Chapter 14: Formation!
The cacophony of shrieks and howls didn't seem very intimidating at first.
But when that sound came from hundreds of twisted, terrifying aberrant murlocs, it was an entirely different situation!
Matthew wasn't too concerned about the busy soldiers; he watched the swarm of aberrant murlocs approach with a sense of disbelief.
"This isn't right. Aberrant creatures rarely gather in such large numbers."
"Once they can't get enough blood, they usually turn on each other in vicious fights."
"It's part of their inevitable path toward deeper corruption!"
"But now, this isn't the case at all?"
"Could something have happened with the Crimson Moon?"
"Or perhaps there's a higher-level aberrant entity among these murlocs?"
Whatever the reason, it wasn't good news for Matthew and the convoy.
Matthew found some solace in Ralph's commendable professionalism.
Even though Ralph hadn't anticipated an attack and encirclement by aberrant creatures under the influence of the Crimson Moon, he had prepared the convoy with a variety of weapons and supplies for different enemies they might encounter.
Each soldier was equipped with a sturdy ironwood shield. When they set them firmly into the ground, the small, weak aberrant murlocs could barely budge them.
Over a hundred spears had been distributed, bolstering the courage of the convoy's cart drivers enough to prevent panic or collapse.
Meanwhile, Ralph pulled out two glowing, red scrolls from his space pouch and solemnly handed them to Matthew.
Fireball Scrolls x2!
These were originally intended for the trolls lurking in the dark forests around Bay Village. Each scroll had cost 200 gold coins as part of the supply purchase.
Casting fireball through his staff would still drain Matthew's mana, but compared to the backlash from overcasting, the 50% mana consumption was manageable.
Spell scrolls, however, were different.
They required only a small amount of mana to fully release a spell, and the power of the spell was fixed, depending on the skill of the scroll's creator.
In simpler terms, spell scrolls were like one-time-use items, an otherworldly version of a rocket launcher!
With these two scrolls, Matthew had secured another layer of combat strength.
But this time, Matthew didn't immediately use them against the charging aberrant murlocs; instead, he let them draw closer.
He could see the crimson eyes of the aberrant murlocs, their distorted, multiple arms, the red tendrils emerging from their wounds, their nearly vanished scales, and their bestial crawling posture.
There was no doubt these aberrant murlocs were heavily corrupted, to the point they no longer even resembled murlocs.
They howled as they crossed the muddy pools, surging like a bloody tide, driven by a thirst for blood.
Leon, behind his shield, was nervous, but Old John guided him:
"Don't push the shield outward. Tilt it and brace it inward, letting the impact transfer through the support pole to the ground."
"There's nothing to fear from these aberrant murlocs—they have weak attacks, lack strength, and are slow. If they pile up, they're just delivering loot to us..."
Old John didn't lower his voice, speaking not just to Leon but also to the other anxious soldiers nearby.
Captain Sean, who had extensive combat experience, glanced back at their lord standing tall and quickly added:
"That's right! We've always cut down these murlocs easily. Ten of us can take out a hundred of them without breaking a sweat."
"Plus, killing them usually yields nothing. At best, we'd extract a murloc heart and sell it for five silver coins."
"Now, though, they're worth a fortune..."
The nervous soldiers, interrupted by these two veterans, thought for a moment and realized they were right. They began to chuckle.
Leon, now calmer, quickly recognized the captains' purpose and deliberately asked:
"With so many murlocs, how many gold coins do you think we can earn?"
Ralph, who had been waiting for the right moment, laughed heartily, pulling out a full money pouch from his coat and grabbing a handful of glittering gold coins. He shouted generously:
"There's plenty of gold to go around. It just depends on your luck. I'm hoping for at least 30 pieces of material."
"And yes, any cart drivers who join the fight will share the rewards too..."
"Wow, 30 pieces? That should be over a hundred gold coins, right?"
"You idiot, it's 300 gold coins..."
"What? 300 gold coins? I barely make three a year. How much can we get from this?"
"Didn't you hear the steward? Anyone who fights gets a share."
"If you don't do much, you'll get maybe 30 silver. But if you work hard, you'll easily make at least one gold coin!"
"One gold coin?"
At this, not just the soldiers but also the cart drivers, who had been eying the loot enviously, felt their morale soar.
Watching Ralph turn this deadly battle into a bounty hunt, Matthew couldn't shake a strange feeling of déjà vu:
"Wait a minute, isn't that exactly what I did earlier? Ralph's just mimicking me!"
As Matthew pondered this, the aberrant murlocs crashed into their defensive line.
Thud!
Crack!
The sound of screeching and snapping bones filled the air as the prepared formation withstood the first wave of the murlocs' assault.
Matthew watched as the aberrant murlocs swarmed like a tide of insects, encircling the convoy, and calmly waited for the right moment to unleash the scrolls.
Bloodstained claws beat relentlessly against the shields, leaving bloody marks.
Yet the impact was far less than the soldiers had expected, allowing them to exhale in relief.
"Hold the line!"
Angela, with a composed expression, suppressed the soldiers' urge to attack, waiting until every soldier had engaged with the murlocs before shouting with satisfaction:
"First row, thrust!"
Having held back for so long, the soldiers thrust their spears and pikes forward at the order.
From the middle of the shields, sharp metal tips thrust out in unison, piercing through the twisted heads of the aberrant murlocs, accompanied by a gush of blood, before being swiftly withdrawn.
"Retreat!"
Each spear was manned by two strong cart drivers behind it.
Having undergone militia training, they ignored the gruesome sight ahead of the shields and worked together to pull the spears back.
The dark red blood coated the spear tips, dripping slowly to the ground and seeping into the muddy earth.
"Second row, advance, thrust!"
Under the leadership of Old John and Captain Sean, the second row of spearmen pushed forward fiercely.
Angled from the upper edges of the shields, their spears stabbed downward, impaling the aberrant murlocs that clawed at the shields.
"Retreat!"
With the crisp command, the dying aberrant murlocs slumped lifelessly to the ground.
The relentless murlocs stepped over the corpses of their fallen, pressing the attack with no hesitation.
Within a few breaths, the gaps left by the dead were filled once more by these terrifying creatures.
"First row, advance, thrust!"
The blood-soaked spear tips continued to dart out from behind the shields in a repeating cycle, efficiently reaping the lives of the aberrant murlocs.
After several rounds, the murlocs lay dead in droves!
However, the repeated exertion took its toll on the cart drivers, who were now visibly tiring.
Unlike the trained soldiers, the untrained cart drivers didn't know how to conserve their energy in such intense combat.
This is the difference between amateurs and professionals!