The Fall

Night had fallen in the valley, and the cold was extremely high; it was even snowing, which further lowered the temperature.

Damian took a flask from his horse and took a sip of strong wine, feeling a rush of warmth in his stomach.

Liquor was a necessity in the northern army. High-quality liquor could not only be used to disinfect oneself on the battlefield but also to relieve fatigue.

During a war, if the weather is relatively cold, soldiers should be provided with some liquor.

A large gulp would make one feel much better in cold climates like this. Besides being equipped with liquor, the territory also provided a steel flask to the soldiers.

The flask was only the size of the palm of one's hand and could hold about four ounces. It was made through casting and cost about ten copper coins.

Damian took a sip of white wine to dispel some of the chill from his body. He turned around and asked Drogo, "Have the casualties been calculated?"

"Yes, my lord, the statistics have been calculated. Six light riders died, four horses were injured, and twelve paladins died. Among the elite Night Guard, twenty had minor injuries, fifteen infantry soldiers died, and fifty were wounded."

"The casualties were few; under any kind of forecast, we decreased the number of deaths by managing to eliminate thousands of enemy soldiers." Drogo finished the casualty count.

Damian nodded and said, "If we can't heal the wounded horses, end their pain as soon as possible. I don't want to see them suffer; they have done their job."

The cavalry and warhorses naturally had a special relationship when staying together for a long time. Especially the magical horse they were using, which could barely be considered an advanced, intelligent creature.

The intelligence quotient of horses was already equivalent to that of a human child, with a special social structure and a small amount of intelligent language.

The cavalry couldn't kill the horse if it was wounded at all.

"We captured some horses and carts at the orc military station. The orc carts are relatively large and can bring the injured horses back to the territory." Drogo didn't want to waste good resources.

After hearing this, Damian nodded and walked to see more details of this battlefield. He had an immense amount of mana, which is why he decided to heal some horses and wounded soldiers in combat.

When healing the seriously injured, he focused on the horses.

The vitality of horses surpasses that of humans and is certainly greater, but they also had worse wounds, so they were a priority.

Although the orc brigade was defeated in this battle and their leader died, there were still deaths, so this couldn't be considered an absolute victory against the enemy.

In the middle of the night, Damian withdrew with his exhausted soldiers and returned to the gigantic walls he had created using very ancient magic.

After returning, Damian issued an order to strengthen the walls and clean the armor, demanding that a legion be sent in good condition to take the fortress.

At the same time, a message was sent to the fortresses of the other nobles to launch an attack and eliminate the remaining enemies still on their combat fronts.

After preventing the orcs from entering the territory, many other demonic forces lost their foothold.

During this time, Damian had received certain information and understood the reason for Adonis's defeat, according to reports.

Everything indicates that Adonis didn't want to kill the prisoners of war because he wanted to tame them.

After all, orc slaves were also a valuable asset, and Count Adonis didn't have much money at his disposal.

As a result, the slaves rebelled on a large scale, which became a key factor in Adonis's defeat.

A few days ago, Damian received a text message from Harden's stronghold.

Bastian Ars had died on the battlefield, and his territory was completely lost.

Count Bastian was a powerful warrior and commander of one of the most fearless legions when it came to demon extermination.

Such an important warrior died on the battlefield, and the tens of thousands of citizens of Count Bastian were captured by the orcs in this battle.

After capturing the warriors, the pressure on the city protected by a magical barrier increased because many wanted to surrender and bring back their families.

The surrounding territories of the barons fell one by one.

In the city protected by a magical shield, Commander Wilson looked at the dark sky, feeling the fear of the soldiers who could barely stand.

Although he continued to boost morale during the day, repelled the orc attack, and barely defended the castle, Wilson knew in his heart that there was basically no way for the defenders of this city to survive this battle if the shield was removed.

Wilson was Bastian's former subordinate and comrade-in-arms and had been the leader of the Sixth Battalion squad for four years.

Like Bastian, Wilson had a very ordinary background. He relied on his talent to advance and his strength to exterminate demons.

But his roots in the Northern Army were much shallower than Bastian's.

Before the war began, the Northern Army determined that Bastian's castle would be difficult to defend, so this castle had to be defended.

So this unfortunate task was assigned to Wilson.

Wilson had few connections in the higher levels of the Northern Army, and the only person who could speak for him was the former chief, Bastian.

As a result, Bastian didn't step forward to protect him, and the unfortunate Wilson accepted this fatal task.

Seeking help from the Harden family was Wilson's lifeline. It's a pity that even they couldn't offer possibilities.

Holding out is a dead end, escape is impossible, and there will be no reinforcements. The castle's defenders had no choice but to fight tooth and nail.

Wilson and the orcs had a deep hatred. The blood enmity and the honor of being a soldier made him absolutely unwilling to be an orc prisoner.

Looking toward his imminent death, Wilson sat on the city wall with a heavy heart all night, feeling the passage of time.

This is his last time, and he must savor it.

As the sky gradually cleared, Wilson calmed his heart and replaced it with a heavy, two-handed axe.

He laughed heartily and encouraged the soldiers.

"Soldiers, the hatred between the orcs and us is irreconcilable. When I was young, I saw my mother captured by the orcs. They cut off my father's head and threw it into a cauldron, turning it into food."

"Our brothers and sisters, how many people have died at the hands of the orcs and demons?"

"Even if they surrender and become captives of the orcs, they will still be food for those pigs."

"It's human nature to fear death. I also fear death. But I would rather die than be an orc prisoner. The orcs can only climb to the top of the city by stepping on my body."

The next day at dawn, the orcs sounded the horn again, and the four orc brigades attacked with all their might, launching a fierce attack from all four walls, regardless of priority.

Although the enemy outnumbered them, the soldiers of the Northern Army fought until they exhausted their strength.

In the end, the shield was voluntarily removed, and those who disagreed fought to the death.

As a result, those who didn't resist were counted, and another territory in the north had been taken by the enemy.

Refugees fled, with most of the people withdrawing from the city. But knowing that they had lost important human territory, panic engulfed the outbreak.