Chapter 271 Chapter 269 Retreat!
The first wave of attack from the dark elves came in the form of magical strikes from the black ark.
Clusters of red flames rained down on the crowd, exploding amongst them, setting people ablaze as they rolled on the ground, while the survivors fled in panic. Lightning struck down, shattering the counterweighted catapults. A group of wailing souls screamed, attacking every living creature in the camp.
In an instant, demon fire clung to the wooden camp, burning fiercely, and the Bartó infantry, who had finally gathered, scattered like headless flies, fleeing in all directions.
Thus, when the dark elf pirates, wielding dual blades, charged down from their longships, they encountered no resistance beyond a few stray arrows.
All the Bartó defenders within the burning camp soon regretted their decision.
A large shadow approached the beach, and within moments, a war hydra emerged from the sea, water streaming off its multiple scaly necks. This hydra reached the height of a cyclops’s shoulders and was far larger in size.
At the command of the beastmaster, the war hydra crushed the makeshift dock and rushed onto the beach, devouring several fleeing Bartó infantry as it went, chewing as it made its way to the front of the camp.
A large crowd of deserters huddled in front of the camp, and when the terrified soldiers saw the giant beast approaching from the sea, they immediately shut the wooden door, leaving the crowd of deserters banging furiously on the door, shouting loudly.
The war hydra opened its mouths in unison, spewing out gouts of golden breath towards the camp’s gate. The breath passed through human bodies, exploding at the entrance and instantly killing over two hundred people, their bodies rotting in the golden breath.
In the mud, a legless infantryman stretched out his bloodied palms in despair, desperate to crawl out of the corrosive ground.
The wooden door fell, and an endless stream of dark elf pirates surged into the camp.
Above them, the witch king rode his black dragon, followed by a large group of sharp-eared harpies, flying over the fallen camp gates.
A holy woman accompanying the army began to cast spells, seeking the goddess’s aid.
The witch king clenched his left fist; the steel ring on his finger erupted with powerful energy. Almost immediately, all hostile spellcasters on the battlefield, including beastmen, felt as if a hand was tightly gripping their throats, leaving them unable to cast spells.
The witch king waved his blade at the panicked heroic army below: “Kill all these monkeys! Bring me the dark lord’s extraordinary material!”
The harpies spread out, searching for the dark lord’s extraordinary material, with several flying off to shred any accompanying holy women daring enough to cast harm against the witch king.
Behind the witch king’s black dragon, rows of purple-black longships cried out the name of Kane, surging towards multiple beaches.
The Druzi jumped down from their ships, some clad in revealing attire, wearing black silk of sea dragons. Others carried shields and crossbows, forming ranks to provide long-range fire, and there were even cavalry on black horses wielding long spears.
A tide of darkness, carrying immense power, rushed towards the Bartó army’s camp.
The rear of the Bartó was completely lost, a conclusion already evident.
Meanwhile, the central frontline, which was struggling under the assault of the Mother of Beasts, was affected when the black ark “bombarded” the heroic army’s camp.
Panic spread through the entire army faster than any arrow.
Reinforcements that should have come to support scattered on their way, with no fresh blood entering the meat grinder.
The beastmen’s advance, slightly intensified, immediately caused the already shaky defenses to collapse.
George pushed away the bull-headed corpse pinning him down and saw Jima fighting a harpy.
She shouted, “Do you think I can’t kill you just because I can’t cast spells?”
With that, her axe spear pierced the foe, and the ax spear blessed by the blood god extended a scarlet tongue, draining the enemy’s blood.
A black-haired succubus flew toward George, asking, “George, are you alright?”
“I’m fine.”
The area was swarming with incoming beastmen, easily overwhelming the few remaining resisting knights. Flames danced throughout the camp, and clusters of wailing souls continuously fell from the sky, making it resemble a hell on earth.
“The line…”
“Is gone!” Jima said. “The witch king is here, bringing a black ark to breach the rear. We should retreat—strategic withdrawal!”
After speaking, Jima turned, gripping her axe spear firmly, aiming at a harpy attempting to ambush them. A ghostly blue arrow shot ahead, piercing the hidden witch’s head.
Eve Frostleaf stood on a nearby watchtower, her mouth open as a gust of wind carried her words to the two of them.
“I’ve seen the evil witch king of the Druzi.”
Jima was trying to help George accept reality.
George yelled, “Gregory! Where is he?”
Off in the distance, a cluster of flames erupted, highly visible among the beasts. His old acquaintance, the scarred horned bull-headed man, was leading a large group of bull-headed men towards that flame, wielding massive axes and cleavers, seemingly intending to extinguish that fire.
“Follow me!”
George instantly transformed into a streak of light and charged forward.
If Gregory were to die, Jima would be very pleased, but she had no choice; while flying, she muttered a spell to curse and weaken the bull-headed men.
George plunged alone into the crowd of bull-headed men, stabbing one with his sword, and another bull-headed man, roaring in anger, swung a heavy battle axe towards George, but faltered, falling into a slumber.
George swiftly retaliated, cutting his throat.
At that moment, Jima caught sight of a mound of white flesh walking past the ruined wall; it was the upper half of the Mother of Beasts, with a human torso and the lower half that resembled an ant queen. She instinctively panicked, fearing the Mother of Beasts might cast a curse to seal her abilities, but thankfully, it did not.
The Mother of Beasts paid her no mind, heading straight for the land polluted by the dark lord’s material, where terrified cries echoed, and rising black smoke formed faces filled with ultimate fear, only to dissipate in the air.
The terrified cries enchanted Jima; she even saw visions. People feared her, fleeing before her, while she laughed heartily.
Shaking her head, Jima broke free from the illusion and sighed with relief, at least the Mother of Beasts was not targeting her. She aimed at a bull-headed man weakened by Eve Frostleaf’s arrow, taking his life.
The three of them worked together, slaughtering through a swarm of bull-headed men, heading straight for the scarred bull-headed man.
The latter roared in fury, “If you have the ability, wrestle with me, one-on-one!”
No sooner had he spoken than several arrows struck his joints. Jima pulled out a voodoo doll and began to stab it before him.
The scarred bull-headed man was infuriated by the tactic of attacking him with numbers; he charged at George, with his huge hooves stomping the ground and creating a pit, even cracking the earth as he made his charge.
Even George had to sidestep, and the scarred bull-headed man charged toward the Mother of Beasts, shouting, “We’ll have our chance to wrestle next time.”
Jima lightly landed, stepping on the corpses of the bull-headed men, saying, “Running away sounds so poetic.”
George quickly plunged his sword into the ground, helping the bloodied Gregory to his feet, asking, “Old man, can you still talk?”
Gregory raised his hand, throwing away his dented red helmet, saying, “My right hand is broken, and a few blood vessels in my thigh are likely severed.”
Jima threw the blood-filled goat-horned cup she had drunk from three times to Gregory; he took a sip and tossed it back to Jima, telling George, “Why are you still helping me? Isn’t the situation clear enough?”
“Retreat,” George spat out bitterly.
More screaming beastmen rushed toward them.
“You hesitated.”
“I know, now is the best time to withdraw.” George released Gregory, drawing his sword to face the enemy. As he took his first step to escape, the blessing of the lake goddess dissipated, and it didn’t feel good.
“No, it’s a flanking maneuver,” Jima corrected. “We’re building our strength, waiting for the witch king and the Mother of Beasts to fight over the dark lord’s extraordinary material, inflicting mutual destruction when we suddenly strike. Recall, it’s taken us so long to collect the dark lord’s extraordinary material; how long do you think the Mother of Beasts will take?”
“This is retreating; neither side on the opposite is stupid, and we can’t afford to wait for them to weaken each other.” George struggled to carve a path, “I want to see if I can slay the Mother of Beasts.”
“No.” Gregory corrected, “Child, sometimes you have to swallow the bitter fruit to survive.”
“Exactly.” Jima rarely agreed with Gregory.
As they fought and retreated more than a hundred meters, Jima couldn’t help but glance back at the land polluted by the dark lord’s extraordinary material.
However, she saw the Mother of Beasts, who had originally been hunched over, straighten up, holding the gathered dark lord’s extraordinary material—encapsulated in a mound of flesh.
The Mother of Beasts looked towards Jima from a distance, a malicious curse surged through the connection between Jima and the dark lord’s extraordinary material, and everything went black before her eyes as her body was inexplicably drawn toward it.
“Jima!” George turned around, leaping over ten meters, trying to grab Jima’s hand, but her hand was as limp as a noodle, slipping away from his grasp.
