Heavy Metal

Rusty stood atop the wall, the chill air brushing against his armor like ghostly fingers. Gleam remained perched on his shoulder as they both stared into the distance. The other adventurers were too preoccupied to notice that one of the monsters they feared was already among them. Their attention focused on the darkness in the distance.

"Maybe it was a false alarm…"

"I bet those orcs turned tail. They saw us and thought we were better prepared, that has to be it…"

"That'd be just like those brutes, I bet they saw our torches and ran off scared!"

Whispers started spreading through the battlements but Rusty didn't join in. He kept still, unmoving save for the subtle twitch of Gleam's antennae. He didn't like the tone of the whispers as a false sense of safety was dangerous. The orcs that he saw in dungeons and outs in forests could not be ignored. While they weren't the smartest, one thing was true, they were not cowards. They had already attacked this settlement multiple times, so why would they run now?

"Maybe we'll get to sleep in our own beds after all."

From below, someone laughed but then, the wind shifted. And with it, something changed in the air. It started as a flicker. Rusty's visor shifted, focusing on the darkness beyond the trees, where the horizon bled into the void. At first, it looked like the stars had come down to earth as tiny pinpricks of orange light danced in the distance.

Then the flickers multiplied. More lights joined them, dozens… then hundreds. A wave of torches, like fireflies rising into the sky. They moved at a steady pace and they were getting closer. Soon someone on the battlements exhaled sharply as they too noticed, the approaching danger.

"What is that…?"

"Quiet"

A gruff voice came from one of the older guards. He raised a looking glass to his eye, hand trembling slightly as he focused on the glowing trail. The man didn't speak at first, frozen in place. Then he lowered the glass slowly.

"…It's them."

The words dropped like a stone into the uneasy silence.

"Orcs. Dozens. Maybe more?"

He lifted the glass again, squinting into the dark.

"No… not dozens."

He turned toward the soldier captain.

"Hundreds. They're carrying torches… They are marching, everyone, get ready!"

The whispers died in an instant.

"As expected…they're surrounding the city."

The words froze the air. Conversations ceased, and even the nervous whispers faded into an oppressive silence. Many of the humanoids trembled, but Rusty remained still. He didn't feel fear; he felt excitement. This was a first for him. He had spent his life battling monsters alone in shadowed dungeons and dark forests.

He had read about grand castle sieges and their defenses, and now he wondered how the real thing would feel. A battle with hundreds fighting on both sides—chaotic, massive, alive it was utterly fascinating. He could barely resist the urge to nock an arrow and let it fly. But he knew better. His role here was that of a foot soldier, one who had to follow the chain of command.

Rusty stayed still, but he could hear Tally's breath quicken beside him. Oliver dropped his spear for a moment and scrambled to pick it back up. Rika said nothing, but her bowstring creaked from the strain of her grip. The eastern gate, the one they were guarding, remained oddly quiet. No torches came their way. No distant war drums. Just the chirping of crickets and the breeze rustling through the tall grass.

"…Why aren't they coming here?"

Tally asked softly, her voice a whisper. Rusty was also interested in this strange phenomenon. The torches were visible to them and they continued moving yet only a small amount remained near their gate while a lot more moved towards the other sides of the settlement.

The settlement had three main gates. The southern gate was the primary entrance and the one Rusty had first passed through. It was used mostly by commoners and merchants. The western gate, which he hadn't seen yet, was intended for the wealthier citizens. Unlike the others, it was fully reinforced with stone. In contrast, the eastern and southern gates still relied on wooden palisades in certain sections, compensating for unfinished stonework.

These wooden defenses appeared to serve as temporary obstacles, meant to slow down advancing monsters and provide defenders with a better chance to take aim before the enemy reached their position. No forces were stationed directly near those gates; instead, everyone had fallen back to the more secure side of the wall.

Then there was the northern side of the settlement, which housed Ferndale's central district. It was completely walled off, with no access from the outside except through a single central gate. This area served as the final bastion of defense and was fully fortified and secure. In contrast, the lower districts remained unfinished. The constant monster attacks seemed to have delayed construction, leaving the outer areas more vulnerable.

"Orcs are driven by bloodlust and the thrill of facing strong opponents. They form tribes and follow their own code of honor."

Alexander began, speaking as Rusty and the other adventurers noticed the orcs moving in different directions. Most of the distant torches had broken off, heading toward the southern and western gates. The group approaching the eastern gate was smaller and appeared weaker by comparison.

"They have honor?"

He had seen orcs before and found the idea hard to believe. In his experience, they killed without hesitation and had no issue attacking those who couldn't fight back.

"Some do."

Alexander replied.

"It depends on their leader. High-Orcs are more intelligent and often command their troops to challenge stronger enemies. That's why we're likely facing a weaker detachment here."

"High-Orcs? Are they strong?"

The moment Rusty heard the name he wondered how strong this evolved species would be. His desire for battle was growing with every passing second. The idea of facing something new, something stronger, stirred something primal in him. Even Gleam, usually calm and chirpy, had gone still on his shoulder. Her antennae twitched as if she too sensed the tension hanging in the air like a blade.

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

" (੭˃ᴗ˂)੭ "

"Yeah, I can't wait!"

Though they were excited, Alexander quickly continued and warned.

"High-Orcs can rival elite human knights. Some even possess basic forms of magic or enhanced physical abilities. If there's one commanding this horde… and we encounter one in the settlement, it would be best if we flee."

"Oh? Are they that strong?"

"It depends. The strongest among them could reach A-rank levels, but even the weakest would be at least C-rank"

"A C-rank…"

It was a stunning revelation. He wasn't even considered a D-rank monster. While he had some overpoints that pushed him close to it, there was no way he could take on a creature that far above his level, at least not on his own. And judging by the people stationed at the eastern gate, it was clear he wouldn't be getting much support. None of them came close to the strength of that mercenary leader. All the real power had been sent to the southern and western gates.

"T-they are coming!"

Tally called out from the side as the torches got brighter and the small army of orcs emerged before them. Their heavy footsteps echoed in unison while their animal-like growls became noticeable. The group heading toward the eastern gate was smaller, yes but still formidable.

Around fifty orcs, all bearing primitive weapons of bone and iron, shuffled through the darkened landscape. A few of them bore war paint across their chests and faces, glowing faintly with some crude enchantment. There were no drums, no horns only the sound of boots, and clawed feet crunching over dead grass and rocky ground.

At their front walked a larger orc, almost a head taller than the others. His skin was an ashen green, and jagged scars ran across his arms and chest. He wielded a massive cleaver forged from mismatched scrap metals, its surface etched with strange occult symbols that shimmered when caught in the moonlight..

"...That's no ordinary orc."

Alexander murmured.

"That's a Warchief… at least it's not a High-Orc."

Rusty's fingers tightened around his bow. His mind wasn't filled with fear, but with anticipation. Fifty orcs. One warchief. His allies were inexperienced and barely capable, yet they held the advantage in numbers. They also had barricades set up—enough to slow the monsters down, at least for a while.

"Bowmen, get ready!"

Their temporary leader, one of the soldiers from the city shouted. Rusty didn't even flinch as he reached for an arrow and smoothly drew it from his quiver. Some of the other adventurers fumbled and were quickly reprimanded by some of the soldiers there.

"What are you doing, are you trying to get us killed!"

"I-I'm sorry!"

This was hardly a force prepared for battle and certainly not on this scale. Only half of them could handle a bow, while the rest had been instructed to take up shields in preparation for a counterattack. The strategy was simple: use the shield-bearers to protect the archers from incoming projectiles, allowing them to keep firing without interruption. Rusty wasn't worried. His body was reinforced with thick layers of steel, and his core wouldn't shatter from something as flimsy as an iron arrow.

The monsters spread out evenly across the field, but they didn't charge. Instead, they held their positions, as if waiting for something. A heavy silence fell once more as the orcs stood motionless, just out of bow range. The adventurers atop the wall shifted nervously. The torches in the field crackled and flickered in the night wind, but the monsters made no sound, no war cries, no roars, not even the clang of weapons. Just… stood there as if waiting for something.

"What are they doing…?"

Oliver whispered, his voice almost inaudible over the wind.

Then, from somewhere deep in the distance, a sound resounded.

"BWOOOOOOM!"

A deep warhorn resonated through the night. It seemed to echo from the southern side of Ferndale. The stones beneath their feet and even his steel body vibrated slightly. It was the signal, the command for them to attack. The monsters growled loudly and finally surged forward in a maddened frenzy.

"FIRE!"

The captain shouted before the monsters were even in range, his voice edged with fear. As the orcs charged forward in a wild frenzy, the night air grew tense with the sound of their howls and the clattering of weapons. The adventurers, perched atop the crumbling walls of Ferndale, released their arrows in a panicked barrage. Many shots flew wide or buried themselves in the dirt, their weak fletching unable to reach the monstrous horde. The arrows that did strike met with little resistance, glancing off thick hides or embedding themselves uselessly in the hardened flesh of the orcs.

Rusty's own arrow backed with his power shot skill flew true, cutting through the air with a quiet whistle before slamming into an orc's broad shoulder. The creature staggered but didn't falter, its furious charge continuing unabated.

"I've never aimed from this far away… this is some good training!"

He quickly nocked another arrow, his stance steady despite the chaos. His gaze flicked to the others: Tally, Oliver, and Rika, still at his side. Rika's bow trembled slightly in her hands, but she let loose another shot. It flew high, missing its target completely and instead getting swallowed by the night. She bit her lip, eyes darting nervously between the incoming orcs and the futile line of defense they were attempting to establish.

Oliver, meanwhile, had raised his shield and was waiting. His task was to block any incoming arrows, and Rika had the same responsibility. The boy, clearly nervous, was charged with defending the intimidating Rusty, who remained silent, firing arrow after arrow without a word.

Eventually, the monsters managed to get closer. A few had been defeated, but the majority pushed past the first line of defenses. The wooden palisades groaned under pressure as the first wave of orcs slammed into them while snarling and swinging their crude weapons. The hastily built walls cracked and buckled, offering little resistance to creatures that thrived on brute strength.

Rusty watched as one of the larger orcs, a mountain of muscle and scars, drove a rusted axe straight into the timbers. Wood splintered. Another orc climbed the palisade with frightening ease, using claws and sheer power to pull itself upward like a spider scaling its web.

"They're climbing!"

"Shields up!"

Shouted the soldier captain. Oliver gritted his teeth and stepped forward, raising his shield just in time to catch a rock hurled from afar. The impact rattled through his arms, nearly knocking him backward.

A spear followed, whistling through the air. It pierced the shoulder of a soldier behind Rusty, sending him tumbling from the wall with a scream. The spears were crudely made, but heavy and fast, and they kept coming. Another slammed into the wood inches from Tally's foot. She stumbled back and fumbled once more while her friends found it difficult to keep their shields up.

'So this is a siege? How… exciting!'

He could see the fear in the young adventurer's eyes. The others were sweating profusely as they struggled to defend themselves, staying in place only because of the soldiers stationed behind them.

Yet to Rusty, a monster born with a natural instinct for battle, this was truly thrilling. He notched another arrow to his bow and took aim at the orc that had just scaled one of the palisades. His arrow glowed red, charged by his Power Shot skill, and flew forward, embedding itself right between the monster's eyes.

'I need more! Give me more of your experience points!'

The orc's body dropped from the wall with a heavy thud, crumpling into the grass like a broken doll. Rusty's visor glowed within the night along with the dead man's eyes behind it. Gleam let out a sharp chirp as she jumped down from his shoulder. She skittered towards the previously hit man to aid him with her healing magic.

Around him, chaos bloomed. The eastern gate, once silent and calm, now roared with battle cries and the screech of weapons scraping against wood and steel. More orcs were scaling the walls, some wielding jagged blades, others using their bare hands, their claws tearing into the palisades.

The defenses were overwhelmed, and soon a hole appeared as the wooden walls were torn apart by the muscular creatures. Now they charged forward, heading straight for the hastily assembled rocky barrier where everyone was stationed, their eyes blazing with bloodlust.

Rusty launched another series of arrows, but the monsters had begun using tactics similar to theirs. They held large shields, some made of thick wood and others of iron, easily deflecting his shots. Then his eyes caught something peculiar behind the shield-bearing creatures. Four of them were carrying a massive log with a metallic skull fixed to the tip. He had heard of such things, a battering ram meant to force a gate down and their aim was clear…