Bear School Astartes

Sachia dismounted from her horse in one swift motion, drawing her knight’s longsword from her waist.

Now the crowded mountain path was littered with burning canvases and carriage frames. Ordinary horses, lacking the training of warhorses, still held an advantage in mobility, but had become unreliable in control.

You never knew if these frightened horses, in a panic, might charge headlong into the mountain gorge with their riders.

The Squirrel Faction was charging down from the high ground beside the mountain path.

Among them were dwarves, elves, and a few half-elves wielding short swords and daggers.

A dwarf swung his axe, aiming to use his low stature advantage to sweep and chop off the female warrior’s ankle, or smash it through the armor.

If Lann were here, he would probably have lifted his front foot at just the right moment, narrowly letting the axe blade scrape beneath.

But Sachia, though excellent in both vision and technique, couldn’t quite match Lann’s level.

However, one thing... her physical constitution was exceptional compared to an average person.

The armor-clad female warrior leaped at that moment!

There was no finesse to it, but due to the strength of her legs, she didn’t seem cumbersome at all.

Her entire armor clattered as she suddenly exerted force.

The leather straps binding the armor pieces were stretched taut.

The dwarf who swung the axe was stunned.

But just as he opened his mouth in shock, a knight’s longsword came crashing down on his head!

With a crisp clang of metal on metal, the helmet on the dwarf’s head was dented five centimeters deep by the blade.

Though it didn’t cut through, blood began to flow from the dwarf’s head like earthworms, and his pupils rolled upward uncontrollably.

He collapsed immediately, motionless.

Though the dwarves of this world and the dwarves of the Ardan World looked similar, it was clear that most of them did not possess the ability, like Sorlin Oak Shield, to withstand a mace with their skulls.

All around were flames and thick smoke, intermixed with indistinct shouts and cries amid the chaos.

Sachia did not pause.

Though her battlefield experience was still lacking, her inherently combative and dangerous nature drove her actions.

This natural instinct didn’t cause her to lose her head; instead, she grew calm.

With a crashing of disassembling wood behind her, Sachia leaped higher, evading the burning collapsing carriage frame, landing atop the scattered remnants of the carriage boards.

Yalpan was nearby, vigorously swinging his axe, fending off two elves wielding long blades.

On the path beside them, Pauli Daelberg from the dwarf squad was also dealing with a half-elf, while his brother, Reagan Daelberg, leaned backward, bracing his legs against a board, trying to control the horses pulling the cart.

The horses neighed frantically, hooves pawing, dragging the carriage frame, with a single-minded intent to escape the blaze devouring the canvas behind.

"Steer the horses into the mountain wall! Reagan! Make the cart crash into the mountain wall they’re charging down from!"

Yalpan shouted loudly while dealing with the two elves.

"It’s best if it breaks apart right there! Block them!"

Reagan Daelberg, in the chaos, was uncertain if he heard it, but controlling the frenzied cart was already quite a struggle for him.

At this moment, a dwarf with a short mohawk charged onto the burning carriage frame beside him.

The movement almost made it seem like he was intent on setting himself ablaze!

Yet Zoltan didn’t fail; he successfully reached Reagan’s side in a seemingly suicidal manner, and together they forcefully turned the cart’s direction.

The horses charged toward the mountain wall but instinctively veered left and right at the last moment.

The dispersed force, rather than aiding, slowed down the cart.

Taking advantage, Zoltan and Reagan climbed onto the carriage shaft, deftly cutting the reins of the horses with an axe, letting the animals run off, leaving only the burning carriage behind to block the mountain wall’s path ahead of the Squirrel Faction’s charge.

In the Clifford raiders, Buchet had an arrow embedded in his right upper arm, causing excruciating pain and making it hard for this bull-like man to grip his chopper.

Pauli Daelberg hurriedly dragged the stricken Buchet aside under the cover of other raiders.

But now, nowhere was safe.

From behind a pile of wreckage, a Squirrel Faction member emerged, and Pauli immediately let go of Buchet, picking up an axe to face him... but Pauli’s actions suddenly slowed.

In front of him stood a dwarf, wearing a raccoon hat adorned with a squirrel tail, with a large black beard braided into a single plait under his chin.

Pauli hesitated.

But the black-bearded dwarf showed no hesitation at all.

He lifted his spiked hammer and slammed it towards Pauli, aiming directly for his collarbone!

Yet Buchet, after all, was the leader of the raiders; despite the arrow causing intense pain in his right hand, he gritted his teeth and swept his leg across the ground, tripping the black-bearded dwarf who raised both hands high.

Finally, it was Pauli’s axe, with a bone-crunching sound, that embedded into the dwarf’s back. The axe blade lodged inside, impossible to pull out.

The dwarf’s core muscle group relaxed suddenly, his hands weakly patting the ground, his feet kicking at the dirt.

Pauli felt himself growing dizzy.

In the end, it was Buchet who, cursing through the pain, placed the spiked hammer from the black-bearded dwarf into Pauli’s hands, giving him a weapon once again.

The vanguard team, with only a few people attacking, was already in such chaos. Not to mention those at the rear of the team who were the main targets of the Squirrel Faction.

Now everyone was on their own.

Sachia was entangled with an Elf and a Half-Elf.

The two of them attacked continuously, one from above and one from below, complementing each other’s height and position.

This made it even more difficult for Sachia, who already lacked substantial combat experience, to cope.

Her physical strength was indeed far superior to that of an average person, but the strength of her body was not enough to ignore iron weapons. These things still posed a significant threat to her.

On a half slope of the mountain wall, a male Elf was drawing his bow and aiming an arrowhead, with a triangular shape, at the entangled Sachia.

This Elf’s gaze was peculiar; while he had the focus of an archer, there was also a hint of distraction in his eyes as he looked at Sachia.

As if he mistook her for someone else.

With the precision of an Elf Archer, he could easily drive the arrowhead into the weak points of Sachia’s defenses amidst the chaos.

"For... Ailireen!"

The male Elf shouted, as if trying to use this battle cry to dispel his hesitation and distraction.

But he was a step too late.

A crossbow arrow shot from the direction of the humans, hitting his left flank first. The skewed arrow narrowly missed Sachia and she turned in time to see the male Elf fall despondently.

"Ailireen!"

He was still shouting.

Shortly after, the battle ended.

The Squirrel Faction retreated as suddenly as they had launched their attack, suffering significant losses and leaving behind over twenty bodies.

The humans had casualties double that number.

But inexplicably, the convoy at the rear, which should have been in complete chaos with more severe damage, miraculously maintained stability for reasons unknown.

It was as if a strong core team had suddenly emerged among a ragtag group.

-----------------

When Lann and Triss returned to Seward’s team, they saw the remnants of the burning debris everywhere, tarps and wood still emitting choking black smoke, blood stains scattered on the ground, and the wounded groaning in pain...

The two of them were already feeling anxious and shocked by the discoveries they had made in the deep mountain forest. They rushed back urgently to get this team to turn around and escape, withdrawing from the Ponta River Valley.

But unexpectedly, they had only been gone for a little over three hours, not even four, and now the sun was just past noon.

Coming back, they were met with such a situation in the convoy.

Even with the mental fortitude of a Female Warlock and a Demon Hunter, they couldn’t help but be briefly stunned.

"What happened here?"

Triss quickly asked the forward scouting team.

"Squirrel Faction attack! What else could it be? You’re now idle... wait! Are you the Female Warlock?"

In the midst of the mess, Nisitchuka, who originally wore a Magic Cloak that had now been burned away, first grumbled impatiently, but after turning around and seeing Triss, spoke excitedly.

"Honorable lady, please use magic to help him! He’s in unbearable pain right now!"

Seeing Buchet leaning against a broken wheel, his mohawk sticking to his scalp with cold sweat, looking half-dead, Triss could only squat down and let magic light glow in her hands.

Using magic power to temporarily ease the pain.

Lann frowned and surveyed the chaotic post-battle scene.

He nodded toward the crouching Triss, indicating for her to save lives first.

He continued walking through the dispersed team.

Further inside, the dwarves were tidying up the cart shafts, axles, and other things, hoping that they could reassemble them later.

They were very fortunate, as there were no casualties in this ambushed battle.

But as the leader, Yalpan knew very well that it was only due to luck. Otherwise, they might have lost two people directly.

"You need to strike hard! Strike without hesitation! Understand!"

Yalpan embraced the somewhat dazed head of Pauli Daelberg.

He spoke with a tone that was somewhere between comforting and scolding.

"They are enemies! Ever since we chose this path, they’ve been enemies! Just treat them like dwarf-sized highway bandits, crush their heads! Don’t think about anything else!"

"This time you were lucky, or else that hammer would be embedded in your collarbone! How am I supposed to explain to your mother then? How would Reagan explain to your mother when he returns home?"

Afterwards, Yalpan released Pauli, whose tears, beard, and snot were mixed together, and turned to hug Zoltan, letting out a sigh of relief.

"Thank you, Zoltan. Without you, Reagan would most likely have... ah, this really scared me terribly."

Yalpan let out a long sigh.

Zoltan, whose face was completely blackened, smiled and patted Yalpan’s shoulder.

"You know me, Yalpan. There’s no way I could just stand there and watch at that moment!"