If Archers Had Levels [Seeking Recommendation Tickets]

"Kill all the dwarf bastards!"

"Kill all the dwarf bastards!"

Led by their second-in-command, the Orc Warg riders roared with ferocious momentum as they charged toward the Company.

Thorin Oakenshield and his dwarves wore grim expressions, standing their ground in battle formation.

Morgan and Gandalf, standing slightly behind the dwarf line, appeared significantly calmer.

Especially Morgan.

He watched as a tall, burly Orc emerged from the ranks of the cavalry, shouting orders to the others.

Morgan had clearly seen that when the previous Orc sub-leader was shot dead and tumbled from his Warg, this one had worn a distinct smile—a hideous, twisted one, to be sure.

Yet, Morgan could clearly perceive the joy behind it.

Is this the excitement of seeing the leader die, finally getting your turn to rise to the top?

If so, you're celebrating a bit too early. I'll be sure to congratulate your successor.

Watching the menacing, oncoming wave of Orc Warg riders, Morgan murmured with a hint of amusement; he enjoyed the sense of accomplishment that came from controlling the life and death of his enemies from a distance.

Morgan reached for his quiver.

This time, he drew three arrows at once.

Closer, even closer.

Finally, the charging Orc Warg riders slammed violently into the Company led by Thorin Oakenshield.

And in the second before the Warg riders reached them, Morgan released the arrows.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

The three arrows streaked toward the Orc Warg riders with lethal speed.

A third of a second later.

The three Orcs charging at the front grunted in unison, losing their balance and tumbling from the backs of their Wargs.

The newly emerged Orc sub-leader was among them.

Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang!

The twenty-plus Orc Warg riders crashed fiercely into the dozen-man Company.

The intensity of the clash was no less than that of a much larger battlefield.

However, Orc Warg riders were unlike the cavalry of other intelligent races, for the Wargs beneath them were even more ferocious than the Orcs themselves.

"Kill!!!"

The dwarves roared, swinging their weapons in a desperate struggle to hold the line.

Morgan stood beside Gandalf, his longbow never ceasing its rhythm.

Each arrow acted like the most ruthless, cold-blooded assassin.

The Orcs and Wargs on the battlefield before him were far less durable than the thick-skinned giant Troll.

Any Orc or Warg struck by Morgan had almost no chance of standing up again.

Because every one of Morgan's arrows found the most lethal point: the head.

Unlike the night skirmish against the Orc scout party a day ago.

In that battle, Morgan had strived for as many kills as possible to harvest Soul Power.

Now, Morgan had a deeper understanding of his role as an archer.

When the scales of victory tipped in their favor, he would naturally kill as many enemies as possible to maximize his Soul Power gain.

But when the outcome of the battle was uncertain, or even precarious, Morgan knew he had to do more than just rack up kills; he had to protect his teammates with everything he had.

Just like now, with the cover and assistance of the melee wizard Gandalf.

Morgan's gaze was fixed almost entirely on the members of the Company fighting bloodily ahead.

Whenever he spotted a dwarf in danger, Morgan was always there to provide immediate support.

Though it meant sacrificing a portion of his potential Soul Power, protecting the members of the Company was, in effect, protecting himself.

Morgan was well aware of his own limitations; without the Company fighting for their lives, if he were ever surrounded by Orcs, there would be only one outcome: death!

He was still far from the level where he could face an entire army on his own.

If there were levels to archery.

Then Morgan would categorize them as follows:

A qualified archer is one who can kill enemies on the battlefield with greater efficiency.

An excellent archer is one who, beyond killing large numbers of enemies, can also provide a degree of protection for their own side and their teammates.

A master-level archer can not only kill large numbers of enemies but can even influence the outcome of a battle to a certain extent.

And a higher-level archer is a presence who, just by appearing on the battlefield, acts like a nuclear weapon, intimidating and deterring enemy leaders and making the enemy afraid to act rashly.

Because as long as he wants to, he can easily shoot and kill anyone.

His very existence is a constant threat to everyone on the enemy side, especially the enemy leader.

However, when an archer reaches that level of strength, they can no longer be called an archer.

That is a marksman!

Higher still, if there is a being even more powerful than a marksman.

That would surely be the legendary "God of Archery!"

The current Morgan has initially reached the standard of an excellent archer and is working hard on the path to climbing toward the master level.

"Duck!"

Morgan, standing back-to-back with Gandalf, suddenly shouted in a low voice.

Gandalf kicked over an entangled Orc and immediately bent down, understanding the intent.

The next second.

"Whoosh."

An arrow streaked past, almost grazing the pointed hood on Gandalf's head.

After a muffled grunt.

Gandalf immediately turned his head and saw a tall, burly Orc holding a mace-shaped weapon falling backward, an arrow embedded in the center of his brow.

Gandalf didn't pay it any mind and immediately stabbed a sword through an Orc that had rushed up in front of him.

The staff held in his other hand slammed fiercely toward Morgan, who was standing with his back to him.

"Bang."

A faint white light flickered.

Invisible magical energy exploded outward.

An Orc attempting to ambush Morgan was knocked flying by Gandalf's staff.

Morgan, having shot dead a Warg that was sneaking up on Thorin Oakenshield, turned his head and smiled at Gandalf, who had saved him.

Gandalf ignored him entirely and turned to continue dealing with the incoming Wargs.

This kid's performance today is much more impressive than my own.

No, not just more impressive than mine; this kid's performance today is more impressive than anyone else's in the Company.

Gandalf muttered to himself.

It wasn't just Gandalf; the other Dwarves who had been saved by Morgan today felt the same way.

In fact, it's easy to understand why.

When you are fighting a vicious enemy and are ambushed from behind.

But someone suddenly kills the attacker and saves you from danger, you naturally feel grateful to that person.

Especially when they have saved you more than once.

More than twenty Orc Warg riders were dealing with sixteen members of the Company.

Although the Orcs held a slight numerical advantage, they quickly suffered heavy losses due to the superior individual combat strength of the Company members.

In just a few short minutes, more than half of the twenty-plus Orc Warg riders were dead or wounded.

Under normal circumstances, the remaining Orcs would likely have been scared off by now.

Orcs do not possess the spirit or awareness to fight to the death; they never have.

Only under extremely harsh, high-pressure orders can these Orcs resist the fear of death and continue to fight.

"Awoo."

Terrifying howls continued to drift in from the distance.

This meant that Orc reinforcements were on their way.

Listening to the increasingly clear howls and looking at the remaining Orcs around them, who wore expressions of fear but still refused to retreat.

Thorin Oakenshield shouted anxiously: "Orc reinforcements will be here soon, kill them all!"

"Kill!!!"