Forget about Thorin and the crew getting chased and escaping on Gandalf's summoned giant eagle. Let's zoom in on the poor bastard Roland.
"Damn, where the hell did all these goblins come from?" Kaslow squinted at the horde pouring in behind them.
Roland's lip twitched. If his brain wasn't fried, he'd swear Gandalf just offed some fat goblin king or something in that misty mountain goblin town…
"Shit! Damn you, Thorin! You guys bailed and left me to catch this crap!" Roland realized he was basically the meat shield for Thorin's gang.
"Retreat! Retreat! Move your asses!" Roland barked. He wasn't exactly itching to turn around and fight—losing means shame, winning means bloody casualties he doesn't want. No sense throwing lives away for zero gain.
So on the east foot of the Misty Mountains, you had this epic scene: about four hundred fully geared elite humans crashing through the trees and bushes, chased by thousands of scrawny-armed goblins howling like banshees. It was like a weird-ass marathon with weapons.
"Volley fire!" Kaslow yelled out.
He spotted some beefy goblins creeping dangerously close to the slowest of their swift-flow infantry. At his order, knights and Bardania archers wheeled their horses, firing backward. The knights' arrow rain was sparse, knocking down maybe a dozen goblins—not great, Roland facepalmed. Then Bardania archers stepped up, raining a hundred arrows in seconds. Goblin frontliners dropped like they'd been gnawed on by some giant beast—most took arrows to the throat or heart.
"Hell yeah! That's why they specialize in archery!" Roland silently cheered. Damn knights, though, he kept mistaking Bardania heavy armor for knights—face red, not my fault! They just look the part.
"Boss! Infantry can't keep up!" Kaslan shouted suddenly.
"What?" Roland peered back, and yep—the swift-flow infantry was dragging ass, gasping for breath, sweat pouring. Heart sank.
"This can't go on!" Roland thought.
"Rear guard move to front! Full battle formation!" Roland bellowed.
Reno's eyes bugged out. What's up? Has the lord gone crazy? Ready to throw his life away? If they turned to fight now, except for Kaslow on dragonback, only Reno would probably survive.
But Roland wasn't nuts. He knew those goblins were tired too. The "tidal wave" chasing them had turned into a trickle. Small goblin groups kept streaming in from farther back, but they were splintered, chasing in clusters.
"Swarm tactics, huh? Fine by me. Bring it on!" Roland grinned like a madman.
"Swift-flow charge! Form up!" he shouted.
The infantry looked utterly lost. Roland slapped his forehead. The system only gave him 200 men. The basic swift-flow battle formation needs 300 to even work. Everyone else might not know, but Roland did—rows of 30, columns of 10, this formation was a beast. Ten of these could smash a hundred-man knight squad—real knights, not your usual wannabes. In this world, pros are rare.
"Okay, 100 men per row, 2 per column. Crush 'em!" Roland gave detailed orders.
The swift-flow infantry slammed their big shields into the ground. First row laid their pikes flat, leaning against the shield wall. Second row also hammered their shields down, tilting them 30° left, leaving an arm-length gap. They propped their pikes there and drew their flails.
"Bardania archers cover us! Reno, lead the knights and find a chance to charge!" Roland commanded seriously.
"Roger that, boss!" Reno led the knights off.
"We should be in the Dark Forest by now, right?" Roland asked Kaslow.
Kaslow pulled out the detailed map Elrond gave him, comparing it carefully. "We're at the edge of the Dark Forest."
"Got it." Roland nodded.
Clang! Roland drew the Dragon-slaying Sword and urged his warhorse forward.
"Soldiers! Brothers! We can't run anymore! We're just lambs to the slaughter if we lose stamina! So we fight with our backs to the wall! I ask you to hold this ground with me! Let the enemy know the glory of Lagrand still burns! The Empire's soldiers still fight! Are you with me?"
"For the Empire's glory! Long live the Empire!" they roared.
"Charge!" The five-meter-long pikes jabbed forward. Dozens of goblins skewered like candy apples. Seeing more goblins rushing, the front row dropped their pikes and grabbed their flails. Second row laid down their pikes flat.
Bang! One infantry swung a flail and cracked a goblin's skull open.
"Rapid fire!" Kaslow barked. Goblins swarming the flanks.
The Bardania archers dropped precision shots and fired like crazy, emptying a quiver of fifty arrows in moments. Their arms cramped but the results were clear—thousands of iron-tipped arrows rained death. Hundreds of goblins writhed in agony, melting into the dirt.
The flail-wielding infantry suddenly found the front empty—goblins were shredded into piles of corpses with holes and smashed shapes.
The front row pulled out their pikes and reformed a shield wall.
Woooooo! A deep horn sounded as Reno's knights crashed down from the horizon. Goblins caught in the middle scattered chaotically.
"All-out charge!" Roland saw his chance and ordered the full assault.
Swift-flow infantry raised shields and pikes, charging hard. Behind them, Bardania archers mounted horses, dropped their longbows, and pulled out their secret mithril war hammers…
"F*ck! Who calls them archers? I swear I'm gonna lose it!" Roland twitched.
...
"So, does this count as a battle?" Roland grinned.
"Barely… at least nearly 2,000 goblins are dead. But, you know, do goblins even count as a legit kill count?" Reno grumbled, face black.
"Eh, numbers count!" Roland waved him off like a stubborn kid.
"Let's move on to the final battlefield…" Roland sighed, staring into the distance. What's meant to happen will happen, but will this battle end as he knew it?
"Congrats, host! You completed an excellent-level battle! Casualty ratio 2457:0. Reward: 100 swift-flow infantry."
"System yyds! Hell yeah!" Roland pumped his fist, this was exactly the troop boost he needed.
"All troops, listen up! Destination: Lonely Mountain! Move out!" Roland looked at the 100 new swift-flow infantry reinforcements, spirits high.
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