Entering the Deep Mountains

The next few days passed without incident.

Roger had no way of knowing whether the nobles had caught the mole. Their lips were sealed tighter than welded iron gates, and no rumors about a spy hunt spread through the camp.

He simply kept a mental note of it and pushed the matter to the back of his mind for the time being.

Because starting tomorrow, the noble coalition would launch a formal offensive against the Cliffside Mountains.

Rather than wasting energy on a problem that couldn't be resolved immediately, it was better to focus on the task at hand.

Early the next morning, the blare of horns echoed over the encampment, startling a few crows perched on the withered trees.

Matilda and two other mages were already standing on a makeshift earthen platform. With their staffs held high, they began casting a joint spell, the crystals at the tips of their staffs glowing red in the morning light.

Several fireballs rose one after another from the tips of their staffs, trailing plumes of smoke across the gray morning sky before slamming into the mountainside of the Cliffside Mountains.

The small-scale explosions blasted a few shallow craters into the mountainside, but they were far from enough to turn the tide of battle like in the siege of Fort Morris; mostly, they just scorched a few patches of shrubs.

Following the magical bombardment, the vanguard, led by scouts, left the camp and marched toward the deep mountains.

Standing on a watchtower at the edge of the camp, Roger watched from afar as the troop slowly wound its way up the twisting mountain path.

The so-called vanguard was nothing more than a group of conscripted peasant soldiers from various territories. Their equipment was a hodgepodge of gear, and barely any of them were fully armored.

The knight leading them stood almost at the very rear of the formation. Clearly, he didn't expect these conscripts to achieve any stellar results; standing at the back simply made it easier for him to flee at a moment's notice.

Roger guessed they were merely consumables used to test the strength of the goblin defense lines and the distribution of their traps.

The value of these conscripts lay not in how many enemies they could kill, but in using their lives to trigger whatever lay hidden in the dark. This would show the actual fighting forces behind them where they could and couldn't go.

But none of this was Roger's concern. His current task was to stand on the watchtower, shoot arrows if any goblins showed up, and return to training his skills once his shift was over.

Around afternoon, Roger saw the vanguard reappear at the edge of his vision.

Compared to the number that had set out, those who returned were only in the double digits. Every one of them was covered in dirt, their clothes in tatters, and many bore wet, fresh bloodstains.

The knight who had led them was nowhere to be seen. Before long, Roger heard how the knight had died from the mouths of the returning wounded:

He had accidentally stepped on a trap and was hoisted into the air by a large net that sprang from the ground. Then, the goblins lying in wait in the surrounding treetops shot him full of throwing spears and stray arrows, turning him into a pincushion.

The knight had not awakened extraordinary power, nor had he worn heavy armor to facilitate an easy escape. The goblins' throwing spears easily pierced his light protection, and he stopped breathing after struggling in the net for less than a few minutes.

Once the knight died, the remaining rabble naturally couldn't maintain their morale and fled in all directions.

After the vanguard's defeat and retreat, Count Nigel announced the end of the day's offensive.

Over the next period, the Count organized exploratory attacks against the mountains almost every day.

The scale and composition of the attacks varied slightly each time, but the outcome was always the same.

Roger heard from the surrounding soldiers that the mountains were filled with traps and that they frequently encountered goblin ambushes. Almost every hundred meters they advanced cost them numerous lives.

“If only that mage lord hadn't died,” the soldiers would always sigh whenever they spoke of the horrors on the mountain.

If that mage were still alive, he probably would have showered the mountain with a rain of fiery meteors by now, Roger thought.

He wanted to do the same, but his level simply didn't allow for it.

As the other nobles suffered heavy losses on the mountain one after another, the rotation of the offensive finally fell to Baron Raymond.

Early another morning, the Baron's messenger stood outside Roger's tent:

“Lord Raymond has ordered you to prepare in advance. You will enter the mountains with Knight Waters in two hours.”

What was meant to come would eventually come. Roger did not try to avoid it; he simply nodded to show he understood.

There was no point in running, and besides, the mountains were crawling with goblins. It was the perfect opportunity to farm points.

He first went to the quartermaster to claim dozens of newly crafted arrows, then returned to his tent and sat on his bedding, quietly waiting for the departure time.

Just after breakfast, Baron Raymond assembled the offensive force.

The troop was led with full authority by Knight Waters, with Roger and Irene accompanying them as extraordinary warriors. In addition, they were assigned several armed retainers and conscripts.

As for Knight Stine, he remained behind to guard the camp.

Aside from the troop led by Waters, the other nobles also managed to scrape together some forces to participate in the offensive, but they were all the dregs shaved off from their respective main forces.

Looking at these makeshift soldiers and the mismatched weapons in their hands, Roger knew that this offensive would likely achieve very little.

Faced with a war that was extremely difficult to win, every lord was doing their best to preserve their own strength, sending out only the disposable troops they cared about the least.

This patchwork offensive force was commanded by a knight under Count Nigel's banner.

To move freely in the mountains, this knight had also foregone heavy armor.

During the brief pre-battle briefing, he ordered the various units to maintain a distance of about ten meters from one another and not bunch up too closely.

Once the orders were issued, the troop began their march into the deep mountains.

There was nothing but trees on both sides of the mountain path. The initial stretch of the road was unexpectedly quiet, free of ambushes and traps.

Yet this silence only made Roger more vigilant. He walked silently in the middle of the column, keeping a constant eye out for any warnings from 【Danger Sense】.

Just as he estimated they had reached about halfway up the mountain, a red light suddenly flashed at the edge of his vision.

Roger frowned and quickly scanned his surroundings. To his left was a slope, to his right were several thick pine trees, and not far ahead stood a large boulder taller than a man.

He quickly stepped up behind Waters and warned in a speculating tone, “This place is highly suitable for an ambush.”

Waters nodded and raised his hand, gesturing for the column behind him to slow down. Everyone entered a state of high alert.

Roger nocked an arrow, drawing his bowstring halfway. His arrowhead pointed steadily at the boulder.

The moment a grayish-green figure popped out from behind the boulder, Roger released the string.

Wrapped in an almost imperceptible, faint green gale, the arrow nailed itself into the goblin's forehead. It fell backward, its crossbow firing a bolt harmlessly into the sky.

“Points +50. Balance: 300.”

Seeing their companion killed, the goblins behind the boulder popped their heads out from behind the cover, aiming their crudely made crossbows at Roger and the others.

But Roger's reaction was far quicker than theirs. Three arrows flew out in rapid succession, and three goblins were shot down before they could even aim.

Seeing things go south, the remaining two tried to shrink back behind the boulder, but Irene had already flanked them from the side. Her straight sword flashed twice in the dim forest, slicing them both in half one after the other.

Not long after the five goblins fell, a much louder commotion echoed from further up the mountain.

A dense swarm of short figures emerged from the woods above the slope, pouring down the mountainside like a grayish-green tide.

A massive number of goblins, armed with short swords and round wooden shields, charged down at them by taking advantage of the terrain.

There were also goblin crossbowmen hiding behind trees, using the high ground to rain bolts down upon the humans.

“Engage the enemy!” The knight under the Count's command drew his longsword, his loud order echoing through the woods.

Knight Waters immediately ordered his armed retainers to form a shield wall in the front row.

The retainers lined up their iron-rimmed wooden shields side-by-side, erecting a temporary low wall at the very front of the column to block the incoming arrows.

Though the conscripts' legs were shaking, they managed to hold their formation under Waters' shouting, thrusting their spears out through the gaps between the shields.

Roger stood behind the shield wall. With every twang of his bowstring, a goblin crossbowman tumbled out from behind a tree up above.

Irene and Waters, along with the other soldiers, engaged in hand-to-hand combat with the goblins that had reached the front line.

Just as Roger shot down his twentieth goblin crossbowman, a much greater disturbance came from up the mountain.

Even more green-skinned figures emerged from the forest, slowly pressing toward them in numbers that far exceeded the first wave.

Among them, several massive wild boars lowered their heads, plowing the ground with their tusks. Their bodies were covered in the twisted patterns unique to cultists.

“No fleeing! Get back here!” a furious roar erupted from the right side of the battlefield.

Roger took a moment to glance in that direction, only to see that the troop sent by another noble on the right flank had already begun to break.

Several conscripts threw down their weapons and turned to run. The leading knight cut down the two nearest deserters on the spot, but even this could not halt the rout.

With someone leading the escape, a chain reaction occurred. The unit on the left also began to waver, followed by the center.

The soldiers turned and jostled one another as they fled down the mountain. The originally orderly formation descended into chaos within dozens of seconds.

The collapse of morale quickly reached their position. Several of Waters' men instinctively turned their heads, their steps beginning to falter backward.

Just as the knight was about to bark orders for them to refocus on the goblins ahead, three short, low blasts of a horn sounded from the rear.

It was the signal to retreat.

Waters cast a glance at the surging wave of goblins on the mountain, grit his teeth, and ordered a retreat.

“I'll stay behind to cover the retreat,” Roger proposed, looking at the swarming goblins.

Waters hesitated for a moment before nodding in agreement.

“Then I'll stay too,” Irene spoke up almost at the exact same time.

Roger shook his head. “You should retreat with them. If they hit an ambush on the way down, you can help cover them.”

He did not reveal his intention to farm some points.

Perhaps because the goblins were drawing closer and any further delay would mean no one could escape, Irene did not insist. “Be careful then.”

With that, she followed the main force.

Having no time to watch the main force depart, Roger nocked an arrow and walked straight toward the oncoming grayish-green tide.