Chapter 79 Chapter Seventy-Eight Collapse
The troll with a rotting face slowly fell in front of the child Dagaji.
The child Dagaji looked at his spear, incredulous, as it was stained with blood. In an instant, warmth surged in his mind; the troll must have been defeated by him, for his teacher was George.
He felt like a hero, just like in the legendary tales, where heroes are born on the battlefield.
His mind was buzzing, but the next moment, he sensed something was wrong. How could he open a big hole in the troll’s face with a spear?
A rough voice came from behind: “Kid! Get back! Don’t block me!”
And the accent was quite strange.
The child Dagaji turned his head and saw a dwarf engineer standing on a pile of stones above, holding a smoking “fire stick.”
He immediately understood that it wasn’t his ridiculous long spear that had killed the troll, but the dwarf’s “fire stick.”
The temperature in his head dropped. The troll’s body was shaking, and he instinctively thought to burn the troll’s corpse; otherwise, after a while, the troll would get back up.
But he didn’t have a “fire pot”; only adults had those.
Looking around, Dagaji found corpses and wounded people lying everywhere. In the distance, trolls were fighting fiercely, the wounded trolls refusing to fall, while humans were becoming increasingly sparse. More trolls were climbing up.
Fear gripped his hands; they trembled, but he still crouched down to search for a “fire pot.” He felt around on an adult, who lay on the ground like a broken rag doll, with limbs twisted at bizarre angles.
He wasn’t dead yet and was making muffled sounds. As Dagaji felt for the “fire pot” at his waist, the sounds became clearer.
“…help me…help me…help me…”
The child Dagaji felt a pang in his heart; he recognized that the person was someone who had been by his side before. As he took off the fire pot, the adult’s limp hand suddenly lifted and nudged him, shouting, “…quick! Help me! Help me!”
Blood poured from his mouth, he had suffered serious internal injuries and wouldn’t last long; Dagaji couldn’t drag him away either.
Dagaji was startled and almost fell over, his legs trembling. In his peripheral vision, he saw a troll without any injuries climbing the stone wall.
The line was about to collapse.
He didn’t think much more and swung the “fire pot” down onto the rotting-faced troll with all his might. The force wasn’t great, and the “fire pot” only cracked in a few places.
The liquid inside spilled out, smoking and reacting with the air, quickly igniting. A fire formed on the troll’s body, but that was all.
But it was enough.
Just as Dagaji sighed in relief, a large hand yanked the burning troll down forcefully.
He instinctively reached forward to pull the troll’s corpse back, only to see a troll at the foot of the stone wall pulling another companion’s body back, the two of them exchanging glances, and the troll roared.
His ears vibrated, and he stepped back a few paces. Now he truly understood the horror of trolls; before, he had been too far away.
He had only seen them easily felled before heroes, powerless to fight back.
Fear and pride intertwined in his head, and reason seemed to diminish.
More and more trolls were climbing the stone wall; the defensive line was on the verge of collapse.
Jima could fly and had a bird’s-eye view of the situation. She glanced at the crumbling defensive line.
It had been just over twenty minutes since the battle started, during which the trolls had spent most of their time climbing walls and crawling out of traps; actual combat had probably only lasted four or five minutes.
As she expected, the lack of discipline and coordination, along with mere fervor, resulted in just a bunch of human-shaped obstacles, the kind with spikes, which only managed to injure the trolls.
That was all.
Ironically, Jima still had hopes that these “spiked” obstacles could drain some of the troll mage’s magic. From start to finish, the river troll witch next to the troll leader hadn’t even cast a single spell.
Under the second stone wall, people were crammed together.
Originally, the plan was simple: as soon as the people above couldn’t hold on, the reserves below would come up and replace them. It sounded easy—just climbing the stairs, right?
But in battle, even the simplest actions became exceedingly complex.
The reserves and the people above were jammed at the stairs.
Some were carrying those who had lost the will to fight down, while others, injured and unable to fight, also tried to descend, colliding with the reserves.
In normal circumstances, everyone would just step aside quickly and clear the way.
But just a few meters away, there was a troll swinging a terrifying giant club.
Those trying to go up and those trying to retreat were tangled together, blocking one another. For a brief moment, the stairs showed some signs of order, but then the troll rushed in with its massive club, smashing into the crowd.
Chaos erupted once again, with cries of agony ringing out.
Jima turned around, diving down, and picked up her copper horn from her chest, blowing it forcefully to signal a retreat.
“Tu-tu-tu!”
The crowd pressed into the narrow staircase finally began to move, but only half of them did. The other half paid little attention to the retreat signal.
Lacking rigorous training, they had not developed a conditioned reflex to the signal, and in the chaotic and noisy battlefield, they ignored the sound, unable to think straight, failing to grasp the meaning behind the call.
Jima couldn’t help but curse, “This bunch of %$#@!”
She had never led such a weak bunch of “soldiers.” Now she desperately wanted to send this useless meat scrap to the battlefield for digestion; it was infuriating to look at.
They were utterly burdensome!
But on the first stone wall, George’s white light was flashing among the trolls.
She sighed and once again flew over the second stone wall, shouting at the oblivious crowd, “Retreat! Get back!”
“Retreat to the third city wall!”
A few armed refugees were engaged in battle with a battered troll, focused entirely on their fight, ignoring Jima’s shouts just a few meters away.
Those taking a few steps back felt embarrassed to leave their comrades behind.
Jima tightened her grip on her “branch axe spear” and shouted, “I’m talking to you! Retreat now!”
The troll smashed down its huge club, hitting an armed refugee wearing a helmet squarely on the head, and he was knocked down flat. People nearby went down as well.
But a brave armed refugee miraculously leaped onto the troll’s thick neck, stabbing it through with his sword. The troll struggled for a moment and then fell to the ground.
“Get back!”
The armed refugee seemed to have once been a warrior; he had blood smeared across his face and stood with one foot on the troll’s corpse, turning to Jima and disdainfully spitting out two words: “Coward!”
Jima acted immediately, swinging her axe blade diagonally, embedding it into his neck. He had only enough time to look at Jima with wide-eyed surprise.
The axe blade extended like a tongue, burrowing inside him. Jima withdrew the blade, the tongue-like part unwilling to leave, stretching long as blood dripped from it.
Jima coldly remarked, “Seeking death.”
Everyone behind was stunned. Jima turned and asked, “Are you all going to defy military orders and seek death too?”
“Agan!” His comrade shouted from behind, launching a surprise attack on Jima with the battle axe she had given him, striking toward the back of her head.
Jima twisted her body, using the advantage of her longer weapon; with a simple thrust, she pierced him.
Jima continued, “Why are you all still standing there?”
The stunned soldiers hurriedly began to retreat. A few jumped directly from the crowded stairs, landing on the ground.
The retreat turned into a rout, but at the very least, it was much better than being jammed on the stairs.
Jima flapped her wings, soaring into the air, reluctantly withdrawing her branch axe spear with the crimson tongue from the dry corpse, using her “mimicry” ability to casually throw a fireball, incinerating the troll’s remains.
Elsewhere, the armed refugees were disintegrating at an astonishing speed, with no one left to cover them. The trolls, delighted to find the battle had shifted to the “chase” phase.
Jima wasn’t particularly angry; her emotions were calm, which was normal. Because the lack of cover wasn’t a courage issue but a discipline issue.
If this continued, the trolls would chase the fleeing soldiers and crash through the third city wall.
“Once again, cleaning up the mess.”
Jima complained, summoning Bald Strong, who pounced on a troll that was chasing the armed refugees, knocking it down with a sword that severed its head, leaping up while clad in heavy armor, easily clearing the four-meter-high stone wall, and stealthily attacking another troll.
Her movements were fluid; before the first troll’s head had even hit the ground, the third troll was struck by Bald Strong’s giant sword, coming close to death.
With Bald Strong covering them, the armed refugees finally managed to escape toward the third city wall.
But it wasn’t over yet; more and more trolls were climbing the unguarded stone wall.
Bald Strong raised his large hand, the heads of the trolls he had slain flying toward him. Spikes suddenly shot out from his back, piercing through four troll heads, as if bearing a banner of skulls.
All the trolls climbing the wall couldn’t help but feel a surge of fear. They waved their clubs and charged towards the body of this former demon king.
Jima raised her hand and pointed, “Drive them away.”
Bald Strong opened his mouth wide, “Get lost!”
The four troll heads on his “skull banner” all opened their mouths in fear, letting out terrifying shrieks that shared their impending doom with the remaining living brethren.
Bald Strong took the opportunity to charge and fight; even as a “monkey version” of a demon king, he was not something the trolls could withstand. After killing three or four trolls in a row, the remaining trolls were frightened and began to jump off the wall, fleeing in terror alongside the armed refugees rushing toward the third city wall.
Having repulsed the trolls’ first wave of attacks, Jima wasn’t happy; she muttered, “Magic left at fifty percent—no, forty-nine percent.”
Jima ordered Bald Strong to stand on top of the stone wall, turned around, and flew toward the third city wall.
There was a reserve force there, including dwarves; it was time to have them lead the armed refugees—accurately speaking, the spiked obstacles— to fill the second stone wall.
Just as she gave the order, a sound of collapse came from behind. Jima suppressed her impulse to sigh again and saw that the first stone wall had collapsed, leaving a large breach that could fit two carts through.
Elemental stone walls are much easier to shatter than natural stone walls.
She saw the blue troll king leading a group of trolls pouring out of the breach, shouting and waving a club at the trolls on the first stone wall, ordering them to hold George back.
The trolls that had escaped from the second stone wall now had a backbone and surged toward the second stone wall.
Jima had no doubt that this group of trolls could directly breach the third stone wall; there wasn’t a single person on the second stone wall now.
