Chapter 31: A Mismatch of Skills
Holding the two attackers was proving to be far more difficult than Quintus could have ever believed. Even with three full patrols on top of them, they were struggling. The injury to the dagger-wielding one's leg had healed after she downed some kind of red elixir, and the speed at which she flashed around left everyone stunned and unprepared for attacks from unexpected angles.
The archer, though, was much less of an issue now that they had closed the distance. It seemed that she couldn't use her bow effectively at this range. It was slung over her shoulder as she faced the Legionnaires down with a short sword in one hand and a dagger in another.
Both women were skilled, far more skilled than the pitiful young adventurers that had become his charges. And based on her speed and strength alone, he'd put her against any one of the members of the Legion, including himself.
But skilled as they were, it was still clear that they lacked some level of fundamentals. Their movements were carried by their physical abilities and the occasional supernaturally-aided displays of active skills. For that reason, the battle raged on.
The men grouped together in twos and threes to form a loose encirclement of smaller shield walls. Now that they were out of the trees, most of the men had swapped their swords for spears, hoping to keep the aggressors at a distance in the open clearing. Quintus constantly had people rotating in and out of the loose encirclement whenever there was a gap, focusing on using whatever first aid skills they had available on the wounded.
A few of the Legionnaires had taken various skills like [Bandage] and [Field Aid] and had become quite good at patching up superficial wounds. But at this point, almost everyone was fighting injured. Even the centurions in charge of each patrol were in rough shape, having never left the front lines for a break. But the fact that there were enough men to pull people away from the fight briefly, even if for only a few seconds, was a relief.
"Is that all you've got, you shameless bitch? You strike with all the force of a wet fart!"
The ranger's eyes narrowed at the [Taunt], sending her darting toward the shouting Legionnaire for a precious few seconds before she recovered her wits. He readied his spear to meet her charge. Soon after, another man activated his own skill to send the ranger careening back in his direction.
It was a tactic they'd been developing recently. Ever since their fight with the strange snake-goat-beast, Quintus had realized just how much the Legion struggled with handling powerful individuals—specifically, in controlling their movements. As powerful of a tool as their shield wall was, it did nothing if the enemy could simply ignore it.