Chapter Eleven: Huh?

“Wait! The west gate?!” Priest Ryan exclaimed, his eyes widening in shock.

Lamanche City was built relying on the Fulong Mountains, essentially nestled between the mountains and a river. The city was flanked by cliffs to the north and south, connected to the Lamanche Plateau on the east, and the mountains on the west.

The city’s prosperity stemmed from receiving grain from the eastern plateau and iron ore from the western mountains.

In fact, the capital of most earldoms typically had a population of three to five thousand people.

The west gate connected to the mines, and trouble at the west gate meant the entire mining vein was unsafe, which was a major issue!

The distant alarm bells were sharp and piercing, causing the entire city to stir.

The alarm bell ringing meant that everyone in the city had to fight.

With the help of young priests, old Ryan quickly donned an old chainmail, fastened the buckle at his waist, grabbed a spiked mace weighing at least ten pounds, and led seven or eight leather-armored priests charging out of the temple.

As he walked, Ryan cast a divine spell.

Golden light emanated from his right palm, covering all the priests, and Ryan breathed a sigh of relief.

He managed to cast [Divine Luck].

The more frequent the magic surges, the higher the chance that divine spells would fail. Failing at a critical moment could severely damage the faith of believers.

As his group became the core, more citizens joined, wielding various ‘weapons.’

Kitchen knives, rolling pins, pitchforks…

Despite the city’s six thousand residents, only about three thousand could fight after excluding those under 14, the elderly, women, and the infirm. Of these, fewer than five hundred were professional soldiers or extraordinary individuals.

“What’s the situation at the west gate?” Ryan asked a city guard on horseback blowing a horn, recognizing him as the ‘messenger’ Ponco.

“Damn! It’s goblins! Lots of goblins, and the worst part is there are over a dozen bugbears!”

Goblins, also known as kobolds, are small, green-skinned creatures about 60 cm tall, evil, cruel, and cowardly, usually traveling in groups.

They rarely attack human cities proactively due to their inherent cowardice.

Human and goblin skirmishes typically occur when humans invade their territory, where they might even attack organized human squads.

Goblins themselves are not fearsome; well-armed human soldiers can easily kill a dozen goblins.

The real threat lies in their sneak attacks in complex environments.

But goblins with bugbears are another story.

Bugbears are the largest and strongest of the goblinoid species, with much higher aggression.

Standing about 7 feet tall (over two meters) and weighing over three hundred pounds, bugbears can unleash over a ton of destructive force.

Old Ryan knew the severity of the situation immediately.

If the bugbears’ charge couldn’t be stopped, the goblins would flood into the city, causing indiscriminate slaughter. Even if the city didn’t fall, the losses would be devastating.

“Anyone with the guts, follow me—”

“Our families are behind us, we have no way to retreat!”

The old priest, glowing with golden light, led the charge with his spiked mace, instilling a sense of [Faith] in the citizens. In a world where magic was lost and humans had to fight stronger monsters with their bodies, faith was crucial.

Confidence doesn’t guarantee victory, but lack of it ensures defeat!

Priests are like banners on the battlefield; where they are, human survival instincts follow.

Hundreds of citizens joined the surge towards the west gate.

Upon arrival, they were stunned by the scene.

Many had never seen such monsters in their lives:

Two-meter-tall humanoid creatures with yellowish-brown skin covered in thick, coarse hair. Their greenish-white eyes had red pupils, and they had large shovel-shaped ears.

Bugbears had sharp teeth, bear-like noses, tough fur, and sharp claws but moved much more agilely than bears.

A bugbear swung a massive stone axe, over a meter long, into the city guards’ formation.

It wasn’t a battle; it was like a high-speed carriage crashing into a row of dry, hard breadsticks.

With one swing, the half-moon-shaped arc sent four city guards with iron-plated wooden shields flying.

The guard taking the first hit had his forearm muscles and bones shattered, followed by his ribs, internal organs, and spine, finally being thrown backward. His twisted body imprinted a gruesome scene in the minds of the approaching citizens.

Several guards in the second row courageously thrust their spears.

The effect was minimal.

The bugbear had a large iron plate covering its vital areas, actually a flattened knight’s armor piece tied with leather.

Even if its waist was exposed, the bugbear’s thick skin was as tough as the guards’ iron-plated wooden shields.

Five or six spears struck, some sparking on the armor, others only penetrating a few centimeters.

Minor injuries at best.

Archers tried to shoot the bugbear, but it moved too fast, and its natural defenses made headshots nearly impossible.

The bugbear, angered by the attacks, swung its shielded left paw, sending another guard flying and knocking over two more.

A brave young guard attempted a slide tackle to attack from below.

But that was futile…

Fortunately, a [Warrior] class individual held the line, preventing the bugbear from breaking through and causing chaos, which would have been disastrous.

Behind them was an undefendable square area.

The battlefield was littered with dead and wounded guards, and the defense line was on the verge of collapse.

Old Ryan, no longer hesitating, shouted, “Hold the line!”

Knowing untrained citizens would suffer heavy casualties, the old priest had no choice.

To protect the city, he would lead the charge.

At the critical moment, thunderous sounds echoed across the battlefield.

What a joke.

Half of the west district was inside a mountain; rain never reached here, let alone thunder.

Yet, the thunder grew louder.

One by one, the outer crowd turned to see a brown-haired boy in cheap linen, riding a donkey and surrounded by flashing electric light.

In the next moment, a purple-blue streak of light crossed the battlefield, over the guards’ heads.

This light imprinted itself not only on their retinas but also in their hearts.

Years later, recalling this moment would likely still stir their emotions…

Then…

“Bang!”

The leading bugbear’s head exploded like a smashed watermelon, splattering blood on nearby guards.

On the battlefield, both sides inexplicably paused.

Everyone’s minds went blank.

A certain transmigrator would have loved the collective reaction:

Huh?

End of Chapter Eleven