A pair of strong feet left cracks on the ground.
For Marcus's battle plan given in a short time, Gorg only heard the first and last sentences.
The head, which wasn't particularly smart to begin with, appeared even more clumsy with the surge of barbarian anger within.
Being able to stand still and wait for Marcus's command before acting was already his limit.
Naturally, he couldn't spare the brainpower to think about the intention behind such an arrangement at such a tense moment.
In the instant when his feet left the ground and his body lunged forward due to a powerful explosive force, his mind was seized by a single thought—
"Gorg, crush your skull!"
But as it turned out, if the thought was all there was without matching strength, it wasn't enough for the Half orc to realize his unrealistic expectation.
The iron embedded wooden stick, as thick as the waist of a grown man at its thickest, ultimately did not land on the knight's bucket helm.
