Another howl of agony erupted from Luger Stonehide’s throat, the sharp pain gradually pulling his will back to the surface. The torment in his soul was replaced by the pain searing through his flesh and internal organs. The terror gripping his heart was mostly dispelled, and his frantic escape finally faltered. His gaze now shimmered with confusion.
Wait... Wasn’t I supposed to be here to battle, to kill that man?
His heart hammered in his chest, but just as this thought surfaced, another four streams of energy lashed against his body!
Once more, he couldn’t help but let out a tortured howl. The Hexblade’s Curse tore at his internal organs, fresh blood now dribbling from the corners of his mouth. He turned and glared furiously at the source of the assault—far in the distance, the white-haired human still chanting incantations, a circular magic array appearing for the fifth time, suspended in midair.
Charles’s expression was grim as steel, like a remorseless Eldritch Blast machine. His battle plan from here on out was simple: keep firing Eldritch Blast to draw back the Bear Barbarian’s hatred, and whenever they closed in, land a staggering smite and drive him away!
The goal: force this foe to waste his time running back and forth, so Charles could pour out massive damage with Eldritch Blast from a safe distance—until the enemy finally dropped dead!
After all, with the power of the Illusionist’s Bracers, as a warlock he could output nearly twice as much as any ordinary warlock. Even with the Bear Barbarian’s hulking endurance, he wouldn’t withstand many more rounds —he’d be reduced to bloody scraps!
It all seemed perfect—except as Charles finished chanting his fifth Eldritch Blast, and the fierce energies tore forth, the Giant Bear suddenly rolled sideways— ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪs ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ʙʏ 𝓷𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓵·𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖·𝙣𝙚𝙩
Despite his bulky frame, he rolled with surprising agility, dodging three of the blasts; only one struck its mark.
Without breaking stride, he regained his posture, then spun and kept running further into the distance!
Charles was dumbstruck.
Aren’t you supposed to be a barbarian?
You’re stacked with buffs, shouldering the hopes of your tribe, here to sweep aside the camp like a force of nature—
Where’s your honor? Your pride? The courage expected from the toughest of all classes?!
Aren’t you afraid your tribe will mock you on your return?!
Charles swore he’d never seen a self-initiated escape from a barbarian—in any game, let alone real life—leaving his mind momentarily blank.
He quickly gave chase, letting off a few more Eldritch Blasts. One connected, but a determined, fleeing Giant Bear was terrifyingly fast. Within seconds, the brute vanished from sight.
Left with no choice, Charles finally had to halt and set aside his pursuit of this honorless barbarian—he turned his gaze instead on the wider battle.
At that moment, the front line that he and Anno had barely stabilized now held steady, thanks to reinforcements from the others. With the front momentarily secure, Charles didn’t rush back into combat. Instead, he pulled out his spellbook and started to rescue as many of the wounded as possible.
Only now, surveying the scene, did he see just how grim things really were. Luger Stonehide’s brief rampage through the ranks had caused massive casualties. At least twenty had perished under his terrifying might; most survivors were grievously wounded, some crippled for life.
Charles hurried from one mangled fighter to the next, casting Cure Wounds and hauling them back from death’s door. In the process, he noticed that aside from the mage who’d shielded herself, nearly all surviving wounded were dwarves.
He couldn’t help but marvel at the dwarves’ tenacious vitality, but didn’t linger. After dragging the handful of survivors back from the edge, he turned and threw himself once more into the front-line battle.
The Mountain People’s rear lines.
Watching Luger Stonehide’s panicked retreat, Torun let out a silent sigh of relief. Even after becoming a Giant Bear and being stacked with magic buffs—so what? He still couldn’t best that man.
That was what he thought, though his face remained solemn. "This is quite a hidden nest of dragons—if even the mighty Luger, a barbarian among barbarians, is forced to flee."
"It seems only by entering the fray myself can these foes be defeated."
As he spoke, Ilarode couldn’t help but give him a sidelong glance. This boy always manages to come up with something new, he thought, even managing to boast at a time .
But he didn’t mock. His eyes turned to Charles, and a bold idea flickered in his mind: Could this man be the one Nidalee favors?
Given what he’d just seen, from any angle, this warrior was peerlessly impressive—he’d brought down a barbarian, empowered by three druid spells and transformed into a Giant Bear, as if it were nothing.
A man such as this, superior even to Torun, winning my daughter’s heart—perhaps that isn’t so unacceptable...
He mulled this inwardly, wavering but saying nothing. His expression grew grave as he nodded. "Torun, I’ll go deal with that mage who’s holding back the Earth Dragon—for this front line, I leave it to you and your warriors!"
Torun nodded, then hefted his axes high, unleashing a thunderous battle cry: "Highmountain tribe—charge!"
Roaring, he entered his rage. Immense spectral minotaur heads of different hues materialized behind him—iconic ancestors from the tribe’s long history—now bowing their heads, smiling down on their descendants.
Torun led the charge. Behind him, over two hundred minotaur warriors—each hefting stone axes, greatclubs, and other massive weapons—bellowed as they stormed ahead.
Above, the shining phantom minotaur heads shed motes of many-colored radiance that melded into a silvery hue, making the minotaurs’ fur gleam brilliantly.
This was Torun’s gift, path of the ancestor-guarding barbarian: when raging, he could call upon the spirits of the ancestors to grant protection to kinsmen of the same bloodline.
Perhaps alone, Torun couldn’t defeat Luger, who stacked three archdruid spells—but leading his minotaurs, he commanded a truly unstoppable army!
Among these mountains, they would be invincible!
The minotaurs stormed the battlefield, on the verge of tearing Rockseeker’s Outpost’s lines apart in moments. These were no goblins or kobolds—over two hundred nearly two-meter-tall, musclebound minotaurs wielding heavy weapons, pressing forward with a force nothing smaller could match!
The fires kept raging, black smoke billowing high. The scales instantly tipped—ordinary human guards and adventurers couldn’t withstand the onslaught and broke almost instantly; halflings worked their light crossbows, gnomes attempted to cast spells, but all this had little effect on the minotaurs. The ancestors’ blessing shielded them from tremendous harm—unless overwhelming firepower was brought to bear, the minotaurs simply ignored these meager blows!
Only the mountain dwarves, relying on brute strength, could stand toe-to-toe with the minotaurs—and even that wouldn’t last long. Defeat was just a matter of time.
From the instant the minotaurs hit the field, the outcome seemed sealed. At the back of the crowd, Charles discharged Eldritch Blast after Eldritch Blast, trying to drive back the invading horde, racking his brain for any method to turn back this disaster...
Suddenly, a bolt of lightning—thick and blinding—arced across the battlefield—
With a blaze of electric light and the crackle of energy, the lightning bolt ripped through several minotaurs in a line. Their bodies convulsed, paralyzed on the spot, their fur even bursting into flame, crackling and popping in the magical current!
The scent of roast meat, tinged with acrid smoke, wafted through the chaos.
A high-level spellcaster—?!
Charles stared in shock, head whipping around—aided by the battlefield blaze, he first caught sight not of the newly arrived reinforcements, but a huge, wind-whipped banner flying overhead!
At once, his pupils contracted, his heartbeat quickened.
That’s the blue dragon bank’s symbol—it’s the banner of the adventuring company sponsored by the blue dragons!
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