boyutpedia Chapter 277: Into The Valley of Death - Part 1
Chapter 277: Into The Valley of Death - Part 1
Even seeming that way, it was not it. It was a sudden flash of realization. The men had fought together for over a season in the east, and they fought alone. Their Captain would sally forth at times to assist them, but it was their own power that they truly relied on. They'd half forgotten it, as they returned to the chaos of combat.
That boy who'd slaughtered those Titans as though they were nothing more than mindless scraps of flesh – he was on their side, wasn't he?
The change in the men's aura was noticeable even from a distance. Gorm ran a thick tongue over his lips at the sight of it.
"NOW THOSE ARE SOME HUNGRY MEN!" He bellowed. Shields were bashed as a result of his words.
Jok noted it too with a frown. "That Captain said something, didn't he? Was it a name? One of their Gods, perhaps?" He found himself wishing that he could speak the Stormfront tongue, for he'd never seen such morale on a raiding mission – especially with the foe so heavily outnumbered. It was the sort of fervour that he only saw when fighting fellow Yarmdon men.
It alarmed him, for the Stormfront were cunning. It was only guts that they lacked.
"I will take that giant," Lombard said, both so that his men could hear him, but also for Beam and Lombard's sake. "Vice-Captain, you meet with the other one. Slow his advance. Boy, look for the killing blow. The lives of their underlings do not matter. You must make use of their lack of awareness, and you must secure a head."
At their Captain's words – a Captain who was known to be of very few words – the soldiers felt their hearts steady. They were still pounding, but there was an assuredness to them now.
His feet came to the ground again with a mighty thud. He was a mere few strides away from the fort now. The soldier's breaths caught in their throat. Gorm and Lombard made eye-contact. The leader of the Yarmdon felt his lips curl into a smile.
His battleaxe had swung out behind him during his leap. He dragged it back to the front. His lead hand slipped down its shaft. The leather wraps were soft and grippy in his monstrous hands. Stay with the story on m v l e m p y r
He did not even close the remaining distance between him and the fort before he began his swing.
The men stared dumbfounded. He was at least a spear length away from the very tips of their spear – meaning that the man himself was at least two spear lengths away. Unless he was attempting to summon a gust of wind to brush them all back, then his attack would miss them entirely.
No instinct of fear thus came from the sight. They held steady. It was more than obvious that the strike would not make its way to them. They did not notice that their Captain was already drawing his sword.
"BRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAG!" Gorm roared, putting his all into the attack. A mighty opener of battle. He loved claiming that glory from himself. It was the first bite of a cooked hog. The first crunch of a ripe apple. And it was all his.
He took a mighty step forward as he completed its strike, lending it extra range. But massive as he was, he couldn't close such an enormous distance in but a single step. He couldn't, and yet... What was this?
There was a sight in the Black Mountains. A blue flower that only bloomed on the Yarmdon size. In their tongue, they called it the blue rose. A vicious and thorny plant that grew up through the face of the rock itself, as though nature had instilled it with all the properties of a drill.