Ah, Andorhal (13)

With the combat priests' enhancements and blessings, Taelan's strength, agility, perception, stamina recovery, and ability to withstand blows had all improved to some extent.

After adapting to the pace and rhythm of the enemy's attacks, Taelan, who had undergone rigorous knightly training since childhood, began adjusting his fighting style. He did not need to put all his strength into every swing. Conserving his stamina more carefully would let him hold out longer.

The young lord of Hearthglen fought with mounting vigor. Each of his guards was stronger in single combat than an enemy undead soldier, and with the combat priests supporting them, they became even more formidable.

The human soldiers, numbering just over two hundred, formed a defensive square with their backs to the fortifications. Supported by their own ranged fire, they held firm against the undead advance.

After leaving behind at least twice as many bodies as there were human soldiers, the undead began slowly retreating. Had they won already? Without pausing to wipe the sweat from his brow, Taelan saw that the enemies before him still vastly outnumbered his own men.

In the fighting west of Andorhal, hundreds or even thousands of undead fell to human weapons every day. These casualties hardly amounted to a serious blow to the undead forces.

The human troops cheered loudly. Whatever else might be true, everyone could see that the enemy was retreating. Every victory deserved a cheer.

Some of Taelan's guards had died horribly under the undead assault, and many others had suffered injuries of varying severity. They, too, needed time to rest before they could regain their full fighting strength. But a spreading commotion among the undead left Taelan no time to concern himself with anything else. Several towering Bone Golems appeared before them.

What terrifying undead monstrosities!

The cheering