Chapter 265: Chapter 264: The Storm Unleashed
Even in silence, he could feel the weight on his men. Weariness dragged at their limbs, grief pressed on their spirits. And yet, they endured. Because each fight, each death, made them stronger.
For Lumberling himself, the essence of war had carved deeper into his being.
(Beginner Flowing Edge has reached Lv. 5. Power +208.)
(Beginner Shield Bash has reached Lv. 3. Power +144.)
(Beginner Bonecrush Method has reached Lv. 2. Power +120.)
He felt the change inside him, his skills flowing smoother, strikes carrying more force. His strength grew with every battle, yet so did the toll, fatigue gnawed at his body, comrades were lost, and the weight of war pressed on his mind.
War had no mercy. And neither could he.
...
For a few blessed days, the road ahead lay quiet. No horns, no steel clashing, no screams in the night, only the steady sound of boots and hooves against dirt. The air grew lighter with each mile, and whispers began to ripple among the people. They were close now, close to Liraeth’s territory, where true safety might finally exist.
Children laughed again, though faintly, their voices still wary. Some of the wounded began to walk without aid, while mothers dared to dream of a roof and warm food waiting beyond the next hill. Even the soldiers’ steps felt steadier, their spears carried with less drag.
Uncle Drake, riding near Lumberling, gave a long sigh. "Almost feels wrong, doesn’t it? Too peaceful compared to the past month."
Lumberling’s eyes stayed fixed on the horizon. "Something does feels wrong, or maybe we are just lucky this time."
Skitz rode up, his sharp eyes scanning the skies. "The golden eagles haven’t circled back since dawn."
Lumberling’s gaze stayed fixed on the horizon. "Something does feel wrong... or maybe we’re just lucky this time."
His mind raced. ’Did someone notice? Did they kill them?’ It wasn’t impossible. The truly aware could sense them circling above.
He glanced to the treeline, and for a moment thought he felt the earth itself humming.
A cold jolt hit his chest. "Shit." He raised his voice, sharp as steel. "Prepare for battle! Evacuate the people now!"
He sensed it, the march of an army moving towards them.
The column erupted into motion. Soldiers shouted orders, shepherding the civilians toward cover. Shields locked together, captains barking formations, while elite kobolds and hobgoblins drew their weapons with practiced haste.
Drake cursed under his breath, pulling his spear free. "End’s always the hardest part, isn’t it?"
Lumberling’s jaw clenched, frustration spilling out. "Why does something always happen at the end?" He spat to the ground, then straightened in his saddle. There was no time for anger.
He forced his voice steady, cutting through the chaos. "Form the lines! Don’t let them break through. Protect the people first, kill everything else second!"
The air itself felt heavier. The peaceful days had been nothing but bait, a pause before the storm.
And now the storm was here.
From the treeline ahead and the hills behind, horns blared. Thousands of Sengolio soldiers surged forward, their banners snapping in the wind, their boots shaking the ground. The ambush swallowed the horizon, and panic swept through the column like wildfire. Civilians screamed, carts overturned, and the line scattered before the sheer weight of steel bearing down on them.
"Shields up! Hold the line!" Captain Derrek’s voice cut through the chaos. He shoved forward, his blade flashing as he cleaved down a foe, shield locking against another. His recruits scrambled to copy him, shields trembling in their hands as the enemy crashed into them like a tide.
But this was no ragged band. These were elites, disciplined soldiers with polished armor, more Knights woven into their ranks than they had faced in weeks. Every clash drove the defenders back step by step.
The line groaned and buckled, until screams tore through the column as enemies slipped past and slammed into the panicking civilians.
"Protect the people!" Eldric bellowed, swinging his sword with desperate fury, soldiers rallying at his side. But even his voice couldn’t drown out the shrieks of women and children caught in the press.
Lumberling’s eyes narrowed as he swept the field. Their formation was shattering, and if they stayed defensive, they’d be crushed.
’All this way, only to be slaughtered at this place? No way.’
His voice rang out, iron over fire. "Soldiers, protect the civilians! Don’t break, give everything you have! Captains, Vice-Captains, switch to attack mode!"
The shift was immediate.
Krivex leapt the barricade of shields, his voice a guttural roar as he drove his archers into the flanks, arrows raining down on exposed lines. Gobo1 and Gobo2 darted forward with their hunters, knives and spears flashing in the confusion as they gutted men in the press. Aren led his elites like a blade through silk, cutting down ranks in precise, brutal sweeps.
The ground shook as Takkar, Vakk, and Sakrn spurred their boars into the thickest mass, the cavalry slamming through armored ranks, tusks and steel shredding bodies in their wake.
Uncle Drake’s sword swung in brutal arcs, each strike cutting down foes who pressed too close to the refugees. Beside him, Jen held her shield high, taking blows meant for others, her counterstrikes sharp and measured. Together, they anchored the defense where it threatened to collapse.
The civilians shrieked as enemy blades pushed closer, their screams cutting through the clash of steel. A knot of Sengolio soldiers broke past the line, rushing straight toward the helpless mass.
And then a roar split the air.
Kaeldron leapt forward, his twin swords flashing. One blade parried, the other cut, his strikes flowing like water.
"Lizardmen, shield the people!" Kaeldron barked.
Forty-two lizardmen surged into motion, forming a scaly wall around the civilians. Their tower shields slammed into the dirt, locking together with practiced discipline. Behind them, spears bristled like a thorned barrier, stabbing out at any soldier who dared come close.
An arrow volley rained down, but the lizardmen angled their shields, the shafts clattering harmlessly against the scaled bulwark. Children ducked behind their tails, mothers clutching babies under their shadow.
"Stay behind us!" one of the lizardmen hissed, fangs bared, before thrusting his spear through an enemy’s chest.
Kaeldron cut down another pair of soldiers, his blades crossing before uncrossing in a blur, blood spraying the dirt. His black scales glistened with sweat and gore, but his eyes burned with focus.
"Not one step closer," he growled, his voice carrying across the chaos.
And then Lumberling himself moved.
"Skitz," he said low, and his companion only grinned, teeth flashing red in the chaos. Without another word, they split, darting in opposite directions.
Lumberling’s spear swept wide, breaking through helms and armor as he plowed into the enemy line. Every strike devoured, every corpse fed his core, his presence carving space where there had been none.
Skitz vanished into the press, his daggers whispering through armor gaps, blood spraying in the wake of his passing. He reappeared only to drag another struggling Knight down into the dirt, leaving the body for Lumberling’s hunger.
The battlefield was no longer defense. It was a storm of counterattack, each captain a whirlwind, each unit unleashed to tear the enemy apart from within.