Soldiers of different races, dressed and equipped in all manner of ways, appeared one after another at the rear.→
Clearly, this attack had been planned for a long time. The Gray Elf Queen had recruited the Troll Lord and the Undead Calamity, but the warriors of so many races on the battlefield suggested that many other powers dissatisfied with or wary of the Undead Empire had joined them. They likely meant to eliminate this heretic that had "changed the status quo" in one stroke.
Ideally, their plan would destroy the Undead Empire outright. If they could not wipe it out completely, they would at least cripple it so badly that it could no longer expand.
Daniel looked at the grim, heroic mood around him and did not know whether to laugh or cry, but he did not stop his subordinates.
Only after a minute, when the low growls and pounding had ceased, did he say slowly, "His great Majesty has just ordered us not to hold this position to the death. We're to retreat directly to the Northern Defensive Line, follow General James's command, and prepare for the next defensive operation."
"Uh..."
The Orcs froze. How could this be? Weren't they all supposed to die gloriously together, their souls merging with the Totem and their blood soaking the earth? Why were they retreating? Had all the emotion they had worked so hard to summon gone to waste? That terrifying, lofty Majesty had not ordered them to their deaths!
Daniel seized the moment, thrusting his arm into the air. "Long live His Majesty!"
The Green Orcs, who had narrowly escaped death, had emotions bottled up with nowhere to go. They immediately roared along with him. "Long live His Majesty! Long live His Majesty..."
Five thousand loud-voiced Orcs shouting the same slogan