Rise of the Horde-Chapter 504 -

The ragged remnants of the army stumbled through the undergrowth, their movements a blend of exhaustion and desperate urgency. Captain Baldred, his face streaked with grime and blood, checked his sword, its edge dulled but still functional.

Lieutenant Kael, a younger man whose youthful eagerness had been replaced by grim determination, adjusted the straps of his pack. Lieutenant Gerber, his arm bandaged crudely, limped slightly behind.

The original thousands had dwindled to thirteen: Baldred, Kael, Gerber, and ten others – a mixture of soldiers and laborers, their clothes torn, their bodies bruised and bleeding.

The air hung heavy with the coppery tang of blood and the acrid stench of sweat. The sounds of battle, once a deafening cacophony, had faded to a distant murmur. Only the panting of the survivors punctuated the silence. One soldier, his tunic ripped open revealing a deep gash across his ribs, coughed up blood, then managed a weak cheer, "We survive!"

The Owlbear, a monstrous creature of immense size and savage ferocity, had been a significant obstacle. Its massive claws, capable of rending flesh and bone with ease, had claimed many lives. The initial encounter had been chaos. The orcs, numerous and brutal, had formed a circle of sorts around the Owlbear, their sharp weapons clashing against the beast's power.

The scene had been a maelstrom of swinging blades, flying bolts, shattering bones, and the guttural roars of the orcs mixed with the terrifying shrieks of the Owlbear.

One particularly large orc, its face scary and serious, had made a sharp charge towards the beast, effectively diverting its attention long enough for the remnants of the army to break through the remaining orc line and escape. The orc's unintentional sacrifice had been brutal; the Owlbear's claws had wounded him, leaving behind a nasty wound on his chest.

Baldred, ever the pragmatist, had directed the retreat, pushing forward, always a step ahead, ensuring the remaining men stayed focused on the path of escape. He'd seen men fall, their screams echoing before being swallowed by the sounds of the battle.

Gerber's injury had been sustained in the initial chaotic onslaught; a glancing blow from the Owlbear's claw that had nearly severed his arm. Kael had fought fiercely, his blade a whirlwind of deadly strikes. He'd wounded at least four orcs, his face grimly determined as he fought his way through the blood soaked earth.

Each of the survivors bore the marks of battle. Deep cuts and lacerations marred their skin. Several soldiers staggered, their breathing ragged, their movements slow and painful.

One carried a makeshift splint for a broken leg. Another had his sword arm hanging uselessly, blood staining his torn sleeve. Despite the clear injuries, no one voiced complaint, none faltered in their determination to put as much distance between themselves and the sounds of battle.

They moved through the forest, their progress hampered by fatigue and the difficult terrain. Thorns tore at their clothing, branches whipped against their faces. The weight of their packs, once a seemingly insignificant burden, now felt immense.

The constant fear of the Owlbear's return hung heavy in the air. Any sound, a rustle of leaves, the snap of a twig, sent shivers down their spines.

The setting sun cast long shadows, transforming the forest into a menacing landscape of darkness and uncertainty. The survivors kept moving; their only goal was to escape. Baldred glanced back frequently, his eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of their pursuers. The sounds of fighting were still faint in the distance, but each beat of the silence promised the inevitable pursuit to continue at some point.

The pace slowed further as the night was about to descend, the darkness a new kind of enemy. The exhaustion was palpable. The soldiers moved slower, their steps hesitant, their movements more laboured. Yet, they persisted.

They had survived the initial onslaught, they would survive the night. The hope of reaching safety fueled their weary bodies. Their survival was a grim testament to their resilience, a hard-won victory against overwhelming odds.

The escape, however, was far from guaranteed. The owlbear's return was inevitable, a pending doom that would be a challenge that would need to be faced once again. The night promised more than just rest, it offered an impending fight that had to be won if they were to survive.

*****

The Owlbear, a hulking monstrosity of bear-like bulk and owl-like head, roared, its claws ripping through Galum'nor's armor. Galum'nor grunted, staggering back, his sword clattering against the creature's thick hide.

"By our ancestors! Isn't that the Hoot-hoot Tribe's Totem Beast!" one of the Verakhs shouted as his gaze finally landed at the enormous beast that Galum'nor, Arosha'nna and Drae'ghanna along with the other Verakhs were dealing with.

"The Hoot-hoot Tribe?" the one on his left questioned, "Weren't they chased out long ago, a hundred years ago, if I am not mistaken." he continued.

"Who knows! Maybe the tribe still exist somewhere out there." the one who pointed out the identity of the beast answered while loading his weapon with a new set of bolts.

The beast's weight was immense; each blow sent tremors through Galum'nor's arms and shoulders. He stumbled, narrowly avoiding a crushing swipe that would have cleaved him in two.

Arosha'nna, quick and agile, seized the opportunity, her heavy battleaxe flashing as she darted in, striking at the beast's exposed flank. Her axe, though sharp, seemed to barely scratch the thick fur.

Drae'ghanna, positioned a safe distance away, chanted a low incantation. A gout of fire erupted from her fingertips, engulfing the Owlbear's hindquarters. The beast shrieked, its fur smoldering, but its advance did not falter.

The Verakhs, meanwhile, formed a loose firing line, their bolts – crude but effective – thudding into the Owlbear's hide, creating a spray of blood and shredded fur. Some bolts glanced off, others embedded themselves, drawing pained growls from the beast. Galum'nor, his breath ragged, parried another blow, his improvise mace thudding against the creature's claws. The impact sent a jolt up his arm, numbing his hand. He felt a searing pain in his side, where one of the claws had grazed him. Blood welled, staining his armor crimson. He gritted his teeth, his resolve seemingly unyielding despite the obvious disadvantage.

Arosha'nna continued her dance around the beast, her movements precise and economical. She used her battleaxe to create openings, diverting the beast's attention and allowing Galum'nor to regain his footing, only to find himself overwhelmed once more. The beast swatted him aside like an insect. The force of the blow sent him sprawling, his body impacting the hard-packed earth with a sickening thud.

Drae'ghanna unleashed another volley of fire, this time aiming for the Owlbear's face. The flames licked at its eyes, causing it to flinch and roar in pain and frustration. The barrage of bolts continued, a relentless hail of iron that hammered the beast relentlessly.

Despite the ongoing assault, the Owlbear's rage seemed only to intensify. It turned on the Verakhs, swiping at them with its massive claws, scattering them and forcing them to retreat temporarily to reload their weapons.

Galum'nor, nursing his wounds, rose to his feet, his armor damaged and his body aching. He wiped the blood from his mouth, his gaze unwavering, meeting the beast's furious glare.

Arosha'nna, seeing his plight, darted to his side, offering him support as she used her small form to keep some distance from the beast's immense body, trying to create room for Galum'nor to use his weapons again. Her battleaxe were now smeared with the beast's dark blood.

The Owlbear charged, its massive form a blur of fur and claws. Galum'nor braced himself, his weapon raised high. He met the attack, the force of the collision throwing him back against a nearby rock.

The impact knocked the wind out of him. He coughed, tasting blood. The Owlbear tried to follow through the attack but Arosha'nna managed to smack its face and caused the beast to stagger back, giving Galum'nor time to get up.

The battle continued, a brutal, relentless dance of claws and steel, of fire and iron. The Owlbear, despite its wounds, remained a formidable foe, its strength and ferocity seemingly inexhaustible.

Galum'nor, Arosha'nna, Drae'ghanna, and the Verakhs fought on, their determination matched only by the beast's savage power. The ground around them was a mess of blood, mud, and shattered wood.

The air was thick with the smell of burnt fur, smoke, and sweat. Despite the grim scene, neither side seemed to be considering retreat. The clash continued, the scene of violence repeating without interruption until the Owlbear, finally, exhausted, decided to retreat, disappearing into the dense forest, leaving behind a trail of blood and a battlefield littered with broken weapons and wounded warriors.

Updat𝓮d from frёewebnoѵēl.com.

"Coward..." Galum'nor spat as he collapse to his knees, his breathing labored while maintaining his gaze at the retreating figure of the Owlbear.

"We're lucky that it decided to retreat, or else you would have been torn to shreds." Aro'shanna muttered as she nudge the muscle-head's shoulder with the hilt of her weapon.