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A panicked shout rang out through the night.
“It’s the Forest Trolls! They’re throwing rocks!”
The stones had been hurled from hundreds of meters away—perhaps even farther. Each one had enough force to obliterate a cargo wagon in a single hit, making them comparable to siege catapults in destructive power.
With two waves of raining boulders, the formation began to fall apart. Even the most seasoned merchants couldn’t stay calm with death barreling toward them. The startled horses thrashed in fear from the noise and vibration, rocking the wagons and stirring chaos among the traders.
Amidst that chaos and panic, a voice came cutting through.
“Quiet!”
It was Gustav, captain of the caravan’s escort, roaring as he swung his sword, shattering a boulder in midair. It was a reckless act—blocking a catapult strike head-on—but his presence was overwhelming. Those on the verge of panic instinctively turned to look at him.
Gustav was the definition of reliable. Towering over two meters tall, wielding a zweihander most people couldn’t lift, with a face hardened by countless battles.
Having captured everyone's attention in a single blow, he bellowed, “Formation C! Blue-Headed Eagle, Crimson Lotus Blade, and Bullseye mercenaries, move the wagons to cover! Adventurers,...
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