The Rat Tide kept pouring in, but the soldiers used the terrain to hold the line with relative ease.
Then the "tin cans" began appearing in large numbers, and the pressure surged. Magic Muskets could pierce the Elite Rats' armor only at its weak points, and only within seventy meters.
At that distance, a moment's carelessness would let the Ratfolk get right in their faces.
Fortunately, the Elite Rats were mixed in with the rest of the Rat Tide. Under Hellfire's relentless volleys, the horde was held a hundred meters away, and the Elite Rats' tumbles crushed even more Ratfolk.
The Greater Light Spell gradually dimmed. As it faded to a second patch of pale moonlight, the Elf Mages cast again.
A fresh Light Spell rose, illuminating the darkness churning beyond the Camp once more.
Countless Ratfolk clung to the surface of Hell Mountain...
"We need insecticide..."
Femi sighed and squeezed onto the front line, raising a Magic Musket to fight alongside the others.
Treat the rat plague, one bullet at a time.
The battle dragged on.
Ratfolk died every second, falling with long, wailing cries. Yet the Cavalry stationed on the summit bore the greatest pressure.
The Rat Tide came without end, as though they could never kill them all. The gray summit turned scarlet, and a slick carpet of flesh spread down the slope.
Locke pulled the trigger and reloaded on instinct.
His mind had gone hazy. Locke struggled to tell whether the Magic Musket was firing bullets or pieces of himself. The sounds around him seemed to vanish. Something on his body was growing hotter and hotter—
Hiss...
As Locran instinctively reached to clear the rifling, a searing heat made him snatch his hand back from the gun barrel. The pain jolted him out of his stupor.