A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor-Chapter 870: Reaching - Part 1

"Damn it!" Firyr cursed, as Oomly's massive greatsword flung him back once more. Firyr was fulfilling two roles at once – he served as a spoke in the attacking wheel against the giant Oomly, and he also dove into the melee amongst the infantry from time to time, to relieve the pressure from his men.

Oomly took a step forward, standing over the fallen Firyr. For such a giant man, he had quite the baby face. Even with those wrinkles on his skin, the illusion of that child-like face was not easily shattered. From the way he smiled, he seemed positively gleeful from all the bloodshed.

Before Oomly's sword could claim Firyr's head, however, an arrow rushed in front of him, going for his neck. He'd been keeping an eye on the girl out of the corner of his vision, and it was that reason alone that allowed him to continually stay out of the reach of the arrow's vicious sting. Still, for all his watchfulness, he could not brush the attack off. He was forced to step back to avoid it.

Then the other three were on him. Kaya closed the distance, and ducked in, his fists raised up in front of his face, and his legs bent, ready to jump. Staying low, he started to unleash a vicious series of hooks at Oomly's body, twisting with the motion of each punch, using the elastic recoil to power up the next, his pointed gauntlets beating a steady rhythm.

Kaya's punches dealt damage, but they served the more important purpose of keeping Oomly's sword stuck tight against his body. Here, the greatsword's giant reach worked against him.

Then it was Karesh's turn to swing. With Kaya ducked low, Karesh went high in a daring attack, ordered by Jorah. Karesh's blade whizzed mere inches above his cousin's head, clattering into Oomly armour, scoring a hit, and drawing yet more blood.

They'd cheered the first time that had happened, but this was the third hit they scored, and they could cheer no longer. Every time they landed such an attack, Oomly would merely grunt, as he did now, and endure what they threw at him. Even though Jorah was certain it should have been a damning wound, the giant baby-faced man hardly seemed to care for it at all.

With a roar, he eventually threw Kaya off, and the group of four were made to take their distance again. Jorah had rarely joined in on the attacks personally – he was playing a dual Commanding role.

At once, he organized the ranks of their infantry, and stopped them from falling into disarray, and at the same time, he organized their strategy against Oomly – a strategy that ought to be working, if it had been against any other man.

"Is he even human?" Karesh said, breathing heavily. They knew that Oomly's armour was thick. It was thick enough that the short blades of Kaya's gauntlets couldn't pierce past it and through the chainmail beneath. They could only issue impact wounds. They made the man grunt, but it didn't do much more than that.

"We're too slow!" Nila said impatiently. They were meant to be in a position of advantage here. They were being counted on to take on the monster in front of them with speed and efficiency, yet he was proving to be a brick wall of a man. It seemed questionable whether they'd be able to beat him at all, much less in time to help any of the other sides.

Her sentiment was echoed by the rest, of Firyr threw himself to his feet once again, fury blazing in his eyes. He didn't want to lose. Not a single one of them did. The ex-slaves trained by the Patricks had learned once more what winning felt like in training, and they did not wish to endure the harsh stings of defeat ever again.

He thundered three thrusts at Oomly's guard in the time it would take for most men to deliver one. Each blow was either blocked, or turned aside. Despite his size, that giant could move with a surprising swiftness when he wanted to, which was why they'd had to depend so heavily on Kaya to have him pinned down.

"Firyr! Back! You've overextended!" Jorah shouted. Firyr had stepped too deeply into enemy territory by his lonesome, and now some Macalister infantry were closing in on him in an attempt to surround.

Nila's arrows came then, swift and certain, landing nearly as quickly as the thrusts that Firyr had delivered, thinning out the wall of incoming men before they could turn into too overwhelming a problem. Kaya and Karesh soon acted to continue what she had started, rescuing Firyr from his folly.

"Stick to the plan, Firyr! Strike with Karesh! Going off alone is wasting time!" Jorah said, daring to speak more harshly to the Syndran Sergeant than he'd otherwise dare to – the adrenaline from the battle was making him bold.

Firyr snarled at the order, but he could say nothing in reply, for his efforts hadn't netted them anything.

"Watch for the cavalry!" Jorah cautioned. "Karesh, reopen the space – we've need to move, and don't let that cavalry get close!"

The only saving grace they had in regard to their plight was how quickly Oomly had abandoned his horse. The second he'd gotten close to them in his charge, he'd thrown himself from the saddle, and proceeded to lay into any man within reach with that greatsword of his. Had he stuck to the saddle for the entire fight, Jorah was unsure whether they would have even landed the minor blows that they had.

'Speed, Jorah…' He told himself, his eyes darting over the battlefield, looking for anything that he could use, but it was a futile endeavour. He was reaching for something that wasn't yet there. They all were. They were reaching, and in return, they could only feel the sense that they weren't yet enough.

This chapt𝒆r is updated by frёewebηovel.cѳm.

Oliver was not granted a warm welcome when he got to his feet. There was no gentle exchanging of blows, to allow him to find his wits again, instead, there came a crashing strike, delivered with all of General Talon's strength.