Zhaire sat atop Betelgeuse, surveying the approaching horde of Chixel. Even with the height of his massive steed, they were still hard to spot, as the smaller lizard creatures were easily shorter than the seagrass. Despite this, it was easy to gauge their progress by the mass disturbance of the foliage.


    A vast area near the settlement had been cleared, giving the invaders no cover. Preparing the battlefield had been easy enough for the Ogrog, pulling stalks of grass like a gardener removing weeds. The mages had objected that it was horribly inefficient, but Zhaire had pointed out what the Ogrog would be doing if they weren’t kept busy. After that, No one objected, and a few even suggested expanding the area.


    The first of the Chixel vanguard entered the clearing with trepidation, with a few even soiling themselves at the sight of the assembled Ogrog, which numbered in the thousands. It wouldn’t matter that they outnumbered Zhaire’s forces a hundred times over when an Ogrog weighing a ton crashed into the line.


    There was no grand strategy. Zhaire had told the Ogrog to wait until most of the army reached the clearing. Unfortunately, the oversized dogs couldn’t follow even those simple instructions. A few overeager Ogrog broke ranks, bounding towards their opponents with child-like glee. This had a cascading effect, as none of the Ogrog wanted to be left out of the fun. This resulted in a disorderly charge, with significant gaps where an individual Ogrog was slow to realize what was happening. However, they made up for their lack of organization with reckless enthusiasm.


    The knights looked to their leader, asking an unspoken question. A few recruits had joined their ranks, taken from the best of Celestia’s growing military. Despite this, they still numbered fewer than twenty pairs of riders and mounts. Zhaire shook his head, deciding to show more restraint than his Ogrogs.


    The massive ogre-like creatures made effective shock troops. They effortlessly plowed through the ranks of gathered Chixel, shredding their opponents'' line like a professional linebacker blitzing through a middle school team. Unfortunately, the charge also put them out of position, with the elite Ogrogs pushing further into the enemy, only to become surrounded. It would have worked if they had only been outnumbered several times, but the sheer number of opponents made that impossible. Slowly, individual Ogrog were taken down by packs of Chixel working in tandem. It would have worked if the Chixel had the same psychology as a medieval human army, but they were spurred on by the threat of being a sacrifice to their god or a host for an Azala.


    Zhaire noticed a potent unit of Chixel carving through Ogrog like a hot knife through butter. They were better armed and armored, each carrying the black soul-stealing blades. He still remembered how one inquisitor had changed the flow of battle, and he smiled, reveling in an opponent for which he could measure his progress.


    He let loose a warcry and gave a mental command to Betelgeuse. The massive Starseeker began its charge, moving slowly but building up speed with each step. Each knight followed his lead, their Starseekers keeping pace with his. They sped headlong toward their opponents, eventually moving faster than a car on a freeway.


    The inquisitors reacted quickly, most moving out of the way of the oncoming collisions that would squish them like bugs. A few didn’t manage and were quickly ground into a paste, but the Starseeker''s speed did not slow. Zhaire lashed out as he charged through, his glaive extending like a coiled-up snake. The unsuspecting inquisitor never knew what killed him as he was bisected in two. Other knights let loose spells and attacks of their own, some of which found their marks. Most of the inquisitors were eliminated in a single pass that had taken only seconds. A few months ago, it would have been a unit capable of crippling Celestia’s best, but now they were nothing but a minor irritant.


    Emboldened by their success, Zhaire continued leading them forward towards the heart of the enemy''s forces. Scores of Chixel were felled in their wake, barely slowing the elite Knights Reclaimers. The few times the Chixel managed a sufficiently dense formation of spears, they were obliterated by an onslaught of spells. Zhaire even got to join in, releasing a gout of flame from his mouth like he was a firebreathing dragon. The fire spread in a long line like it had been released from a military-grade flamethrower, with the white-hot flames quickly incinerating anything it came into contact with. Zhaire could almost see the appeal of being a spell caster.


    Once they had finished carving through, Zhaire wheeled them around in a wide arc, killing another swathe of opponents as they went. The return trip was less effective, if only because the Chixel had dispersed.


    The knights continued acting as reserves that would quickly be deployed to any section where the Ogrog met fierce resistance. Each time, they effortlessly plowed through. No Knights Reclaimers were seriously injured, with the worst being a minor scratch from a soul blade. The biggest concern was their stamina, as they were forced to move from encounter to encounter with little rest. Even that was mostly mitigated by their bard, Christina, who sang an empowered song that reinvigorated the knights. Unfortunately, her magic didn’t work on the Ogrog or the Starseekers, so it had a limited effect. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    The pitched battle continued for hours. More and more Ogrog continued to fall. It wasn’t because they were overwhelmed by impossible numbers or an elite opponent. Instead, they simply made more mistakes and fought with less enthusiasm as they tired from the non-stop fighting.


    Zhaire did his part to bolster morale, fighting duels against the elite Chixel who knew the Ogrog tradition. Many of his opponents were tier two, either elite inquisitors or enlarged brutish variations. Many of them looked gleeful as they fought what they assumed to be a weaker opponent. It only took them a second to learn how wrong they were, but that was often too late for them. The fewer still that managed to get in solid hits were dismayed by the sheer amount of armor Zhaire possessed, with nothing able to pierce his Draconic Scales, a tier two version of his Impervious Skin. The few times he used his boosting skill, Draconic Form, he immediately overwhelmed his opponents with his improved physical attributes. He refrained from using his Fire Breath in a duel, as that felt like it would be against some unspoken rule.


    His stunt had improved the morale of the Ogrog, but it quickly waned as each subsequent duel had a lesser and lesser effect. He was about to return to the knights when his radio crackled to life.


    “Knight Commander Reeves, get your forces back to the portal. We’ll cover your retreat,” Colonel Harper ordered.


    Zhaire was independent, a condition of forming his order, and he could disregard the order if he so chose. However, he had to assume there was a good reason for the suggestion. He nodded to Christina, and she cast a spell, mimicking the sound of a deep horn.


    Many of the Ogrog followed the order. It wasn’t orderly, but eventually, the majority of his troops fell back towards the settlement. A few disregarded the command, fighting to the bitter end. Only hundreds remained of the thousands of Ogrog who had entered the battle. Bodies littered the open terrain, most of them Chixel. The once solid ground was now a muddy mess from the gallons of blood that had been spilled.


    The surviving enemy combatants began regrouping, preparing to pursue their fleeing opponents. Zhaire wasn’t sure if they knew about the portal, but it wouldn’t matter. With the size of the portal entrance and the size of an Ogrog, they would only be able to go through one at a time. Unfortunately, they didn’t have that long, as the Chixel appeared eager to enact revenge for the heavy toll they had taken.


    Within a few minutes, a reformed Chixel horde strode forth. A small contingent of people moved to meet them. Zhaire recognized some of them as crafters, builders, and other professionals. However, each one of them was a mage.


    A myriad of spells were cast at the oncoming army: fireballs exploded, chunks of earth collapsed as if by the world’s largest sinkhole, the sky darkened, and peals of thunder heralded a torrent of rain and lightning. Umbra covered large swathes of the battlefield, preventing both sides from seeing any further devastation. Judging by the loud booming sounds reverberating throughout the battlefield, the barrage of spellcasting continued.


    The onslaught ended just as suddenly as it had begun, lasting only several minutes. The attacks had killed relatively few Chixel, at least compared to the pitched battle earlier. However, the bombardment had been so loud and flashy that it had a significant psychological effect. Many Chixel were retreating with haste, and the remaining few were warily eyeing the damaged terrain that had quickly become an impassible quagmire. A small unit could traverse the area, but an army would undoubtedly have issues crossing.


    Sylvi appeared as if she had materialized out of thin air. The rest of her unit followed behind her, each member looking just as exhausted as the Ogrog that had been fighting for hours straight.


    “Thanks for keeping them busy, big guy,” Ashlyn said with a grin.


    “No problem,” Zhaire said in confusion.


    “Their leadership has a lot fewer priests,” the young woman said with a wide grin.


    “Ash, op sec,” Sylvi scolded her, though she had an equally satisfied expression.


    “Why was killing their priests so important? I get they’re casters, but they couldn’t have been that powerful?” Zhaire asked.


    “They''re the reason the Chixel haven’t broken. If no one threatens them with soul destruction, they’ll be far more likely to run. At the very least, killing their leadership will throw them into disarray,” Sylvi explained.


    “I see. Well, good job,” Zhaire said.


    “You too,” Sylvi said with a nod.


    Zhaire realized that he had only been the lineman. His job had been holding off the army while the wraiths and Imri had done the actual damage. He felt a bit dejected about that until he realized his role was no less necessary. The wraiths wouldn’t have been nearly as effective if most of the army hadn’t focused on him. Likewise, the mages could only unleash their attacks for a short time before needing to be protected as they recovered their mana. Zhaire wanted to be the best, which didn’t necessarily mean inflicting the most damage.


    He waited at the back of the line that slowly lurched forward. A review of his notification told him he had only gained a single level, which seemed like a paltry amount. That was until he considered how much threat he had been under. Even the elites had been significantly weaker than he was, with none truly threatening his life. Hopefully, the Azala would have an actual challenge.


    The sight of hundreds of Ogrogs greeted him as he walked through the portal. They were a bit incongruous with the monastic temples built around the spring. Despite this, healers tended to the injured Ogrog without complaint, though Zhaire noticed a few winces as some of the filthy dog-like creatures entered the hot spring. He couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it.