CHAPTER 233: CHAPTER 232: THE ROTTEN SWAMP MARCH

Lumberling and the group arrived at the meeting place first. The soldiers settled in silence, their formation tight, waiting.

Hours later, the thud of hooves broke the stillness. Grokk rode at the front, with Karnark and Kaeldron close behind. A column of lizardmen followed, forty-three in total, their scaled bodies catching the sunlight in a faint glimmer.

Grokk dismounted swiftly and bowed his head. "My Lord, we came as quickly as we could. The village remains secure, the guard units and wolves were left behind to protect it."

Lumberling’s eyes swept over the gathered warriors. Grokk’s chest still heaved from the rush, but his stance was solid. Karnark carried his usual fire, while Kaeldron held his silence like a shield. The lizardmen, though rough-edged, stood sharp and eager.

"Before we move, we’ll mask our scents. We’ll use the rotten swamp to cover our bodies, endure it for a while. If the bears catch wind of an army at my back, they’ll retreat, and everything will be wasted."

The men nodded and set to work. Soldiers and lizardmen smeared themselves with mud, until the sharp tang of metal and sweat was buried beneath the swamp’s heavy, rotten musk.

Once preparations were done, Lumberling called his sub-captains closer. His tone grew harder.

"Remember this, when the fight starts, keep the Gorehide Bears alive. All four of them. Wound them, cripple them, do whatever it takes, but don’t kill them. If it’s too difficult, just hold them back until I’m done. I need those four alive."

The Sub-Captains exchanged uneasy looks. Zephar finally asked, "Alive, my Lord?"

"Yes, tell the soldiers to do the same with the other bears, though it won’t be strictly required of them." Lumberling answered without hesitation. "They are worth more alive than dead. I’ll explain to you after the battle. This will be hard, but it must be done."

The weight of the command pressed on them, but none dared object. They bowed their heads.

They set out while the sun still burned bright overhead. The march ended at the edge of bear territory, where the air grew heavy with musk and the trees were scarred by claws. Lumberling halted the column with a raised hand.

"Into the trees," he ordered. "Stay hidden until the time comes."

The soldiers melted into the shadows, climbing trees with practiced ease and vanishing into the canopy. Blades glinted faintly as they stilled, breaths quieted to nothing. The forest held its breath with them, silence sharp as a drawn blade.

Lumberling stepped into the open. Alone, spear in hand, he unleashed his aura, heavy and suffocating, a wordless challenge hurled at the bears.

Moments later, the ground quaked. The first bears appeared, massive frames breaking through the treeline. Their eyes locked on him, seething with fury, as if saying, ’You dare come back? Didn’t we drive you off once already?’

Lumberling only narrowed his eyes and shifted his stance.

Then the two Behemoths lumbered into view, each step sinking deep craters into the earth. Their roars weren’t just sound, they shook marrow, rattled shields, and made even the hidden soldier’s hands falter.

The two suddenly titled their heads, nostrils flaring. They sensed it, the hidden warriors waiting in the shadows.

A low rumble rolled from their throats, but it was already too late. Lumberling’s subordinates had closed the circle around them.

The Behemoths growled, and the other bears drew close, circling together, fury vibrating in their snarls as armored warriors leveled weapons at them.

Now the choice was set in stone, fight their way out, or be slaughtered where they stood.

The air split with a roar, and the forest exploded into chaos.

Bears thundered forward, claws tearing earth, while steel and scales surged to meet them. The clash shook the trees as man, beast, and monster collided.

Grokk bellowed, charging headlong at one of the Gorehide Bears. His twin axe swung in wide arcs, sparks flying as steel crashed against hide tougher than stone. The beast snarled, paw swiping, but Grokk planted his feet and met the strike, muscles straining.

"Come then!" Grokk roared back, teeth bared. "Let’s see who breaks first!"

Not far away, the six sub-captains divided their strength. Trask and Kelgroth flanked one Gorehide, Tor and Shen locked with another, while Zel and Zephar struck at the third.

Trask’s steady commands cut through the noise. "Kelgroth, left flank!"

"I see it!" Kelgroth barked, his blade biting into the beast’s thigh. The bear howled, staggering, only for Trask’s axe to pierce its shoulder. Blood sprayed, but still the Gorehide pressed forward, furious and unyielding.

On the other side, Tor’s greatsword clashed against snapping jaws while Shen darted like a shadow, driving his twin blades into exposed joints.

"Hold it steady, Tor!" Shen shouted.

"Steady?!" Tor growled, muscles straining as he shoved the beast back. "I’m trying not to get eaten!"

The third Gorehide bellowed as Zel and Zephar circled it, one slashing high, the other low, their movements perfectly in sync. Even so, every exchange rattled their bones, every swipe a brush with death.

Meanwhile, Ragza fought like a whirlwind. His curved blade flashed as he carved into Dire Bears, but their sheer number pressed in on him. At his side, Lunira tore through the ranks, her massive frame bowling over smaller beasts, fangs ripping into throats. Blood matted her silver fur, but her growl only deepened, hunger for battle fueling her.

"Hold the line!" Ragza bellowed. "Don’t let them break through!"

The Thirteen elites surged in to answer his call. Kobold Berserkers slammed their axes into Dire Bears with reckless fury, ignoring wounds that would have felled lesser men. Hobgoblin Warriors locked shields, bracing against charging masses, their formation buying precious space.

Every strike sent shockwaves up their arms. The stench of blood and musk grew thick, drowning the forest in something primal, suffocating.

Karnark’s laughter boomed above the carnage as his axe split a Dire Bear’s claw. "More! Send me more of them!"

Kaeldron, calmer but no less deadly, fought beside him, his blade cutting clean and precise. "Don’t be so reckless, Master Karnark," he warned. "One mistake, and you’ll be the one feeding them."

All around, the hundred and forty-two soldiers and lizardmen joined the fray. Spears thrust, shields braced, arrows whistled from the treeline. Though their bodies shook under the weight of the bears’ charge, they stood their ground. The clearing became a storm of blood and steel, every heartbeat a gamble between survival and slaughter.

The bears were fewer in number, fifty-one in total, but each one was a beast born for killing. Even the common ones fought with strength that rivaled Knight Pages. Their roars thundered across the battlefield, but so too did the cries of warriors who refused to bow.

And at the center, towering above all, the two Behemoths loomed, waiting, watching, until their gazes locked on the one man who dared to challenge them.

Lumberling.