Chapter 364

"Commander Rayn, wait for me!"

Just as Commander Rayn hastily donned his leather armor, preparing to lead his men to reinforce the perimeter,

Solit arrived in a panic.

Solit was dressed in silk undergarments, even his outer robe not yet properly fastened.

"Commander Rayn, what's going on? What's happened? Why do I hear screams and battle cries?"

"It's the orcs—they've attacked us!"

"Orcs? How is this possible? Captain Rayn, how could orcs appear here?" Solit's face twisted with terror.

Commander Rayn frowned slightly—he knew Solit was sent from the capital for a ceremonial posting.

But he never expected him to be this weak.

His terrified expression would easily shake troop morale.

"I don't know exactly how the orcs appeared, but Deputy Commander Solit, please calm down and avoid undermining morale!"

Solit's face flushed crimson. "Y-yes, Commander Rayn!"

Hearing this, Rayn's expression softened slightly. "Deputy Commander Solit, I'm now leading men to reinforce the perimeter. You may stay here—or come with me."

"I—I'll stay here! If you need anything, Commander Rayn, I'll be ready to relay it!"

Rayn nodded and said no more, immediately leading his men toward the perimeter.

On the way, he happened to meet Captain Lide rushing over and immediately asked for the situation.

"Commander Rayn, at least a thousand orcs suddenly appeared in the Emerald River Valley. Over nine hundred are attacking us; the remaining hundred or so headed toward the mountain pass—they're likely targeting Lord Gervas!"

"A thousand orcs? How did they reach the Emerald River Valley?" Rayn and the nobles behind him turned pale. This wasn't a small band of orcs.

Orcs were formidable fighters—even a thousand of them posed a massive threat.

"Commander Rayn, we don't yet know how, but I'm certain they arrived before us. Otherwise, they could never have slipped past our full-day cavalry patrols!"

Rayn nodded. By the time they spoke, they had reached the camp's palisade.

The orcs were already storming the fence, erecting crude wooden ladders to scale it.

Though guards tried to hold them back, without a stone wall or elevated position, their resistance was nearly useless.

They could only watch helplessly as orcs climbed over, then rush forward to engage them.

At first, since few orcs had breached the camp, the guards held their own.

But as more and more orcs poured through, the guards began to break, fleeing in panic.

"Quick! Hold them back! Don't let them break into the inner camp!"

Rayn dared not delay, fearing the guards' rout would spread. He ordered the noble contingents and royal soldiers forward to assist.

"HOOOOO!"

"You two-legged sheep! Perfect timing—your blood shall baptize our orcish warriors! HAHA!"

Yet upon seeing the guards, the orcs grew even more frenzied, as if infused with bloodlust.

This instantly crushed the morale of the reinforcements—guards and serf-soldiers alike.

Though they outnumbered the orcs three or fourfold, they now hesitated, afraid to advance.

"You bastards! Whoever flinches, I'll cut him down now! Charge! Hold those orcs!"

Rayn nearly exploded from rage, drawing his waist sword to berate the soldiers.

Other minor nobles and squad leaders joined in, shouting orders and threats.

Under threat of martial law, the serf-soldiers and guards finally gritted their teeth and charged the orcs.

The two sides collided at once.

Instantly, screams and wails filled the air.

The orcs, as feared, were merciless. Their massive frames and towering weapons—huge stone axes and spiked clubs—became death machines.

Each swing meant a guard or serf-soldier sprayed blood, crushed into pulp.

Of course, guards and serf-soldiers could wound orcs—but due to their thick hides, it often took several blows to kill one.

"Damn it!"

The nobles turned green at the sight.

Most of them were fighting in the Northern Front for the first time.

After all, anyone with influence or background wouldn't be assigned to the vanguard camp.

Only newly ennobled or powerless minor nobles were sent here for this brutal duty.

Though they'd heard tales of orcs' ferocity and difficulty to fight,

they'd never truly understood—until now.

At least two well-trained, fully equipped guards were needed to handle one orc.

For serf-soldiers, it took five or six just to match one.

This wasn't a battle—it was a war of attrition.

A slaughter of human lives to wear down the orcs.

Commander Rayn, however, remained calm.

As a veteran officer of the Northern Legion, he'd long known orc strength.

So now, his only goal: prevent orcs from breaching the camp's interior and causing chaos or mass casualties.

"What's happening, Gervas? Why do we hear battle cries?"

While the main camp fought desperately, Gervas's group, due to their remote location, had not yet been attacked.

But the thunderous screams from the main camp had reached the mountain pass.

Mil, Ian, and others rushed out of their tents, hastily adjusting their silk ceremonial robes as they anxiously questioned Gervas.

"It's orcs—they're attacking the main camp!"

"Orcs? How is this possible? Didn't Captain Lide say the orcs were hundreds of miles away?"

Mil and the others paled. Their expressions weren't as exaggerated as Solit's, but they were tense and uneasy.

"They must have crept in secretly—probably around a thousand."

"The main camp is already fighting. Oh—and over a hundred orcs are heading this way!"

"Heading this way? Gervas, what do we do now? Should we retreat?"

"Yes! Gervas, let's fall back a bit. With the main camp holding them, the orcs won't fixate on us!"

Good heavens! Gervas inwardly exclaimed.

These men were already planning to flee at the mere mention of orcs.

Of course, Gervas understood—the orcs' reputation was terrifying.

Also, Solit had targeted them today, leaving everyone with little sympathy for the main camp.

Some might even secretly enjoy it—who deserved to be stuck here, after all?

But Gervas would not allow them to run.

First, fleeing would bring punishment afterward.

More importantly, Gervas himself had come here to earn glory.

This battle wasn't just to be fought—it had to be won brilliantly.