In the trench, three wizards stood together, wary of the outside, checking their losses. They found that in this round of attack, more than a dozen people had died, and the remaining people were also still shaken, with faces full of panic.
"Don't panic. There aren't many of them. It might be a sharpshooter. If we stay here, he can't do anything to us!" the oldest wizard scolded.
"Then... what do we do? If their people come running over, won't we be in danger?" a government soldier worriedly asked.
"Afraid of what? Even if hundreds of rebels come, we can handle it!" the wizard glared at the soldier, scaring him to quickly shrink back, pressed against the trench.
"Zarang wizard, we can lure that person out." The young wizard moved over, whispered a few sentences, and Zarang, the oldest wizard, pondered for a moment and said, "We can, but who will lure them?"
"Uh... I'll go!" The young wizard looked at another wizard, who was clearly not ready to move, so it fell to him.
