The Howling Battlegroup had a glorious history of campaigns spanning thousands of years.
It was one of the dozens of battlegroups the High-Level Orcs had reorganized after the Great Extinction Order.
It was also one of the Wolf Clan's five main forces.
Not only had it inherited the Wolf Clan's cold-blooded, bloodthirsty nature—coming like the wind and pillaging like fire—
But a special mineral buried deep beneath the land near its garrison had also enriched the local Mandala Fruit with a variety of trace elements.
As a result, the members of the Howling Battlegroup, who subsisted primarily on the Mandala Fruit grown there, possessed eyesight as sharp as hawks' and the gift of seeing like blazing torches even in pitch-black darkness.
This gift made them especially skilled at, and particularly fond of, night battles.
Countless times, they had become shadows without volume or weight, melting completely into the darkness as they silently closed in on their enemies.
Without breathing, with their heartbeats suppressed and their body heat gone, these stealthy ghosts would wait until the final instant before springing their sharpest claws and fangs at their enemies' throats.
Then, they would unleash in an instant the howls they had bitterly repressed all along, producing shrieks that pierced eardrums and even bored through hearts.
That was how the Howling Battlegroup had earned its name.
—Could such a veteran battlegroup, with brilliant achievements sung in countless War Epics, one that had never been crushed in any of the Era of Glory's wars by the mages, Night Watchmen, elven curses, or dwarven fury of the Holy Light Land, really have been defeated by the Great Horned Legion?
The mousefolk's first reaction to this unbelievable victory report was not wild delight, but profound suspicion.
Even the most devout fanatics placed a string of question