Their luck was poor. The Rat Tide that appeared was the most troublesome kind...
"Mr. Charin, Ymir, please hold them back." Annan looked toward the Mage Corps.
"Leave it to us." Charin, the Archmage of the Windmill Duchy, spoke with measured confidence as he raised his staff. "Mage Corps, prepare! Fire Wall!"
Dense magic gathered around the camp. As the spell took shape, an arcing Fire Wall several meters high sprang up beyond the camp's first trench, instantly illuminating the dark Forest and the Rat Tide spreading toward them like a black carpet.
The rats shoved one another into the Fire Wall. Their growing chorus of squeaks turned into a jumble of screams. Some burst through in flames; others staggered into their fellows, setting their fine fur alight. The fire spread quickly.
The tide of creatures writhing and screaming in the flames made everyone's skin crawl. Just as Magic Muskets and Magic Cannons countered ordinary Ratfolk, the Rat Tide countered both weapons—and everyone except Spellcasters.
They'd better not set the Forest on fire...
Suddenly, damp coolness swept over them. Faint lead-gray streaks fell beyond the camp.
It had begun to rain.
Charin shouted, "We have to finish them before the Storm arrives!"
The Fire Wall at the front drove the Rat Tide toward the sides. The Mage Corps cast again, forming a Ring of Fire hundreds of meters across to shelter the camp.
The mages seized the chance to replenish their magic with Magic Potions.
Rats died in droves. Thunder and lightning drew closer, and the rain thickened into a curtain, pressing the Fire Wall down to less than two meters. Water quickly extinguished the flames in their fur, but most had burned to a crisp before it could. They lay motionless.
The Goblin Golems and Warriors moved forward, taking