1.50.9 Defence of the Madwin’s Barrow

Even after the roaches stopped spinning in the ice, they were having a difficult time standing up. Every time they struggled, their legs slipped on ice, their bulbous body slamming hard into the ice.

"Now that's more like it," Nairobi said.

"Good thinking, Michael," Isha said.

Liam's only comment was delighted laughter, just like Michael's own. 

"Liam," Michael said, giving him a level look. 

Liam understood what Michael wanted and gave a signal like a cooing bird. 

No sooner did he produce the sound, arrows arched in the sky and fell on the roaches who were still struggling to stand up.

These ordinary arrows, loosed from the bows of archers perched on the rooftops, carried the same destructive force as [Whispering Arrows]. The only difference was [Whispering Arrows] required Mana alone, while these arrows required physical resources and time to prepare. But the power behind them was equal, if not precision. One by one, the roaches succumbed to the unending rain of arrows.

Lightning crackled from Isha, and fire soared from Nairobi. Liam and Michael sent their own volleys of [Whispering Arrows]. 

The roaches died in hordes, but it was not enough. A seemingly endless tide of chitinous creatures surged forward, their black bodies crowding the rink of ice. And no matter how many times they bombarded them with spells, there was no end to them.

Michael hefted his axe and swung it with a strength born of desperation—a savage roar escaped his lips, the blade biting deep into the carapace of the first roach that got past the ice slab. Its head flew off!

Once the first roach got past their defence, more and more followed behind, their numbers swelling with each passing moment. Before Michael knew what was happening, the tide of blackness swallowed him. 

Lines of armed villagers were already struggling against hordes of Titan Spawns, screaming their battle cry, filling his ears with roars of battles as he fought for his life. 

"For Madwin's blood… For Madwin's blood…"

Arrows fell nonstop, but they seemed to disappear in the mayhem of battles. He did not even know whether those arrows were helping or not. 

Now that the cockroaches were already on top of him, their numbers pressing against him from all sides, he had no time to cast any spells. So he swung his axe in a mad frenzy, sending showers of chitinous shards, blood, and viscera flying. 

They were branches. Yes, he was cutting a path through a forest of vines and thick branches. He was not fighting monsters. Yes, he was cutting through vines. 

Convincing himself of that helped him move, helped him rip them apart without vomiting. He knew if he stopped moving, stopped hacking with his axe, he would be unable to do so again. So he attacked like damnation itself, never stopping, forgetting his fatigue even when it screamed at him to rest. 

Michael summoned his Nexus Shard and killed half a dozen of roaches with the wide sweep of his axe enhanced with Last Call.

The action left him wide open, and a roach with those haunting human-like eyes pounced at him, but before it could rip his throat, dozens of arrows pin cushioned it, dropping it like a sack of potatoes. Forgive him for ever doubting those arrows. 

"That… was close," Michael said, breathing heavily. 

He kicked the dead insect with protruding arrows to make sure it was dead. Michael didn't believe he would ever get used to those… those eyes. 

Somehow, he had found himself in an area that was absent of roaches—it allowed him breathing room.

Several deep lacerations marred his body, blood seeping from them. In the heat of the battle, he had not even realised how many wounds he had received or felt the pain of it. But now… Now that he saw those wounds, hot pain rolled over him like snapping thunder. The world swam around him. Gritting his teeth, Michael forced his nausea back. He had no time for it.

Michael scanned the battlefield, searching for his companions—he found them immediately. Liam and Isha had retreated back, standing on top of village structures alongside archers, Isha's hand flashing with lightning and Liam's with compressed arrows of air. 

Nairobi was a beast incarnate—she tore through the ranks of giant insects with bare hands, ripping them to shreds. And apparently her armour was so strong that it did not even leave behind a scratch when those roaches slashed at her with their blade-like legs. Michael gaped, but accepted what he saw. What else did he expect? She was Nairobi, after all.

His breathing space did not last for long, for the roaches sniffed him, turned in his direction, and surged after him once more.

Michael swung his axe, and roaches died with each swig. 

He was cutting a path through a swamp, creeping with vines, not monsters. He used it as a mantra even as he reaped scores of life. 

Level up notifications sounded in his head. Michael growled.