Chương 85: Natural born Examinee
*thump*
*thump*
*thump*
The noise was rhythmic, a second between each one. Having used Scout and sense, Stanis knew that each of the sounds were actually collections of multiple drums being bashed at once. Accompanying the drums were strange, guttural chanting, the type that makes your hair stand on end.
The sounds layered upon each other, rolling and twisting in wicked ways, giving Stanis an awful premonition. Underneath his feet the ground shook. It wasn't a light buzzing feeling but rather one akin to having small needles continuously stabbed into your feet. However, the worst of it wasn't the shaking, it was the sound itself.
After having the rolled and twisted, the layers of sound were now something else, a whole another feeling to them. He could hear the sounds with his ears but he could also sense the magic in them with his body. They were chanting a spell, a dangerous one at that…
"FALL BACK!" roared Stanis as he began running to the side. The enemies were coming over the hill and so he ran to the side. It allowed him safety and a good viewing spot at the same time. Bear and Pete followed him, getting away scratch-free just as he had. But Skint, he was on top of the hill…
Not that Skint was dumb though. Before Stanis had even called out his warning, Skint had begun running. However, the difference between his situation and the others' was the fact that he was already within the enemies' sight. This was why as he thundered down the hill, doing his best not to trip, that several enemies followed him.
They were frog-like creatures, essentially, with crusty, brown skin replacing wet, green skin and much bigger, of course. The monsters were goblin height and rode shell sleigh-boards. The shells were all brightly multi-coloured with numbers on each sleigh. Stanis could see 15 frogs chasing Skint, who was now frantically sprinting down, taking no heed of his burning ankles.
Stanis forced his eyes away from Skint and onto the hill itself. The ground, from the top of the hill to where he was standing, was slowly changing. He could see mana seeping out of the ground: whatever transformation these frogs were attempting was clearly an inefficient one. Nevertheless, they had clearly frontloaded the spell with quantity over quality as the surface of land began to change, from dust-coloured into wetter, smoother colours.
"YARGGHEERGH"
Stanis turned his head back to Skint. He had originally thought Skint was in a precarious situation but it was now that he realised how much Pete had rubbed off on his men. The whole running down the hill, the whole flustered look, it had all been an act.
Instead of being surrounded and injured by his enemies, Skint was actually freely shooting arrows at the frogs who had been tipped off their shells and caught in his traps. Stanis watched as one of the frogs made it through, its spear gripped tightly as it closed in on Skint. Skint ran to the left, the frog following on its shell. It was as it was just a metre away that an underground force pushed up on its shell, the shell in question discovering its ability to fly and going straight up.
The frog used the shell to correct itself in mid-air, falling with its feet straight and spear ready to thrust. It was a pity for the frog that the trap wasn't done just yet, instead a Venus-flytrap like plant stretching out of the ground to catch the frog with its leafy maw. The frog struggled against the plant, ripping at it with its spear. It was just about to escape when an arrow went through its head, the frog's struggles growing weaker after this.
The plants couldn't kill anything but they did a good job of keeping the enemies occupied, in fact, forcing the enemies to become occupied. Stanis reckoned that this whole side of the hill was covered in Skint's traps.
But he had no more time to watch Skint's shenanigans as the spell began finalizing. What had been rock before was now marshy, mud and water making murky streams down the hill. Stanis watched as the army finally made it to the top, hundreds of frog warriors moving to cover the hill.
Never through the entire procession did the drums stop, nor the chanting. And now Stanis could see why. At the peak of the hill stood tens of thin frogs, their bodies bare and naked for all to see. They had various coloured tattoos covering their bodies, and they were the ones holding the drums, banging in unison.
In their centre was a bright, green flag. From the mana fluctuations coming off it, Stanis guessed this was the primary cause of the change to the environment. The drums and chanting were the mediums in which the frogs transferred their mana to the flag, which in turn used that mana to convert the stone to marshlands. It had to be noted that every part of this process was extremely mana inefficient but it was nonetheless impressive.
Surrounding the tens of painted frogs were stockier ones with spears for weapons. These looked to be your average warrior type, pushing and snarling at each other in order to get to the frontlines.
And currently on the frontlines were the last type of frogs, the shell-sleighers. Skint had killed a fair number of the ones who had chased him down the hill but it turned out that there were more of them, sprinting past the warriors-lines, holding onto their shells before jumping on, sliding across the mud.
While he had been leisurely watching all of this happen, Pete and Bear had been running up the marshes. The mud stuck to their feet and drained at their bodies. This had very different effects on the two of them.
To Bear, it was like anything else. Stanis didn't know the specifics of what the ferocious man had cast on himself but it was obvious it had to do with strength as the well-built man charged up, mud flying up with each step. When he reached the frogs, he sliced and chopped, his bastard-sword moving with a contrasting lightness.
Whereas for Pete, the mud was like a whole another mountain to climb on top of the hill. Stanis hadn't seen it take place but clearly he had taken another long swig of his canteen as he stumbled up the mud, tripping over in places.
After seeing that, Stanis was truthfully confused whether he was acting or whether he was properly dead-drunk as he doubted the dedication of any other normal person to throw themselves in mud for extra showmanship. His thoughts were cleared up seconds later when a few shell-sleighers came sliding Pete's way, stabbing at him with spears with double the reach of his mace and hatchet.
It was by luck, or perhaps through control, that Pete fell face flat at that moment, his body falling into the mud and dodging the spears by the hair. The next second he was back up, wildly swinging his hatchet to the left and almost throwing his mace to the right. And yet, somehow both slashes hit, the two shell-sleighers beside him falling bloody. Stanis could see that Pete hadn't even used Empathetic spread...
The battle continued like this, the 3 of them collectively taking out tens in the first minute. But in the next minute, their kill count dropped. This wasn't because the trio were weary or such, instead far from it as they had actually revealed most, if not all of their cards in time that had passed.
Bear had grown in size and ferocity after activating a skill mid-way through. Pete and Skint avoided him as much as the frogs tried to do. It was, however, to their bad luck that Bear chased them anyhow, charging into their midst no matter where they ran.
Skint hadn't powered up himself but the extent of power hiding in his traps had begun to show itself through the time. If any of the frogs died on top of or near his plant traps, the plants would reach out and absorb their bodies. They would then have some kind of transformation and power up significantly, no longer stuck to the ground by their roots and able to move. These slithering plant monsters would eat up more and more frogs as they moved up the hill, growing stronger all the while and more monstrous.
As for Pete, he didn't use as many skills as the other two. Instead, the drunk man fought with a strange but frightening finesse. The terrifying factor was the contrast between the way he fought and the way he moved. He would swing wildly, stumble greatly and spin madly but he somehow stayed upright all the while, his mace and hatchet always hitting critical areas.
It was from watching these three men that Stanis realised how much he had underestimated them. No. Instead, it was how much he had underestimated himself. He wasn't merely powerful, he was absolutely dominating…
But that was beside the point on the battlefield, instead the real point being that despite their ferocity, the trio were killing less and less as time went on. It was after carefully watching the fights that Stanis realised the frogs were actually getting stronger.
He looked up towards the top of the hill and saw that the thin frogs had almost withered away at this point. They somehow hit the drums with the same force and beat as before but that couldn't hide their sunken skins.
He looked at the flag, and then at the ground. His forehead creased and he flourished his sword. He then began walking up the hill, speeding up into a sprint as he jumped into the middle of a group of frogs, ruthlessly murdering them as his lightning spread like disease.
He constantly cast Blueshot spitfire as he moved forwards; while Ice crystals were good for high damage, the burst machine-gun like fire from Blueshot spitfire was far too invaluable in an enemy thick battlefield like this to not use.
The trio's attempts had been like cutting through stone. They had been able to progress at first due to their momentum but had eventually slowed down to a halt. On the other hand, Stanis's was like cutting through butter.
The frogs melted under his touch, and his sword's, as magic and blade cut through body after body. After having fought the Rashkars for so long, this battle was just far too easy for him. His mind drifted under the lack of pressure, his attacks growing looser and more daring. But at the same time, he understood where the difficulty in this trial came from, and also that he had far too over-prepared for it.
If he had been a normal person, this trial would have been a challenge as the last few kills would have been beyond difficult. By the rate of improvement the frogs had already gone through, Stanis guessed that each of them would be at least as strong as a normal mid-tier three by the end of it.
But he wasn't normal.
He knew this. The trio knew this. The frogs knew this. And this was the reason why their struggles lowered by the end of his massacre, the remaining few knowing that they had no chance. So, they crowded towards Stanis defencelessly, almost as if they wanted to die by his sword and his sword alone. Stanis found this weird but once again, he wasn't much the thinker once he started fighting and thus gave them their wishes.
The trio however, who had to watch this happen, found it hair-raisingly creepy. If his strength had been enough to scare them before, this event was the finisher that made them give up hope on killing Stanis and stealing his equipment as he slept. What they were seeing was wrong on all levels, even a drunk man like Pete could tell that…
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