Alba painfully closed his eyes, and the battle-axe in his hand slowly drooped.
He glanced one last time at the light cavalry still fighting in the distance. Those loyal warriors were now like gazelles surrounded by a pack of wolves, with nowhere left to run.
"Withdraw the entire army." His voice was terrifyingly hoarse. "Sound the horns."
Woo—woo—
The desolate, mournful horn blasts rang across the battlefield. This was the highest-level retreat signal of the orcs. The light cavalry still fighting heard the sound, and expressions of disbelief appeared on their faces. Their Great Chieftain had actually abandoned them.
The cavalry of the Northwest Legion keenly noticed the movement of the orc main force, but at that moment, they had no choice but to focus on the battle before them. Count Hall Duke raised his bloodstained longsword and shouted, "Don't get distracted! Deal with the enemy in front of us first!"
The sentry on the Observation Balloon quickly signaled in Flag Language: "The enemy main force is retreating north."
Paul saw the signal and finally breathed a sigh of relief. "Concentrate our forces, cut off the remaining enemies' retreat, and make sure this cavalry unit is wiped out."
As the human main force closed in, the surviving orc light cavalry were compressed into an increasingly smaller encirclement.
Some warriors let out desperate roars, tore open their armor to bare their chests, and launched suicidal charges. They would rather die in battle than become human captives.
"For the glory of the Prairie Royal Tent!" an orc officer shouted as he led the last few dozen cavalrymen toward the Artillery Position. In the end, they fell amid a storm of bullets.
The dead orc cavalrymen were overwhelmingly from the Zalge Clan, Alba's direct followers.
Other orcs threw down their weapons, dismounted, and