My Second Life Is A Heroic Power Fantasy 179 After The Firestorm

The first was that he was glad they'd managed to avoid most of the worst of the fighting. The second was that he felt thoroughly impressed with himself. What he'd just done was the kind of thing he'd imagined having the ability to do the moment he accepted Frumpkin's challenge, and had thus far been utterly unable to even dream of when he first arrived. It was really exciting.

The third thing was that there was no way in h.e.l.l he'd be able to do anything nearly that impressive again without a good bit of recuperation. Even with the Vigor Potion he'd taken and the break he spent with Frumpkin, he still only felt about 30% of his energy left. That would be enough for a decent amount of fighting, so long as he was sparing with his spells. But he was going to have to be careful.

The fourth and final thing was the regret he felt for having torched everything in the firestorm. There was almost not a single bit of anything left to loot.

He walked around, sifting through the ashes of some of the tents with the tip of his boot, but found nothing but charcoal and burned sc.r.a.ps of G.o.d only knew what. Here and there, he found a couple soot-blackened weapons, but nothing of any obvious value. The only luck he managed to have was to find a few scattered gold pieces pressed into the ash-mottled mud, probably scattered out of some gnoll's purse in the midst of their retreat.

The rest of the attackers spread out through the camp, but seemed to only have the same luck as him, and there were a few scattered grumbles.

Once the area was thoroughly combed for both plunder and enemy stragglers, the remaining number gathered together around the far mountainside entrance of the camp and planned for the next phase of the attack. A recounting of the party's numbers showed that over a dozen hadn't survived the first wave, the majority of them comprising the younger and less experienced members of the group. None of the fire mages, with the exception of the one Jack had saved, made it. He had been recovered, and was put to rest in a small makes.h.i.+ft healer's camp in one side of the burned out gnoll base alongside half a dozen other wounded. Two of the four party healers were left behind to tend them, and a pair of strapping fighters stood watch over them in case a gnoll scouting party came ranging and found the camp.

This left about thirty or so healthy adventurers for the next push, including Jack and Rose.
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It was agreed they would spend an hour recuperating, eating, and planning, and would begin the arduous march up the half-mile or so of the mountainside to the entrance to the cave mouth where the main gnoll encampment would be located. From there, there would be no rest until the defenders were rooted out and slaughtered, or surrendered.

Then, once inside, anything that didn't give up or get out of the way would meet the same end until he found where they kept Ellie. Once she was free, as far as Jack was concerned, his role in the entire attack was over.

However, if Ellie was dead, or horribly injured, he'd gladly stick around and make sure that whoever was responsible experienced even worse.

But, he would cross that bridge if and when he got to it.