A Sudden Attack

Night deepened. Dark clouds veiled the bright moon, and in the pitch-black darkness, where not even a hand could be seen before one's eyes, it felt as if terrifying monsters were lurking nearby, inspiring an ancient fear.

A bone-chilling wind swept across the desolate land, making the leaping bonfire dance and casting clawing, grasping shadows across the ground. The members of the caravan sat around the fire, quietly discussing the terrifying sights they had witnessed during the day. Nearby, some timid laborers huddled together, trembling.

What had happened during the day had inevitably affected the caravan. After one careless guard let the secret slip, everyone gradually learned of the Orc threat. The entire caravan was now on edge, but fortunately, the guards and mercenaries helped reassure the people, keeping them from losing their wits and giving in to despair.

"Jelona, how are things?" The Dwarf shield warrior took a jug of mead and gulped it down as he asked the Half-elf Ranger beside him, who was tending to her bow.

Jelona furrowed her brow and hesitated for a moment before answering, "Things don't look good. I found traces left by Orcs on the trade road. The footprints are fresh, so they're probably not far away. We'll need to stay alert tonight."

"I'll set a few more warning traps and scout the area again. You can take the watch for the second half of the night, Kasla."

"No problem, leave it to me! You can count on it," the Dwarf assured her heartily.

The nimble Half-elf picked up her longbow and left the bonfire. The Dwarf shield warrior glanced at the sleeping Barbarian, whose snores were deafening, shook his head, and tossed another log onto the fire. He stared into the ink-black night, lost in thought.

More than an hour passed. The desolate plain lay silent beneath the night sky, broken only by the occasional crackle from the burning bonfire. The Dwarf's rugged face appeared and disappeared in the dim, yellow firelight.

"Whoosh!" A sharp, piercing sound shattered the night's silence. The Dwarf jerked his head up and saw a bright flaming arrow streak across the distant sky.

"Damn, it's Jelona's warning arrow. She must've run into enemies!" The Dwarf was startled. He punched the sleeping Barbarian, Arata, awake and bellowed, "We're under attack! The enemy's here!"

The entire caravan erupted into chaos, voices rising all around them. The guards lit their torches, grabbed their weapons, and came out from among the wagons, tensely watching the direction the sound had come from.

Suddenly, a lean, nimble figure raced toward the caravan through the darkness ahead. The guards immediately aimed their crossbows at the unknown enemy.

"Don't shoot! That's Jelona. She just got back from scouting. She fired the warning arrow!" The Dwarf saw what was happening and immediately shouted, afraid that Jelona might be hit by her own people.

At his words, the guards relaxed and lowered their crossbows, looking toward the beautiful Half-elf Ranger sprinting toward them.

Seeing that the returning Ranger was unharmed, with no sign of injury, the Dwarf breathed a sigh of relief and hurriedly asked Jelona what had happened.

Jelona looked serious. She glanced at her companions and the tense guards around her, then said solemnly, "A band of Orc Wolf Riders is heading this way. They probably spotted the caravan's tracks and followed them. I spotted them and hurried back to raise the alarm. Everyone, prepare for battle."

Jelona had barely finished explaining when a group of figures riding Worgs appeared at the far end of the plain.

"Prepare for battle!" the Dwarf bellowed, his voice echoing over the caravan.

"Waaagh! Another human caravan! Gruumsh be praised—crush them!" The Orc captain at the head of the group looked at the panicked caravan. A cruel grin spread across his ugly, vicious face as he tugged at his reins and led the charge.

As the Orc riders charged, a brutal, bloodthirsty aura swept over them.

The caravan guards immediately aimed their crossbows and opened fire, but the Orcs barely noticed the few bolts. Even when struck, they didn't slow down at all, barreling toward the hastily assembled defensive line and swinging their serrated blades. A few unlucky ones were hit in vital spots and fell from their mounts, but the Orcs charged on as if they hadn't noticed.

"Get behind me!" the Dwarf shouted, raising a man-high shield and driving into the Orcs' formation. With his shield in one hand and a forged-iron hammer in the other, the stocky Dwarf smashed it into a Worg's lower back.

The Barbarian, who had gradually come to his senses after being punched, roared and charged straight at the Orcs with his greatsword raised. As he swung the massive blade, several Orcs were cut in half or had their limbs severed. Flesh and blood flew everywhere, and the Orc attack faltered for a moment. But soon, even more Orcs charged forward, howling furiously.

Facing the Orcs' ferocious assault, the burly Barbarian fought on both sides, yet still suffered several wounds. He roared in fury, and his body suddenly grew larger. A red, savage gleam appeared in his eyes as he charged forward in a frenzy, his greatsword sweeping with tremendous force. At this critical moment, Arata had unleashed his rage.

"Look out!" Jelona called to her companion, loosing a quick shot at Arata's back.

With a sharp clang, the flying arrow was deflected by a keen dagger. Only then did Arata realize that a lean Orc rogue had somehow crept up behind him. He roared and swung his greatsword at the rogue.

The Orc rogue glared hatefully at the Ranger in the distance, deftly dodged the whistling blade, and, with a few nimble leaps and twists, vanished into the darkness once more.

But just then, Dancing Lights appeared above the Orc rogue's head. Soft, bright light burst from above him, illuminating the surrounding area. The bewildered rogue instantly became the brightest thing on the battlefield. Jelona reacted at once, drew her bow, and fired three arrows in rapid succession at the dazed rogue. The caravan guards also aimed at the brightest light on the field and loosed their crossbow bolts.

The agile rogue did his best to dodge. He managed to deflect three bolts, but was ultimately killed by the concentrated fire.

Ryan frowned as he watched the battle turn against them. He had awakened the instant the signal arrow sounded. Since the magical alarm he had set hadn't been triggered, he knew the enemies were still some distance away, so he quickly gathered his things and left the carriage.

After observing for a while with Invisibility and the Spell Eye floating overhead, Ryan had yet to find a good opportunity to enter the battle. It was only when he spotted the Orc rogue lying in wait nearby that he used a simple magical cantrip, Light Spell, to take out a dangerous mid-level rogue.

Shouts and the clash of weapons filled the area around the caravan. The Orcs were fierce, but fortunately, the caravan had been warned and hastily thrown up a defensive line. The guards had killed some of the Orcs with their crossbows. The burly Dwarf shield warrior had been the first to charge forward, engaging the Orc captain and holding him off. Once the Barbarian charged in and drew the Orcs' attention, their attack was effectively checked.

But the vast difference between the savage, bloodthirsty Orc warriors and the caravan guards couldn't be overcome by even the finest equipment. The guards were wounded or dead, and the entire defensive line was on the verge of collapse, relying on the Half-elf Ranger to plug the gaps.

With a standard spellcasting gesture, Ryan cast Fly and soared into the air. He released the Magic Missiles recorded in his Spellbook. Three pale-blue missiles shot from his hand, striking the heads of three Orc warriors in the midst of battle from unexpected angles and blowing them apart. He then cast Grease at the spot where the Orcs were clustered. The Orcs, already in full motion, suddenly tumbled over one another. Jelona seized the chance to kill several of them.

"A spellcaster! Archers, take him out!" The Orc captain watched it all unfold, his eyes bulging with fury as he roared at the Orc archers.

The Orc archers, who had been facing off against Jelona, looked up at Ryan in the sky and grinned viciously. They had never seen a spellcaster so stupid—throwing his life away just to show off. What a perfect target in the sky.

Their powerful arms drew back their bowstrings, and arrow after arrow flew toward Ryan. But the whistling arrows passed straight through his form. The smiles froze on the Orc archers' faces. "Damn it, it's an illusion!"

As the archers fumed, a basketball-sized fireball blazing with flames shot toward them from behind. With a tremendous boom, a deep crater appeared in the ground, and waves of heat rolled outward. The Orc archers at that spot were instantly reduced to nothing but ash.

The scattered sparks also ignited the oil left behind by Grease. Flames spread across the ground and engulfed the Orc warriors still within the spell's area, sending a wave of panic through their ranks.

Ryan used Invisibility again to conceal himself, then left his original position and withdrew toward the edge of the battlefield. He smiled and muttered, "Who says mages can't take a sniper's spot? Fire a shot, then change positions. I'm the legendary ace sniper. Come on, try me at mid, boys."

The mage's intervention immediately turned the tide of battle. As the flames spread, the Orcs gradually realized that the fire on their bodies wouldn't go out. They screamed and rolled across the ground.

(Ryan had specially improved the spell model for Grease. He had reduced the oil's coefficient of friction while making it more flammable and adhesive. The third version of Grease could now rival Greek Fire on Earth.)

The deaths of all the Orc archers also freed the Half-elf Ranger to focus on the battle. With her superb archery, she picked off the Orcs one by one, while Ryan supported her from the side, using the simplified Magic Missile he had worked out to help finish them off.

Seeing the situation turn disastrous and his forces suffer heavy casualties, the Orc captain, still locked in combat with the Dwarf, shouted bitterly for a retreat. He drove the Dwarf back with a powerful swing, then glared hatefully at the caravan in the firelight before mounting his Worg and turning to flee.

Ryan watched the three or four Orc riders finally withdraw from the battlefield. He turned to the three mercenaries who had retreated from the fight and gathered beside him. "We have to wipe them out. I'll take care of the stragglers."

Orcs usually operated in squads. If those few survivors were allowed to return to their tribe and report what had happened, then, given the Orcs' thirst for revenge, the caravan would likely spend the rest of its journey on edge, facing one attack after another.

To avoid that peril, Ryan boldly chose to cut them down to the last, confident in his skill and his hidden trump cards.

The handsome Half-elf Ranger wiped the grime from his face and said to his companions, "I'll go help him." Then he summoned his animal companion, a sleek Black Panther, vaulted onto its back, and rode after Ryan.