Chapter 204: Made me look lazy

Taeryn hit the camp’s eastern flank like a spear thrust. His weapon found gaps in armor with practiced precision, each strike disabling or killing.

He didn’t try to hold ground; he moved constantly, stabbing and withdrawing, using superior mobility to avoid counterattacks.

Darian took the opposite approach. He planted himself at a chokepoint between two buildings and became an immovable object. His sword swept in devastating arcs, and anything that got close enough to threaten him was cut down. Blood soaked the ground around him, and bodies piled up as demons tried and failed to break through his defense.

Rena provided covering fire, her origin energy was being used as projectiles. Her beams took out the foot soldiers, killing them instantly.

The battle became chaos.

Baren dominated the center, his dragon form tearing through demons with primal fury. He caught a Black Orc in his jaws and threw it skyward, then caught it on the descent and slammed it into the ground hard enough to create a crater. His tail swept three demons off a rooftop, sending them crashing twenty feet to the ground below.

But the demons were adapting. Black Orc commanders who’d survived the initial assault were regaining control, forming units that could actually threaten their attackers. Spears were brought forward, weapons long enough to reach past immediate defenses, sharp enough to penetrate even draconic scales if thrust with sufficient force.

Their numbers weren’t strong, and their strong front wouldn’t last longer against the persistent demons. They weren’t mindless creatures, attacking with brute force; they countered with their own tactics.

“They’re organizing!” Taeryn shouted, deflecting a spear thrust and responding with his own strike that opened the attacker’s throat.

“We need to hit their leadership now!”

Morgana had already identified the primary target, a massive Black Orc near the camp’s center, bellowing orders that other demons obeyed instantly. The chieftain or whatever passed for leadership in their hierarchy.

“Raelana! Path to the center, now!”

The witch responded immediately.

A corridor of force barriers appeared, creating a protected channel from the ridge to the camp’s heart. It wouldn’t last long; already demons were hammering against it, trying to break through, but it provided temporary safety.

Morgana sprinted down that corridor; her palm was blazing with accumulated power. Behind her, Raelana poured energy into maintaining the barriers, sweat pouring down her face from the strain.

The Black Orc chieftain saw her coming and roared a challenge. He was enormous, easily nine feet tall, with arms as thick as tree trunks and armor that looked more like natural carapace than forged metal. He wielded a two-handed axe that would have required three normal men to lift.

Morgana didn’t slow down.

She channeled everything she’d been holding back.

Origin energy erupted from her hands in a focused beam, not fire or lightning or any elemental force, but pure energy given destructive form. It struck the Black Orc’s chest like a battering ram.

His armor held.

Barely.

Cracks spread across the carapace, and the impact drove him backward three steps, but he didn’t fall.

He laughed, a horrible sound like grinding stone, and raised his axe.

Then Darian hit him from the side.

The black knight had fought his way through the camp’s perimeter, leaving a trail of bodies behind him. His sword struck the Black Orc’s exposed flank, where Morgana’s attack had fractured the armor, and the blade bit deep.

Not a killing blow, the chieftain’s body was too resilient but a crippling one. He staggered, his left side suddenly unable to support his weight properly.

And that was when Baren landed on him from above.

The dragon’s full mass came down on the Black Orc like divine judgment. Claws pierced armor, fangs found the throat, and with a violent wrenching motion, Baren tore the chieftain’s head completely off.

The body remained standing for a heartbeat, blood fountaining from the stump of its neck, before finally collapsing.

The effect on the demon forces was immediate and devastating.

Without their leader’s coordinating presence, the Black Orcs’ order shattered. Lesser demons, never very organized to begin with, began fleeing in panic. Units that had been holding formation broke apart, each demon suddenly concerned only with its own survival.

“Press them!” Morgana shouted.

“Don’t let them regroup!”

What followed was more slaughter than battle.

The six fighters moved through the camp methodically, cutting down demons who’d lost all cohesion.

Baren’s dragon form was everywhere at once, crushing and tearing. Taeryn and Darian worked in tandem now, covering each other’s flanks as they cleared buildings. Rena picked off fleeing demons with her crossbow, making sure none escaped to warn other forces.

Raelana’s barriers herded demons into kill zones, preventing escape while Morgana rained destruction from elevated positions.

It took perhaps twenty minutes to finish the job.

When it was over, when the last demon had been killed or driven so deep into the forest that it posed no immediate threat, the six of them stood among the carnage and assessed damage.

Taeryn had taken a spear graze across his ribs, painful but not serious. Darian’s armor showed new dents and scratches, and he was bleeding from a cut above his eye, but he remained fully functional. Rena was exhausted and shaking from adrenaline but uninjured.

Raelana had collapsed after dropping her barriers, utterly depleted of origin energy. Morgana was tending to her, providing what little energy she could spare to help the witch recover.

Baren had reverted to human form and was sitting naked on a fallen log, breathing hard. His transformation had burned tremendous energy, and he looked gaunt despite his body’s incredible resilience.

“We did it,” Rena said, and there was wonder in her voice.

“We actually did it.”

“Two hundred demons,” Taeryn said, looking at the bodies scattered across the camp.

“We killed two hundred demons.”

“Without Jaenor,” Darian added.

“On our own.”

Morgana stood, helping Raelana to her feet.

“We proved something today,” she said quietly.

“To ourselves, if no one else.”

“Think he’ll be pissed we did this without him?” Taeryn asked.

“Probably relieved,” Morgana said. “He’s been carrying everything alone. It’s time we started sharing that burden.”

They gathered what supplies they could salvage, set fires to burn the demon bodies, and began the trek back to the village.

They were exhausted, bloodied, and would probably be sore for days.

But they’d won.

And that was worth everything.

**

It was late afternoon when they finally reached Frostvale. Guards at the northern gate saw them approaching and immediately sent runners ahead to spread word.

By the time they entered the village proper, a crowd had gathered. Militia soldiers, Brotherhood fighters, and villagers all watched as the six warriors returned covered in blood and bearing the marks of hard combat.

And standing in the square, freshly woken and looking concerned, was Jaenor.

He saw them, saw the state they were in, and his expression went through several rapid shifts—alarm, anger, concern, and finally, reluctant respect.

“You went after the demons,” he said as they approached.

Not a question.

“We did,” Morgana confirmed.

“The war party that was fortifying the old mining camp. Two hundred strong. We eliminated them.”

Jaenor stared at her, then at the others, processing that information.

“Two hundred demons. The six of you.”

“Baren’s dragon form helped significantly,” Morgana admitted.

“As did good tactics and a bit of luck. But yes. We handled it.”

For a moment, Jaenor looked like he might yell at them for the risk they’d taken, for going into battle without him, for putting themselves in danger.

Then his expression softened, and he did something unexpected.

He laughed.

It started quietly, then grew louder, genuine amusement mixed with pride and relief.

“You wanted to prove something,” he said, shaking his head.

“Made me look lazy sleeping while you were out killing demon armies.”

“You needed rest,” Rena said firmly.

“And we needed to prove we could contribute. So everyone wins.”

Jaenor moved forward and pulled Morgana into a fierce hug, then did the same with each of the others in turn, even Baren, who looked surprised at the affection.

“Good for you,” Jaenor said quietly.

“Don’t get mushy,” Taeryn said, though he was grinning.

“We just killed some demons. No big deal.”

“It is a big deal,” Jaenor insisted.

The crowd began dispersing, conversations breaking out about the victory, about the six fighters who’d eliminated a demon war party without their legendary leader.

And somewhere in that crowd, General Katujit watched with grudging respect, reassessing these people he’d dismissed as the Arkwright boy’s helpless companions.

Princess Gwendolen observed from the chieftess’s residence, making mental notes about capabilities and potential uses for each fighter.

But in that moment, in the square, with blood drying on their armor and exhaustion pulling at their limbs, the six warriors simply stood together and savored their victory.

They’d proven themselves.

And that was worth more than any amount of rest or safety.

They were warriors.

And they’d never forget it again.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep