Just as Rowe noticed it, a cold wind swept through the battlefield.
He quickly dodged, but he couldn't completely avoid the strike. A large knife slashed through the air and slammed into the inner armor of his shoulder with a resounding bang, causing a sharp pain to shoot through him.
Rowe groaned and wanted to retaliate, but just as he turned, another spear pierced from the side.
The spear had an odd angle, aimed straight for his armpit. It bypassed the protection of his inner armor and drove deep into his flesh.
"Ah!" Rowe couldn't help but shout as a fierce sting surged through him. He turned his head in a desperate attempt to spot the attacker.
The spear wielder was a gray-skinned predator of unknown origins, with a pig's head and a bloated, grotesque figure.
Before Rowe could react, the creature was already poised to strike again. With a quick motion, Rowe grabbed the spear and pulled it forcefully.
"Hum!" The pig-headed assailant grunted in surprise and anger as they both struggled in a tug-of-war.
As Rowe fought for control of the spear, a flash of realization struck him: Why does this spear feel off?
But there was no time for further thought. The breeze shifted as another attacker, armed with a knife, readied themselves for another assault.
Rowe gritted his teeth, adjusting his posture while still holding the spear tightly. He swung his warhammer in an awkward motion, desperate to block the incoming attack.
The knife-wielding looter, unable to retract their weapon in time, collided with Rowe's fist. The two forces met, and flames swirled around the impact.
"Crack!" The broadsword cracked under the power of Verrigan's Fist but didn't shatter entirely.
"Ah!" The looter screamed in pain as flames from the Fist scorched their hands.
Taking advantage of the chaos, Rowe twisted his left hand with all his strength and managed to pry the spear away from the pig-headed man.
"Hum!" The pig-headed creature shrieked in fury, its eyes flashing with rage, but hesitation filled its expression. It understood that confronting a Protoss head-on was madness. With one final glance, it turned and fled.
With the spear now in hand, Rowe took a moment to survey the battlefield. The situation had grown dire. The Skrinsians were closing in from all directions, nearly overwhelming him.
Within seconds, he found himself surrounded, their hands tightening around him like quicksand, every movement draining his strength.
The knife-wielding looter, undeterred by the chaos, gritted their teeth and stepped forward. With precision, they swung their blade and left a deep gash on Rowe's arm before retreating with lightning speed.
Rowe winced, a groan escaping his lips as he locked eyes with the attacker, his hatred burning.
He swung his hammer fiercely, flames spiraling from Verrigan's Fist, clearing a path through the Skrinsians who were drawn into its fiery arc.
The knife-wielding looter paused, calculating, but saw the opening too late. Rowe's warhammer was already in motion, and the attacker quickly retreated, watching warily.
Once again, Rowe was locked in combat with the Skrinsians, their overwhelming numbers keeping him in a stalemate.
The knife-wielding looter hesitated for a moment, then took another calculated risk. A second wound appeared on Rowe's body, this time dangerously close to his neck. Rowe felt a cold sweat run down his spine, but his resolve only grew stronger.
The marauder, filled with twisted pride, raised their sword with a grimace, sneering in broken Asgardian: "Protoss, you are doomed!"
Rowe's eyes flicked around the battlefield. He gritted his teeth, focusing his attention on the marauder. Grasping Verrigan's Fist with renewed intensity, he prepared for his next strike.
The marauder froze for a moment, eyeing Rowe's every movement with care, then instinctively took a step back, retreating into a cautious stance.
Rowe raised his warhammer high, focusing on the surge of holy energy within him.
Sword of Justice!
A blinding flash of light erupted from the ground, and an energy-infused long sword, shimmering with holy light and flames, shot upward and impaled the marauder.
"Boom!" The Holy Light burst outward, sweeping the surrounding Skrinsians in a wave of divine flames. The marauder's form dissolved into nothingness, and the battlefield was briefly cleared.
However, Rowe knew the Holy Light would not last long. The power in his body was dwindling. His enemies were relentless, and he had to get out of the heart of the skirmish.
Seizing the chance, Rowe activated another divine protection technique, running through the thick of the Skrinsians. Finally, he leaped back to the defense line of the camp.
With a long breath, he exhaled, sweat pouring from his forehead as he pulled out a healing stone. He crushed it into powder and sprinkled it over his wounds.
The healing took effect almost immediately, and the cuts scabbed over, easing the pain.
"How is it?" Ander asked without turning, his focus still on the fight.
"Two looters down," Rowe replied, his voice tinged with fatigue.
"Good work. What are you holding in your hand?" Ander pressed, eyes narrowing slightly.
Rowe looked down at the spear he had taken from the pig-headed marauder. He blinked, suddenly realizing something odd.
At first glance, it had appeared to be a spear, but the longer he observed it, the more unusual it seemed.
The spear's shaft was made of some kind of ancient, unknown wood, covered in faded pale gold patterns that gave it an eerie, mysterious aura. The spearhead was silver, separated from the shaft by a delicate slot, and the overall shape was unusual. Though it resembled a spear, it was lighter than expected and almost too fragile for close combat.
Rowe's mind raced. After a moment, he could feel a surge of holy light gathering in his palm.
Without warning, he channeled the energy into the "spear." The silver tip glowed brightly, flickering in response.
"What spear?" Rowe thought to himself. This is not a spear. It's a staff!
It dawned on him: the pig-headed marauder had picked up some kind of magical staff, likely unaware of its true nature. Instead, it had been wielded as a makeshift melee weapon.
Rowe raised the staff with a thoughtful smile. It was surprisingly effective in battle.
Testing it out, he aimed at the nearest enemy camp.
Judgment!
Holy light surged forth, and a radiant bolt shot from the staff's tip, piercing through several Skrinsians. It was clear now: this staff was better suited for long-range attacks than his warhammer.
Satisfied with his new weapon, Rowe couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement.
"Boom!"
Meanwhile, outside the camp, the battle between Gus and a group of Kronan warriors came to an end. The massive bodies of the Kronans fell, shaking the ground with their impact.
Gus raised his warhammer high, shouting: "Asgard, invincible!"
The warriors of the camp roared in approval, their morale soaring.
The tide of battle had shifted in their favor.
In the end, the Protoss emerged victorious, the Skrinsians and looters retreating in disarray.
However, due to the ferocity of the marauders, many soldiers were injured, some severely. Rowe was kept busy tending to the wounded until the middle of the night, applying healing stones where needed.
As he finally took a break, sitting in the camp's open space, Rowe prepared to consult the holy deed when Ander appeared by his side and sat down.
"There's something you should know," Ander said gravely.
Rowe glanced up, his weariness evident.
"Asgard is preparing for a major military deployment. A significant portion of this camp will be transferred to Jotunheim," Ander explained.
Rowe blinked in surprise. "Jotunheim? When?"
"This year," Ander replied.
Rowe sat in stunned silence, the weight of the news sinking in.