"Chieftain! Our people are badly hurt!" Several Goblin Knight captains came over to report, their faces dark.
"No clansmen were killed?" Alistair's expression eased slightly. At least everyone was still alive.
"No. The Glory Shield blocked the first shockwave. The injured were all blown away by the subsequent aftershocks and hurt when they fell!"
That was right. The Goblin Knights' main casualties had come from the shockwave unleashed the instant the draconic Grand Forbidden Spell—Evil Dragon Manifests Demonic Domain—fell. Those Tutu Pigs with their short, thick limbs only needed to shake their bristles and dust off the mud before getting back up. But the Goblin Knights who had been blown away were different. Their skinny arms and legs had already taken a beating inside their miniature knight armor, and then there had been the impact of other falling debris... The Goblin Knights who had rolled into a tangled heap were lucky that none had died. It was practically the Dragon God's mercy.
"How are the injured?" Alistair asked worriedly. Sometimes, being injured was worse than dying outright. Death ended everything, but wounded soldiers needed others to care for them. They could not just be left to wait for death, could they? Too many wounded could force a division of forces and lay the groundwork for defeat. After all, who started a battle by crippling half their men, leaving another half behind to care for them, and then taking a quarter of their troop strength into battle? Even the greatest military genius could not withstand that kind of nonsense!
"Most of them have fractures..." The knight captains all spoke with grim faces. It was easy enough to understand: take a can of luncheon meat, let it experience freefall, then open it and see what is inside. The fact that these Goblin