The battle was intense. Three out of twelve trolls are dead; one was shot by a 'Piercing Lightning Bolt' conjured by Luceran, while the other two were ganged to death by the mages and lieutenants. Visible wounds could be seen on the bodies of the trolls, clearly killed by blades and spells.
Borrin was still fighting a troll by himself. There is no wound on his body, as he always managed to block the attack with his shield, but he looked exhausted. He was sweating bullets and gasping for breath. The troll he was fighting was bruised, injured, and covered in its own blood.
Despite managing to cut down the number of the troll by a fourth, some of the soldiers were also heavily wounded. Out of forty-five soldiers, ten are heavily wounded and can't continue fighting, while five are lightly wounded. The rest were ganging up on trolls, defending and attacking at the same time, and doing hit-and-run tactics.
Ferin and the others are busy with freeing the villagers that were tied by rope.
"Where is little Jinny?" Ferin asked a woman whom he had just helped free. The woman remembered the moment when the teenage girl's head was crushed with a cudgel; she couldn't help but shake her head, tears welling in her eyes.
"No… Why? Why?" Ferin repeated, shaking his head, unable to accept the harsh reality. As he cried over Jinny's death, some of the other villagers couldn't help but ask, their voices hushed.
"Who are these people?", "Are we saved?", or "Can these saviors kill all the trolls?"
They were confused because a moment ago, they were like fish on the chopping blocks, and now, they see a glimmer of hope to survive this ordeal.
"We also don't know. We met them on the road to Ironmarch. They could be soldiers from Ironmarch. But they have mages on their ranks." A man answered.
"We should be safe now, right? They have mages on their ranks." A woman said nervously while watching the intense battle.
While the villagers were helping one another, the fight between Luceran and the troll leader reached its culmination.
Luceran's left hand was bruised and broken. His right abdomen was bruised, a sign of a blunt attack. He was sweating bullets and exhausted. The troll looked even worse. His left arm was missing. chest wounded, and there was a burnt mark around it. There was a hole in his left knee; blood spurted out of it.
He knelt on the ground and gasped for breath as he looked at the prince with rage on his face. He thought that this hunt would be easy and smooth, but who would have thought that it would be like this? He looked at his underlings, who were fighting the human army.
Half of them are killed, while the rest, including him, were spent. He regretted coming here. He wondered as to why the chief sent them here to plunder this village. Most troll settlements out of the Gorgoloth region rarely attack human villages, as the counterattack of the human forces would be swift and deadly. But the chief insists on plundering the village.
As the troll was lamenting his predicament, Luceran stood with struggle, and blue-purplish particles started circling his sword.
He swung his sword at the troll. The blue-purplish sword beam shot at the troll, accompanied by a streak of electricity.
With his heavy injuries, the troll couldn't evade in time. With a look of despair, he raised his remaining hand and used his cudgel to block.
'CRASH' A loud sound of booming thunder could be heard.
Luceran then followed with another attack. He gestured with his hands, and a spherical cage of water started forming around the troll.
The spherical water cage, combined with the electricity, cooked the troll slowly.
Luceran, despite being exhausted, stood like a statue as he watched his opponent struggle with all his might inside the water cage.
The water cage then slowly vanished, while the troll collapsed to the ground. Looking at their defeated leader, the remaining trolls became more ferocious with their attack.
Unfortunately, their frenzied attack couldn't change their fate. Since Luceran was free, he could help the others despite his depleting strength.
In a while, all the troll invaders are dead. The soldiers cheered in victory as the villagers cried.
No one died from Luceran's camp as they had Kellen who was as powerful as, if not more than, Luceran. Kellen intervened whenever a dire situation happened to elevate the burden. Despite his presence, at least a fourth of the soldiers were heavily injured.
Luceran had briefed Kellen before the battle began to only intervene when there was a life-and-death situation. He needed to train his soldiers for dangerous fights like this since he had to stay at Ironmarch for quite a while.
So, whenever a troll was about to deal a killing blow to someone, he would use his soul power to form a transparent shield to block the attack or disorient the attacker to give the soldiers enough time to react.
As a matter of fact, he barely sweats because he has minimal contribution for this fight. Cassandra's mages coordinate really well to lessen the soldiers workload.
Vena even contributed by killing three trolls, with others' help, of course.
Knowing that the battle had ended, Luceran ordered his soldiers to tend the wounded and helped the villagers with anything that they could do to help, like burying the corpses or repairing the damaged houses.
While they were busy with their jobs, Borrin approached the giant cauldron and asked a villager, "What is in the cauldron?"
"It is their food." The villager answered with a face of disgust and hatred. Looking at the villager response, Borrin felt something wrong with the cauldron; he couldn't help but kick it with enough strength to make it fall and spill the inside of the cauldron.
When Borrin saw the 'food' that they were cooking, his eyes glinted with pure rage, and veins popped on his head. "We should have tortured them first." He growled.
The others had the same reaction. Their rage was replaced with a deep, consuming disgust.
Later, while helping with the cleanup, the soldiers and villagers found a small group of hunters that were hiding but severely injured. Unfortunately, the village chief was not with them.
"Where is my dad?" Ferin asked a hunter, his voice shaky.
The hunter's face crumpled. He hugged Ferin tightly, not knowing what to say. He had seen the village chief, Ferin's father, in the hands of the trolls at the gate. He remembered in his mind how the chief's limbs were torn to pieces one by one, savored by the trolls as if they were delicacies. He just held the boy and said, "He is gone, little one. He is gone." Ferin cried and hugged him back, accepting the fate.
The villagers cried with joy for being saved, yet grieved for the tragedy they had just endured. They were safe, but the cost was their friends and family. Luceran, seeing the devastation, decided to help.
"We will stay here for a few days," he commanded. "Help the villagers with the repairs and take some time to rest after this intense fight."
The soldiers nodded, their faces grim but determined. They were no longer just a group of individuals on a journey; they were a true army, honed with blood, sweat, and tears.