"Damn it! What the hell is this!" Rynar muttered helplessly as he tore several vines off his body, frustration clear in his eyes.
Swish! A sharp longsword swung swiftly, sending waves of battle aura that shredded the drooping vines around them. Omsk sighed and sheathed his sword with a shake of his head.
"This path is even worse than last time!" Caslow said with concern. The last time they passed through here, the path was at least somewhat navigable, thanks to the knights who had come through. It had been late autumn then, and the vegetation was not as dense. But now, as they approached the height of summer, the thick undergrowth was enough to make even the most elite cavalry despair.
"Dragon God above…" Rynar dismounted with a resigned sigh. Who could understand the agony of having a horse but not being able to ride it? He wasn't like Omsk, a mighty Tier Six hero with protective battle aura strong enough to push aside these obstructions. While he rode his warhorse, the vines lashed at his face like whips. Rynar could only wonder what he had done to deserve such an experience.
"Your Highness, it would be best if you proceeded on foot. There are too many obstacles here, and with all the infantry around, you stand out too much on horseback," Caslow said tactfully.
What he actually wanted to say was that with trolls around, staying on horseback made Rynar an easy target. Despite the thick vegetation, trolls had an uncanny ability to hurl their spears through even the smallest openings with deadly precision. While their crude weapons might not always pierce the armor of a fully equipped knight, trolls had a nasty habit of coating their spears in poison.
"Hmm, you make a good point," Rynar nodded. There was no need to risk his own life foolishly. He had no intention of testing whether his resilience was as tough as a dragon's. Who knew what kind of nasty poison those trolls used? Without priests or alchemists in their ranks, Rynar's army would be in serious trouble.
"Move quickly; we need to get through this area fast!" Baring roared, swinging his battle axe to clear the way ahead. The atmosphere was too suffocating here. Though dwarves loved tunneling, that didn't mean they enjoyed being trapped in tight spaces.
Crack!
Bang!
With each swing of a sword or axe, wood chips and tree sap flew in all directions, and before long, a narrow path began to take shape.
"Hoo~" Suddenly, a sharp whistling sound cut through the air. Before Rynar could react, he felt as if his chest had been trampled by a charging warhorse from the Shire. A numbing sensation spread through his torso, followed by a searing pain that tore through him.
"Enemy attack!" was the last thing Rynar heard before darkness consumed him.
"Hiss…!" Rynar groggily opened his eyes. The flickering campfire bathed him in warmth, and he found himself wrapped in a fur blanket. Beneath him, several more layers of pelts cushioned his body. Despite the comfort, any slight movement sent sharp pain lancing through his chest.
"Your Highness, you're awake!" Caslow exclaimed in relief.
"Oh, Dragon God be praised! Your Highness, I would never be able to atone if anything happened to you!" Omsk's face was red with shame.
"Tsk! I almost thought you were done for," the Blue Elf, the elven dragon who usually hung around Rynar like a lazy ornament, drawled in his usual indifferent tone.
"What happened?" Rynar groaned weakly. He just wanted to know what exactly had struck him down.
"Er… It was trolls, Your Highness. They ambushed us… and, unfortunately, you were their first target. You were hit squarely in the chest plate by a heavy armor-piercing spear and blacked out immediately," Caslow explained, guilt written all over his face.
"Durin's beard! Your Highness, you should be grateful for your plate armor. Its quality is exceptional! If it hadn't successfully blocked the troll's strike, you might already be on your way to the Eternal Lands," Baring sighed. Though Rynar's lordly plate armor had an ostentatious design and flashy colors, it was undeniably effective. At the very least, its defensive capabilities were no joke.
"Cough, cough… Water!" Rynar weakly extended his hand.
"Your Highness…" Caslow hurriedly handed over a waterskin.
"What the #%! I even got off my horse, and they still targeted me first?!" Rynar grumbled, rubbing the bruises on his chest. His plate armor had been removed and placed beside him. Under the firelight, he could see that the troll's full-powered strike had left nothing but a faint white mark on his mithril lord's armor. Rynar had been knocked out purely by the force of the impact alone.
(Rynar: This is so embarrassing… The armor didn't even break, and I still almost died?)
"Er… Perhaps you should take another look at the unique color of your armor," Baring nudged him with a peculiar expression in his eyes.
Rynar turned his head and stared at his plate armor. Under the flickering firelight, it gleamed with a dazzling golden glow, like a miniature sun in the darkness…
He didn't need anyone to explain anymore—he immediately understood why he had been targeted.
Armor that flashy might as well have had "Come at me, I'm the leader!" written all over it. Among all the warriors present, Rynar's armor stood out the most. And trolls weren't mindless brutes—they were intelligent creatures. They understood the strategy of "cutting off the head of the snake."
"Where are the trolls? I'm going to kill them all! Sneak attacks? No honor?! Jungle-dwelling trash! No skill!" Rynar raged, though he was powerless to change the fact that he had nearly been turned into a troll's shish kebab.
"They've been repelled. We left behind over a dozen of their corpses, and none of our men were injured," Omsk reported. "Frankly, it would have been utterly humiliating if we had suffered casualties. Catching us off guard was one thing, but if we still let those trolls deal significant damage after being prepared, we might as well reconsider our entire mission. After all, if we struggle this much against mere trolls, how will we fare against the enemies in Moria?"
"Their equipment is terrible. Their throwing spears are made of wood. While battle aura enhances them, if they were metal, the damage would be far worse," Omsk added grimly.
He didn't mention that if the trolls had been using metal spears, the entire Zaltarion army might already be in mourning.
"Good thing they don't have metallurgy…" Caslow shuddered. Just seeing the wooden spearheads half-embedded in their shields was enough to make his scalp tingle. If the trolls had superior weapons, their shields wouldn't have held up for long.
"Damn troll pitchers…" Rynar muttered with newfound respect. These towering, three-meter-tall, long-armed black-skinned creatures had just taught him what it truly meant to stand on the edge of life and death.
"Send out the rangers. I don't want any more trolls getting within throwing range of me!" Rynar ordered, his expression dark. He had been scared out of his wits. If that spear had aimed for his head… if his armor had been slightly weaker… if the trolls had used a metal spear… if the spear had carried a stronger enchantment…
In short, Rynar had just brushed shoulders with death.
"Of course, Your Highness. The rangers will ensure that not a single enemy gets within five hundred meters of you!" Caslow promised immediately. Just to be safe, he had already set up three additional layers of defense around Rynar. It might not be foolproof, but at least there wouldn't be any glaring vulnerabilities.
.
.
.
Guys, do leave some power stones and reviews.
🤞patreon.com/MythosWriter🤞
If you guys enjoy this story, you can support me on Patreon and get access to Advance Chapters, it really helps me to work on new chapters.