“There are too many,” Fredric complained, gripping his sword until his knuckles whitened.
Before William could reply, a troll’s roar shook the air. One of the remaining beasts barrelled into the square, scattering defenders like wheat before a scythe. Over a dozen villagers surged forward, spears, swords, and axes flashing in desperation. They swarmed its legs and arms, hacking, stabbing, even clambering onto its back.
“Hold it down!” Sibrek bellowed, his axe carving a bloody line down the monster’s flank.
For a moment, it seemed the defenders of Brindlecross might succeed. The troll howled as its flesh was torn and its face was filled with arrows. But then it reared back, thrashing like a wild horse. One swipe of its massive claw sent bodies flying and bones cracking. Screams were cut short; of the villagers who had charged, only half stumbled back alive. The rest lay broken in the dirt as the troll retreated with a defender’s corpse in its hand.
There was no time to mourn the dead. William forced himself to watch as he caught his breath for the final fight. In desperation, he prayed for help. If the old gods are real, please help us. He felt something shift. He checked his interface and found one of his skills had returned.
[SYSTEM ERROR: Incomplete Interface]
[Skills] Divine Fire (6), Light’s Mercy (6), SYSTEM ERROR
“Yes!” William wasted no time; he activated [Light’s Mercy] on himself. He felt his mana reduce as his stamina increased. The spell took thirty seconds to complete and required staying still, or the mana would be wasted for no gain.
The battle shifted again as the last war orc stormed forward, its iron club sweeping aside anyone who dared to face it. A ragged group consisting of the oldest men and women left in Brindlecross stepped up. Their eyes blazing with defiance, the eleven grandparents stood ready to defend their loved ones at any cost. Behind them were a dozen of the youngest teens clutching scavenged swords, axes, and spears from the fallen defenders.
“Go back, children,” one grandfather rasped. “We’ll see to this monster.” He forced a smile.
The octogenarians went in together, a wall of grey hair and steel wills. William caught the flash of blades, the clash of steel, and the thunder of impact. The war orc bellowed as it was driven back. The old ones fought with the fury of their youth rekindled, and—ignoring their elders’ advice—the young teens struck when they saw their chance. At last, the orc faltered, cut down piece by piece, until a boy’s axe split its skull with a sickening crack.
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The square erupted in ragged cheers, which were cut short when the fallen were counted. Three of the old folk lay still, their bodies broken by the orc’s final strikes. They had shielded the young until their last breath.
William clenched his teeth in anger at the sacrifice as [Light’s Mercy] completed, replenishing half his stamina for almost half of his available mana. If I could recover all my stats. But there was no time to mourn or hope for a miracle. Another troll loomed.
With his stamina partially restored, he and Fredric met it head-on, the [Divine Fire] skill spluttered to life as it clashed against claws that could tear through iron. Fredric thrust with his sword, striking deep, but the troll seized him and hurled him aside.
Will’s heart lurched as he heard the sickening crack. “Fredric!” Please be alive. He wanted to run to his squire and friend, but couldn’t. I need more power.
Marie sprinted to Fredric’s side before dragging the limping teenager to safety; his leg hung useless, and his face was bloodied. “I’ve got him!” she shouted over the noise of battle and the sounds of crackling flames consuming the village.
William breathed a sigh of relief and fought harder, rage and fire twisting together as the troll bore down on him. Sibrek joined him with a savage roar, his axe carving bloody rents into the monster’s hide. Together they hacked and burned until Will swung his blade in a wide arc, decapitating the troll. The beast’s headless body convulsed, then toppled with a ground-shaking crash.
[XP: +7]
But even victory tasted like ash as parts of the village burned and goblins pressed from all sides, ready to attack when the orc shamans arrived with reinforcements. Only fifty defenders still stood, a desperate cluster of bloodied survivors at the hall steps. Behind them, dozens more were injured, and behind them, the bunker door stood.
Then came the chanting. The two shamans emerged at the fore, their hundred goblins marching in lockstep around them. The air crackled with foul magic as their staves beat the earth in rhythm. The goblins hissed and jeered, their yellow eyes glowing in the firelight.
William’s knuckles tightened on his blade. Despite a partial recovery of his stamina, he was still suffering from overextending his body. His lungs burned with each breath, and he could feel the buff waning, its strength trickling away with every second.
“This is it.” Marie patted his arm. “It’s been an honour fighting by your side, Sir Knight.” She chuckled as she wiped sweat and blood from her brow; very little of her short blonde hair was visible under the blood and filth of battle.
Will nodded. “This is where we make our final stand.” He couldn’t help but wonder what would happen when he died. Will I be logged out or respawn nearby? When dying, he’d respawn at the nearest respawn point with an annoying debuff, but he had no idea what would happen here. Log out… Menu. He frowned as nothing happened.
Throughout the week, he’d checked if he could access more of his interface, but nothing had changed. He was beginning to worry that the developers would never free him from the game.
The drums of the goblins pounded, their screeches rising in a tide that threatened to drown the night. The shamans raised their blood-soaked staves higher, and the enslaved goblins prepared to charge.
The final wave had begun, and the defenders of Brindlecross would need a miracle to prevail.
Chapter 036 [Raid Warning: Final Horde Wave Incoming]
