After suffering yet another failed interception, the orc army fled in panic. The once-proud Grassland Warriors had now become like strays driven from their homes.
Abaal marched near the rear of the formation, clad in armor caked with dried blood and surrounded by his guards. During the retreat after the fierce battle, the Great Chieftain had personally led the rear guard.
"Father, let's rest in the town ahead!" His eldest son, Aguirre, galloped over.
"Good!"
The orc soldiers guarded the town's entrances and exits. The Great Chieftain and the other commanders entered the town, which was deathly quiet. The residents who could flee had already done so, while those who could not had found places to hide.
The Royal Tent Great Chieftain felt terribly bitter. Four months ago, his army had swept through northern Aldo like a tide. Whenever they captured a town, the local lord or official would tremble as they ran before him, begging for his protection.
At that time, although they feared him, what if Abaal became the future ruler?
But now, the thunderous artillery fire of the Northwest Legion kept driving the orc army onward, while news of Abaal's declining fortunes had spread. He had already lost the possibility of ruling Aldo.
The humans in every place he passed avoided him as if he were a plague, terrified that the Aldo Army would mistake them for Abaal's accomplices.
"Great Chieftain, the eastern scouts report that human cavalry has been spotted on the road to Black Pine Forest!" a commander hurried over and reported, panting heavily.
Abaal, who had been resting against the railing, dug his fingers deep into the wooden rail. It groaned under the strain.
He remembered the vow he had made before the ancestral altar before setting out—the vow to conquer Aldo as a