Judging by Omar's startled reaction, this was likely his first encounter with a troll witch doctor and their unsettling voodoo magic. The bizarre spell had clearly caught him off guard, diverting his attention from the axe throwers he would otherwise have easily overwhelmed.
Galen swiftly moved towards Omar's fray, his immediate priority the troll he had disemboweled earlier.
The wound on the troll's chest had ceased bleeding, and the sickly yellow light emanating from the healing totem pulsed rhythmically, accelerating the grotesque regeneration. Had Galen hesitated any longer, the troll would likely have been back on its feet, ready to fight.
Strike while the iron is hot! How can one achieve greatness without capitalizing on an enemy's weakness?
Galen advanced, delivering a sharp kick that sent the glowing healing totem skittering across the blood-soaked ground. He then raised his greatsword, preparing to deliver the final blow to the prone troll.
As Galen approached, the wounded troll had managed to struggle into a sitting position, its right hand clenching its battle axe. Seeing the descending greatsword, it desperately raised its weapon in a futile attempt to parry.
With a resounding clang, the troll's axe collided with Galen's greatsword, the force of the impact sending the crude weapon flying from its grasp. Severely wounded and caught off guard, the troll stood no chance against Galen's full-strength attack.
As the axe was knocked away, the troll's body convulsed as if struck by lightning. A mouthful of blood erupted from its lips, and the partially healed wound on its chest tore open once more, a fresh torrent of blood gushing forth.
Galen sidestepped the spray of blood and brought his greatsword down again, decapitating the troll. He silently tallied the kill in his mind: "Sixth."
Nothing can stop me now.
"No! You damned humans! I will kill you all!" Witch Doctor Hex'jin, witnessing Galen's interruption of his healing spell and the subsequent death of the injured troll, erupted in a furious roar of trollish.
As a member of the Trollbane royal family, whose lineage had been locked in a bitter struggle with the forest trolls for millennia, Galen had naturally learned the troll language and understood the witch doctor's enraged outburst.
"Just the pathetic wail of a loser! Hahaha, prepare to die!" Galen retorted in fluent trollish, a manic edge creeping into his voice.
Truth be told, this was Galen's first experience taking the life of a humanoid creature. In the ten years since his rebirth, his hunting had been limited to beasts like giant spiders, velociraptors, and crocodiles. Now, amidst the carnage, a disturbing thrill coursed through him.
Dodging a hastily thrown spear, he once again executed a heroic leap, landing behind the berserk troll locked in combat with Omar.
Lost in its primal rage, the berserk troll had abandoned all semblance of defense, its entire focus locked on attacking Omar, oblivious to the movements around it. Galen's greatsword plunged into its heart from behind, the backstab finding its mark with brutal efficiency.
At that moment, several triumphant shouts echoed from the periphery of the camp. The remaining guards had dispatched the last of the troll laborers and were slowly converging on the troll witch doctor, forming a tightening circle.
Galen withdrew his bloodied greatsword, shook off the crimson droplets, exchanged a brief glance with Omar, and then surveyed the chaotic scene.
Only the witch doctor and the headhunter guarding him remained standing in the center of the camp. At the camp entrance, Varokal and the formidable troll warrior Drek'maz were locked in a fierce and evenly matched struggle.
The headhunter clutched the last remaining spear in his trembling hand, positioning himself protectively before the witch doctor. Seeing the encroaching human soldiers, his eyes widened in terror as he glanced back at his leader. "Lord, what should we do? Let's surrender!"
"Useless trash! Get out of my way!" Witch Doctor Hex'jin snarled, shoving the terrified headhunter aside. He faced Omar and Galen directly, his masked visage contorted in a furious grimace. "Cunning humans! You ambushed my camp and slaughtered my kin! The Witherbark tribe will have its vengeance!"
"Hahaha, you are so naive!" Galen mocked in flawless trollish, exchanging a knowing glance with Omar. "On the very soil of the Arathi Highlands, humans and trolls have clashed for thousands of years! The people of Stromgarde and your pathetic Witherbark tribe have long been locked in an eternal struggle! Are we to cower in fear of you mountain-dwelling vermin?"
The two humans slowly advanced on the remaining trolls, Galen's guards cooperating to further constrict the encirclement.
Witch Doctor Hex'jin, watching the approaching humans, a flicker of panic momentarily betraying his ferocious facade. He could sense the power emanating from Omar, who had already proven a match for his guards. With the addition of Galen, whose intervention had decisively shifted the battle's momentum, and the surrounding elite human soldiers, he knew his end was near.
"Shadra protect me!" the witch doctor shrieked, a look of desperate resolve hardening his features. He fumbled within a pouch at his waist, withdrawing a vial filled with a viscous, glowing liquid. Without hesitation, he poured the contents into his mouth, his eyes instantly turning a terrifying blood red.
Seeing this, Omar's expression tightened. "Your Highness, he's going to fight to the death! We can't let him succeed!" He surged forward, accelerating towards the witch doctor.
Galen followed closely behind, and several guards also rushed towards the center. They watched as Witch Doctor Hex'jin swiftly incanted a spell, a crackling fireball erupting from his outstretched hand and hurtling towards one of the advancing guards. The guard had no time to react, raising his shield in a desperate attempt to defend himself. The fireball struck with explosive force, sending him flying backwards.
On the outskirts of the camp, Drek'maz was fighting with desperate ferocity, trying to break free from Varokal's relentless assault and reinforce his beleaguered leader. He and the witch doctor were the strongest combatants in their warband. If they could join forces, their combined power might yet turn the tide of battle.
Varokal, a seasoned veteran of troll skirmishes, understood the danger posed by troll warriors fighting under the influence of a witch doctor. Enhanced strength, disregard for injury, and rapid healing made them formidable foes. He fought with grim determination, refusing to yield ground to the powerful Drek'maz.
Just as Galen was about to engage the witch doctor, a strange, shimmering light enveloped him. He felt his body contort in an unnatural way, and then, with a soft pop, his figure vanished, leaving behind only a wide-eyed frog sitting on the blood-soaked earth.
"Your Highness!" Omar exclaimed in alarm, but he recognized the witch doctor's dark sorcery. He knew the transformation was likely temporary. Waving his blood-red battle axe, he intercepted a spear aimed at the defenseless frog prince, then with a brutal downward swing, severed the headhunter's right arm, kicking the screaming troll towards the safety of the other soldiers.
The remaining four guards immediately closed ranks, dispatching the wounded headhunter and forming a protective circle around their transformed prince under Omar's command.
Omar then turned his full attention to Witch Doctor Hex'jin, rapidly closing the distance. He didn't know if killing the caster would undo the sorcery, but it was a risk he had to take.
Just then, an unexpected turn of events occurred.
Drek'maz, sensing a potential shift in the battle's momentum the moment Galen was struck by the transformation spell, seized the opportunity. He roared, unleashing the full fury of his berserker rage, intending to overwhelm Varokal with a single, devastating assault.
Varokal, indeed momentarily caught off guard by Galen's sudden transformation, instinctively took a half-step back, focusing all his attention on parrying the anticipated onslaught. He never expected Drek'maz's cunning feint. The massive troll warrior abruptly broke off his attack, pivoting and leaping backwards, charging directly towards the defenseless frog prince protected by the human soldiers.
Drek'maz crashed into the small group, his giant axe whistling through the air with terrifying force.
Several soldiers, momentarily paralyzed by the sheer power of Drek'maz's enraged assault, hesitated. But behind them lay the vulnerable form of their prince, the object of their unwavering loyalty. They had to protect him.
The disparity in strength was immense. Facing the rampaging troll warrior, they could only raise their shields in a desperate attempt to defend, offering no real resistance.
The giant axe slammed into the shields with a deafening clang. The soldiers were thrown aside like ragdolls, scattering in all directions.
Drek'maz's face was a mask of frantic determination. His initial strike had succeeded. He immediately shifted his grip on the axe, changing from a horizontal sweep to a downward chop, preparing to cleave the helpless frog prince in two.
He had long sensed that this small figure was the youngest of the humans, the one around whom the others seemed to rally. Killing him, he reasoned, would throw the humans into chaos, offering a glimmer of hope for himself and Hex'jin.