the morale of his archers slipping, Saladin sent in a wave of infantry, their large shields protecting the archers as they shot from behind the cover. At the same time, a group of elite Mamluks was deployed to scale the walls, aiming to create a breach.

The Mamluks, encased in dual layers of chainmail and plate armor, withstood the barrage of arrows and pressed forward, hacking down unprotected workers.

Otto quickly noticed the gap in the defense and ordered William to lead a charge.

Resting below the walls, William grabbed a massive war hammer and rushed up with his men. The hammer was perfect for smashing through the Mamluks' heavy armor. Every blow that landed cracked bone and shattered muscle. When the enemy struck, William met them head-on, his curved plate armor absorbing the impact, spreading the force and preventing injury.

"Four down! Looks like I might beat Patrick's kill count today!" William thought happily, ready to brag later to the exhausted Patrick. But just as he raised his hammer to strike again, a crossbow bolt shot ahead and claimed another kill.

William turned, eyes wide with disbelief. Patrick, still perched on a nearby tower, had just delivered the shot.

"Six," Patrick called out, miming the number with his fingers. William's face twisted with frustration.

The battle raged on, and after another shift of soldiers, the pressure mounted on the Mamluks. The defenders on the inner walls and the main building provided continuous support, keeping the invaders at bay.

The relentless defense finally broke the Saracen resolve. Despite their elite forces, the breach remained unmade, and the constant barrage of arrows and weapons wore down even the Mamluks.

Finally, the low, sorrowful sound of a retreat horn echoed through the battlefield. The Saracens, broken and demoralized, began to withdraw from the outer walls.

Outside the castle, Saladin stood, watching the inner walls with a calculating gaze. His expression betrayed no panic, for he knew that success was within reach.

"Let's see what you do next," he murmured to himself.