Chapter 468 - 467: Head-on Clash

Chapter 468: Chapter 467: Head-on Clash

Colin snapped his fingers, and a small flame immediately appeared at his fingertip.

A few of the Mercenaries exchanged a glance.

One of them said, "But if you’re wearing that armor, your Magic can’t be very powerful. It’d probably be more effective for you to just fight on the front line. At least, that’s what I think."

"I’ll prove I’m no coward," Colin said.

The Mercenary who had questioned him quickly said, "I... I didn’t mean it like that."

"I understand your reasoning," Colin said dismissively, then turned to Albert, who was standing beside him. "Any problem with this arrangement?"

"None at all," Albert advised. "As for the mercenaries, try to keep them on the perimeter, with the non-combatant servants on the inside. The followers of the King of the Night don’t have much of a will to fight. As long as we show them we’re not pushovers, they’ll back down."

With that said, Albert used the map to correct some of Colin’s mistakes, meticulously reassigning the Mercenaries’ positions and pointing out areas that required special attention.

Colin could hear the experience and confidence in Albert’s assured tone. Even though Colin himself had little experience with military tactics, he felt reassured by the other man’s commands.

As a nobleman from a traditional family living on the frontier, there were probably few people in all of Thousand Masts City better at dealing with Orcs than Albert.

However, since these were Mercenaries and not Albert’s own troops, he didn’t want to attempt any risky gambits. The best option was to play it safe and weather the coming attack.

THUD, THUD...

Before they could finalize their arrangements, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed from the distance.

Colin looked up to see a tall, two-headed humanoid figure emerge from between the tree trunks, looming larger as it approached.

Albert watched the silhouette in the distance and said slowly, "It seems we’re out of time for discussion, gentlemen."

There are many legends in the world about the origin of the Ettin.

Some say that, like other Giants, they are the children of the Giant Deities. Others claim they are Orcs corrupted by Demogorgon; after all, the Abyss Lord himself is depicted with two heads, and Ettins are a common sight in Orc warbands.

But regardless, a Giant is a Giant.

They are the rivals of Giant Dragons, creatures far beyond the might of mortals.

Colin watched the massive silhouettes flickering in and out of view between the distant tree trunks.

The two figures were about four meters tall and looked terrifyingly muscular.

By the faint orange light, he could make out the Beast Hides wrapped around the two Giants’ legs and lower bodies, and the iron-banded war clubs in their grips—clubs that were little more than snapped-off tree trunks.

Kase took down his Longbow and began firing at the Ettins.

The two behemoths were clearly using the massive tree trunks for cover, rendering the Half-Orc’s shots largely ineffective.

A few Mercenary captains began shouting commands. The Elite Warriors in Plate Armor moved to the perimeter of the wagon laager—a circle of wagons arranged end-to-end, the gaps filled with piles of supplies to form a solid wall.

These elites, armed with Long Spears, billhooks, and long-handled warhammers, took up positions at the laager’s weakest points, calmly awaiting the Orcs’ arrival.

"Alright, Kase, Mog—you two take out the one on the left," Colin said quickly. "Ale and I will use Magic to open a path for you. The King of the Night’s Shaman is skilled with the Darkness spell. If the enemy uses magic, wait for my signal before you try to dispel it!"

Colin looked at the taciturn Ogre Warrior and asked, "Can you do that?"

"Mage is smart. Mog will listen to Mage," Mog said, drawing the iron-banded war club from his back.

"We’re out of time for chatter," Dorn’s voice echoed in Colin’s mind. "Use Mind Communication. It’s more convenient."

THWACK! CLANG! PANG!

A chaotic cacophony erupted from ahead.

Javelins, throwing axes, stone blocks—a messy volley of projectiles rained down from the direction of the Orcish advance.

"Agh! My arm!" "Return fire! Return fire!"

Shouts erupted from all sides.

These Orcs were much smaller than the Giants, and only revealed themselves from between the gnarled roots and tree trunks as they attacked.

Until that moment, almost no one had seen them; it was as if the surrounding darkness itself was shielding them from view.

The Rangers and Ordinary Mercenaries sheltering inside the laager began to retaliate, answering the Orcs with Short Bows and Javelins.

As they counterattacked, agonized, bestial screams began to echo from the trees.

Standing inside the laager, Colin was largely safe from the barrage, but he could still see Mercenaries fall wounded and hear their screams.

As the exchange of projectiles continued, a horde of Orcs in Beast Hide Armor began charging the laager.

These Orcs were a fair bit shorter than Kase and didn’t look nearly as muscular.

All of them had ochre-red, triangular war paint on their faces—the color of death in Orcish culture.

Before the Sharp long halberds and billhooks, the Orcs’ crude armor offered little protection. But with their terrifying Power, the Orcs could use their Battle Axes to dent and even cleave through Plate Armor.

Colin watched as one Orc clambered over the corpse of a comrade and leaped into the laager. With a single swing of its axe, it caved in an Elite Mercenary’s pauldron, shattering the man’s shoulder blade underneath.

The creature didn’t get to celebrate for long; another Mercenary behind the first immediately split its skull with a long halberd.

Bloody scenes like this were playing out all over the battlefield.

Mercenaries and Orcs were locked in a desperate melee.

At the front lines, Elite Warriors fought for their lives, exchanging blows with Long Spears, long halberds, and Battle Axes.

Well-trained Dire Wolves lay in wait; any Elite Warrior at the front who showed a moment’s weakness would be dragged away by the horse-sized beasts, to be swallowed by the darkness.

The soldiers at the rear weren’t idle, either. They frantically hurled all manner of projectiles toward the enemy lines—stone blocks, arrows, and Javelins flew through the air.

On a battlefield like this, no one could say whether they would be dead the next second.

If not for the protection of the laager, the battlefield would have been several times bloodier.

’Colin really wanted to go up and help.’

’But he knew he couldn’t waste his Mana on these grunts. No matter how fast his Casting was, if he got surrounded, there was no guarantee his spells wouldn’t be interrupted.’

As the front line erupted into combat, the two Ettins began charging toward the laager with heavy, pounding strides.

These massive creatures could easily overturn the wagons of the laager. If they got close, the consequences would be unthinkable!

Colin took up the Spellbook hanging from his waist.

For some reason, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched.