Chapter 222: Chapter 191: This is My Lion Hunter Knight (2)
"Those High Elves are full of surprises. Only three hundred of them, yet they dare to confront my grand army? They truly have a death wish." Her voice dripped with contempt.
She couldn’t even be bothered to send troops to deal with them. Those three hundred Ogres and ten Zor Priests were more than enough to handle them with ease.
"There’s a human saying that’s quite apt: ’This is merely their final, desperate struggle.’"
A reminiscent look appeared in the Ogre Leader’s eyes; she still remembered hearing that phrase from a human merchant caravan.
She had to admit, though, that human girl had been so tender... The soup made from her was exquisitely savory, a taste she’d never forgotten.
Leiden listened to the chatter from the front lines. They sounded like diners eagerly waiting for the Elf Tribe to be served up on a platter, ready to be carved and devoured.
For some reason, his eagerness for battle suddenly waned. He adjusted the crooked Felt Hat on his head and walked away, ignoring the contemptuous glares of two Pigmen.
Instead, his thoughts turned to Gus, and he began to worry.
Logically speaking, it was just a few Elves. With Gus’s strength, it shouldn’t have taken him this long.
But this unit, which had clearly come from the rear, gave him a bad feeling. After all, the only way here was through the Shadow Forest, and Gus was in the Shadow Forest...
...
The Beastman Barbarians didn’t charge into close combat as the Ogres expected. Instead, once they were in range, they pulled out Javelins forged from Fine Steel, their faces etched with mocking grins. Taking aim at the big oafs ahead, they let the weapons fly.
FWOOSH!
Their perfectly synchronized movements were a sight to behold. Hundreds of Javelins soared into the air before plunging viciously downward.
The Ogres had experience with this tactic. The Shields they carried were prepared for just such an occasion, and they quickly took cover behind them.
PFFT! PFFT! PFFT!
But the result was beyond anyone’s expectations. Against these Javelins, the Shields proved no sturdier than paper. They were easily pierced, burying themselves deep in the Ogres’ bodies.
Like scything wheat, the front rank of Ogres was instantly cut down.
"Dammit, their Power is terrifying!" one of the Ogres roared, identifying the core of the problem.
To pierce a Shield from this far away and still have enough force to penetrate flesh... this went beyond simply having good equipment. Their opponents’ Power was not to be underestimated.
They were beginning to realize something was very wrong with this small squad.
But before they could adapt, a rain of arrows blotted out the sky. In an instant, another wave of Ogres were riddled with shafts until they resembled porcupines, slaughtered so thoroughly they had no chance to even fight back.
The most expensive piece of standard-issue equipment for the Federation Archers was the Purple Robe Longbow. The Lord himself had redeemed these from the System; they were the genuine, top-quality article.
High Cliff Castle had also thoughtfully equipped them with two types of Arrowheads. The Light Arrowheads traded a bit of stopping power for greater range, making them ideal for volley fire.
The Armor-Piercing Arrowheads, on the other hand, were heavier, with a range of just over a hundred paces, but their lethality was second to none.
These Arrowheads, designed by Mier and improved with suggestions from the Lord, could penetrate two layers of Iron Armor at eighty paces.
And the Ogres were learning this lesson the hard way.
Their Wooden Shields, which could have blocked an Elf’s Bow and Arrow, were completely useless against these Arrows. The Iron Armor they wore might as well have been for show, as it too was easily pierced.
They hadn’t even clashed, yet they had already lost a third of their number. They were being cut down faster than wheat in a harvest!
In the next instant, the two armies finally collided.
"Human, die!"
The Ogre at the vanguard was clearly a captain of some sort; its physique and equipment were a cut above the rest. It let out a furious roar and brought its Bone Rod crashing down toward the head of the little pipsqueak before it.
"Annoying."
The Lord couldn’t be bothered to waste a second glance on such a small fry. Though the Ogre struck first, the Lord’s blade landed faster, cleaving the creature in two.
A mess of red and white collapsed to the ground, reeking of a foul, coppery stench.
Then, like a hardworking farmer tilling a field, the Lord lowered his head and began relentlessly carving a path toward the Zor Priests at the center of the formation.
The two sides slammed into each other without a shred of hesitation. The air filled with the furious clang of steel and the roar of battle cries. Moments later, the initial outcome was clear: it was the Ogres who lay scattered on the ground.
The strength of the Beastman Warriors struck terror into their hearts.
But what terrified them even more was that pipsqueak at the front. Wielding two Giant Swords, each larger than he was, he was hacking their brethren to pieces as if he were mincing meat.
In that moment, their famously brave and battle-hardened kin were rendered more helpless than sheep.
He plowed a bloody furrow straight through their ranks.
The men of High Cliff Castle were no longer the bumpkins who once roamed the Wilderness. Empowered by the System, they had long since become the elite of the elite, the ace among aces.
To say nothing of the Lord himself, who was no longer the powerless nobody he had once been. His own strength had undergone a world-shaking transformation.
As a powerhouse of the Wilderness, the Ogres were by no means weak. They had both Power and ferocity; they were brutes born to live and die by the sword.
But in this moment, every source of their pride—their Power, their equipment, their Martial Arts, their fighting spirit—was being utterly and completely crushed.
The serene expressions on the Zor Priests’ faces vanished, replaced by masks of horror. They began frantically shouting at the Ogres, ordering them to plug the gaps with their bodies, while they themselves fell back to create distance.
Then, fighting back the dizziness from their depleted Magic Power, they prepared to begin Casting to eliminate this terrifying squad.
"Hibabion..."
Their lips moved in a rapid murmur as the light surrounding them intensified—a clear sign that Magic Power was gathering, that they were Casting.
"Still trying to finish that Incantation?!"
The Lord had been waiting for this. He hooked a stray Javelin with his foot, flicked it into his hand, and hurled it—all without a single glance.
An exceptionally brave Ogre foolishly attempted to block the Javelin, a throw into which the Lord had poured his full strength.
SQUELCH!
There was a sickening crunch. A gaping, bowl-sized hole now existed in its Shield, and another in its chest. They were perfectly aligned, offering a clear view of the scenery beyond.
"How can this..."
Watching the Javelin continue to fly toward him, the Zor Priest was so terrified he forgot his Incantation and simply stood, frozen in shock.
Then, a searing pain erupted in his gut. He looked down, only to see... the Zor Priest standing behind him.
The Javelin had run him clean through. His tall frame crashed to the ground, devoid of any sign of life.
Fulina witnessed all of this from atop the city wall.
Iron crashed against iron. Blood sprayed in every direction, forming crimson streams in the snow. The coppery tang of blood and steel filled the air.
Their distinct banner revealed the origin of this army that had appeared as if from nowhere.
It was the Personal Guard Team of the Lord of High Cliff Castle.
"Who are they? Fulina, are these your reinforcements?"
As if grasping a lifeline, Ash Wind Speech’s expression was ecstatic. "This commander is not just terrifyingly powerful, his tactics are flawless!"
After all, with so few men, there was no way they could take on the entire Wilderness Alliance Army. That made their strategic objective paramount. Clearly, excising the enemy’s Casting Corps was the top priority.
If that Casting Corps hadn’t smashed our walls open with Magic, we wouldn’t have been defeated so quickly.
"That is my ’Lion Hunter Knight’!" A smile touched Fulina’s lips, but her hand gripped her sword hilt so tightly her knuckles were white. Though she was visibly thrilled, she forced herself to appear calm and composed. "In fact, I believe this Lion Hunter Knight has an extraordinary Talent for commanding small-scale battles."
"Wonderful! If the Lion Hunter Knight is here, it must mean your main army is close behind, Fulina. We just have to hold out until they get here!"
Hope filled Ash’s face.
"Yes," Fulina declared. "Victory will be ours!"
"My people, reinforcements have arrived! The Mother Goddess is protecting us!"
Ash shouted, and the Scepter in her hand suddenly erupted with a globe of green light that enveloped every allied Warrior on the field.
Their exhaustion instantly washed away, and they felt a third of their strength return.
Their morale surged. With a collective roar, they pushed forward, actually managing to drive the Wilderness Alliance Army back off the walls.
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