Roland shifted his feet and slipped past the incoming flaming arrows, then sprinted toward the dormitory.

"Could monsters be attacking?"

"No... monsters shouldn't know how to use arrows..."

Based on Roland's past combat experience, whether Kobolds or Gnolls, those monsters preferred close combat.

Even the craftiest Goblins only hid in the rear and threw stones at most. He had never seen them use bows, ranged weapons that required real skill.

"If it isn't monsters... then it can only be a human army."

"Judging from the number of flaming arrows, the attacking force is probably not small..."

Roland did not slow.

After entering the dormitory, he put on his chain mail, tucked the shortbow at his waist, fixed the quiver securely on his back, and rushed toward the estate gate with his iron sword in hand.

If the estate fell, no one inside would be spared.

Leaving aside the fact that this estate was now an important stronghold for improving his strength, the people here, Hawk, Bronson, John, Darco, and the others, had already formed real bonds with him.

No matter what, Roland could not sit by and watch the estate fall while his friends were slaughtered.

"Enemy attack! Enemy attack!"

The piercing alarm bell echoed throughout the estate.

On the way to the gate, Roland saw servants and blacksmith apprentices poking their heads out of their rooms, panic written across their faces.

"George!"

Spotting the tall figure standing in the open space and staring toward the gate, Roland rushed forward, grabbed his shoulder, and shoved him back inside.

"What are you standing around for? Get inside and hide!"

Then he turned to the other panicked blacksmith apprentices and shouted in a deep voice.

"Everyone stay inside! No one comes out!"

"Ro-Roland..."

George's Adam's apple bobbed, and his voice trembled.

"What exactly happened?"

"The specifics aren't clear yet..."

Listening to the continuous whistle of arrows cutting through the night sky, Roland's expression tightened.

"Listen, George. Don't panic. Captain John must already be leading men to guard the gate. As for all of you..."

The faint smell of burning spread through the air, making Roland's face turn grave.

"No matter who has come, the arrow rain will eventually stop. Once the arrows stop, immediately organize people to carry water and put out the fires. Do not let the flames spread. Understand?"

"Un-understood!"

Roland's steady tone helped George and the apprentices regain their footing.

"If Mr. Charles or Master Hawk comes forward to command, follow their arrangements."

Although Roland had not interacted much with old butler Charles, he knew from Darco that the old man was loyal, reliable, and steady in a crisis.

At such a critical moment, Charles would step forward at the first opportunity to take charge.

As for Hawk, that needed no explanation. The old blacksmith had always been worthy of trust.

Sure enough, once Roland settled the blacksmith apprentices, Charles's calm, powerful commands came from not far away, along with Hawk's booming shouts.

Under their direction, the servants who had fallen into chaos quickly regained order and stopped running around like headless flies.

Seeing this, Roland quickened his pace and sprinted toward the estate gate.

The closer he came to the gate, the fiercer the flaming arrow assault became.

Crimson tongues of fire darted through the night, greedily devouring the wooden buildings. The flames were spreading at an astonishing speed.

The heavy oak gate groaned under continuous impacts, and the entire doorframe trembled.

"Captain John!"

Roland passed through the chaotic crowd and arrived beside the guard captain, who was giving orders with steady composure.

He had to raise his voice to be heard over the noise.

"Who exactly are the attackers?"

"Roland?"

By the leaping firelight, John saw the newcomer's face clearly.

He had wanted to tell the young man to leave the dangerous area, but then he remembered that Roland's skill was not inferior to his own.

"It's a mob!"

John explained quickly while directing the guards to reinforce the gate with anything they could move.

"Their numbers are still unclear, but not only are they equipped with longbows, they also brought simple siege equipment. And..."

Before he could finish, a deafening boom came from outside the estate.

The familiar sound made John freeze for an instant, but Roland reacted first.

"Careful!"

Roland took a large step back and yanked the burly John away from where he stood.

At almost the same moment, a massive stone dropped from the sky like a meteor and smashed into the spot they had just left, raising a cloud of dust.

When the dust dispersed, a shallow pit had appeared in the ground. At its center lay a rock the size of a millstone.

"Damn it! A catapult, just as I thought!"

John's face darkened.

Roland stared at the massive stone.

"A catapult, siege equipment, longbows... How could any mob get equipment like this?"

As thoughts raced through his mind, he turned to John.

"Captain John, I'll go up to the wall and take a look."

"Be careful, Roland!"

The two exchanged a tacit glance, then split up.

Roland's agile figure disappeared up the stairs leading to the wall, while John continued directing the guards in their defense, glancing warily at the night sky from time to time.

The instant Roland climbed onto the wall, his field of vision opened wide.

Using the burning buildings below as light, he focused into the distance.

Under the pitch-black night, shadowy human figures surged forward in waves.

They staggered as they moved, yet their speed was astonishing. In the darkness, they advanced along strange, crooked paths.

On the wall, the defending soldiers drew their bows with all their strength and fired back.

Bowstrings thudded. Arrows tore through the air one after another, blooming into sprays of blood in the distant darkness.

Compared with the enemy's dense arrow rain, however, the defenders' counterattack seemed painfully sparse.

Roland looked down and saw an even more alarming sight.

Beneath the wall, corpses already lay everywhere. They were the bloody marks left by the defenders' counterattack.

Yet dozens of ragged rioters paid no attention to the bodies covering the ground. They carried a thick battering ram and struck the estate gate again and again with a crazed rhythm.

Every impact of that massive log made the heavy oak gate groan. Stone chips fell from around the doorframe, warning of the collapse to come.

The guards desperately counterattacked. Arrows fell like rain, and heavy stones and timber dropped from the wall.

None of it stopped the rioters' frenzied assault.

They were puppets that knew neither pain nor fear, stepping over their companions' corpses and continuing forward.

"Something is wrong. These people are absolutely not simple rioters!"

Roland's pupils contracted, and his mouth tightened.

Although he had never personally experienced a battlefield in either life, he knew that morale was one of an army's most important foundations.

In the era of cold weapons, even elite troops would often collapse and rout after losing thirty to fifty percent of their numbers.

Yet the rioters before him overturned common sense.

They were unmoved by their companions' deaths. Amid the bloodshed, they became even more frenzied, driven by some invisible force.

The abnormal scene sent a chill up Roland's back.

He drew a deep breath, and the thick stench of blood flooded his nose. Keeping his face controlled, Roland retreated a few steps and found an excellent shooting position.

Then he drew his bow and nocked an arrow. The bowstring gave a low tremor in the night.

"Whoosh!"

The arrow tore through the air and pierced the skull of one rioter carrying the battering ram.

The arrowhead emerged from the back of the man's head with a spray of blood.

What made Roland's scalp prickle was that the rioter did not seem to notice. He mechanically maintained the motion of pushing and ramming.

Only after another three or four impacts did his movements lose strength. At last, he crashed to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.

Even more terrifying, before the corpse had fully fallen, a rioter from the rear filled his position.

The rhythm of the battering ram did not pause. It continued striking the gate with alarming regularity.

"What the hell!"

Roland cursed under his breath.

He reached to his waist and pulled out a glass bottle filled with pale yellow liquid.

After removing the stopper, he tilted his head back and drank the potion in one gulp.

In the next instant, his round pupils narrowed into vertical slits like a beast's.

The night-shrouded view suddenly became clear as day, and every detail around him sharpened.

Under the miraculous effect of the keen-eye potion, the rioters beneath the wall came fully into view.

Although these people were ragged and stained with blood, their physiques were unusually burly.

Their faces carried a sickly flush, the whites of their eyes were cloudy, and hot white vapor sprayed from their nostrils.

Yet none of that was the most shocking part.

Roland's pupils tightened.

He clearly saw strange pale blue substances protruding from their exposed skin.

The translucent growths glimmered faintly beneath the moonlight, foreign crystals embedded in flesh.

Before Roland could observe the battle further, a dull impact exploded beside his ear.

He snapped his head around and saw a shaky wooden ladder hooked over the edge of the wall.

A ragged rioter was climbing up rapidly. Beneath the moonlight, the rust-covered handaxe in his grip gave off a cold gleam.

Seeing this, a burly guard drew his sword and stepped forward to meet him.

Looking at the rioter's completely unstructured axe swing, the guard's mouth lifted into a contemptuous sneer, and the iron sword in his hand settled into a steady blocking stance.

According to his experience, this kind of brute-force chop only required skillful redirection. Then he could easily counterkill.

"Bang!"

The ear-piercing clash of metal cut through the night sky.

The confidence on the guard's face froze.

The tremendous force transmitted through the axe blade far exceeded his imagination.

The web between his thumb and forefinger went numb, and his wrist ached sharply. The iron sword was forced aside, leaving his chest wide open.

Before he could adjust his stance, the rioter's second chop arrived.

Moonlight flowed across the axe blade, reflected in the guard's terrified pupils.

Just as the guard thought he was certain to die, a streak of pale steel cut in.

"Clang!"

An iron sword precisely knocked the axe blade aside, then followed the motion into a reverse upward slash.

"Splurt!"

The rioter's head flew up, and blood surged from the severed neck like a fountain.

Then came the eerie part.

The headless corpse was still swinging the handaxe, crazily chopping at the air.

Once, twice, three times...

Only after the fourth swing did its movements stiffen. Finally, it collapsed to the ground with a thud and stopped completely.

The horrifying sight stunned the nearby guards. A chill crawled up the backs of their necks.

"Don't just stand there!"

Roland barked sharply, strode forward, and kicked the wooden ladder off the wall.

"They are not impossible to kill! Remember! After killing them, retreat at once and watch out for a dying counterattack!"

The shout jolted everyone awake.

The guards stared at the corpse on the ground, which had finally stopped moving, and tightened their grips on their weapons once more.

Only their trembling arms revealed the fear still in their hearts.

At that moment, John's steady commands rang out at the right time, quickly stabilizing morale.

The commotion settled, and the defensive line steadied again.

After confirming that the situation was temporarily under control, Roland shook the blood from his sword and reached out to pull up the still-shaken guard.

"Are you all right?"

He recognized this man.

When Roland had practiced skills on the training field before, he had interacted quite a bit with the estate guards.

This burly, battle-experienced veteran had once been one of the opponents Roland considered most difficult to handle.

Before changing occupation to Warrior, if Roland had not used Cleave, he would not even have been certain of victory.

Yet just now, this experienced guard had failed to withstand even one blow from a rioter.

"Where the hell did these damned things come from? Their strength is uncanny!"

The guard stood with Roland's help and spat hard, the fear in his eyes replaced by battle intent.

He patted Roland heavily on the shoulder.

"Thanks, brother! I owe you my life!"

After saying that, the guard gripped his iron sword and continued forward to defend.

Wooden ladders slammed against the wall one after another. More and more rioters surged upward, and the entire estate sank into bloody battle.

Metal clashed. Men shouted. Screams tangled through the night.

Although the guards were veterans with extensive battle experience, gaps were still torn open in the defensive line under the rioters' human-wave tactics.

Roland threaded between firelight and moonlight like a bolt of black lightning.

Whenever a guard fell into crisis, his iron sword appeared in time.

Wherever the blade passed, a head flew high, bringing up a scarlet spray of blood.

Soon, the soldiers discovered that these terrifying rioters were not invincible.

Whenever Roland appeared on a section of the wall, the guards there erupted in inspired shouts.

The defensive line, once on the verge of collapse, began to stabilize.

The balance of the fight was shifting.

"Splurt!"

The instant his iron sword pierced a rioter's heart, Roland followed with a heavy front kick.

"Crack!"

Bone broke. The rioter flew backward from the top of the wall like a torn sack, smashing the ladder and the climbers below into pieces together.

"Huff..."

Standing on the easternmost side of the wall, Roland looked at the thinning assault and breathed out.

The continuous battle had not consumed too much of his stamina, but his nerves had stayed taut the entire time, leaving him somewhat tired.

Just as he kicked over another wooden ladder, the ground trembled beneath his feet.

Roland looked up, and his pupils contracted.

Under the moonlight, a massive thing as tall as the estate wall was crushing its way forward at astonishing speed.

The rioters who failed to dodge in time were trampled beneath its feet like ants. Bones cracked and flesh burst, leaving a trail of scarlet footprints behind it.

The keen-eye potion let Roland see the monster's terrifying appearance clearly.

Its face was twisted and hideous. Its skin had an unnatural blue-gray color. Its cloudy eyeballs were bloodshot, and jagged fangs showed in a mouth split all the way to the roots of its ears. Its hunched spine was covered in pale blue crystals, like an upright hedgehog.

Every step made the ground tremble.

Even as Roland's heart tightened, something puzzled him.

In the direction from which the Giant had appeared, he could faintly see a figure in a black robe.

Moonlight outlined a slender silhouette, and a pale jaw appeared and disappeared beneath the hood.

But Roland had no time to observe carefully.

In only a few breaths, the Giant reached the gate.

"Careful!"

The warning had only just left his mouth when the Giant slammed into the gate like a battering ram.

"Boom!"

Amid an earthshaking crash, the already tottering heavy oak gate shattered into pieces. Wood fragments swept across the entire forecourt like a rainstorm.

"Damn it!"

Seeing this, Roland ran along the wall toward the estate gate.

...

...

"Cough, cough, cough..."

John forcefully shook his buzzing head and struggled to push away the oak fragments pressing down on him.

He gasped for breath, and the scene before him came back into focus.

The next second, his movements froze.

Amid the spreading smoke and dust, a massive creature as tall as the wall was wreaking havoc.

The experienced and well-trained estate guards could not withstand a single blow from this Giant.

One guard had just raised his shield when a huge palm sent him flying, no different from an insect swatted by a fan.

The iron shield twisted like a thin pancake, and the guard flew backward while spraying blood mist.

"Save... save me!"

Another guard had his back pinned beneath a crystal-covered foot. The crack of his spine breaking was drowned out by the low growl rolling in the monster's throat.

It bent down and grabbed the dying soldier, its barbed fingers easily digging into the gaps of the armor.

With a scalp-numbing tearing sound, the guard was ripped alive into two pieces, and his organs splashed like rain across the faces of the remaining guards.

The few remaining guards gritted their teeth and tried to surround it with spears.

But the monster let out a laugh like sandpaper scraping together, allowing the spear tips to stab into its body.

It deliberately turned, stringing the spear-wielding soldiers together like candied skewers, then swung the screaming bodies toward the watchtower.

The wooden structure collapsed with a roar, spraying not only wood chips, but a sticky mixture of blood and flesh.

It gathered into a stream on the ground and flowed over John's boots.

Despair and fear spread among everyone.

"What kind of monster is this..."

John, who had served at the border for many years, had seen countless foreign races.

Elves swift as the wind, Dwarves with boundless strength, Orcs barbaric and violent.

But he had never seen such a pure and savage killing machine.

That twisted body and frenzied slaughter were like a demon dragged from a nightmare.

"Damn beast!"

John spat a mouthful of bloody saliva, drew his sword, and charged toward the Giant that was slaughtering his subordinates with a furious roar.

He did not even manage to approach the Giant before the aftermath of the battle threw him away. He crashed into a wooden house like a kite with its string cut, and broken planks rained down around him.

"Cough, cough, cough..."

Blood spilled from the corner of his mouth. Despair appeared in his eyes, and his consciousness began to blur.

In a daze, the veteran seemed to see a handsome blond young man waving at him.

"Ha..."

John spat out a mouthful of bloody foam and panted lightly.

"Forsling... now... I don't owe you anymore..."

Just as his vision was about to sink into darkness, a figure overlapped with the illusion.

"Roland... Roland? Roland!"

The fantasy vanished.

John's eyes flew wide open.

Above the wall, that young man covered in blood held his sword in both hands and leaped down.

Moonlight ran along the blade, and the piercing sound of air being torn apart announced the terrifying power contained in this strike.

"Swish! Splurt!"

The dull sound of a blade entering flesh and the sound of spraying blood exploded at the same time.

John's mouth opened wide in disbelief.

The killing machine that had been invincible moments ago had now been pierced by an ordinary iron sword from the top of its head all the way to its waist and abdomen.

Roland twisted his wrist. The blade cut diagonally out through its ribs, dragging a sheet of blood into the air.

"Bang!"

Along with a shrill, hoarse wail, the Giant's body crashed to the ground like a felled oak, splashing up scarlet mud.