Raging Flames
Richard spat out a breath of red-hot air, as if abyssal fires were burning in his lungs. He started to feel empty, waves of fatigue enveloping him. The violent surges of his bloodline had faded away, but the side-effects did not go away.
All his fury had congealed into a violent eruption. His blood had grown as hot and dense as lava, destined to destroy all obstacles in its path. Such was the fury of the Archerons.
He was panting hard, still overtaken by the desire to crush his opponent with his own hands. And indeed, that was what he had done. Not just any mage could cast a continuous stream of fireballs that could burn the opponent to ashes. Nobody had seen such a duel before, nobody had likely even imagined it.
That was how he unlocked another ability of his Archeron bloodline — Blaze. It would increase his casting speed for offensive spells, somewhat similar to Flowsand’s Outburst although nowhere near as powerful. However, unlike Outburst that had a week-long cooldown Blaze could be used once a day.
His heart was still raging when the wave of heat dissipated. At its most extreme, violence was an infectious art that could shake the very soul. This thrill of destruction was something Richard had never experienced before.
His elven blood strengthened his summoning magic, giving him a calm elegance and control. On the other hand, his Archeron bloodline strengthened his offense and turned crude violence into art. These were two sides of a coin, two extremes that could never combine.
Eventually recovering from the violent phase, Richard didn’t so much as change his expression as he sent the order to attack. He then took out a mana potion, downing it in one go. Flowsand also cast a vitality spell on him, and alongside his own rune he recuperated his mana at five times the normal speed. In just a few minutes he had enough mana on hand to cast three or four more fireballs.
Many of the Red Cossack men were still in shock from the scene. Only when the desert warriors and barbarians closed in did they brandish their weapons, trying to resist the aggression despite being unsettled.
It was at that point that a thunderous boom rang through the battlefield, so much that Richard felt his ear starting to hurt. This sound was even louder than the consecutive fireballs! Green smoke rose into the sky, but any vision of its source was blocked by the carriages. It was impossible to see what was going on.
Richard felt his connection with two wind wolves disappear. The two had been leading a group of desert warriors to flank around the caravan, and after his command to attack they had just begun the attack. His heart sank as he quickly jumped back onto his warhorse. Looking into the distance, he saw the fifty desert warriors alongside them all fall off their horses, blood spurting out of their bodies.
Nearly all of them had been killed in an instant.
For a second, Richard even grew suspicious that they had been attacked by a group of throwers. How were his desert warriors demounted in a moment? The attackers had to be within that green smoke, but the carriages were lined up there to act as a defensive structure. He couldn’t see what was behind.
He immediately had his soldiers speed up, while his core party joined the battle as well. Two of the elite bats flew overhead to see what exactly was going on behind the carriages.
The image from the bats left Richard shocked. Behind the carriages was a row of about fifty dwarves. They had strange-looking guns in hand, aiming at the desert warriors that were tens of metres away and pulling the triggers once more. Balls of lead were shot out of the flared mouths, forming a dark cloud that flew towards the desert warriors.
Countless tiny spurts of blood bloomed on the desert warriors’ bodies. All of them looked stunned, but they couldn’t stop themselves from falling off their horses. They had evidently never seen weapons like these before, and had no idea how to defend against them.
Even if one curled themselves up against their horse like they were dodging arrows, it was impossible to completely avoid an attack you couldn’t see. The smell of smoke and the loud sounds left many of the horses chaotic as well, making them hard to control.
Up against a similar number of dwarves, an entire fifty desert warriors had been reduced to less than ten in two salvos.
Each of the dwarves had two long guns and two short ones. Done with the long guns, they skillfully pulled out their shorter ones and sent a concentrated wave of bullets towards the surviving warriors. The last of the opponent fell to the ground with a loud thud, the inertia leaving his body sliding across the ground to leave a red trail. The body ended up about three metres away from the closest dwarf.
He was just three metres away, but he no longer had the energy to cover that distance. A dull thump rang out as a leather boot covered in metal struck his head hard, sending him on his way.
“Dwarven gunmen!” Richard cried out involuntarily.
He had no time to wonder where these dwarves had come from, immediately ordering the troops on the frontlines to fight faster and harder. The right flank also charged forth with full strength.
The dwarven gunmen had tremendous might, but their weakness was very obvious as well. Their guns took a long time to reload, and now that they were done with all four they were at their most vulnerable.
Sharp screeches rang out from the sky, and four elite bats pounced down and charged into the ranks of the gunmen, biting and tearing at them with their poisonous claws and teeth. A warrior of darkness appeared in their midst as well; summoning magic had much greater range than offensive magic.
Gangdor activated Gaia’s Force and his strength rune, his bloodthirsty axe chopping away like the wind. Full-powered vertical chops were sending even his own heavy body jumping off the ground, and every strike rent a knight and his horse in two. The trolls were even more ferocious, crashing into the opponents in their way to send both man and horse flying.
They advanced side by side, quickly opening a path through the Red Cossack troops as they darted towards the carriages. Gangdor’s large axe and Medium Rare’s metal hammer hit the carriage in front at practically the same time, destroying it in one strike. They didn’t have any time to make a detour because of Richard’s command, choosing to just go through the obstacles.
With a new hole in the wall of carriages, an indistinct silhouette flashed past the two burly fellows. It was so quick it was unthinkable.
That was Waterflower. Although they were both angry at it, neither Gangdor nor Medium Rare could do anything about her speed. However, just as they were preparing to press on another figure brushed past them to enter the ranks of the dwarves.
Phaser!