The situation was that around a hundred Bearfolk, leading four to five hundred Rabbit-headed Humanoids, were fiercely attacking a thirty-foot section of the wall that had collapsed.
Richard could not see the exact number of Dwarven warriors from his angle. However, since they were locked in a stalemate with the Bearfolk, there should have been around two or three hundred of them.
Richard lowered his spyglass and turned to grin at the warriors of High Mountain Keep, baring a mouthful of white teeth.
In the pitch-black night, he looked like a beast selecting its prey to devour.
"Get ready. It's time for us to make our entrance."
Richard drew a ridiculously oversized two-handed horse-chopping greatsword from his back and gripped it in his hand.
After the last battle, he had figured it out. The battlefield was not an arena; overwhelming destructive power was far more important than light, agile, and swift techniques.
Using weapons weighing only a few pounds like ordinary Pompeii warriors did was a complete waste of his divine strength. So Richard had ordered the blacksmith to forge him this super-heavy sword, whose bare blade was half a man's height and a palm's width.
His former Starfall Refined Steel sword, named Dragon Slayer, had also been melted down and mixed into the new sword to further increase its weight and hardness.
As a result, the new sword weighed an astonishing seventy-two pounds, about the same as the Kobold Nehru.
Lord's talent for naming things was truly lacking, so the new sword was still called Dragon Slayer. If the previous Dragon Slayer had been somewhat guilty of clickbait, this one at least looked as though it could live up to its name.
Once a weapon's weight exceeded a certain threshold, whether it was sharp became completely irrelevant. The inertia alone carried by a swing was enough to smash a hardwood target as wide as a man into pieces.
That was why this greatsword had no edge at all—a completely orthodox Temple style.
The Barbarian warriors spread out behind him on both sides, forming a battle formation.
The Far North Ice Plains were a land utterly different from Pompeii. At times, they experienced the miraculous phenomenon of polar night lasting as long as half a year. The Barbarians whose ancestors had lived there had been forced to learn how to live and fight in the darkness, so their night vision ranked among the best in the entire human race. Handling a night battle was effortless for them.
The Centaurs, by comparison, were practically blind. These excellent archers could only see shadows surging in the darkness and had no chance of aiming or firing. They were destined to play a supporting role this time.
Richard charged at the very front with his greatsword, the equally silent Barbarians behind him.
The two sides were only a few hundred yards apart. At full speed, that meant there were merely several dozen breaths left before they clashed.
The Rabbit-headed Humanoids' large ears proved useful. They noticed something strange from the abnormal footsteps before their overlord did and immediately began shouting at the tops of their lungs.
Their voices were harsh and grating, but to the Bear Warriors, they were a lifesaving warning. It allowed them to turn and face the enemy before the attack reached them.
Charging in the darkness was still too difficult. The Barbarians had failed to maintain the formations they used in training, and the two sides collided in complete chaos.
A khaki halo descended from midair and enveloped the Barbarians at the front. They immediately felt their bodies grow heavier, while the sensation in their skin became somewhat dull—this was the Ogre shaman Hung's Stone Skin.
There was no need for probing or questions. From the very beginning, this battle erupted with the force of thunder and lightning striking dry tinder.
"Roar!" The Bear Warrior at the front was one of the few elites clad in iron armor. He threw back his head and let out a thunderous beastlike roar, swinging his rusty iron ax down at Richard's head.
Lord did not show the slightest intention of retreating. With a furious roar, he swung his weapon at the Bear Warrior's skull.
The instant the greatsword and iron ax collided beneath the night sky, an explosive boom like thunder rang out. A string of sparks suddenly flared and vanished, dazzling even eyes accustomed to the darkness.
Richard's tiger's mouth went numb from the impact, and blood trickled down his khaki skin. The greatsword containing Starfall Refined Steel had even been knocked out of shape, leaving a chip the size of a grain of rice. But the Bear Warrior suffered far worse. The immense, irresistible force sent his iron ax rebounding into his face, driving the blade and handle deep into his skull. Blood sprayed out in an instant, mingling with the rain.
The towering, powerfully built warrior, tall as a little giant, swayed twice. Without uttering a word, he staggered to the ground and never moved again.
Experience Points +257
Nehru trembled as he finished chanting the Fireball spell, only to discover that Lord had already led the Barbarians into the Bear Warriors, where the two sides were hopelessly entangled. The old Kobold secretly glanced at Hert beside him. Reason compelled him to abandon the tempting idea of wiping them all out in one attack, so he fired the completed fireball into the distance.
He began preparing Bloodlust Art again. According to Nehru's experience from tribal warfare, this was an excellent time to use an enhancement spell. As long as he could ensure that most of the enhancement's area covered their own side, it would not matter if a little spilled over onto the enemy.
But Hert suddenly reached out and grabbed his thin arm, forcibly interrupting the process that had just begun.
"What are you doing!"
Nehru was startled. Having a shaman's spell interrupted would not cause backlash like it did for a human mage, but it was certainly not a pleasant experience.
"His Lordship said that you absolutely cannot use Bloodlust Art without his orders." Hert placed heavy emphasis on the word "absolutely." Combined with his powerful physique, it made his words especially convincing.
"Why?" The moment the question left Nehru's mouth, he knew it was pointless to ask. How would that great dictator explain himself? If he really dared to ask, he would probably get another kick.
"Richard must have his own reasons." Annie wore a smile, but her hands were twisted tightly together. Her heart was nowhere near as calm as she appeared. "I think he's incredibly talented at commanding small-scale battles."
All the Centaurs stationed nearby nodded. Nehru was not foolish enough to argue with them at a time like this, so he could only stare blankly at the battle ahead.
The Highland Barbarians were already considered among the tallest humans, but they still looked noticeably smaller when standing before the Bearfolk.
Among the many intelligent races, there was generally a rule: size and strength were positively correlated. A body weighing five hundred pounds could contain more strength than one weighing two hundred.
That was why powerful races were often enormous. Even unusual exceptions like Dwarves tended to develop impressive breadth instead.
By this rule, the Barbarians should have been weaker than the Bearfolk, because they were a full size smaller.
And in a large-scale melee, the advantage brought by overwhelming strength was extremely difficult to make up for with anything else.
The two sides crashed together without hesitation. Battle cries and the clash of weapons suddenly intensified like flames. A moment later, the victor and loser were clear—the Bearfolk had actually been knocked down in droves.
The Barbarian warriors of High Mountain Keep were no longer the same bumpkins who had once wandered across the ice plains. The changes brought by the system's stat enhancements were nothing short of earth-shaking, enough to erase the difference in strength between the two sides.
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