Chapter 398: Wyvern
"In less than five years, he'll definitely become a Sword Saint, maybe achieve even greater heights..." That was Dean's assessment of the orc. If this unstoppable orc could stay with the Templar Knights Mercenary Company, giving him a vice captain position would be a must. Unfortunately, the orc was always cold towards him. Every time Dean approached, the orc would run far away to avoid him.
Luckily, the orc didn't seem to have any intention of leaving. As long as he stayed with the Templar Knights Mercenary Company, there was still a chance. And the orc brother was far too generous—he even brought along three pretty capable young mages. Although those guys kept their distance in every fight, at least they were three promising Magi...
"Hey, we're on someone else's turf right now. Can you not sleep so deeply? Go ahead, keep sleeping—see if they don't slit your throat while you're out cold..."
William Merlin barged into the tent, fuming when he saw the Dragonblood Orc sprawled out and sleeping like a dead dog. He couldn't help but growl.
"What does my sleeping have to do with you...?"
Hubert, after all, was a Level Six Greatsword Master. The moment William Merlin barged in, he woke up, rubbing his eyes angrily and glaring at William Merlin, who stood over him with hands on hips.
Damn, it's true he's afraid of Lord Merlin, but who the hell is William Merlin? He couldn't beat the mighty Hubert, and if he weren't Lord Merlin's cousin, Hubert would've smashed him ages ago... Finally free from Lord Merlin, Hubert hoped for a few peaceful days, but now William Merlin had come to boss him around again.
Especially that "Hey, you"—it really stung Hubert's heart. He roared inwardly, you damned Merlins, one day Hubert will make you pay!
Hubert isn't someone you can push around!
Hmph, just look at how Dean, Sword Saint of the Templar Knights Mercenary Company, treats Lord Hubert—he practically worships him... Lord Hubert is no longer that Dragonblood Orc everyone used to bully!
"Of course it matters." William Merlin couldn't be bothered to look at Hubert, replying matter-of-factly, "If you're sleeping, who's keeping watch? Don't forget, there are plenty of big shots in this camp—all three of Auckland's top mercenary companies are here."
"Why should I?!" Hubert roared with all his might. In front of Lord Merlin, he might only dare to mutter under his breath, but now that Lord Merlin wasn't here, he had no fear—his attitude was much tougher: "Are you even qualified to order Lord Hubert around?"
"When Marfa was around, you were always the one keeping watch..." William Merlin sneered. "Of the four of us, you've got the most experience with night watch. If you don't go, who will?"
"You're... you're not Lord Merlin!" Hubert was so furious his nose nearly twisted, gnashing his teeth. Would it kill you not to bring up Lord Hubert's past...?
It's all because of that damned contract.
"The Dragonblood Orc doesn't want to keep watch? That's not gonna work. Without him on watch, I can't sleep easy..." Ross Merlin's lazy voice drifted in from outside the tent.
"Like he has a choice. Word is, the Dragonblood Orc has been getting pretty chummy with a certain vice captain from the Templar Knights lately... We better not let Marfa know about this, or our orc brother's in trouble." Leon Merlin called out with a grin, deliberately raising his voice.
At the same time, a ball of flame danced in Leon Merlin's hand, a flicker of heat passing into the tent...
"I'm going now..." Hubert hefted Slaughter, his warhammer weighing thousands of pounds, and dashed out of the tent in a single bound.
That was Lord Saedus! If you pissed him off, he'd come talk to you about life...
All those terrifying memories came flooding back in an instant—damn, that was scary...
Plus, that bastard Leon Merlin was obviously threatening him. If Lord Merlin really found out, even if he had nothing to do with that damned vice captain, he probably wouldn't get off easy.
Gotta admit, that damned vice captain's got guts. Not long ago, he actually tried to poach talent right in front of Lord Merlin. If that's not courting death, I don't know what is—he's practically a master at it...
Fine, go court death all you want, but why drag Lord Hubert into it...
From now on, gotta keep my distance—never speaking to him again.
That way, Lord Merlin won't doubt my loyalty anymore...
Hubert sat by the campfire, cursing nonstop—first at William Merlin, then Leon Merlin, then Ross Merlin, and finally Marfa Merlin. Still not satisfied, he grumbled under his breath, "Not a single Merlin's any good..."
Boom, boom, boom...
Shit!
Hubert was startled by the earth-shaking noise, leaping to his feet. He glanced around to make sure it wasn't Lord Merlin showing up, then finally relaxed and turned toward the source of the commotion.
"Wyverns! Seven or eight of them... no, more like dozens... over a hundred... damn, I can't even count them all..."
The marksman on night watch for the Templar Knights Mercenary Company suddenly screamed.
Wyverns...
Everyone in the camp was jolted awake by the marksman's scream. In an instant, people rushed out of their tents and looked up. Everywhere they looked, the sky was filled with countless dots of eerie green...
This was, without a doubt, a disaster.
Hundreds or even thousands of wyverns—while not individually high-level, only about level eighteen—were swarming in, spraying venom into the valley camp. No matter where members of the Three Major Mercenary Companies hid, they couldn't escape the poisonous onslaught.
In an instant, venom rained down like droplets. Screams echoed everywhere. Wyverns themselves were level eighteen magical beasts; ordinary mercenaries who got hit by even a little venom were doomed. Even Grand Mages and Greatsword Masters couldn't block the poison with magical shields or battle aura—before long, they'd rot away and die.
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To withstand wyvern venom, you needed to be at least a Magus or Greatsword Master. Only such powerful individuals could use their magic and battle aura to resist the poison... but even that was just resistance. As the venom kept falling, their magic and aura would eventually run dry.
Although the wyverns' sudden appearance threw the valley's mercenaries into chaos at first, it didn't take long for order to be restored. Well-trained counterattacks followed—one Magus and Greatsword Master after another soared into the sky, magic elements flooding the air, battle aura crisscrossing. When someone got hurt, replacements stepped in immediately...
The Grand Mages and Greatsword Masters in the mercenary companies couldn't fly, but they still played a crucial role. Their attacks were precise and coordinated—whenever a wyvern swooped low, it was instantly drowned in countless Ice Lances, Frost Spears, and battle aura...
No wonder they're Auckland's top mercenary forces!
Against the wyverns, the archer classes really shone. In the center of camp was a two- to three-hundred-strong team—every single one was an Arcane Archer. Their teamwork was flawless. Hundreds of arrows tore through the sky, and dozens of wyverns shrieked in agony...
Leading the Arcane Archers were more than twenty powerful Marksmen. Under their command, the arrows harvested lives with every volley—each round took down at least a dozen wyverns.
A mage team, jointly formed by the Three Major Mercenary Companies, surrounded the central archers. The sound of spellcasting echoed nonstop—their job was to keep the archers safe, raising shields and casting buffs.
For a moment, the sky above them was completely cleared of wyverns.
But soon, wave after wave of wyverns surged in, blotting out the sky again. Endless venom rained down on the mage team's shields—then another round of arrows, and again, and again, like it would never end...
Boom!
In the air above the camp's northwest corner, a surge of powerful sword energy slashed down, striking a wyvern. Instantly, the human-sized beast's wings ruptured, its body covered in fine cracks. With a piercing howl, it shattered completely.
That was just the aftershock of sword energy...
Not far away, a fierce battle was raging—a Wyvern King, its body ten times larger than a normal wyvern, was locked in combat with a Sword Saint.
A strange green glow shimmered around the Wyvern King. Anyone with a bit of magical beast knowledge knew that glow was pure poison, tightly wrapping its massive body. That was why the Sword Saint didn't dare get close, forced to attack from afar using battle aura.
The Sword Saint was Dean, vice captain of the Templar Knights Mercenary Company, wielding an Essence Longsword. His combat prowess was unmatched, but in the fight against the Wyvern King, he was completely outclassed in less than ten minutes.
"Damn it, what rank is this damned Wyvern King...?"
Dean was nearly desperate—the Wyvern King's strength was terrifying. Even with power rivaling a third-rank Sword Saint, he was completely suppressed from the start. And that wasn't all: during the battle, wyverns kept lunging at him, leaving him with more than a dozen wounds in just a few minutes.
And that was with battle aura protecting him...
With all the scheming between the Three Major Mercenary Companies, Dean would never have taken on the Wyvern King voluntarily. But he had no choice—the northwest corner of camp was full of Templar Knights Mercenary Company members. If he didn't try to hold off the Wyvern King, they'd all be wiped out...
Damn, if only I'd kept my mouth shut...
A while ago, if I hadn't broken the last bit of ice between the three mercenary companies, they'd still be on polite terms—now I could've swallowed my pride and asked for help...
Too bad, it's too late now—I'm getting more and more cornered, and the fight's only getting deadlier...
Huh?
Suddenly, Dean noticed a Haste spell land on him—his speed shot to the limit, letting him narrowly dodge the Wyvern King's venom attack...