"Whoosh whoosh whoosh~" The guards shot down a few more war dogs. The beasts were closing in, so Fake made a decisive call, ordering the other guards to drop their crossbows, draw their swords and shields, and prepare to fight. He shouted, "Boss, run! We’ll hold them off here!"
"Boss, the horse!" Guard Mather stabbed a war dog’s belly with his longsword and then slashed it in half. The chaos war dog’s guts and hot blood spilled everywhere. Oliver fought back the urge to vomit and hurried towards his horse.
More and more war dogs appeared. In addition, a beast with tusks, spikes, coarse hair, and a giant pig-like appearance emerged into view. It wasn’t as fast as the war dogs, but it charged forward, knocking away any war dog in its path, crashing heavily into a guard’s shield. Although the shield didn’t break, the guard couldn’t withstand the immense weight, cried out in pain, and fell to the ground, with the beast pouncing on him soon after.
Falling in chaos had a dreadful end. Several war dogs leaped at once, satisfiedly devouring bits of flesh. Seeing this, the remaining guards Fake and Mather took the chance to retreat when their attention was on the fallen guard, noticing Oliver had already mounted his horse. Gritting his teeth, Fake said to Mather, "Quick, we must retreat too, leave the goods behind!"
The two guards seized the opportunity, climbing onto their horses while the beasts were busy fighting over fresh meat, silently whispering apologies in their hearts as they prepared to flee.
"Owooooo!!!" A long howl echoed from deep within the forest, startling a flock of birds.
"Neigh!!!" The horses were frightened, causing the three riders to fall off.
"It’s not good, there’s a Beast King? We’re doomed!!!" Having fallen from his horse, Fake spat out mud but didn’t have time to care, helping the dazed Oliver to his feet and speaking hopelessly.
"That... that’s a Razor Beast, a mutated porcupine. I’ve seen them in the Empire, we can’t escape." A large bump had formed on Oliver’s head. Looking back, he realized the horses had run off somewhere unknown.
Despair, utter despair; two-legged humans couldn’t outrun four-legged beasts.
Sure enough, after hearing the long howl, the war dogs and Razor Beasts that were fighting over the raw flesh raised their heads, halted their frenzied feeding, and charged towards the remaining three.
"Doot doot doot~" Just as the merchant party was about to fight desperately, a series of horn blasts sounded, deep and imposing, causing the beasts to halt midway and look around in confusion.
"Boss, it’s the Mercenary Corps, it’s the Mercenary Corps’ horn, we’re saved, we’re saved." Fake shouted excitedly, quickly pulling Oliver back, while the merchant’s face didn’t look so good. He spat, complaining, "God knows how much those greedy mercenaries will squeeze from a poor merchant like me?"
After complaining, Oliver finally sighed with relief, "Never mind, being able to escape is already the Goddess of Fortune’s blessing."
More figures emerged from the shadows of the forest. They looked somewhat human, wielding long spears or simple war axes, with unremarkable horns on their heads. Besides that, they didn’t differ much from normal humans, their muscles pronounced, emerging from the forest in small groups. Hearing the horn, they seemed hesitant, not attacking proactively, but instead forming several irregular lines, as if on guard.
"Those are the Inferior Horned Beasts, ordinary soldiers of the Beastman Tribe, also responsible for crafting and repairing weapons," Oliver swallowed hard. "It looks is a complete Beastman Warband. I don’t know how strong this Mercenary Corps is, otherwise, we might still meet our end here."
On the other side, a group of people wearing mercenary attire, haphazardly equipped, emerged from the forest’s other side. They held high a flag with a blood-colored axe, numbering around fifty or sixty people, varying greatly in appearance. The leader looked about thirty, extremely robust, with golden hair and fierce eyes, wielding a massive war axe, dressed in scale armor made from iron scales. He was the best-equipped among the mercenaries, most of whom wore simple stitched leather armor or chest armor, some even only tight-fitting linen clothes with bits of animal fur stitched on.
"He’s an Elite Tier Berserker," Oliver whispered, then smiled, "Thank you very much, sir. It seems you and your Mercenary Corps have saved me." ᴛhis chapter is ᴜpdated by NoveI[F]ire.net
"I am Boris, captain of the Blood Axe Mercenary Corps. Enough talk. If your men can still fight, join us! Otherwise, we’ll all perish here today!" The mercenary leader clearly didn’t have time for pleasantries with the merchant, his face stern, knowing the Beastman were humanity’s great enemies, and was well aware of his Mercenary Corps’ capabilities.
"Uh, yes, yes, Fake, Mather, follow Captain Boris, and fight together!" Oliver spoke quickly, discreetly gesturing to the guards to try but not overdo it. The two guards exchanged a look, nodding promptly, joining the mercenary ranks.