The whole body seed as if it were poured with blood, and even from a distance, you could almost sll the strong stench.
Or maybe seeing this scene stimulated the soldiers' senses, making them feel that it should indeed sll like this.
Anyway, at first sight, even so with weaker ntal resilience would tremble inside.
Until the newcor spoke.
"Looks like I arrived in ti for your breakfast."
Lance removed his distorted and corroded helt and walked toward the battlefield.
Everyone, upon hearing the familiar voice, was montarily stunned, but upon seeing that face, their emotions instantly transford into ecstatic joy, welcoming him with cheers.
"My Lord!"
The Lord's appearance dispelled the last traces of gloom, especially as he sat on the ground, joining them for breakfast, listening to their recount of the battle here, affirming their steadfast defense.
"You did great!"
Lance spared no praise, recognizing their seizure of the position to bombard the heretics, capture the second objective, and annihilate the heretics.
Even when faced with monsters twisted from flesh, they didn't retreat, using artillery to kill them, showcasing the artilleryn's role.
Similarly, the infantry left behind also successfully held their ground; otherwise, how could the artilleryn have such a relaxed environnt to fire?
On the battlefield, nobody is redundant; this is the power of unity.
Similarly, Lance recounted the previous night's heretic attack on the outpost with their main force. In his words, the situation was a dire crisis, hundreds of heretics using sorcery to cloak themselves and surround the outpost.
At the ti, the outpost had only wounded soldiers and logistics personnel, not even half the number of heretics. If divided, they'd be overwheld from all sides, leading to a crushing defeat.
Yet, in such a critical situation, Lance devised an ambush, proactively opening the gate to lure the heretics, then used the narrow entry space to block them.
However, he didn't expect a particularly powerful heretic priest, with bone-spurred tails and corrosive poison tongues, and twisted flesh sorcery, who would even brutally sacrifice comrades to empower himself...
"You have no idea, that poisonous tongue shot out fiercely; luckily, I turned my head quickly, or it wouldn't just be the helt that got corroded..."
Saying this, Lance passed the helt around for the curious crowd to examine, indeed sparking a wave of discussions.
Lance narrated only from a macro perspective, not delving into detailed battle scenarios.
Instead, he emphasized the missionary's strength, indirectly highlighting the perilousness of the situation.
Simultaneously, with his attire showcasing, the soldiers understood the danger of the situation and how tough it was for the Lord to hold the outpost.
Of course, ultimately, the Lord led a team of wounded, logistics and dical personnel through arduous battles, defeating the heretics and successfully holding the outpost.
Then, the entire night was spent pursuing the fleeing heretics, thoroughly banishing them.
"Our mission is not complete. These heretics continue to ravage the wilderness; we must thoroughly eradicate them!"
"Hamlet Must Win!"
In their chants, Lance sought out Barton, noticing his exhausted expression, understanding he too hadn't slept all night.
"Rest a bit, we have so ti before the following forces advance. I've inford them to leave so who are in bad condition here to rest.
For the rest, take half of the artillery with you to objective three; they need stronger fire support."
As he spoke, he patted Barton's shoulder, using Bless to refresh his condition, "Also, you've done well; entrusting the artillery to you was indeed correct."
The warm current from the spine dispelled physical exhaustion, and Barton responded with full enthusiasm to the Lord's trust.
"Yes!"
Lance ventured alone into the nearly half-collapsed building, where all kinds of ssy flesh sared every corner.
The heretics' and pign's flesh were so mixed they were indistinguishable, with signs of fla burns amidst the chaos, like stepping into a house made of flesh.
Lance sacrificed whatever he could; even a mosquito is at, more importantly, to minimize what the ancestor could consu.
"I won't let you eat my leftovers, old thing!"
Lance didn't linger long. He fought his way up just to swiftly clear the heretics; there's no ti to waste.
......
Also, in the wilderness, but objective two connected only to the outer parts of the Beast Lair, whereas objective three was already very close to the Old City Ruins, thus connecting to the depths of the Beast Lair.
The bloody slaughter attracted the pign, but those appearing pign weren't failed experints but the ancestor's further iterated products.
Ferociously mad pigman mobs, pigman concealers who can stealthily sneak, and pigman priests as spellcasters.
Among them are pigman drumrs and pigman cripples, extrely disgusting monsters, not to ntion the most basic types like pigman butchers and hookhand.
Maybe this position touches its core, or perhaps soone is controlling.
Anyway, these pign seem stimulated, launching wave after wave of night raids non-stop throughout the night.
Fight heretics by day, pign by night, such brutal battles have nearly exhausted bullets and consumables, so people's longswords are blunted, bayonets already broken.
And in such a situation, ordinary people would have long collapsed, but they are the Lord's trusted aides, Heart of Steel, all strengthened, elite like steel.
Those veterans are tough ones surviving from brutal wars.
Moreover, there's a complent of several powerful heroes, Dismas, Balistan, Boudica, Alhazred, Tadiff, Geralt, Junia.
Capable of attack and defense, including spellcasters, each possessing unique skills.
Moreover, a main and a secondary healing ability maxed, ensuring the team's continuous fighting capacity.
As morning light shines on objective three, the battling pign seem to touch pain, falling into panic.
Hamlet warriors sensed this change, seizing the opportunity to launch a counterattack.
"Increase the stakes, damn it!"
Tadiff roared, slashing his axe at the pigman's neck, triggering banshee power, the apparition rising, the pigman directly immobilized, while corrupting power eroded flesh.
Dismas' gun already ran out of bullets, was silent, wielding a short sword amidst the fray, shattered blade slicing open pign's throats, irregular wounds causing more dramatic bleeding.
Geralt's longsword, bolstered with rune power, hasn't broken yet, but sharpness has hugely deteriorated; cutting pigman hide requires more force.
But currently, what's most lacking is this; even a witcher's extraordinary physique can't withstand such battle frequency.
The Dharma Seal's power, too, due to excessive consumption drained spiritual essence within, is challenging to manifest.
Boudica's forr battle fervor is absent, nearly ceaseless fighting has worn her out, exhaustion clearly on her face, numbly wields weapons, likely needing substantial recuperation post today.
Junia's divine arts have long dried up, but she stands upfront, wielding the Iron Torch like a warhamr, smashing into those pign.
For they haven't broken free from physical limits, regular humans explode continuously for a minute already reaching fatigue.
And reaching here, they've been fighting, battled a day and night, even describing it as exhaustion seems mild.
You could say even steel would snap, yet they're standing firm, imagine the situation.
But no one retreats, despite everyone being near their limits.
"Screech!"
As sunlight completely dispelled the gloom over the battlefield, amidst pign's screeches, they retreated in a chaotic flee into the passage leading underground.
They didn't know why the pign would retreat, but they knew they fended off another pigman raid, successfully holding their ground.
At this mont, worried about nothing else, so could still stand, while others were slumped on the ground, taking deep breaths.
But under the morning sun, their silhouettes appeared towering.
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