Chapter 370

"Gervas, be satisfied! You already have two hundred and fifty longsword soldiers!"

"Each one of them can match a northern orc! If it were us, we'd laugh ourselves awake in our dreams. After all, two hundred and fifty such guards could easily handle two thousand five hundred peasant conscripts!"

"Exactly! Gervas, even fifty of these immensely strong soldiers would make us laugh in our sleep!"

The nobles, seeing Gervas's dissatisfied expression, immediately rebuked him.

And they truly meant it—they were genuinely envious.

Gervas, upon hearing this, smiled warmly and accepted their criticism, for that was exactly the effect he wanted.

"Roar! All orc warriors, withdraw immediately!"

At that moment, a roar came from the front battlefield—it was Doni, the orc captain.

Doni had now fully confirmed how Barto and his fellow orcs had been annihilated.

It was these spearmen and longsword soldiers.

He had never before seen human soldiers with such formidable individual combat prowess who were not titled knights.

So he immediately prepared to retreat.

After all, if they didn't leave now, they might not be able to leave at all!

"They're running! Gervas! They're fleeing!"

"Ha! When we return, we'll have plenty to boast about—we defeated two hundred orcs out in the wasteland!"

"Yes! Ha! Hiding behind walls and repelling orcs? That's nothing. Repelling them out in the open is true skill!"

Watching the orcs flee, Mil and Ian and the other nobles were the happiest.

This wasn't just a military achievement—it was future bragging rights.

Nobles loved to compete; that was well known.

And in war, bragging rights like this were second only to wealth and power as the ultimate tool for boasting.

"Gervas, should we pursue?"

"Of course we should, but remember—not too close. I suspect these orcs are preparing to retreat; if we press too hard, we might drive them into a desperate corner."

The orcs had seen his strength and lost around three hundred of their own—Gervas believed they wouldn't stay any longer.

"Gervas, don't worry, we understand!"

Immediately, Mil and the others wasted no time, gathering their men and beginning pursuit of the retreating orcs.

But Gervas did not move right away—he ordered his men to clean the battlefield.

These orc heads were tied to his merit; they could not afford any mishaps.

……

"Chief!"

"Doni, what happened? Where are the others?"

At the edge of the main camp, Doni returned with his squad; the orc chief, seeing the reduced number, turned pale with fury.

Two hundred men had gone out—less than ten minutes later, only half remained.

"Chief, as ordered, I led the pursuit of that human force and scouted the situation…"

Doni immediately reported everything he had encountered, especially the spearmen and elite guards.

The orc chief listened in shock, unable to believe it: "Impossible! Those spearmen, maybe their weapons and formation helped them resist our warriors' charge!"

"But you say those human longsword guards—without aura—can fight our orcs one-on-one? How is that possible?"

"Chief, I couldn't believe my own eyes either—but I swear by the God of the Behemoth, every word I speak is true!" Seeing his chief's disbelief, Doni immediately swore an oath.

In truth, the orc chief didn't entirely disbelieve him—after all, Barto's group and the hundred orcs sent afterward had already proven tonight's situation was strange.

Now, with Doni's group added, they had lost three hundred orc warriors.

This casualty count exceeded what they had suffered fighting thousands of humans here.

So even if Doni's account seemed unbelievable, it was likely true.

"Chief, those humans are coming after us—I think we should retreat quickly!"

The orc chief clenched his teeth so hard they cracked, but ultimately agreed with Doni.

"Order: retreat!"

……

Meanwhile, inside the main camp!

"Look! The orcs are coming back!"

"They really are! Damn it—Mil and the others must've already… died heroically?"

"Mil and the others were good men! They lured away over three hundred orcs and eased our pressure immensely!"

"Yes! And these orcs look badly damaged—they won't last long. If we hold out, they'll retreat eventually! … Hey, look, what are those orcs doing?"

"They… they're retreating!"

"Could it be our resistance has made them lose hope of victory? Are they retreating?"

Seeing Doni and the orcs rush back, the nobles assumed Mil and his men had been wiped out.

While everyone was praising Mil's self-sacrificing heroism, the orc force suddenly began retreating beyond the palisade.

This sight left the nobles in the main camp both stunned and delighted.

Stunned, because the orcs still had plenty of fighting strength—they could have kept slaughtering for a while, yet they chose to retreat.

Delighted, because if the orcs retreated, their own losses would drop significantly.

"Gentlemen, should we pursue?"

At that moment, one excited noble suddenly spoke up.

Everyone paused, then some looked tempted.

Of course, this wasn't about turning defeat into victory.

It was just for show.

After all, to be pinned down the whole time, then watch the orcs walk away unchallenged—

Reporting that to the main force later would be utterly humiliating.

But if we pretended to pursue them for a short distance now,

We could later claim we repelled the orc ambush and chased them for miles.

The actual losses wouldn't change—but our reputations would be preserved.

"Don't be careless. The orcs still number at least five or six hundred. Their retreat now makes no sense—stay cautious!"

It was Lieutenant Ryan, with his solid northern battlefield experience, who knew the orcs' retreat was abnormal.

So even though he understood the benefits of pursuit, he spoke to stop them.

Hearing this, the nobles' fleeting desire to chase faded away.

Indeed, compared to face, their own safety mattered most.

If the orcs launched a counterattack and our forces collapsed, it would be disastrous.

"Kill!"

But just as the nobles abandoned the idea, a cry of battle suddenly rang out beside them.

"Who? Who was so reckless?"

The nobles all turned sharply, startled—no one had given the order, yet someone had acted on their own.

If others blindly followed and fell into an orc trap, it would be a grave offense.

"My lords, it… it seems to be coming from outside the camp!"

At that moment, their subordinates pointed beyond the camp walls.