Chapter 81: Rolling Stone Assault!

Leo looked around, his gaze settling on the ruined altar behind him.

Centuries of weathering and the relentless assault of vines had reduced the outer structures of the altar to nothing more than a heap of rubble.

“Move those stones!”

The rest of the group realized what needed to be done and hurriedly began to carry the altar’s floor tiles and shattered pillars to the edge of the cliff.

The young lady, Denise, joined in, carrying a stone the size of a human head to the precipice. She saw the enormous stones, weighing several hundred pounds, brought by her companions, and the thousand-pound pillar hefted by Barrett.

The small stone in her hands seemed like a misfit among giants—a lone cub among its kin. Denise discreetly placed her stone on the ground and sat atop it, feigning exhaustion.

After moving a few stones, Leo felt dizzy and faint; the soul attack he suffered that morning still left him with lingering aftereffects.

He crouched beside Denise, observing the scene below, and raised a hand, speaking quietly, “Don’t act yet. Wait for my signal.”

He picked up a stone the size of an egg and tossed it gently off the cliff, watching as it tumbled downward, silently counting.

The little stone landed in the river between the orcs and bearfolk, sending up a splash. The sound was not insignificant, yet it drew no attention from those below.

While the group hauled stones, the standoff in the canyon below finally ended.

With negotiations failed, the orc chieftain raised his blade and roared, “Warriors of the Blade Clan! Take back our homeland!”

The wolf riders raised their swords in unison, charging after their leader toward the bearfolk guards.

The massive white bearfolk sneered, lifting his paws as electric currents crackled around him, making his fur stand on end and his frame swell with power.

In this electrified state, the bearfolk guard gathered the currents in his palms and pointed at the orc chieftain.

A huge arc of lightning shot through the air, instantly covering more than twenty meters, striking the chieftain dead-on.

The charging wolf mount froze, tumbling forward with scorched fur, tossing its rider—the chieftain—to the ground.

The arc continued to leap, chaining through five wolf riders in succession.

With a single strike, five wolf riders were knocked from their mounts!

Both wolves and orcs rolled on the ground, bodies charred and twitching uncontrollably, temporarily losing all combat ability.

Only the formidable orc chieftain struggled to his feet, continuing the assault.

Behind him, more than twenty wolf riders bellowed and charged, leaping past him toward the five bearfolk guards.

The bearfolk guards bared their fangs, growling low, bodies coiled and claws crackling with lightning, ready to meet the wolf riders head-on.

Behind the wolf riders, another thirty orc infantry followed, wielding swords and great blades, closely trailing the cavalry.

Leo silently estimated their speed, then swung his raised hand down sharply and shouted, “Throw!”

The adventurers pushed their stones over the edge.

Stones brought by these extraordinary folk weighed at least a hundred pounds, some over a thousand. They tumbled and crashed down the steep cliff, breaking apart mid-fall, transforming into a rain of shards.

The shattered stones, like shells fired from cannons, carried immense force, battering and scattering the orc infantry below, sending men and mounts flying.

Even the extraordinary among the orcs could not withstand such falling stones. Any struck by a stone larger than a fist suffered massive fractures.

The intact stones over a hundred pounds were like catapult projectiles, capable of shattering city walls; the orc infantry struck by these turned instantly to pulp.

A single wave of rolling stones claimed at least ten orc infantry and one wolf rider, splitting the orc forces into two.

The rear contingent, blocked by the continuous barrage, was forced to retreat, unable to advance.

One wolf rider looked up at the cliff, spotting Leo and his group, and roared orders to his troops.

“Charge up! Kill them!”

Two wolf riders and all remaining orc infantry turned, rushing up the cliff path, aiming to storm the Storm Altar and attack the adventurers.

Watching the orc force ascend the narrow path, Hawkins raised his sword and shield, calmly stating, “Fifteen orc infantry, two wolf riders—prepare for the challenge.”

He took the lead, blocking the end of the path.

The trail to the cliff was only wide enough for one; with Hawkins in front, no matter the orcs’ numbers, they could only face him one-on-one.

But things did not go as planned; the orcs were no fools. All were seasoned warriors.

The two wolf riders urged their mounts to leap, using the cliff for momentum, soaring ten meters to land behind the adventurers.

One wolf rider slashed his sword mid-air.

The massive arc of his blade dissipated before Barrett’s giant axe.

Barrett, who blocked the wolf rider’s attack, was knocked back by the sheer force.

Hawkins had to leave the narrow path and turn to face the other wolf rider’s assault.

The rest of the adventurers lacked the strength to duel a wolf rider.

With the path cleared, the orc infantry surged forward.

“Waaaaaag!” The first orc infantryman raised his weapon and charged, only for his cry to be cut short.

Three arrows pierced his chest and face, their shafts buried halfway into his body.

As he died and fell from the cliff, the second orc infantryman appeared.

A larger, heavier arrow instantly punched through his chest, the force not only impaling him but shoving him back into his comrades.

After firing three consecutive shots, Lynch glanced at Leo.

Leo’s yew longbow was no less powerful than Lynch’s green bow, though it was heavier and slower.

The latter used light arrows and steel-tipped shafts for greater range and penetration, ideal for showcasing archery skills.

But at close range, Leo’s heavy bow and arrows were like sniper rifles, capable of severing an orc’s arm.

With Leo and Lynch’s longbows, Fischer’s hand crossbow, and Denise’s fireballs, the first five charging orcs were swiftly slain and tumbled from the precipice.

Indeed, long-range strikes were the king’s way!

These orc infantrymen were all warriors and heroes among their kind—the backbone of the orc tribes.

If imperial regular infantry matched only the orc laborers, then these warriors, equipped with nothing but weapons and crude gear, could easily overpower human heavy infantry.

Without his shield, Leo would have to pay dearly to defeat a single orc infantryman, possibly without escaping unscathed.

But against heavy arrows from longbows, all creatures were equal. The huge orcs, clad only in scraps of fur, however fierce, were crippled or killed with a single shot.

Yet there were gaps in long-range attacks. After losing five warriors, the remaining ten orc infantry finally broke through, charging onto the open ground toward the adventurers.