Chapter 11: The Fierce Battle
Russell arrived at Calisden’s western gate and fortifications. The gate was in the process of closing. The last cart carrying hay managed to pass through just as the gate creaked shut.
Farmers stood in the corners, their faces pale with worry, as they hurriedly herded their cattle into the pens. Some held pitchforks or shovels.
Anxiety etched the farmers’ faces as they looked out toward their fields. This untimely attack by the monsters occurred at a crucial time as autumn approached.
Russell’s enhanced hearing picked up curses directed at the monsters and pleas to the gods.
“Mercenaries this way!”
An officer barked out the orders, leading the mercenaries to the designated spot. Russell followed suit, climbing the winding stone steps of the watchtower until he reached the top of the battlements.
Calisden’s outer wall was a ring of six colossal watchtowers connected by walls.
These timeworn gray stone fortifications had witnessed the rise and fall of kingdoms over the centuries.
Aside from the old, weathered stones, there were newer bricks patched in here and there.
They also set pale, glowing stones at intervals in what appeared to be sconces. They looked like mana stones.
The sunlight was dimmer than it had been in the morning. Dark clouds had gathered somewhere, blocking the sun’s face.
It looked like rain.
“Bloody hell, what’s going on?”
“Fck, fck.”
“Has anyone seen my water skin?”
“Oh radiant Luthien, please look upon us and grant us your glorious victory and acclaim with your radiant form. . .”
The mercenaries and soldiers stood in the light drizzle, their forms cloaked in pale shadows. They muttered prayers to their respective gods or cursed.
Some jumped up and down to relieve tension, while a few dwarven and elven warriors stood quietly, checking their weapons or gazing out over the walls.
Russell approached the edge of the battlements and peered down over the stones.
From the height of the walls, the sky seemed closer. Great billowing clouds stretched out like they met the distant horizon.
Below, he could see the plains and a few sparse orchards. Beyond that lay the forest. That was where the bandits, as Aunt Philly had told him, were based. But what he saw now was a sight he could never have imagined.
He chuckled grimly. ‘Bloody hell alright.’
There were monsters. Monsters filled the plains and orchards, their heads replacing the landscape’s smooth lines.
There were orcs, goblins, and ogres of varying sizes. Goblins and ogres were the most numerous, with fewer orcs. However, the orcs were the best equipped.
Some of the larger, pot-bellied creatures appeared to be mutants or magic-wielders. Russell noticed a faint glow around them, similar to the troll he had fought two days ago.
At the corners, there were ogre-like humanoids wielding axes, and here and there were trolls with mottled brown and green skin.
In the sky, winged creatures flapped their wings. Harpies are as large as eagles, with human women’s upper bodies and bird legs and talons.
The monsters marched slowly, but steadily, across the plains and orchards.
“Why are these f*kers who were growling at each other joining forces? Hey, can someone explain this to me?”
“Who knows? Shut up and nock your arrows!”
“I’ve seen you before.”
The last remark was so nonchalant and casual that it took Russell a moment to realize it was directed at him.
He turned his head to see the dark elf he had met earlier, Lexi, standing beside him.
“Your name is Luther. Right?”
“It’s Russell. You’re here, too. Did you meet your sister?”
“No. I got lost again. I came to my senses and was standing in front of that bookstore again. So I waited for you.”
“. . .Why were you waiting for me there?”
“Because you’re tall, easy to find, and friendly humans are rare.”
Lexi stared at him, as if that was all the explanation he needed.
“While I was waiting there, a human leading soldiers told me to follow him. I asked him why, and he said monsters were approaching. He mentioned that they were summoning all the other mercenaries for battle, and I pondered whether you would also be present.
So that’s what happened. Lexi looked up at Russell.
“When this is over, can you take me to a smithy? I don’t think I can go by myself.”
He supposed he could. When the battle ended, blood and oil would likely cover his armor and sword.
“How did you get into the city?”
“Gate. I like gates. I just sit still, and it takes me to my destination. Convenient.”
There is a dark elf who has a talent for becoming lost. Who came up with this setting?
Russell sighed inwardly but nodded.
“Sure. After it’s over, I’ll take you. We can get a drink too.”
“A drink? Are you going to buy me a drink?”
“You said you would buy me one.”
“Did I?”
Russell shook his head and looked forward again.
The monsters were close now, and they were running rather than walking.
Caw! Caw!
Kyaaaak!
Grool, grool, grool.
The monsters charged, their maws opening in a chorus of roars.
“Archers and wizards! Ready—!”
Russell saw a figure in a plumed helmet standing on a gallery halfway up the wall, holding a baton.
At his signal, archers nocked arrows to their bows, drew back the strings, and raised the tips.
Wizards in the city guard’s uniforms, as well as others in free-flowing robes, stood on the battlements, each chanting spells or weaving signs.
Russell spotted a familiar head of red hair among them and smiled slightly.
The mercenaries and soldiers drew their weapons. Most had swords, but some mercenaries wielded axes, flails, maces, and pikes.
With his right hand, Russell reached over his shoulder and drew his claymore. The huge blade slid out with a metallic shing. The polished blade was so clear that he could see his face in the polished blade, which was so clear.
Lexi spoke up, holding a reversed khopesh in both hands.
“That’s definitely a sword my sister made. It’s cool.”
“Be quiet and watch in front.”
“Cold. . . You were friendly earlier. My heart’s pounding. Why am I trembling? Is it because of the monsters?”
What was she talking about?
Soon, the monsters were within range of the arrows and spells, and the figure in the plumed helmet shouted.
“Fire—!”
Arrows, spells, fireballs, and lightning bolts filled the air as the baton came down.
The battle had begun.
🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷
In an instant, the monsters decimated their ranks. Few of the monsters were intelligent enough to wear armor.
Orcs were about the only ones wearing armor or shields, so they suffered less from the hail of arrows. Goblins and ogres used their small size, or the bulk of other monsters, as shields to avoid the arrows.
However, the magic spells that flew in afterward were unavoidable.
Boom! Crash!
The monsters fell like flies, their bodies piling up. But more monsters marched over the bodies.
The spells and arrows aimed at the ground now soared into the sky. Winged monsters had descended upon the walls.
“Kyaaaak!”
“Gyahahaha!”
A harpy’s talons lifted a soldier into the air. The soldier’s scream of terror. The harpy’s cruel laughter.
The soldier tried to stab upward with his sword, but the harpy’s feathers were thick and tough.
“Let go! You monster!”
“Oh, really?”
The harpy smiled wickedly and actually let go of the soldier. The dizzying ground rushed up to meet him, and the soldier crashed into the middle of the monsters.
A cloud of blood burst forth, and the excited monsters swarmed over him, tearing his mangled body to pieces. It was a scene where battle and sustenance took place simultaneously.
That’s how the harpies and winged creatures killed or dropped soldiers. They tore them apart, one grabbing a shoulder or arm while others grabbed a leg or neck and pulled.
Blood and gore rained down from the sky like rain. Crimson entrails under the dark clouds. Bright red organs. The stench of blood was suffocating.
“Shoot! Shoot your arrows! Aim for the wings!”
“The harpies’ wings are tough, so it’s difficult with normal arrows!”
“Then aim for the body! Argh!”
The officer never finished his sentence. He was torn apart in mid-air and fell in pieces onto the soldiers below.
With the harpies wreaking havoc above, the men below had no choice but to stumble over the remains of their torn comrades.
“Eek, eeeeek!”
“Uwaaaah!”
Some panicked soldiers swung their weapons wildly, getting blood and entrails on their heads, while others gagged and collapsed. Monsters’ claws or other mercenaries’ swords killed those men.
The monsters’ strategy prevented the soldiers and mercenaries from fighting effectively, leaving them uncertain about their fate. And while they hesitated, goblins scaled the walls.
“Eeeek!”
Barely reaching the waist of an adult man, with mottled green and brown skin, thin limbs, and bloodshot eyes, They were weaker than adult women, but the goblins’ terror hid in their persistence.
They wielded daggers and stabbed at exposed flesh or Achilles’ tendons. Soldiers fell over, their legs hamstrung by the small creatures’ attacks.
Then the goblins climbed on top of them and hacked away with their rusty daggers or axes. Another soldier became an unrecognizable corpse.
At this rate, Calisden would fall easily. It seemed like only a matter of time before they fell to the monsters.
A great sword swung through the air toward the small fiends. From left to right, every monster’s head that came within range of the blade flew into the air.
The monsters, who had just reached the walls, turned their attention to the wielder of the great sword.
He was nearly two meters tall, with broad shoulders, black leather armor, and black hair. He wore no helmet, so his handsome, aristocratic face was bare, his violet eyes gleaming.
Kyaaaak!
The monsters lunged at the man, but like the others before them, their heads and torsos were separated and they collapsed. Russell wiped the black blood from his face and walked along the battlements, his feet barely touching the stone.
Each time Russell wielded his sword, he claimed a life. The soldiers, whose lives the great sword had saved, stared at Russell in confusion. He had already walked a distance and was cutting down more monsters.
And Russell wasn’t the only one who had noticed him. With its wings spread, one of the harpies that had been harassing the wizards and archers approached Russell.
“Gyahahaha!”
Like an owl swooping down on its prey, it spreads its wings wide and thrusts out its raptor’s legs and hooked talons. It was aimed at Russell’s back.
Thwack!
The harpy grabbed Russell’s shoulder from behind without resistance and tried to fly off with a cry of triumph.
She had expected the large human to look as terrified as the others when he was taken into the air.
But no matter how much the harpy flapped its wings, Russell didn’t budge. It was incomprehensible to the harpy, which was strong enough to lift two adult men.
The enormous human’s hand slammed the harpy into the ground before it could think any further.
The force was so great that the stone slabs that made up the floor cracked and split with a pop. Russell couldn’t handle the recoil and dropped the harpy’s severed leg.
A lump of meat with little resemblance to an upper body lay on the ground, now a bloody mess. As it exploded, the feathers that had burst out of the harpy fluttered and fell through the air.
The sight of this made the eyes of the other harpies in the sky widen in horror. Harpies lived in communities, and all were someone’s mother, sister, or younger sibling, so they were very close-knit monsters.
Because of their unity, people ran away when they encountered harpies in the forest. If they killed even one, they would have to fight every harpy in the forest to the death.
And most often, it ended with the death of the one who had killed the harpy.
Kyaak! Kyaaaak!
“Kill him! Kill himmm!”
“How dare you kill my sister!”
The harpies, whose voices were high-pitched and shrill like those of women, all flew at Russell. The wizards sighed in relief, but at the same time, they couldn’t help but pray for the warrior’s soul.
He would surely die soon from the harpies’ steel talons and wings. But their expectations were wrong.
“That man is. . .”
The red-haired female mercenary wizard muttered with wide eyes.
For a brief moment, Russell was surrounded by harpies, like crows gathering around a corpse. Disgusting monsters with sagging breasts and hideous faces.
All he could see in his field of vision were bloody, hooked talons and feathers.
A strong hand gripped the handle of the claymore. The tip of the sword dragged on the ground, and muscles rippled. Russell swung the greatsword.
It was a storm of blades.
He tore to pieces and scattered the harpies that had charged at him from all sides like flesh.
For a moment, the picture, drenched in the black blood of the monsters, hung in the air, sending chills down everyone’s spines. As the picture fell to the ground with a thud, Russell let out the breath he had been holding.
In the cool air of early autumn, under the dark clouds, his heated breath turned into a white mist.
“Amazing. . .”
Lexi, who had intended to help Russell, had stars in her eyes.
