Chapter 136: Flames Soaring into the Sky
The bowstrings hummed as the arrows shot forth.
The sharp arrowheads pierced through the horde of berserk fishmen, easily killing one with a single shot.
Some arrows even pierced through two at once!
However, the fallen berserk fishmen were quickly replaced by even more of their kind.
Their bloodshot eyes gleamed as they crowded together in a dense mass.
The cart pushers, who had been incredibly tense at first, were now overwhelmed by exhaustion after repeatedly drawing and firing their bows.
Even though each of them had consumed a mana-restoring potion, the intensity of the battle had caused their arms to tremble uncontrollably.
They grew increasingly numb, mechanically drawing and releasing their arrows.
Adam Smith furrowed his brow, realizing they were reaching their limit. Taking advantage of the remaining strength they had, he reluctantly said:
"Cease fire, rest where you are."
For now, they couldn't rely on the archers for ranged support.
Without the efficiency of arrows cutting down the fishmen, the pressure on the wall's defenses grew heavier and heavier.
The soldiers and adventurers couldn't swing their swords fast enough to keep up with the number of berserk fishmen charging at them.
Moreover, the corpses of the dead berserk fishmen piled up higher and higher beneath the wall, allowing the remaining ones to reach the top even faster.
Seeing one of the defensive positions growing more dangerous, with the pile of berserk fishmen reaching halfway up the wall,
The soldiers manning the defense grew increasingly anxious.
They watched the berserk fishmen leaping and clawing at the ironwood walls, their shrill scratching noises only adding to the mounting psychological pressure.
With a deafening "boom,"
A fireball exploded at the rear of the berserk fishmen's corpse pile.
The terrifying blast tore the approaching fishmen to pieces and scattered the piled-up corpses.
A shower of dirt and gore rained down, and the foul stench of blood mixed with the swamp, oddly boosting the soldiers' morale.
"The Arcanist can still fight!"
Naturally, this gave all the soldiers renewed confidence.
What the soldiers didn't know was that Matthew, who had just wiped out dozens of berserk fishmen with a single fireball, was now frowning.
This was because the rewards from killing these fishmen were abysmally low.
For each fishman Matthew or the soldiers killed, they received a measly 1 point of experience.
But that wasn't the main issue—what worried Matthew the most was that
the mana feedback from the kills was also minimal.
Matthew had reached Arcanist Level 4.
When he used a third-circle fireball scroll, after the 10 mana points deducted for using the scroll, he only needed to spend an additional 10 mana points.
With his Mana Absorption at Level 2, granting him a 50% chance to recover 10 mana points,
This meant that, on average, as long as each fireball killed four enemies with sufficient soul energy,
Matthew could cast fireballs without any mana loss, becoming a berserk spell-casting machine.
But now, even after killing over 20 berserk fishmen with one fireball, he had only recovered 10 mana points.
Every time he used a fireball scroll, Matthew was losing 10 mana points.
With his current mana cap of 290, he could cast an unmatched 29 fireballs compared to most spellcasters.
However, with an unknown number of berserk fishmen before him, those 29 fireballs wouldn't be nearly enough.
Matthew speculated that the berserk infection potion had caused drastic changes in the fishmen's bodies and souls.
The disappearing soul energy was like firewood burning, making them stronger and more monstrous than usual.
This meant Matthew was absorbing far less soul energy from these enemies than from others he had fought before.
As a result, Matthew couldn't recklessly use fireball scrolls like he had when fighting trolls.
What made it worse for Matthew was that
even if he used skill points to upgrade his Mana Absorption, this camp illusion clone wouldn't change immediately.
So Matthew didn't cast fireball after fireball as he had before.
He only attacked when the berserk fishmen piled up and breached the defenses of the wall.
His well-timed interventions gave the impression of a calm and composed veteran commander to the soldiers and adventurers, though only Matthew knew the real struggle.
Fortunately, thanks to Matthew and Adam Smith's thorough preparations, the dozens of wagons filled with supplies were stocked with combat essentials.
Swords, shields—no need to say more.
Crossbows and arrows—endless in supply.
Realizing that in close combat, their damage output was lacking, and their attack power insufficient,
Hundreds of men switched to sturdy spears, and there were still plenty more in the wagons.
Even with mana potions replenishing their strength, the soldiers were growing increasingly fatigued.
Despite Matthew's timely interventions, the pressure on the defensive lines continued to build.
A berserk fishman leapt onto the wall.
It only had time to let out a shrill cry before a massive fist crushed it into a pile of mush.
Matthew didn't wait any longer. He nodded at Adam Smith across the wall:
"Do it!"
Relieved, Adam Smith exhaled and called out to the 30 heavy infantrymen in reserve:
"Throw the oil barrels out, aim for 5 meters ahead."
Crack!
Whoosh!
The hundreds-of-pounds oil barrels smashed into the crowd of berserk fishmen, crushing a few unlucky ones into pulp.
The thick, black oil spread, its pungent smell even masking the stench of blood.
Watching the shadows moving in the mist, Matthew raised his staff without hesitation.
First-circle spell—Scorching Ray!
Whoosh!
Flames quickly spread outward, transforming into a monstrous blaze.
The fire formed a massive circle, enclosing the entire hillside.
The blazing inferno easily ignited the skinless berserk fishmen.
Like burning logs, the fishmen were charred to ash in an instant, becoming nothing more than fuel for the flames.
The scorching fire gradually spread outward, consuming more and more of the horde.
The berserk fishmen knew nothing of death or fear.
They rushed headlong into the flames, only to be set alight and reduced to ashes after just a few steps.
The sky-high flames illuminated the dark red horizon, and the thick mist was partially dispersed by the twisting heat.
With no more reinforcements arriving, the soldiers quickly dispatched the remaining berserk fishmen.
Adam Smith even had the clay golems jump down from the walls, pushing the piles of fishmen corpses into the bonfire below.
Only then did everyone finally let out a breath of relief.
Staring at the 3-4 meter tall wall of fire and the now-cleared slope, the figure hiding in the tents finally understood.
"The Thorn Merchant Caravan was well-prepared all along!"