34：Who Are the Real Monsters?
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
The dull, heavy thuds of metal striking stone rang out in a continuous, deafening chorus.
The kinetic energy carried by the short spears was far beyond what any ordinary arrow could muster. Driven by their downward momentum, the heavy javelins viciously hammered into the rock shields of the Sons of Titan.
The frantic, continuous volley pushed the magical barriers past their breaking point. Stone dust sprayed into the air as the surface of the shields visibly thinned and began to shatter.
Over a dozen short spears forcefully wedged themselves into the fissures. Their fletchings vibrated violently against the monsters' bodies as thick, black blood sprayed forth.
"Enemy attack! Formation!"
Zagar roared. He raised his bone staff, and blackish-purple elemental energy began to frantically coalesce around him. He tried to lock onto the targets ahead of him, but as his magical senses swept over the battlefield, he found absolutely nothing!
These infantrymen—their body temperatures sapped by the swamp water, their skin coated in black mud—registered as completely imperceptible void zones within his magical radar.
"Strike!" Soren commanded, drawing his longsword and swinging it forward.
Sixty-five men moved in perfect unison. Their hands tightly gripped the 2. 5-meter armor-piercing heavy halberds at their sides. They leveled their weapons and thrust forward.
The entire formation shaped itself into an inverted 'U', sinking its jaws fiercely into the momentarily dazed Sons of Titan. The cold steel of the halberd blades glinted as they followed the cracks in the rock shields left by the short spears, brutally stabbing into the vulnerabilities beneath.
Twist. Retract. Thrust again!
The soldiers completely disregarded their own safety, operating purely on a terrifying killing efficiency they had drilled into their muscle memory countless times over the past half-month.
The Sons of Titan bellowed. Lacking any sense of pain, the monstrous giants swung their massive arms, whipping up a gale over the water.
A single sweeping backhand crashed into the halberd phalanx. Three soldiers, along with their weapons, were sent flying, vomiting chunks of their own internal organs in mid-air.
Just as one of the Sons of Titan raised its fist for a second strike, aiming to crush the neck of the soldier beneath it. . .
Deep in the muddy water, Ein took a deep breath.
[Composure] triggered.
With a focus so intense it felt as though time had stopped, he locked onto a gap in the shield beneath the monster’s ribs—a gap pried open by three short spears.
Loose.
[Nature's Hunter] granted an accuracy bonus!
The arrow shot out at an impossibly sharp upward angle, bypassing the monster's thick bones. Like a venomous snake, it slipped into the gap, cleanly severing the central nerve connecting the beast's thigh to its torso.
The colossal body slumped, crashing down to one knee in the muddy water and kicking up a massive spray.
Instantly, like sharks scenting blood, three heavy halberds thrust silently into the kneeling monster's eyes and the back of its skull.
Retract.
The monster collapsed, dead.
Zagar watched the scene unfold, his ghostly green eyes trembling violently. Everything he knew about warfare was crumbling.
Javelins to break defenses! Halberd formations for the kill!
This horrifyingly perfect coordination between different unit types, this absolute abandonment of defense in favor of extreme mobility and one-hit lethal strikes. . .
Who were these people?
The Silvermoon Kingdom could never cultivate such monsters. These soldiers clearly had their bones shattered, yet when they crawled back up from the mud, they didn't let out a single groan of pain!
The Holy Halycon Empire? Only their Royal Elites could achieve such discipline, but why would they be deployed here?
The Far East Empire? That terrifying royal court worshipped iron, blood, and annihilation. Their Deathless Legion was certainly capable of executing such a ruthlessly efficient ambush!
Zagar’s scalp went numb with dread. But before he could ponder any further, an intensely horrifying chill shot straight up from the back of his neck to the crown of his head.
Soren activated [Eagle Eye Perception].
In Soren's pitch-black pupils, the entire world faded away until only Zagar’s chest remained.
Crosshairs aligned.
The bowstring was drawn back to a full moon.
Release.
A thunderous crack ruptured the air. Zagar only had enough time to conjure a paper-thin Shadow Shield.
Snap!
Empowered by the Windwhisper Bow, the heavy arrow tore through the Shadow Shield as if it were nothing. With flawless precision, it slammed into Zagar’s right chest, shattering his ribs and obliterating his lung before exploding out of his back, carrying fist-sized chunks of viscera with it!
Zagar let out a ghastly, wretched laugh. His physical body slumped backward like a torn ragdoll, crashing into the murky water. A massive bloom of crimson spread across the surface.
Soren stared coldly at the water.
Beneath the surface, the churning blood suddenly froze. A dark green skull, radiating a terrifying nether energy, slowly surfaced from the ruined husk of Zagar’s body. Bathing in a sickly green soul-fire, the skull hovered in mid-air.
Zagar’s physical body had perished, but his soul had detached itself! The spectral skull let out a piercing shriek, proving it could still issue commands.
"Retreat! Full retreat!"
Mana frantically gathered within its hollow eye sockets. A massive, viscous cloud of shadowy mist—so dense it seemed corporeal—instantly descended upon the shallows. The black fog formed flowing walls of darkness, erecting a barrier between the human halberds and the monsters.
Receiving their orders, the remaining eight Sons of Titan endured the storm of thrusts. Using their own massive bodies to shield their comrades' vitals, they executed a battering-ram style retreat against the human formation.
Covering fire. Leapfrogging.
Under the direction of this spectral skull, the mindless Sons of Titan were actually executing textbook tactical withdrawals!
Splash! Splash!
The frantic sprinting of the Sons of Titan churned the shallows into a muddy soup as they fled toward the southwest.
Kyle’s blood was pumping with the thrill of the kill. Gripping his heavy halberd, he shouted, "My Lord! Let's pursue them and tear them to shreds!"
Soren slung his longbow back over his shoulder.
"Do not pursue a cornered enemy. The Shadow Priest's soul can still cast spells, and this black fog is rigged with proximity-triggered shadow explosion traps, " Soren commanded."Tighten the defensive line. We cannot afford to lose a single man."
Kyle gritted his teeth and forcefully planted the butt of his halberd into the muddy water, halting his advance.
The black fog gradually dissipated, leaving a scene of utter devastation. Two massive corpses of the Sons of Titan lay half-submerged in the water, alongside Zagar’s physical husk, complete with a gaping hole through its chest.
"Report casualties, " Soren said, sheathing his sword.
Gary stumbled a step and dropped to his knees beside one of the dead Sons of Titan. His left shoulder was entirely caved in, his arm bent backward at a grotesque angle, and three ribs on his left side were visibly sunken.
In the muddy shallows, over a dozen soldiers who had been caught in the monster's sweeping blow were vomiting black clots of blood. Agonizing pain wracked their bodies with violent spasms.
But then.
Crack. Snap.
Driven by the searing, feverish heat of the [Basic Troll Serum], their dislocated and shattered bones were forcefully pulled back into place. Splintered bone fragments pierced through rapidly regenerating muscle tissue, scabbed over, and completely healed within moments.
Had it not been for their Troll-like constitution allowing them to withstand the initial blunt force, that sweeping downward strike wouldn't have just heavily wounded them—it would have pulverized them into meat paste on the spot!
"Zero deaths." Kyle dropped to one knee before Soren, wiping the muddy water from his mouth, his voice trembling with adrenaline."My Lord, fourteen severely wounded, but no one has breathed their last."
"The enemy leader's physical body has been slain, and we have killed two Sons of Titan!"
Soren looked down at the three-meter-tall behemoths, then glanced over at his soldiers who were currently pulling themselves up from the blood-stained puddles.
He tore off a strip of linen and calmly wiped the blood from his sword hilt.
"Clear the battlefield!"
Meanwhile, in the war room of the main keep at Ironwood Fortress.
Galahad stood at the head of a long tactical table.
At his feet lay a solid steel kite shield, its center caved in by a massive, terrifying impact. It represented the blood of over fifty shielded spearmen, the splintered remains of half the fortress gates, and completely shattered defensive barricades.
Ten Orcs. They had torn apart an entire fully-manned infantry battalion with their bare hands.
Galahad clenched his fists.
Back in the capital of the Silvermoon Kingdom, those ruling aristocrats draped in velvet robes only cared about raising their wine goblets and indulging in their decadent lives. They treated the Misty Swamps as a dumping ground for exiled criminals, tossing the borderland citizens aside like trash.
Back then, Galahad had kicked over the lacquered mahogany desk in the Ministry of Military Affairs. He and his loyal knights had ripped off their kingdom insignias and plunged headfirst into this poisonous miasma for one single reason: to shelter the human settlements left to rot in the swamps.
But now, he had to face a grim reality.
That monstrous squad—whose skin couldn't even be pierced by standard spears—hadn't gone far. By retreating into the fog, they were bound to stumble across other defenseless human refugee camps.
It would only take a single charge. Even a town of two thousand people would be reduced to a field of mangled meat within half an hour.
"Herald!"
The heavy wooden doors swung open, and an armored messenger strode in. Galahad drew the sword at his waist and pinned its tip against several ink spots marked on the map.
"Release all the Gray Falcons, and dispatch three groups of light cavalry scouts out of the fortress."
"Directions: Lone Cliff, Reed Bay, and Sunken Wood Valley."
(Author's Note: Galahad was completely unaware that Reed Bay had already been overrun by Orcs, who were subsequently wiped out by Soren's forces. )
"Warn every human settlement along those routes. If they encounter ten unarmored, three-meter-tall behemoths, they are not to form up. They are not to defend. They are to immediately abandon their camps and run for their lives toward the rear."
The herald saluted and sprinted down the wooden stairs.
A few moments later, amidst the brief whinnying of warhorses, over a dozen riders charged out through the fortress's shattered gates, swallowed by the night and the thick fog.
Hours passed. The horizon slowly bled into a lifeless, dead gray as the heavy fog began to thin.
Galahad leaned back in his chair, not having slept a wink all night.
Suddenly, the frantic clattering of hooves echoed outside the fortress drawbridge, accompanied by the hoarse, desperate shouts of a returning scout.
Galahad practically tore the door off its hinges as he bolted down the stairs.
One of the light cavalry scouts sent toward the northeast tumbled ungracefully from his saddle. His helmet was knocked askew, and he seemed utterly drained of the strength to even stand.
An adjutant rushed forward and hauled him to his feet.
"I-It's unbelievable. . ." The scout stammered, his pupils dilated in shock. Mud dripped down his face as he grabbed the adjutant with a death grip."S-Sir! Sunken Bone Shallows. . . the battle is over! Someone engaged the behemoths!"
Galahad closed the distance in two massive strides, grabbed the scout by the back of his collar, and hoisted him up.
"Who fought them?! Who ran into those monsters?!"