The afternoon sunlight was rather harsh, stretching the shadows across the wasteland into long, twisted shapes.
Alex rode on horseback, his body instinctively rising and falling with his mount's gait.
He tossed a purplish-red apple in his hand, one he had picked while passing a grove of wild fruit trees earlier. He rubbed it hard against his saddle and was about to take a bite when his hand stopped halfway to his mouth.
Near the stem was an inconspicuous wormhole, with a short, pale-yellow tail trying to burrow deeper inside.
"Tsk."
Alex frowned and pulled a small hatchet from his belt, trying to gouge out the rotten flesh.
Five hundred meters ahead of him, the once-invincible Iron Turtle heavy infantry legion was on a march that could barely be called a retreat. It was a rout.
Abandoned supplies lay scattered along the road.
Crates of fine flour had been trampled into the dirt. Expensive spare plate armor lay in the grass like rubbish. Even several swallowtail banners symbolizing the glory of Eastern Foothills Province lay in the dust, covered in footprints.
Buzzzz-
A low vibration sounded above the clouds again.
Then that rough, hoarse bellow, thick with a dwarven accent, thundered down toward the ground.
"Hey! You tin cans down there! Heads up! Grandpa Ola's brought you something nice and hot!"
Ratatatat!
With that malicious taunt, another brief rain of metal fell from the sky. To conserve bolts, the firing lasted only a few seconds, but for the terrified troops below, it was enough to spark another wave of chaos.
The formation they had barely managed to hold together broke apart like a kicked anthill. The soldiers around its edges collapsed once more.
Dozens of soldiers screamed, threw down their weapons, and ran into the surrounding wilderness with their hands