Ogre Tyrant

Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 32 – One must fall – Part One

Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 32 - One must fall - Part One

After defeating the first Fire Dancer team, I was surprised and disappointed by the poor performance of the next two teams. While they seemed to recognise the tricks and basic ploys I had used against the Fire Dancer’s, they showed no noticeable attempts at countering them.

Given the superior number advantage every team had over me, I was doing my best to avoid being bogged down in any protracted fights. Not only did my running away seem to enrage the Fire Dancers and Sand Walkers, making it easier to lure them into disadvantageous positions, their teams also seemed to be formed with only talent, raw ability or reputation as the determining factor. Unlike the first Fire Dancer team that was at least somewhat cohesive, the next two teams were only a pack of individuals.

With another team descending from the viewing platform and preparing to take their positions in the arena, I finished stretching and tried to reorient my thinking towards the fight ahead. All of my accumulated damage had already been restored, but I could feel a nascent hunger building in exchange.

Waiting for the horn to signal the beginning of the match, I decided to take a far more aggressive approach to this round. The bark and wood armour combined with padded layers of cloth had proven sufficient to prevent fatal injuries to the body, so I wanted to see how far I could push myself before it would become dangerous for my opponents.

*Broo!*

While jogging towards the middle ground, I noticed two of the Sand Walker team had scaled their fortification and were preparing their slings. With no shield to block the stones they would begin pelting in my direction, I had little choice but to divert to the relative cover of the northern thicket.

“OWOO! OWOO!” One of the slingers made a strange animal call in response to my change in direction and was pointing towards me with his free hand.

“WOOP! WOOP!” Another strange animal call was made in response and seemed to be headed in my general direction.

Somewhat relieved to see tactics being used, I was also somewhat worried by what that could entail for the fight headed my way.

Entering the east end of the thicket, I quickly realised my mistake. Four of the Sand Walker tribe’s team were slowly approaching from the opposite side. Two hunters at the front were already spinning bola’s above their heads and preparing to release.

*Fwip Fwip*

With no way to dodge, I widened my stance and hoped my shins were wide enough apart to prevent the bolas from binding my legs together.

*Thwap Clack Clack Clack, Thwap Clack Clack Clack*

For whatever reason, both hunters had targeted my right leg and now my right shin was bound tightly by both bolas which slightly restricted my movement.

Backing out of the thicket, I could see the other four hunters and warriors were almost halfway around the outside of the thicket.

*Thwack*

A hastily thrown stone from a slinger glanced off my bark breastplate and left a tiny but noticeable impact dent in the surface.

Seeing the other slinger preparing to take his shot I did my best to remain calm and make sure my club stayed in a position that could help protect my head if the slinger missed his mark.

*Thump*

The second slinger’s stone went wide and hit the dirt somewhere behind me, so I ignored it and began a countercharge against the four warriors already charging towards me.

*BROOBROOBROO!*

I stopped midcharge and looked towards the hornblower while the Sand Walkers did the same.

The hornblower was pointing frantically to the north, but because of the briar walls of the arena Tim and most of the other Sand Walker’s couldn’t see what was going on.

“GARGANT! GARGANT IS HERE!” One of the slingers roared in anger.

Similar cries descended from the viewing platform and chaos quickly took hold of the arena.

I took a deep breath. “QUIET!” I roared angrily, more than a little irritated that my quick levelling scheme had been derailed after so little progress.

As I had commanded, everyone grew deathly quiet.

“OSA! GATHER YOUR WARRIORS!” I commanded, “EVERYONE ELSE, RETURN TO STONE WELL!”

Hunters and warriors began streaming towards mustering grounds while the civilians headed for the elevator.

I blinked away the quest completion notification for the Sand Walker’s forfeit and made a mental note to make it up to them later. They had been closer to the exit than I was, so they had unintentionally forfeited when their last member left the arena grounds before I did.

Head and shoulders above most of the crowd, I could see why the hornblower had been so concerned. A dust cloud wider than Stone Well was fast approaching, and at its head was a towering figure atop a Hulking Boar. Assuming this figure was Gargant, leader of the Slavers from the Iron Hills tribe, then the dust cloud was more than likely his accumulated force of tribesmen and slaves alike. Just as the Bleak-Fang, the Sun Rock, and Lash’s people had done, Gargant’s Shamans had probably followed the expended mana of Stone Well after the collapse in hope of finding shelter they could claim for themselves.

Making my way to the front and standing before the lone landbridge that allowed access into the grounds beneath the mesa, I waited to see what the Slavers would do.

Osa and his lieutenants were hurriedly forming the warriors and hunters into groups, positioning slingers on the flanks and securing shields for the warriors that would be tasked with holding the landbridge.

“RAAAAAAGH!” The ragged warcry from the dust cloud was accompanied by a faint rumbling front he ground underfoot. Dozens and then hundreds of figures began charging out of the dust cloud and towards Stone Well. Beginning as a wave, the enemy battle line quickly tapered as they realised the landbridge was the only available crossing point.

Hunters on spider-back had now moved into position on the slingers' flanks and hunters and warriors with avian and boar mounts held back at the rear in reserve.

Clarice had mounted Dhizi and was rushing to take her place with the other cavalry while Kestrel scrambled for a higher vantage point in the bramble fort and pulled out her spyglass.

Nadine and the other Surgeons had remained behind in their first aid tents and were hastily erecting additional shelters in preparation for casualties.

With all of my recent battle experience against Orcs, I knew that I wouldn’t be able to hold the twenty-foot wide strip of packed earth on my own. However, Until the bulk of the enemy force drew closer, I didn’t see much point in stepping back. Scoring some early hits would do good for Osa’s warriors’ morale, and besides, the enemy was almost certainly on the brink of exhaustion after travelling who knows how far and then running to close the distance like this.

‘TIM!” Kestrel called out in order to get my attention. She pointed animatedly to the centre-left of the approaching horde, “TRIBAL SLAVES!” Kestrel warned.

Following the direction of Kestrel’s arm, I could see otherwise unmistakable shapes of women and adolescents in the crowd.

Suppressing my disgust, I turned back to Osa. “The enemy is using Variant prisoners as shock troops,” I informed him, “What are you going to do about it?”

Osa briefly looked in the direction of the approaching horde to confirm it for himself before becoming absorbed in his own thoughts. “Sspiderss! We can usse the Ssand Sstalkerss, my Overlord!” Osa stated confidently. He turned to his lieutenants and sent them rushing off to the Sand Stalkers on the flanks. “We will usse their webbing to catch those who fall and paralysse them with venom,” Osa explained before turning his attention to the assembled warriors, “Gargant ssendss ensslaved women and children to fight!”

The warriors all wore expressions of anger and disgust, but their comments were lost amidst the rumbling of the approaching enemy.

“You ssee an Ensslaved tribal, pull them through the line!” Osa cried, wedging himself into the formation and miming the motion of dragging someone from in front of him and shoving them back into the warriors behind. “Bring tribal Sslavess to Overlord Tim! THE OVERLORD WILL SSET THEM FREE!” Osa roared and took his original position ahead of the warriors and raised his hooked blade high.

“OVERLORD FREES!” The warriors cried in return and quickly began reorganising themselves. Some warriors shed their shields and weapons entirely, forming second and third ranks in the formation with the intent to do just as Osa said and snatch slaves straight from the middle of the melee.

The spider riders had all descended into the moat and their mounts were busy weaving thick webs that would catch anyone who fell off the bridge or attempted leaping across either side.

The moat was twenty feet wide, but jumping diagonally off the bridge could shorten that distance considerably depending on how far across they made it.

No longer confident in being able to differentiate the Variants from the Soulless in the heat of the moment, I reluctantly passed through the warriors and took up a position a short distance behind them. Unless they were wearing different clothing, I would honestly not be able to tell an adult male from any of the others, especially if their face was covered.

I hurriedly formed a general quest for rescuing Variants from the Iron Hill tribe Slavers. Given the scale, I was able to secure two sources of reward for participants. The first reward was based on each Variant someone rescued by bringing them to me. The second would reward everyone involved after the quest was deemed completed overall. The second reward would apply to literally everyone involved in saving the Variants, from the warriors on the frontline to the Surgeons providing support in the rear.

As expected, the Slaves momentum had begun to flag before reaching the bridge, making it abundantly clear that Gargant didn’t expect them to survive the melee. Slaver’s riding boars behind the main host were clacking whips and flogging those at that rear. A temporary shift in the horde’s formation revealed much smaller forms at the rear which could only belong to children or tall Goblins.

Unable to suppress my anger, I snatched a spear off a nearby warrior, infused it with a portion of my mana and then hurled it over the horde. I already knew my chances of hitting any of the Slavers were abysmal, but hitting them wasn’t my intention.

*BOOM!*

The spear missed, landing some distance behind the closest Slaver, but the thunderclap and sudden rush of air that accompanied its impact sent the Slavers into a panic and impromptu retreat back towards the slowly approaching Slaver force which was still much farther back.

The front of the slave horde had begun crossing the land bridge and I could see at least three women amidst the first ragged wave.

In a fashion reminiscent of the Roman legionnaires I had seen depicted in movies and T.V. The front rank of Osa’s warriors had locked their large square shields but deliberately formed a v-like funnel. Most of the unarmed warriors were congregated towards the point of the V, presumably to better perform their snatch and rescue attempts from the melee.

True enough, the visibly tired front runners of the horde drove down the funnel formation before slamming into the shields and trying to land blows with their bare hands.

Although nowhere near as disciplined as the romanesque formation had led me to expect, the warriors at the front made space for those behind and seven Orcs in total were snatched and bodily dragged back through the formation before the shields closed up again.

Biting my thumb I pressed the welling blood against the crude collar of the first slave brought within reach. The slave froze for a moment before seeming to return to their senses. With no time to waste, I waved the warrior on and pointed to the Surgeons while reaching for the next slave collar.

Glancing towards the bridge revealed the fighting intensifying, but the bottleneck of the bridge had brought the horde to a standstill.

Repeatedly reopening the wound on my thumb was becoming irritating, but I did my best to suppress the negative thoughts while trying to keep up with the high volume of slaves the warriors were bringing over to be freed.

[Conditions have been met for the Master Class: {Slave Master}]

[Class advancement: {In Progress}]

[Class advancement: {Pending Review}]

[Class advancement: {Pending}]

[Class advancement: {Review Completed}]

[Class advancement: {Approved}]

[Class advancement: {Complete}]

[Class: Ogre Slave-Breaker 15. +4 Strength, +2 Toughness, +5 Willpower, +5 HP +16MP.] [Exp: 29350/225000]

[(Class Ability: Warlord’s Banner): {Replaced}]

[(Class Ability: Heart of the Clan): {Replaced}]

[(Class Ability: Herd the Chattel): All Slaves obey your will or suffer for it. All Slaves within range are compelled to follow your Commands. Conflicting Commands are resolved by a contest of {Willpower} {Willpower} and {Presence} increases the range of the effect.]

[(Class Ability: Dominating Will): Slaves and Beasts have only one true master, you. Expending MP contests the control of all Slaves and Tamed Beasts within range. Succeeding the contest of {Willpower} transfers ownership of each Slave and Tamed Beast to you. {Willpower} reduces the MP expended. The tier of monster relative to your own increases or decreases MP expended.]

Reading through the golden notification panels, I felt my blood pressure rising and had to concentrate in order to stop myself from cursing out loud. Despite my feelings on the Enslavement Abilities in general, and as much as I loathed the alteration to my existing Class, the new Abilities could make a substantial difference in the current situation.

Suppressing my mounting sense of revulsion, I activated the Herd the Chattel Ability. “STOP!” I commanded and nearly blacked out as an intense migraine nearly drove me to my knees. I could feel blood rolling down my cheeks, lips and neck, but did my best to ignore it and keep the Ability activated.

A stream of kill notifications and changes in ownership began streaming in front of my eyes, but I could barely make out what they each were before another would take its place a half-second later.

Unsure of how much time had passed, I was shaken by the quiet that had taken the place of the savage cries of battle. Looking towards the bridge, I was shocked to find the Slaves, to a man, were all standing completely still. Wiping away the blood from my mouth I waved back Osa and Clarice and Nadine, each of whom had made their way to my side while I was indisposed. “MOVE!” I barked and pointed to an open space of the mustering grounds.

“MOVE ASSIDE!” Osa commanded, “MOVE ASSIDE! LET THEM THROUGH!”

The warriors somewhat stiffly made way for the Slaves to pass through. Visibly confused by what was transpiring, very few of them seemed to realise it was my doing, for which I was grateful.

As the Slaves passed me by, I could intuitively tell which Slaves still had owners and which didn’t. My best guess was close to three-quarters of the two hundred or so Slaves no longer had owners. Unfortunately, there were a large number of Soulless amongst the Slaves, so I couldn’t just free them without risking the Soulless causing problems.

“Need to separate the Variants,” I croaked and tried to take a deep breath to clear my head. I raised my hand to stop Osa as he prepared to issue orders to his men. I had a much faster and more efficient way of doing it. “Women and children, move to the clearing in front of the tents!” I barked, “Men of the Stone Well, Sand Dancer, Flowing Water, Sand Walker and Crag Fist tribes, do the same!”

All but four Orcs began stiffly making their way to the place I had indicated, leaving me more than a little confused.

I wasn’t the only one either. A full group of hunters left their positions and went to investigate both those who had moved as well as those who had remained.

Just from casual observation, I could see that the remaining male Orcs were also Variants, but in poor shape. Judging just by their larger frames, I could only assume they were mountain Orcs from the Iron Hill tribe that had fallen from Gargant’s favour and been enslaved. Which meant that there were quite possibly Iron Hill women and children amongst the others.

“TAKE POSSTIONSS!” Osa commanded and pointed back to the bridge.

The dust clouds had grown closer and revealed lines of slave wagons now headed towards the moat.

I realised that I had underestimated Gargant. That first wave of Slaves was likely intended to just lower morale by forcing our warriors to kill distant relatives, or perhaps tie our forces down while Gargant moved his own warriors into the positions he wanted.

Large Orcs had begun disembarking the wagons and roughly forming into their own battleline. Unlike the earlier wave of Variants, these Orcs had crude weapons and armour fashioned from stone and bone. Their force dwarfed ours by at least two to one, and that was excluding their reserves that were forming up around Gargant himself, which numbered at least another hundred or so Orcs.

I took some small consolation in the fact that there were dead Slavers scattered around the path of the wagons. The battle of wills to command the Slaves had been difficult and painful for me, but it had proven fatal for no small amount of Slavers in return. Wanting to strike another blow against their morale, and sow chaos in the ranks of their slaves, I began channelling my mana in preparation to seize control of the remaining slaves still technically owned by the Slavers.

Gratefully accepting a waterskin pushed into my shaking hand by Nadine, I tilted my head back and gulped down the cool water greedily. My skin had begun to grow uncomfortably warm beneath the unrelenting rays of the sun, and I couldn’t shake a general sense of lightheadedness. After slaking my thirst, I emptied the waterskin down my front and back, shivering at the sudden shift in temperature as the water spread across my skin. Now recognising the onset of a bad fever, I withdrew one of Mors’ weaker olives from Nadine’s medicine bag, bit down to release the juices and swallowed.

Nadine watched on in relative silence and activated one of her own Class Abilities which caused me to momentarily glow with a faint golden light. The feverishness that was taking hold in my extremities abated and so did the majority of my lightheadedness. “You were bleeding internally,” Nadine chastised me quietly enough that no one else would hear her. The deep concern in her eyes belied suspicion and a small amount of anger, “What you did nearly killed you…and it still might…”

I nodded in understanding and removed my helmet, revealing the crusting lines of blood on my face and the sides of my neck.

Nadine’s eyes grew wide and she stifled a gasp before pulling out another waterskin and a large piece of clean scrap cloth.

*Brooo!*

The horn call came from our side, but the renewed rumbling in the ground made it clear what they were warning against. Gargant’s second wave of Slaves was advancing.

Looking away from Nadine, I was surprised by the enemy's decision to advance slowly towards the bridge. The enslaved Orcs had no shields, so once they came into range, the slingers began pelting them stones as fast as they could reload and bring their slings back to speed again. The enslaved Orcs also lacked substantial ranged weapons to retaliate with, although some were picking up large stones as they marched, perhaps intending to lob them into the massed warriors once close enough to guarantee a hit.

All of Osa’s warriors had taken up their weapons and shields again, forming a straight and uninterrupted line of shields on our side of the bridge. With the thick defensive formation, it was obvious that Osa intended for the slingers to do the bulk of the offensive fighting while the warriors focused on holding the enemy back. It wasn’t a bad plan considering our relative under-preparedness, but we only had around fifty slingers, including additions from amongst the Beast cavalry still waiting in reserve.

Nadine was struggling to find a balance between gentleness and brevity as she scrubbed at the drying blood beneath my eyes. She knew I was up to something but wasn’t sure what. Rather than trying to stop me, Nadine was doing her best not to get in the way. It was one of the quirks of her nature. Nadine would give a dozen reasons not to do something, but she would back you once you made up your mind. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t hold you to account afterwards, but she would do her best to make the most of what you were trying to do.

Gently pushing Nadine back, I replaced my helmet and approached the statuelike figures of the enslaved nomads.

Nadine trailed on my heels with a determined expression and steely focus in her eyes.

Standing before the enslaved Orc nomads, I braced myself for the anticipated pain and activated Dominating Will.

A migraine almost as intense as the first erupted in my mind and I felt fresh blood running down my lips. However, the pain began abating almost immediately as a string of death notifications and change in ownership notification flew past my eyes. Gasping for air, I used my club as a walking stick and clung to it in order to prevent myself from falling.

Perhaps accessing my previous established Enslavement settings, the enslaved nomads immediately came to life upon transferring to my ownership. Many collapsed and lay panting on the ground, physically and mentally exhausted. Some managed to remain standing but only long enough to totter towards friends or family before collapsing, hugging one another and crying bitter dry tears.

There was an uproar from the direction of the advancing wave of Orcs, but I didn’t need to look in order to understand what was happening. Soulless that had shared Slavers with the tribesmen were now freed and disrupting the enemy advance.

Removing my helmet again, I accepted the waterskin from Nadine and gulped down its entire contents in one pull. “Food?” I grunted breathlessly and gratefully accepted the ash coloured dried meat Nadine offered in response. Aggressively ripping the dried largely tasteless meat apart, I greedily gulped it down and nearly snatched the next handful from Nadine before getting a grip and carefully taking a single piece to chew on. “Slaves. Need. Food. Water…” I grunted between chewing. I invited Nadine and the other Surgeons to my retinue.

Nadine nodded and was about to get to work when her eyes grew wide in shock, “They're all in your party?!” She exclaimed incredulously.

Sluggishly going through the mental motions to view my own party, I was surprised to find Nadine was right. I had two hundred and forty-seven Slaves in my extended retinue. Concentrating and actively ignoring the approaching force of Orcs, the answer slowly made itself known to me. Just like how the party was limited to a certain number of Slaves and Tamed Beasts, retinue tiers multiplied this base number depending on the tier of the Lord. Apparently, an Overlord could have an absurd number of Slaves In addition to their own party and retinue. Assuming, of course, that he or she could control them.

“PORTERS!” Nadine’s voice cut through the surrounding shouts like a knife through butter, “CARRY THE INFIRM TO THE ELEVATOR AND BEGIN EVACUATING THEM TO THE HOSPITAL AND VILLAGE CENTRE! SEE THAT EVERYONE IN YOUR CHARGE RECEIVES A SMALL POT OF WATER BEFORE RETURNING FOR OTHERS!”

A full half of the crowding tribespeople I had mistaken for Surgeons nodded vigorously and began bodily lifting the enslaved onto their shoulders before briskly making their way to the elevator.

Shifting my attention back to the fighting, I was a little surprised to see that a few dozen Orc Slaves were stoically standing still only a couple dozen feet from the bridge. Almost certainly the Orcs that I had incidentally freed by killing their masters, I was surprised that the slingers had the discipline to focus their anger and attention on those trying to access the bridge, rather than take shots at the otherwise vulnerable targets.

Replacing my helmet and fitting it into place, I decided to do my part and help repel the latest wave of attackers. Shifting my club to my left hand, I picked up a rock and pelted it over the frontline and into the Orc Slaves trying to cross the bridge. Seeing no sign of a kill notification, I picked up another stone and threw that too. My second throw hit an entirely different section of the Orc column and didn’t provide a kill notification either. Reaching for a third stone, I tried not to think about the fact that these Orcs were being compelled to fight. The fact that they were Soulless, clones replicated by the labyrinth, did little to temper their cries of anguish and pain as they were bludgeoned with stones while attempting to follow orders and avoid mind-melting pain.

Gargant and his remaining reserve forces were creeping forwards. I couldn’t be sure from this distance, but it looked like some of the Slavers may have slings of their own. They certainly had a daunting amount of iron or steel weapons to go along with metal banded shields, so it raised the question, why they hadn’t better armed their slaves that were going to do the bulk of the fighting?

“PUSH!” Osa commanded.

Orc slaves on the edge of the bridge were shoved over the side and into the pits and webs below, but their places were quickly filled again resuming the status quo.

Briefly considering infusing a stone with mana to make an improvised grenade, I dismissed the idea as wasteful. There was no need to spend any more of my mana just yet and there was still Gargant to contend with.

Clarice was grinning ear to ear as she pelted stone after stone into the massed Mountain Orc Slaves. While she didn’t have any particular benefits from her Class, Clarice was a good enough shot to consistently hit her intended target and was deliberately hobbling those on the periphery in order to provoke their falling over the edge when unbalanced by shoving allies.

For her part, Kestrel wasn’t actually fighting at all. Instead, she was keeping a close eye on Gargant with her spyglass. Even though kestrel had proved herself a good shot with a bow, I preferred her keeping an eye out for trouble, especially since we were currently winning. Kestrel suddenly shifted her focus to the rearmost lines of the Slavers, “THEY ARE BRINGING UP BRIDGES!” She shouted while still motioning in the same direction.

*Brooo!*

As one, the Mountain Orc Slaves turned and ran, limped and crawled back towards the advancing Slavers.

The presumably empty slave wagons were racing backwards towards two different flanks of the moat, a section on the northeastern side and the northwestern side. With a dozen wagons in each group, there was a decent chance that they could establish a wide landing to cross with.

Osa was already dividing his forces and had recalled the spider riders from the moat. Which was just as well, since the spiders would easily be crushed or crippled by that much weight if they were hit.

It finally looked like the Beast cavalry would have their chance to show what they were capable of.

<Overlord! We are on our way!> The mental link was somewhat frayed, but I wasn’t sure if it was because of my own mental exhaustion or a consequence of something on Mors’ end.

Only able to muster a simple confirmation, I felt the link sever shortly afterwards.

A sudden surge in mana from above tore my attention from the approaching wagons and up to the top of the mesa. The surge lasted a full thirty seconds before rapidly tapering off.

In the meantime, the first wagons, pushed by teams of orc Slaves that had apparently been held in reserve, crashed into the moat, their hapless crews toppling in after them. As I had suspected, a single wagon was insufficient, but as the next wagons careened into the moat, they began forming an almost functional passage. The Advantage still very much remained with our forces as the defenders, but dividing our forces seemed to be the primary objective of the gambit.

The horde of Mountain Orc Slaves had now been divided and was rushing back to the bridge as well as the two new improved crossings.

Osa had diverted the slingers to the improvised crossings. With the precarious footing afforded by the cage bars and haphazard angles of the wagons, he likely wanted to make the most of easily toppling enemies into the moat.

Clarice herself had ridden Dhizi to the northeast crossing and had her spear at the ready. With a fairly good idea of Dhizi’s combat capabilities, it was safe to assume that the Mountain Orc Slaves didn’t stand much of a chance in getting past them.

Isza and her daughter Ezha had arrived on the latest descent of the elevator along with a small band of Flowing Waters warriors, and they were now headed to the northwest crossing alongside a surprisingly large manifestation of the four-armed serpentine Daemon, Senn.

Rather than ascending, the elevator remained stationary as a small horde of figures began sliding down the ropes. A mix of lightly armoured Serpent-Kin and Goblins began streaming from the direction of the elevator and headed towards the three defensive locations. Bearing iron weapons, the newcomers handed their weapons off to the bewildered Desert Orc warriors before forming ragtag squads and filling open pouches hanging from their shoulders with stones.

As the Mountain Orc Slaves drew closer, two members of each group rushed off to the nearest crossing and pulled out their slings.

With more Goblins arriving with each passing moment, the numerical advantage of the Iron Hills tribe quickly disappeared.

The first slaves to attempt crossing any of the bridges were pelted with so many stones they were dead before even hitting the ground. Despite Gargant’s gambit to divide Stone Well’s forces, the arrival of reinforcements from Sanctuary now prevented his Slaves from even gaining a foothold, pelting them to death beneath hails of stones.

To make things worse, the recently arrived Sanctuary Goblins were far more accurate than the Stone Well Orcs, so despite doing less raw damage per strike, they compensated by striking more vital areas. Factoring in the Vicious Racial Ability of the Goblins, their sheer numbers ensured an orc injured by the first four strikes would be killed outright by the fifth.

Tangled bodies had begun piling up on the crashed wagons making the crossing even more difficult as new arrivals tripped over the dead bodies of those who had come before them.

The turnaround had apparently given Gargant pause. His force of Slavers had come to a complete halt and showed no signs of coming closer.

Close to a hundred or more Goblins and forty or so Serpent-Kin had joined the fight, including the one-armed Sunrock Goblin elder Skrit, who was painted head to toe in warpaint and brandishing an axe that should have been too large for his meagre frame to hold two-handed, let alone one-handed. The presence of the elder drove nearby Goblins into a frenzied fervour, lending strength to their throwing arms and speed to their steps as they scour the ground for fresh ammunition.

The elevator was once again transporting Enslaved tribals up the mesa, signaling an end to the unexpected but thoroughly welcome reinforcements.

*Brooo*

The Mountain Orc Slaves were called back again, although now collectively reduced to less than a quarter of their original numbers.

The Goblins surged after them, but stopped on the other side of each crossing, taking the opportunity to retrieve as much ammunition as they could. I made a mental note to reward whoever had done such a good job training them. It certainly wasn’t something I would have thought to tell them to do in my mentally exhausted state.

Gargant’s forces were now retreating in their entirety and seemed to be headed to the rocky shelf an hour's travel roughly north of Stone Well.

“SSCOUTS!” Osa was standing atop a shield held aloft by two warriors to better make himself seen, “Pursue! Do not engage!” He commanded, a surge mana signalling that he had activated an ability to ensure his orders were followed.

Kestrel, amongst others, raced their birds out and across the land bridge, fanning out and then splitting into two pursuit teams as they flanked and followed Gargant’s retreating forces.

As intimidating as Gargant’s force had been, there was every possibility that the chief of the Iron Hills still had other cards to play. For all we knew, he might have another force of enslaved Soulless twice the size of the first.

I supported Osa’s decision to only send out the scouts. Since they were all mounted, there was very little chance of Gargant’s forces capturing or killing them so long as they remained vigilant.

Besides, I was finding it increasingly difficult to remain awake and needed to get at least some form of rest before Gargant returned. While I may not have been integral to winning today's skirmish, it was dubious whether so many civilians would have survived without my direct intervention. Far from being reassuring, it only intensified the burden I felt in ensuring I was able to do what was necessary should the need call for it again.

Sitting on a large stone and staring out of the field of corpses, the famous lines outlining great power and the responsibility it held for the wielder continued repeating in my mind. There was no higher authority than mine. Everything my army did was my responsibility. How I choose to use my own Class Abilities was another. I ‘could’ attempt to turn Gargant’s own Slaves right back on him, but I doubted I would be able to reconcile the act without having exhausted just about every other option. Even then, I knew it would change me if I did it. This was another one of those lines that could not be taken back once crossed over.

Gargant’s forces didn’t return, but the first messengers sent by the scouts confirmed that they had made camp an hour to the north at the stone shelf. Early observations confirmed that Gargant seemed to have many more Slaves, and some of them were human.

The news didn’t surprise me. If the foothold had been hit as hard as everything else, then there would have been no shortage of adventurers and Guild staff attempting to reach the portals in order to leave. With the significant lowering of the fourth floor’s ground level, there was every possibility that the portals were both hundreds of feet in the air, effectively stranding the humans on this floor.

As much as I wanted to take the elevator back to the village, I couldn’t justify taking the place of three malnourished Slaves and cut the line. Nadine and Osa both had the good sense to organise supplies to be brought down during the return trips, and tents were being erected to house the reinforcements as well as most of Stone Well’s warriors. Food and water were being arranged as well, but it would be some time before any substantial amount would be available.

Osa wanted to keep the warriors close and ready in case Gargant’s forces returned and they had to redeploy in a hurry. This of course intensified the sentiment that additional elevators should be constructed so Stone Well could more effectively deploy warriors, scouts and hunters when necessary, and I was inclined to agree. Not everyone was as nimble as Goblin or Serpent-kin and would be able to reliably descend a rope as they had done. Although once I began thinking about it, it did raise the question of how Skrit had managed it with only one arm and his overly large axe…

*****

Nadine tried to push the memory of Tim’s bloodied grim visage from her mind, finding small comfort is replacing it with the gaunt malnourished and dehydrated faces of the freed Iron Hill Slaves. Tim had reduced his HP to minus seventeen before arresting its deterioration. He had accumulated a half dozen Conditions in the span of a number of seconds, some of which Nadine hadn’t even known existed until seeing them on his party information.

What had made the situation all the more surreal was how calmly Tim was handling the situation in spite of his rapid approach towards death. He had known what he was doing, and that was what unnerved Nadine the most. He knew what was going to happen and did it anyway.

Nadine accompanied the last of the freed Slaves up to Stone Well and helped take care of them personally before seeing to her dinner and changing clothes.

While not particularly thrilled with Clarice and Tim’s tournament idea originally, Nadine was certainly beginning to come around on the idea. The level cap, or maximum level obtainable on this floor, was fifty, and Tim was still only level fifteen. Another five levels would either increase Tim’s MP by five or his HP by depending on the archetype of his Class, and in either case, it could have made a significant difference in the risk he took during the battle.

Wearing relatively clean clothes and having washed her face to freshen up, Nadine parted the curtain that served as the door to their house and nearly bumped into someone waiting just outside.

“Tim is not here?” Lash asked while stepping back to make room for Nadine to pass her.

Momentarily stunned, Nadine didn’t immediately reply.

“Nadine?” Lash pressed curiously, poking Nadine’s exposed forehead to try and get her attention.

“Ah, Tim, right,” Nadine stammered, “He uh-” She made as if to point towards the elevator but paused as she saw Tim’s armoured form lumbering down the street and dragging his club behind him.

Lash followed her gaze and smiled broadly upon seeing Tim. “Thanks,” she breathed gratefully while stalking down the road towards Tim.

Considering the negative Conditions Tim was still suffering from that impaired his thinking, Nadine wasn’t all that surprised when he failed to notice Lash until she was literally shoving off his helmet and mauling his face with her mouth.

More than capable of guessing where things were headed, Nadine decided to make herself scarce. While Toby and Emelia were relatively discrete, Lash and most Orcs for that matter, were not.

Heading to the village centre to try and make herself useful, as well as getting well and truly out of earshot, Nadine set herself to work helping direct the Crag Fist’s to available housing and organised Porters to check on them. Given the sheer number of people needing to be housed and cared for, Nadine was busy till late into the night and took the opportunity to sleep at Hessin and Osa’s house to give Lash and Tim more privacy.

After refreshing herself in the morning and getting something to eat, Nadine set about checking on the freed Slaves again before heading back to their borrowed lodgings to check on Tim’s Conditions.

Despite a number of light scratches, which Nadine chose to ignore, Tim seemed to be in a much better mood despite the persistence of a final negative Condition. Mental Fatigue seemed benign enough, so Nadine was cautiously optimistic about his recovery.

Tim cooperated with her assessment but still seemed a little worn out and had dark rings under his eyes. “Has there been any movement from the Iron Hills tribe?” Tim asked while stiffly getting to his feet and heading for the wash pot kept in the corner.

Nadine shook her head, “I don’t think so, but I haven’t been actively trying to find out either,” she admitted.

Tim grunted in reply and quickly washed himself down with a damp cloth.

Nadine couldn’t help but notice Tim had lost a concerning amount of weight since they had first met. He still had a gut, but there was much less of it than before. For the time being she decided to just keep it in mind and try to make sure Tim was eating enough. After all, hungry Ogres had quite a fearsome reputation.

Tim pulled on the clothes from yesterday and bundled his scattered armour into a sheet which he then tied into the end of his club. “Look like a damned hobo…” Tim snickered and balanced the club on his shoulder before walking outside.

Glad to see Tim smiling, Nadine followed him outside. “What’s a hobo?” She asked curiously.

“Hrm? Oh…” Tim scratched at the back of his head with a goofy smile, “It’s a name for homeless people,” he explained, “Homeless people that travelled around, a long time ago, would put their belongings in a sheet like this and carry it with a stick…I don't’ think anyone actually did it for a long time…But the look is pretty iconic and recognisable…” Tim let out a deep sigh, “none of this is making any sense is it?” He asked with a tired smile.

Nadine shrugged, “I think I got a general idea.”

Tim shrugged as well and they continued towards the elevator.

New work was underway preparing for the construction of two more elevators, although Nadine wondered who would be surrendering their boar’s to power them. The Iron Hills tribe certainly had more of them, but they wouldn’t have access to them until defeating Gargant at the least, so she hoped they weren’t being unrealistic with their expectations.

Tim seemed similarly dubious of the preparations but said nothing while they waited for the elevator.

Descending the mesa, Nadine was surprised by the scale of the tent city below. Of course, after recalling just how many Goblins and Serpent-Kin reinforcements had come to their aid, she realised that she should have expected as much.

The Goblins had made their own cooking fires with fuel scavenged from Tim’s arena, but Tim didn't seem to mind.

The mood amongst the Desert Orcs changed dramatically upon Tim’s arrival. While they had been grateful and demonstrated respect and acceptance of Tim before, there had also been a certain amount of veiled distrust and scepticism whenever his back was turned. That seemed to be gone now and was replaced by a certain degree of awe.

Tim didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he made no sign of it. After arriving at Osa’s command tent, Tim settled himself down and listened to the reports on the Iron Hills encampment. Most of the reports were incredibly similar and boiled down to noting the movements of small supply teams hunting for food, or the enemy’s own scouts being picked off or scared back to the main camp.

What Nadine found unsettling was the repeated mentioning of human slaves in the enemy camp and how callously they seemed to be treated. Once she stopped to consider it, Nadine had to admit that the situation of the Enslaved humans was probably the most ideal outcome for them, all things considered.

What worried Nadine was what Tim might do once Gargant was defeated, or when Gargant deployed the humans to try and kill them. While originally human himself, Tim had proven incredibly callous towards people he deemed had wronged him in some way. It wasn’t entirely unrealistic to expect Tim to associate the enslaved humans guilty by association with the Adventurers Guild, or gods help them, a mercenary Guild. It really didn’t help that Tim bore no moral or legal obligation to even attempt saving them, let alone take risks as he had done for the Desert Orcs.

Nadine could tell Tim was thinking about it, but the set of his brow didn’t make Nadine optimistic about the outcome. Feeling somewhat pressured to serve as an advocate of her species, and genuinely afraid of what would happen if Tim began crossing certain moral thresholds, Nadine waited until Tim was finished listening to scouting reports before attempting to broach the subject.

“Tim, do you think you could free the Enslaved humans?” Nadine asked bluntly, wanting to get a proper gauge on where he currently stood in regards to their lives.

Tim remained silent for a short while as they walked towards the moat, “I could…” He agreed apprehensively, “But you need to understand that no matter the outcome, saving them is inviting a great deal of trouble.”

Nadine was surprised by the nature of Tim’s dilemma. Having expected she would need to convince him to let go of certain prejudices, it was a profound relief. “You could always have the Human Overseers imprison or keep them under house arrest in the swamp?” Nadine suggested.

Tim nodded thoughtfully and stared out at the distant horizon. Every so often he would rub at his chin or scratch the back of his head, but Tim genuinely seemed to be coming around to the idea of making an effort to rescue the Enslaved humans.

“You could always have them swear oaths to behave themselves too,” Nadine added optimistically, “Make them integrate into the new communities.”

Tim nodded and smiled, “And have them invited into the Faction.”

“Uh…What?” Nadine wasn’t sure she had heard him right.

“Oaths don't matter,” Tim continued, speaking more to himself than her, “once they join the Faction the quest system can extrapolate their Class unlock requirements and make the Classes available to everyone else.”

“Ah…” Nadine now understood what Tim was getting at and felt conflicted. On the one hand, she felt a great deal better now that Tim was quite motivated to save their lives, but on the other, Nadine was a little concerned by his ulterior motives. After considering Tim’s position and the risks involved, Nadine decided that this was probably the best she could realistically hope for in the circumstances.

When the new quest notification appeared requiring the rescue of human Slaves, Nadine made an effort to look on the bright side. “At least they won’t be Enslaved or dead. That’s still better than most,” she reasoned, taking care to avoid looking too long at the scattered bodies of the Enslaved Orcs covering the crashed wagons and the opposite bank of the moat.

“They certainly could,” Tim agreed dourly.

Knowing not to push her luck, Nadine decided to change the subject, “Have you and Lash decided on a name yet?”

The sudden change in subject caught Tim off guard, “Uh, what? A name?”

Nadine grinned, “For your firstborn…hatched? For your first child,” she explained.

Tim’s mood seemed to lighten again but he shook his head, “I think Lash is just expecting to use the name they are born with.” He shrugged somewhat helplessly and then became quite thoughtful again, “Hang on, how the hell do they know what their name is if none of them could read?”

Nadine took a breath in order to reply, but quickly found she had no answer to give. “You're right…” She agreed, “How do they know?”