At that moment, in the chaotic center of the battlefield, Anno was struggling alone to hold the line. Even when facing the minotaurs protected by the ancestors, she could slay them almost unharmed, relying on her plate armor, magical shield, and the battle training she had received since childhood.
However, two fists cannot fend off a hundred enemies. When she was besieged by hordes of foes, unable to cover all directions at once, even her supposedly invincible magic plate armor could not prevent her from occasionally being stunned by a blunt weapon.
After all, the other guards had already broken and fled, and there was no one left to watch her flanks. The enemies could easily encircle her from both sides, or launch sudden raids from the rear.
Fortunately, Theresa, still flying overhead, kept a constant watch on Anno. When danger was imminent, a barrage of guiding bolts would rain down, dispersing her attackers and giving her just enough reprieve to hang on.
And so, Anno continued to hold her ground, even as so many had already broken ranks and scattered. No matter how tempting it was to flee, her sense of duty forbade her to do so. She had to stand fast, buying precious evacuation time for the innocent townsfolk. This update ıs available on novel•fire.net
Every minute she held out meant that more innocents could escape with their valuables, reducing losses, and perhaps allowing the Mountain People to claim fewer lives.
She was also waiting—for Charles to return.
She firmly believed he would resolve the Earth Dragon, return to support her and Theresa, and perhaps even engineer a miracle to turn the tide and lead them to victory...
This last hope was all but fanciful, but in her heart, a tiny spark still burned.
She longed for victory—to defend this place, and to make these Mountain People pay dearly in blood!
She didn’t have to wait long. Fierce blasts of energy shot over from the distance, blasting apart the skull of a minotaur who had tried to ambush her from behind with a maul.
Immediately after, countless vines and tentacles erupted from the ground, binding or crushing the other foes surrounding her, finally relieving her predicament.
Anno turned to look around and saw Charles, Hattie, and Nidalee breaking through the smoke and fire, racing her way.
In that instant, the whole world seemed to light up, as if spring had come suddenly: "Charles!"
She waved her arm, greeting him, while Charles, seeing the situation clearly, frowned deeply.
He hurried to Anno’s side: "What’s going on? Wasn’t everything under control just a moment ago? Why have we suddenly been pushed back ?"
It made no sense. With those ion beam emitters, Rockseeker Camp’s defenders should have been hammering the enemy!
How had it come to this reversal?
At his words, Anno’s expression grew complicated. "Well... at first, everything was fine. The minotaurs couldn’t even lift their heads against the Lightning Bolts. We had the upper hand."
"But as the fighting dragged on, those adventurers’ Ion Beam Emitters suddenly started to overheat."
Charles blinked, already suspecting what had happened. "Overheat? What do you mean?"
Anno shook her head. "I don’t know, but suddenly all those wielding emitters panicked, shouting about overheating and such."
Hearing this, Charles’ face only darkened. "And then?"
"And then they exploded!" Anno sighed, face full of pain. "Who could have guessed the blue dragon’s devices would be so prone to failure? One man was blown half to pieces instantly!"
Charles blinked again. "So... after that, they didn’t dare fire again, and the Mountain People rallied?"
Anno nodded. "Exactly."
Charles pinched his brow, silently lamenting. Wealthy blue dragons dabbling in industry and manufacturing—misfortune and chaos seem to follow every venture...
Was it just bad luck, or were these Ion Beam Emitters simply lacking loyalty?
But with defeat certain, he harbored no more delusions of overturning fate. He was spent, and it was clear Anno’s stamina and mana were all but exhausted.
Glancing back at the small town, he offered his suggestion: "It seems most people have evacuated. We should fall back as well."
Immediately, he saw profound disappointment and frustration flicker across the girl’s face.
She bit her lip, clearly unwilling to accept such an ending—yet reality could not be denied.
"Alright," she murmured. "Let’s retreat."
Charles could feel her sorrow. He gave her a hug in consolation, but there was no time to ease her distress further. He turned, shouting skyward, "Theresa, we’re leaving!"
Up above, the ceaseless barrages had left Theresa feeling wearied and overheated herself. At that moment, hearing the retreat order, she breathed a sigh of relief.
She exhaled deeply, surveyed the charging minotaurs, then raised her hands, chanting the incantation: "Prismatic Spray!"
At the battle’s end, she unleashed her trump card—a 7th-level spell, Prismatic Spray!
She knew it wouldn’t destroy the Archdruid, nor did she expect to kill the enemy’s highest-level spellcaster. She simply wanted to inflict as much carnage as possible, forcing these aggressors to pay dearly and deterring any immediate pursuit.
Rays of many colors enveloped nearly half the small town—red fire, orange acid, yellow lightning, green poison, blue frost, indigo petrification, and violet banishment, each striking different targets.
The minotaurs caught in these dazzling lights—even protected by ancestral blessings—were grievously wounded or outright slain; the especially unlucky, caught by two rays at once, were vaporized to ash!
"Storm of Vengeance!"
Seeing the mage show ’no honor’ by attacking ordinary soldiers, the Archdruid’s eyes bulged in rage. Disregarding collateral damage, he raised his hand and cast a 9th-level spell—Storm of Vengeance—summoning torrents of lightning to strike at Theresa!
Theresa’s objective was accomplished; she had no intention of continuing the magical duel here. Her form transformed into a streak of light as she retreated, following Charles and the others.
With Theresa’s withdrawal, Rockseeker’s Outpost’s last line of defense was finally breached. The greedy Mountain People warriors poured into the small town, roaring with laughter as they rushed into the houses to plunder.
Though most of the residents had evacuated safely, time was short, and much property was left behind—now easy spoils for the marauders.
Though the final 9th-level spell missed its mark, it had nonetheless driven away the last serious foe. Utterly exhausted, Ilarode finally stepped toward the small town at a measured pace. Watching the reveling Mountain People, relief filled his heart.
At least, in the end, they had won. That made it all worthwhile.
So thinking, he rejoined Torun, who had been leading the assault, as well as the Chimera tribe’s war chief—both returned to his side.
As leaders, they would never dirty their hands with looting; that was beneath them. Such hard labor was for subordinates. All they needed was to give orders and then take their share of the spoils.
But before dividing the plunder among their own tribes, the leading tribes needed to split the main spoils between themselves.
Torun’s gaze swept the battlefield, and he was the first to speak: "The Mountaineer tribe paid the highest price in this battle: the Earth Dragon disrupted the field, and the Archdruid personally held off the enemy’s most powerful spellcaster. By rights, the Mountaineer tribe ought to pick the first spoils."
He said this not out of genuine magnanimity, but to establish a practice—if the others agreed, repeated occasions would make them accustomed to endorsing his policies, gradually cementing his authority within the alliance.
Besides, for the Highmountain tribe, destroying Rockseeker Camp was already gain enough.
The half-orc chief of the Chimera tribe had no objection to this arrangement. Ilarode frowned slightly, about to offer a polite refusal, when a booming voice came rushing over:
"Hey! Are you all alright?"
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