Re: Tales of the Rune-Tech Sage-Chapter 496: Field Test I

CH496 Field Test I

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Three days later...

A majestic eagle soared freely through the sky, its cries echoing far and wide and sending most nearby creatures into hiding the moment they heard it.

If one watched closely, they would notice the eagle flying in a continuous circular route—always maintaining a consistent radius around the caravan travelling below.

The eagle was, without doubt, Queen Senu— the self-proclaimed future ruler of the skies.

Below her was the expedition party.

Alex raised a hand to shield his eyes from the sun’s rays as he looked up at the eagle soaring overhead in her more comfortable, smaller form.

After leaving Camp Red Rock, Alex and his expedition party had plotted a course onward towards their next stop on the road to Blood Iron City—the heart of the Hollowcrest Wildlands.

Their next destination was Dragonstone Oasis, roughly four days away from their current location.

Alex scanned their surroundings, a faint frown settling onto his face.

"What is the problem?" Zora asked.

"It’s strange," Alex replied. "Usually, in situations like this, we would have been attacked, giving us the chance to test out our newfound strength."

Zora rolled her eyes. She genuinely couldn’t believe that was his reason.

As a token of their friendship, ten copper-skinned orcs –led by the brothers, Hargul and Harum—had left their tribe and sworn fealty to Alex, joining his expedition party.

In addition, Azgrug also granted Alex another twenty or so combat slaves—natives of the Hollowcrest Wildlands. And like the orcs, they were Ancestral Spirit worshippers.

In exchange for protecting the tribe from bandits and slave traders—and providing for them—a group of males from the tribe had been offered to Camp Red Rock as combat slaves.

The Red Rock Barbarians were significantly different from Mogal, though.

Unlike the hulking mass of pure, bulging muscle, the Red Rock Barbarians were slimmer and leaner—built for mobility and endurance rather than raw power.

They were more marauders than power-strikers.

With the addition of both the orcs and the barbarians, the expedition party’s numbers rose to just under fifty.

And with the orcs and barbarians swearing their oaths of fealty in the names of their ancestral spirits, Alex had nothing to worry about from them.

Alex’s eyes narrowed.

’I intentionally led our group along the main eastern trade route from Blood Iron City—the one that cuts through Dragonstone Oasis and stretches all the way towards Camp Red Rock.’

’This place should be teeming with bandits and thieves who—following the Laws of Cliché—should be waiting to attempt to ambush us and steal our possessions, thus allowing us to test our newfound strength on them.’

His gaze swept the barren path again.

’Did someone forget their roles or something?’

Noticing Alex’s growing suspicion as he kept scanning the surroundings, Eleanore let out a light laugh.

"Alex, you’re missing something," she said.

"Hm?" Alex raised an eyebrow.

Eleanore gestured subtly towards the group.

"From afar, the most noticeable members of our party are the orcs and the barbarians," she explained. "Everyone knows orcs don’t usually carry much—at least, nothing of significant value to humans that would be worth fighting for."

She tilted her head slightly, continuing in a calm, matter-of-fact tone.

"And barbarians are the same. Most of their possessions are more likely to be found in their settlements... not on their person."

Zora also spoke, pointing at the two carriages rolling along with the expedition.

"Not to mention, any experienced bandit or thief group can tell those aren’t merchant wagons filled with goods," she said. "They’re transport carriages. Most of the time, groups like ours are simply not worth the effort to rob."

"But..." Alex frowned, refusing to accept reality. "Isn’t it normal—expected, even—to be attacked at least once by bandits?"

He looked genuinely aggrieved.

"They are supposed to offer themselves as whetstones to sharpen our teamwork, especially now that our numbers have risen."

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," Zora replied flatly. "But the only thing that would attack us would be a pack of really, really stupid beasts."

She glanced around the empty trail with a faintly bored expression.

"And I doubt that. Even beasts can tell our party isn’t worth the effort."

Zora expected her words to finally knock sense into Alex.

Instead, Alex’s eyes lit up with fervour.

’A flag!’ he thought.

’She planted a flag!’

Excitement surged through him as he silently straightened his posture, suddenly alert—like a man who had just been handed a prophecy.

The group continued onwards for another fifteen minutes.

Then—

Without warning—

Alex’s solemn expression morphed into a wide grin.

Senu had already sent him images of what was waiting for them ahead.

"Prepare for battle!" Alex announced.

He shot Zora a loving, grateful look—one that only left her even more confused—then spurred Dread forward, leading the group straight into the teeth of the ambush.

When the hostiles finally came into view, Alex’s grin widened instead of fading.

’Ah... so it’s some old friends.’

’Of course it had to be you lot who showed up to help test my party’s current strength.’

"Goblins!" Alex barked. "Attack! Kill them all!"

Ahead was a goblin host, spilling across the trade route like a swarm.

Class 2 Hobgoblins packed the frontlines.

Class 3 Goblin Warriors and Goblin Archers formed the bulk.

And at their rear, sheltered behind the mob, stood their leader—

A Class 3 Lesser Goblin Priest.

The moment Alex gave the order, it was the orcs and the barbarians who surged forward first, eager to prove their worth.

The Red Rock barbarians—mostly early Intermediate rank—opened fire from horseback, sending crude arrows arcing into the goblin mass.

The shots weren’t elegant, but they were relentless.

The goblins shrieked and scrambled, raising battered shields and ducking behind one another as the first wave tore into their formation.

Then the orcs arrived.

Not bothering with their mounts, the ten copper-skinned warriors leapt off their horses like falling boulders, slamming into the frontlines with hammers, clubs, and cleavers.

Bone cracked, and bodies flew.

A cluster of Goblin Warriors rushed in to cut them down— only to be met with a brutal hail of bolts from the Crossbowmen and Silver.

The barbarians’ crude arrows couldn’t pierce the Goblin Warriors’ defence, so they changed targets without hesitation, shifting their fire to the weaker Hobgoblins instead.

They were expert riders.

In seconds, they formed into a fast-moving cavalry unit, cutting a bloody gap through the goblin ranks and tearing through the weaker bodies like a blade through wet cloth.

Seeing how much damage the orcs and barbarians were already doing, the original expedition members held back, choosing not to interfere and steal their glory.

The orcs crushed the stronger goblins.

The barbarians shredded the weaker ones.

It was clean, efficient and beautiful.

But then, one of the barbarians got greedy.

His eyes locked onto the Lesser Goblin Priest at the rear, who was left unprotected and exposed.

’A grand prize!’ The barbarian thought.

With a sharp yell, he kicked his horse forward, breaking away from the cavalry charge as he charged straight towards the priest.

***