I Have a Task Log

The old Priest reacted quickly, giving orders in an instant. "To the bell tower! Hurry!"

The Cultivator immediately rushed to the back.

"The village is under attack?" Colin asked.

"Yes," the old Priest said urgently. "You two are Field Staff from Thousand Masts City, aren’t you? If you are able, can you help us defend the village? We will report this to the Elves."

"We can," Colin agreed with a nod.

"Good. Please, wait for me." The Priest was a little nervous. "There aren’t many skilled fighters in the village. We’ll be in trouble if we run into a tough opponent."

As he was about to leave, the old Priest turned back to the two of them and said, "Leave your luggage in my room. Please, follow me."

"Do you have any Potions? Can you spare some?" Colin asked.

"I only have a few. Supplies here are quite limited." After speaking, the old Priest turned and hurried toward the back of the Church.

Colin quickly led Ale after him.

The two of them passed through a corridor and arrived in the Priest’s room.

The room contained nothing but a table, chairs, a bed, and a single iron-banded chest. There was nothing of value at all.

DONG, DONG, DONG—

An urgent peal of bells came from above the Church.

Immediately after, the sounds of a commotion arose from outside. The village had entered a state of high alert.

"Just leave your things here for now," the old Priest said hurriedly. He then opened his chest and took out a Nail Head Hammer, a Shield, Long Chain Armor, and a suit of Cotton Armor, then began clumsily strapping on his gear.

After putting their things down, Colin stepped forward to help him tie the straps on his Armor.

Once the old Priest was equipped, he rummaged in a corner of the chest, pulled out two bottles of [Healing Potion], and handed them over.

Colin took the Potions and looked closely. The bottles were covered in a thick layer of dust.

"We must go to the village gate now, you two." The old Priest led the way outside.

As they moved, Colin and Ale poured the [Healing Potion] into the Potion Bags on their chests, making their final preparations.

The pair rushed to the entrance of the Church.

By this time, many assembled Warriors had already appeared at the Church entrance.

Among them were thirty-two fully armed Half-Elves. They wore cloaks camouflaged with leaves, had daggers hanging at their waists, and held well-made recurve bows. They definitely looked like competent Warriors.

The hastily summoned Recruits were still gathering.

These were the men from every household in the village.

Most of them wore old, simple Cotton Armor. Their weapons were mainly Large Shields and Short Spears. On their backs, they carried either Short Bows or things like Javelins and Throwing Axes.

Because the Elves forbid large-scale hunting and logging, the quality of this equipment looked poor. It was obvious they were old heirlooms, passed down and accumulated over generations.

The old Priest looked at the men and asked, "How many Adventurers are in the tavern?"

"Not many left. We used to get a few Adventurers, but most have gone to support Silver Star Court and the eastern forest," an Elf soldier replied. "Priest, we can only rely on ourselves now!"

The old Priest took a deep breath.

Colin could clearly see he was fighting the urge to sigh.

A flash of white light flared. Just as Colin thought it was a clap of thunder, a loud BANG echoed from the distant sky.

Looking up, he saw a silver flower blooming in the distant sky, looking like some kind of large firework.

"Is that a signal from the Dragon Worship Cult?" "The Elves’ Signal Flares aren’t that color, I think..."

Seeing this, the surrounding soldiers began to murmur amongst themselves, discussing the Signal Flare.

’It’s impossible to figure this out right away. In any case, I don’t think the Dragon Worship Cult would use such a method to send signals in enemy territory. On the bright side, maybe they’re our reinforcements.’

While the others were busy talking, Colin hurried forward and said quietly to the old Priest, "Before we came here, we were in a village that was attacked by the Dragon Worship Cult. A White Dragon was involved in the battle."

"A White Dragon? Morninglord above, can you deal with a White Dragon?" the old Priest whispered.

"Do I look like I can handle a White Dragon?"

"Then we can only pray," the old Priest said, looking up at the sky.

Colin said, "I’m just telling you so you can prepare for the worst."

The sky slowly began to darken. The sunlight was blocked by dark clouds, and what little light remained was devoured by the canopies of the giant trees.

At the same time, the raindrops falling from the sky grew larger.

Colin could even hear the PATTER of raindrops on his Helmet.

But in this environment, he smelled a strange, indescribable, dry scent, like a sun-dried blanket. It felt a little odd.

After a while, the soldiers finished assembling.

About three hundred more Recruits arrived later. Squeezed together on the village’s narrow paths, they were quite a sight.

The old Priest glanced at the crowd before him and nodded to the Half-Elf standing at the very front.

The Half-Elf Warrior drew his Short Sword, raised it high, and shouted, "The Foresters around the village have spotted wicked members of the Dragon Worship Cult approaching! Let them have a taste of our Bows and Arrows!"

"Yeah!" "Send ’em packing!"

The soldiers standing in the street responded sporadically.

"Follow me! To the east!"

With that, the Half-Elf Warrior immediately led the contingent eastward.

Colin and Ale hurried to keep up.

From his perspective, these Recruits and Half-Elf Warriors were severely lacking in discipline. They looked like a disorganized mess, but for the people of this world, they were probably considered adequate.

As they marched, the old Priest came up beside them and asked, "What are your specializations in combat?"

"I’m a Mage and she’s a Warlock. We can both cast up to Tier Three Magic, and we have some ability to handle groups of enemies," Colin said. "Of course, as you can see, I also know a little Swordsmanship."

The old Priest sized him up with a look of surprise.

After a moment, he finally said, "In that case, please provide some Magic support. It will certainly be a great help on the battlefield."

"We’ll do our best," Colin said.

The group hurried to the foot of the village wall. The old Priest led the two to a small brick-and-stone tower and said, "You two should stay up in the tower. It should be relatively safe here."

With that, the old man braved the rain and followed the soldiers up the brick-and-stone wall.

Colin and Ale exchanged a glance and climbed to the top of the tower.

A brazier was lit atop the tower, its faint light bright enough for Colin to see the scenery outside the wall.

The rain fell harder and harder. The PATTER of raindrops on the tower’s roof was unsettling.

The soldiers braved the rain and took their positions on the wall. After a brief period of noise, they gradually fell silent. Everyone nocked an Arrow to their bowstring, quietly awaiting the enemy’s arrival.

’The old Priest must have taken my words to heart. The soldiers on the wall were spread out quite a bit. Even if a White Dragon were to launch a surprise attack, it shouldn’t be able to kill too many of them in a single strike.’

Time passed, second by second, drop by drop.

Some soldiers took the opportunity to organize the evacuation of the villagers. The elderly and children left their homes one after another, moving anxiously to the other side of the village.

Before long, all was quiet.

Colin stared into the pitch-black forest, silently waiting for the enemy to arrive.

A long time passed like this, so long that even the soldiers on the wall began to yawn.

Suddenly, a bolt of lightning connecting heaven and earth flashed in the distance.

In the instant the white lightning flashed, Colin clearly saw the reflection of vast numbers of scales in the forest.

It was clearly a horde of Kobolds. It was too dark to see how many there were, but he could tell their numbers were by no means small.

CRACK!

The distant thunder rolled in, like a Horn heralding the start of battle.