Chapter Seventy-Five: The Surrendered

“We’re about to win! Attack! Keep attacking! There are fewer and fewer kobolds left!” Alex had become a cheerleader on the battlefield, his role now reduced to shouting encouragement from the rear.

Indeed, atop the city walls, the kobolds were dwindling, and their reinforcements arrived at an ever-slower pace. There was no help for it; the kobold crossbowmen had already suffered devastating losses in the fierce fighting, and Wolf’s supply of raw meat used to recruit more kobolds was nearly exhausted. Now, only the arrow towers and the kobold chieftain held the defense together with grim determination, while the bodies of fallen crossbowmen piled up and the reserve forces below were almost depleted.

The arrow towers, after all, were only level one—hardly more powerful than a kobold crossbowman, and with a slow rate of fire that made their attacks easy to dodge.

The town’s guards could now see hope for breaking through, and no one was more elated than Alex.

He could almost see the scene when the city fell: that foreigner, panic-stricken, dropping to his knees and begging for mercy.

But just as morale surged, a bloodied, man-shaped giant wolf slowly appeared atop the city wall. A terrifying wound, stretching from his face to his abdomen, was knitting itself together before their very eyes, proof of the ferocity of the recent battle.

A hush fell over the field; every town guard ceased their assault and stared up in disbelief.

In the werewolf’s hand hung a lifeless corpse.

The owner of that body had been the town guard’s mightiest warrior, the finest fighter in the village. He had led the town’s defenders to rout countless bandits and savage beasts, unmatched to this day—a captain who could stride through enemy lines with impunity, invincible wherever he turned. That man, Brent, captain of the town guard, had been slain.

The confidence of the town’s defenders shattered in an instant. As Brent’s corpse was flung down from the wall, they rushed over to reclaim it—only to confirm their worst fears: it truly was the captain.

“No! This can’t be!” Alex shrieked, his voice piercing through the chaos. “This can’t be happening!”

“How could anyone possibly kill the captain? Just how powerful is that werewolf?”

“What a terrifying beast! No wonder he’s one of the legendary tribe’s warriors…”

“The captain is dead—who could possibly defeat the werewolf now?”

“We’ll never win against him!”

“Run! Run for your lives!”

“This is a battle we cannot win…”

Seeing the town’s defenders descend into chaos, many lost their will to fight after witnessing the captain’s death and began fleeing the field. Anxious, Alex shouted, “All of you, stand fast! The honor of the town guard must never be defiled! The town guard never runs! We fight to the end!”

Zach and Buddy quickly joined in, trying to halt the rout, but with Brent dead, the town guards had lost their pillar. No matter how Alex, Zach, and Buddy tried to rally them, the faithless defenders would not be swayed.

Thus, the battle was lost.

Seeing that all was beyond saving, Alex yanked his reins and shouted to Zach and Buddy, “It’s no use! Retreat at once! We’ll regroup at camp and plan anew!”

“You’re right!” Zach stooped to heft Brent’s body onto his shoulder, dashed to his horse, and leapt into the saddle. He turned and shouted at Buddy, “Let’s go! We have to retreat!”

“Pursue them—all of them!” From atop the city wall, the werewolf Wolf saw the enemy in full retreat and let loose a howl that echoed through the forest.

With a rumble, the city gates slowly opened. The battered kobold chieftain led the remaining crossbowmen in a charge, surging out to chase down the demoralized town guard and village militia.

“Buddy!” Seeing the enemy pour out in pursuit, Zach glanced back and shouted to his stunned comrade, “Hurry!”

Only then did Buddy come to his senses, scrambling onto his horse. As he turned, his gaze met Wolf’s.

In those blood-red eyes flashed a killing intent so fierce that Buddy shuddered, nearly tumbling from his mount. He spurred his horse after Zach, desperate to escape, but the memory of the werewolf’s terrifying glare haunted him, growing more fearsome with each passing moment.

If even the strongest captain, Brent, could be slain, who could possibly hope to defeat this terrifying werewolf?

The city guard? Perhaps, but they were far away—by the time they arrived, the town guard’s camp might already be destroyed. And this foreigner, daring to build a base in the monster forest and commanding such a powerful tribal warrior as the werewolf—could he have other cards up his sleeve? Perhaps they truly possessed the strength to shake the very foundations of the Empire of Glory—perhaps the empire itself would soon fall beneath their iron heel. What point would there be in returning to camp, then? It would only mean waiting for death.

No one here could stand against them. The fall of this place was only a matter of time.

They would all die—everyone would die.

A chill ran through Buddy, his body trembling uncontrollably.

“Buddy, what’s wrong?” As their horses raced side by side, Zach turned and noticed something amiss in his companion’s expression.

Buddy glanced at Zach, then at Brent’s corpse. Suddenly, he remembered Perrin—the emotionless war machine who had, without hesitation, chosen to side with the foreigner. That was why she lived! Yes, she lived! He could live too!

Buddy’s mind whirled. He looked at Alex, now nearly out of sight—no catching up to him. He turned to see Zach, frantically urging his horse onward while carrying the captain’s body. After a moment’s struggle, Buddy could stand it no longer and slowly drew his sword.

“Buddy! Faster! We have to catch up with the others and regroup the men before they scatter!” Zach shouted, not even glancing at Buddy as he rode.

“All right, Zach…” Buddy whipped his horse forward, then suddenly turned and delivered a powerful slash at his comrade.

With a sickening thud, a head flew, and a body tumbled from the saddle.

Buddy yanked hard on the reins; his horse reared, whinnying in alarm.

The militiamen following behind all froze, dumbfounded, unable to comprehend what had just happened.

Buddy raised his bloodied sword and blocked their path. He shouted, “All of you, stand where you are!”

Terrified out of their wits, the militiamen dared not resist. One by one, they gathered together, dropped to their knees, and wept.

“Silence!” Buddy roared. “Now, everyone turn around and kneel!”

The militia, trembling with fear, obeyed without hesitation.

Soon, the kobold crossbowmen caught up, surrounding Buddy and the militia.

Wolf, his wounds nearly healed, emerged from the kobold ranks. He glanced with curiosity at the hundreds of kneeling militiamen, then at Buddy, who had dismounted. Wolf raised his sharp claws.

But Buddy stepped forward, dropped to one knee, and raised his weapon with both hands. “I, Buddy Libris, pledge my loyalty to you!”