95 Three Rats Battle the Hill

On the western reaches of the Norsen Plain, within Highcourt City, along Sunset Avenue, the dwarf supreme commander Gimli led the charge with the cross-banner of warhammers slung over his shoulder, driving the thousand-strong elite Hammer Regiment swiftly forward.

The undefeated legend, the Mountain King, Muradin Copperhammer, had broken away from the main force and charged to the very front, cutting down anyone in his path as though the world itself could not bar him.

The advance went unimpeded. In less than twenty minutes, they had already reached the outskirts of the central square.

They had met little resistance along the way, and the closer they drew to the inner city, the fewer ratmen they saw.

"Have those rat vermin abandoned the city and fled?"

"Impossible. Look ahead!"

From two hundred meters away, Gimli had already spotted the watchtower standing in the central square.

Upon that bare, exposed tower, the Black Banner Army’s three-rat battle standard fluttered in the morning light.

The rising sun spilled across it, stretching its shadow long and thin.

Below the tower, rank upon rank of city defenders stood ready, a steel wall forged of flesh and blood shielding the banner behind them.

At the head of the ratman formation, Karl took his stance, spear in his right hand and shield in his left, the spear braced against the shield, his gaze cold and murderous.

Behind Karl, Edward and Francis stood to either side, their eyes filled with grim resolve.

...

"Interesting!"

Muradin Copperhammer gave a mocking laugh, his round body jiggling as he rotated his thick right arm twice, producing a grating crack that made the teeth ache.

"At last, a worthy opponent!"

"Brother Gimli!"

Muradin turned and called out, then took the iron war-banner from Gimli’s hands.

He strode boldly to the center between the two armies and thrust it hard into the cracks between the stones of Sunset Avenue. The meaning was plain enough. Looking at the solemn-faced trio of ratmen before him, his eyes were full of ridicule and disdain.

"So young, and already on the battlefield. Have the ratfolk truly run out of soldiers? Hah!"

...

"Warhammer Regiment!"

Muradin, who had been grinning to himself only moments before, suddenly roared. His smile vanished at once, replaced by surging battle lust.

Roar!

Roar!

Roar!

Behind him, the dwarven Hammer Regiment answered with thunderous battle cries, their killing intent rising like a storm.

Charge!

At the command from behind, Gimli led the neatly ranked dwarven force surging forward like a flood.

...

"Warriors of the wild ratmen of the Andes!"

"Fight for Highcourt!"

Hiss!

A voice not yet fully matured burst forth with a battle cry that shook the soul.

...

The two formations drew ever closer, and the clash was about to begin.

"Crossbow Company, rise!"

At that very moment, a roar rang out, and rows of ratman soldiers armed with hand crossbows appeared atop the rooftops of the tall buildings lining both sides of Sunset Avenue.

"Fire on them hard!"

Shuke stood on one of the rooftops, pointing at the dwarven regiment below as he unleashed a shrill, frantic howl.

In an instant, arrows fell like rain, pelting the charging dwarves. The dense barrage was like a vast net, and one after another the advancing warriors fell.

"Keep charging! Knock them over!"

Muradin Copperhammer paid no heed to the arrows falling from both sides. Relying on his immense strength, he crashed forward.

Just as the two armies were about to collide, Karl lifted his weapon and shouted:

"Change formation!"

In an instant, the ratman line shifted. The formation split down the middle and flowed outward to both sides, moving in to encircle the enemy.

A pincer attack.

Muradin Copperhammer did not care in the slightest. He simply hurled aside the ratman warriors charging at him and kept swinging the weapons in both hands. Around him, a violent windstorm seemed to rise, as though a god had descended to earth.

He tore straight through the ratmen’s center line like a bullet through cheese.

But what he did not know was that he had pushed too far ahead and was already becoming separated from the forces behind him.

The ratmen’s pincer attack began to take effect. The dwarf regiment was squeezed into the middle of the road, becoming living targets for the archers on both sides.

The ratmen’s tactics were beginning to work.

Yet Muradin Copperhammer, who had plunged into the center of the formation, could not be stopped at all. The ratmen’s shields were as fragile as paper beneath his hammer and axe. One strike meant death. No one could endure a blow from the Mountain King.

"Francis! Edward!"

Karl glanced aside and called to his brothers, the meaning unmistakable.

"Go! Someone has to step forward and stop him!"

"Then let’s do it. Worst case, we die!"

"Charge!"

With that, Karl, Francis, and Edward formed a triangular spearhead and smashed toward the Mountain King’s position.

"Heh. Die, you rat scum!"

A sweeping slash of the great axe cleared the surrounding area in an instant.

Muradin raised his warhammer. White light gathered around it as he brought it crashing down upon the ground.

Thunder Strike!

A wave of magical ripples spread outward.

Dozens of ratman soldiers in the vicinity were sent flying and slammed to the ground, coughing blood and losing all ability to move.

"So you’ve come, little warrior. Let this old man see what you’re worth!"

Seeing Karl and the others charge at him, the Mountain King swung his warhammer down at Karl.

Karl knew better than to contest that blow head-on. He rolled backward just in time to evade the hammer’s crushing strike.

At the same moment, Francis and Edward on either side accelerated at once, circling behind the Mountain King from left and right and thrusting their spears toward his lower back.

Clang!

The bone spear tips could not even pierce the Mountain King’s plate armor.

"Tickling me, are you, little mice?"

Francis knew at once that something was wrong. Just as he tried to retreat, the Mountain King turned his body and fixed his gaze on him.

The instant the Mountain King lifted a hand, Karl hurled his spear with all his strength, then sprang upward and brought his shield crashing down toward Muradin Copperhammer’s face.

Muradin tilted his head slightly, avoiding the spear. It only left a shallow red line across his cheek.

Unerringly, the steel-helmed Muradin Copperhammer snapped his head forward in a violent headbutt against the wooden shield coming at him.

Bang!

With that terrifying impact, the shield shattered on the spot. The force of Muradin’s headbutt drove straight through it and slammed heavily into Karl’s chest, sending him flying.

He spat out a mouthful of blood. The power behind Muradin’s headbutt was beyond imagination.

His ribs broke. His body arced through the air in a parabola, trailing blood as it fell several meters away.

"Karl!"

Seeing Karl gravely wounded, Edward’s eyes nearly split with rage, but the difference in strength was simply too great. He could not break through Muradin’s defenses.

Muradin’s round body spun at high speed, and with a fierce gust of wind he instantly sent Edward and Francis flying more than ten meters backward.

Francis crashed hard into a cluster of ratmen, flattening several of them.

Edward fared even worse. He struck the pillar of a house by the roadside and immediately lost consciousness.

"A pack of rat scum, nothing more!"

Just as the Mountain King reveled in his triumph, he saw Gimli not far behind him wrench the banner from the ground and wave it repeatedly in the air. He understood at once: retreat.

Muradin Copperhammer’s chest filled with a searing fury, and he stormed toward Gimli in a rage.

Muradin: What do you mean, retreat?

Gimli: We can’t keep fighting. Our losses are too heavy.

Muradin: What nonsense are you spouting? Their commander couldn’t even take three of my moves. Give me five more minutes and I’ll break through them!

Gimli: You’re nothing but a brute. Look at the rooftops on both sides. They’re full of enemies.

You’re having your fun up front, but our regiment doesn’t even have long-range weapons. We’re getting shot at like targets by ratmen on the buildings all around us. At this rate, even if we win, the Hammer Regiment will lose more than half its men.

Muradin: Don’t tell me any of that useless garbage. I’m not withdrawing!

Gimli: The Hammer Regiment is the chieftain’s elite force. It is not here for you to use as cannon fodder!

Muradin: I only know that the enemy is at the end of its rope. They’re not worth a damn!

Gimli: You know nothing!

We’ve been lured too deep into enemy territory. Haven’t you noticed that our other allies never followed up?

Once we’re surrounded, we’ll all die here! I can’t bear that responsibility!

You’re only a warrior. I’m the commander here. You will obey my orders!

Withdraw!

...

At the same time, on the southern edge of the Norsen Plain, three hours after the foreign envoy had been sent away, Sharen led a force of two thousand lizardman warriors, who had been squeezed together by sheer force, out of the camp...