Counterattack

Dezco Dawnstrider, the young chieftain of the Dawnstrider family, was wielding a gleaming golden warhammer, dancing amid the loose encirclement of Centaur fodder troops.

An'she's power surged through his body, becoming warm sunlight that healed the exhaustion of prolonged battle, becoming sharp dawnlight that shattered the darkness of endless night. His heavy hammer swept out a golden storm, tearing apart every obstacle before him.

The Dawnstrider family had served as An'she's priests for generations.

Legend had it that in ancient times, a devout priest had thrown himself into the blazing light and brought the dawn's first rays to the land.

From that day onward, whenever oppressed people held kindness and courage in their hearts, An'she's Light would shine within their souls.

One day, Dezco had seen that light as well. Back then, he had been too young to understand why An'she had favored him so greatly, and that confusion had persisted until now. But it did not stop him from fighting bravely for his people.

He fought bathed in blood, and there were already too many fallen enemies to count. Yet this brought him not the slightest sense of glory or comfort.

Bang!

Another Centaur fell, but Dezco's heart only grew heavier.

There was a wound on his cheek, but it had not been caused by carelessness.

Just moments ago, some kind of mutation had indeed appeared among these Centaur soldiers.

He had smashed half the head of a frenzied Centaur grunt inward, yet the monster, which should have been completely dead, lunged at him again when he turned away and left him with this wound.

That terrifying madness left Dezco unable to calm himself for a long time.

After all, if he had not turned An'she's power into a blade and struck with all his strength, he would have died because of it.

Soon, he discovered something even more unbelievable. Though they held a steady advantage in both numbers and combat ability, these enemies had somehow fought the Tauren warriors to a standstill.

The bright moon hung overhead. If his wounds had not still been throbbing faintly, Dezco would have suspected that he had not fully woken up.

The Centaurs' attacks were clearly growing stronger, yet the scales of war were slowly tilting toward the Tauren!

How was that possible?

Dezco watched distractedly for a while and discovered that these Centaurs seemed to have fallen into some sort of berserk state.

After going berserk, they abandoned what little tactical awareness they had left and became obsessed with fighting on their own.

Their command had completely collapsed. Every one of them was immersed in slaughter, like merciless killing machines. Even when Lady Magatha repeatedly cut down their commanders, it changed nothing.

Soldiers who feared neither life nor death had always been rare, but now they were being squandered as freely as cannon fodder.

Dezco had a terrible feeling. The one playing this game did not care about the outcome of the battle and was willing to pay any price.

If the one who had started this war was not a madman, then he had to be a schemer, pursuing something far deadlier.

And Dezco believed that thing would be worth far more than victory or defeat in this war.

After cleanly knocking down the last Centaur, Dezco looked around and saw that he had been passively separated from the main force amid the rhythm of the Centaur assault.

The Centaurs' cannon-fodder tactic had worked—regardless of whether that had been their intention.

Driven by the simplest purpose and indulging in slaughter, their opponents had become like a bottomless swamp, dragging down the Tauren ranks as a whole. The entire battlefield had fallen into a bizarre deadlock.

By chance, Dezco spotted Magatha Grimtotem not far ahead. She had also just fought her way out of an encirclement. The two warriors who had escaped the mire met each other's eyes, then charged toward one another.

"Lady Magatha!"

After they joined up, Dezco briefly explained his thoughts to Magatha. Coincidentally, the two of them had reached the same conclusion.

Dezco gripped his warhammer tightly,

and said uneasily, "So I think this is probably far more than a simple attack." Magatha wiped the blood from her cheek and nodded. "It is good that you can recognize that. But right now, what we need is not a clear understanding, but a way to break free from our current situation."

"So, tell me your thoughts, warrior! Your answer will be one reason for me to judge whether you are qualified for the task ahead!" She stared directly into the Sunwalker's eyes, her tone stern.

Dezco scratched his head in frustration and said, "They have already fallen into bloodthirsty madness. If our warriors are dragged into this mire as well, our position will only become more passive. I think regrouping our forces may be our only option."

Magatha shook her head. "Young man, you have made a very serious mistake. You are focused only on the enemy's posture and have failed to see our strength. You need to step beyond this battlefield and view the bigger picture."

Rather than becoming angry at Magatha's criticism, Dezco eagerly asked, "Then you have a countermeasure?"

Magatha wore a pitying expression and said helplessly, "It seems that, young chieftain, you still lack the necessary perspective. I must admit, I am a little disappointed."

"Besides, do you truly think we are already at an absolute disadvantage?"

Dezco did not mind Magatha's mockery. Though still confused, he asked happily, "What do you mean?"

"Of course... Have you considered counterattacking?"

Magatha revealed a bloodthirsty smile.

Dezco's eyes widened instantly. He had never considered that possibility!

The Centaurs were so powerful, far surpassing the Tauren.

So all this time, he had fought as a protector. Even if he had to shed his last drop of blood, he wanted to protect Bloodhoof Village and the people he loved. There was nothing wrong with that.

Yet despite giving everything he had, he had always felt that something was missing.

That subtle feeling had lingered in his heart for a long time, until this moment, when he suddenly realized the fatal flaw—if he no longer held any hope of defeating his opponent, then how was that any different from resistance doomed to fail?

His long struggle had been utterly meaningless.

Thinking of this, Dezco was suddenly overwhelmed with shame, because he had thrown away his courage at the very beginning of this battle.

Seeing Dezco's ashamed expression, Magatha smiled in satisfaction. "It seems you have found what you forgot."

"You can be proud, because realizing this proves that you have already become the victor of this battle!"

Magatha's expression gradually turned serious. She solemnly said to the young chieftain, "Remember the ancient wisdom, young man."

"Sometimes, strength and numbers are not everything that determines the outcome!"

"Look at our enemies. These damned beasts are like a plague ravaging this land, knowing only how to create slaughter."

"Recklessness has blinded them, arrogance makes them ignore cooperation, conceit makes them reject guidance, and stupidity... will completely bury their lives!"

"And us—wisdom and cooperation, resilience and resistance, emotion and honor... These beautiful things bind us tightly together like ties. United as we are, how could we lose to these mongrels who know only how to worship strength?!"

Magatha shouted those words as though roaring in fury.

A change swept across the battlefield. Dezco suddenly realized that the two of them were standing on high ground. Looking around, he saw that the battle, which had just been deadlocked, had suddenly become unified and clear.

Somewhere beyond their sight, Gudar Bristleman viciously drove a spear into the heart of a Centaur struggling on the ground. With a wave of her hand, she summoned several arrows, and the few Centaurs restlessly advancing ahead fell in response.

"Ugh... A bow's firing speed is still nowhere near enough. I really wish I had a better weapon, one that would let me experience the thrill of spitting thunder and give me the ultimate hunt!"

As the complaint rang out, Rune Bristleman appeared from the flank alongside several outstanding hunters. After joining Gudar, they formed an encirclement.

"Stop complaining. You are not a child anymore, yet you still have not mastered the basics. And you have the nerve to say that?" Gudar Bristleman mercilessly criticized the most unruly young man of the Bristleman family.

Rune scratched his head and retorted indignantly, "Hmph! I am only telling the truth! Bows and arrows seriously do not suit my senses at all..."

"I truly hope Master Aldo hears your 'truth' with his own ears. I think I should have a proper talk with him after the battle." Gudar sneered and casually pierced another Centaur.

"No! You are far too cunning. You use that move every time!" Rune complained with his mouth, but his hands continuously drew his bow. Working with the other hunters' crossfire, he swiftly reaped their opponents, and the Centaurs fell in waves like harvested wheat.

He had not yet met the dwarven hunter Hemet Nesingwary, whose name sounded full of mathematical flair, much less become his close friend. Yet the soul of the Wilds within him was already burning fiercely.

On the other side of the battlefield, Chieftain Eaglewind planted a totem and summoned a Water Elemental, condensing icy frost from thin air and instantly freezing the three enemies ahead.

After doing all this, she was panting with exhaustion, leaning on her totem staff while the young man beside her supported her tightly.

"Mother, you have already done too much for us. The horn of counterattack has sounded. We are enough here. Please withdraw to the rear!"

Looking at his aged mother, Chieftain Eaglewind's son felt a pang of sorrow.

The Centaurs knew nothing of respecting the old or caring for the young. This venerable chieftain's priestly robes had long been torn to tatters, and blood continuously seeped from her forehead, staining her aged fur red.

The chieftain was very, very old, nearly old enough to be called Matriarch Eaglewind. She was no longer as strong and vigorous as the son beside her, yet she stubbornly refused every plea for her to leave the front lines.

"I am old, child. Forgive this old bag of bones for being a little willful. Let me do a little more for you... just a little more..."

Magatha reverently planted a totem, summoning a clear Air Spirit.

Amid the rustling wind came a surge of joy—the joy of the Air Spirit.

The Tauren's will to resist had resonated with the elements. They had long been active across the battlefield, standing with the Tauren warriors and resolutely fighting alongside them against the culprits who had polluted the elements.

"Spirit of the wind, heed my voice. Please turn my voice into a clear breeze and carry it to every corner of this land!"

The wind tore through the night, and Magatha's hoarse yet resolute voice rang beside every exhausted warrior's ear!

"Warriors! Raise your spears! The time for counterattack has come! Together, let us drive these filthy beasts from our homeland!"

The Tauren warriors raised their spears and let out deafening war cries, as though they would tear apart the night sky stretching to the heavens.