Centurion Atli's rage had reached its peak.
Even in that extreme anger, there seemed to be a hint of grievance, as if he had never planned to torture those savages he saw in the most painful way (in his own opinion).
Even though he didn't consider the other person one of his own, he suddenly started acting like a victim when he realized he was being targeted.
He could no longer distinguish whether it was a disguise or instinct. Perhaps it was because he had been in the Empire's army for too long that some of the masks he used to blend in had become a part of him.
However, as a seasoned veteran, Atli didn't think about these things; he only had one thought in mind: to survive.
He mustered his strength and pulled himself out of the dry moat below the city walls. With his remaining courage, he roared and issued a command:
"I'm not dead! Retreat in an orderly fashion!"
Upon hearing Atli's call, some Imperial soldiers seemed to instantly gain more confidence. After unleashing a few intimidating moves, they immediately ran off to catch up with him.
But many more Imperial soldiers were still being brainwashed by the noise of the Soul Returner, and even if they vaguely heard the voices, they instinctively refused to believe them.
Or perhaps they were no longer capable of thinking about such things, because most of the Imperial soldiers who hadn't heard or couldn't hear Atli's calls were already surrounded.
But Atli couldn't care less about those people. He gathered a dozen or so loyal and capable subordinates, seized a few Hoofed Beast and skeletal horses, and began to flee at breakneck speed.
At this moment, the resurrected Soul Returner had already fled, and only their silhouettes and the dust raised by the Hoofed Beast could be seen on the relatively flat and vast desert.
Behind them, the Alliance forces, now free to act, launched another counterattack.
The Skeleton Alliance's crossbows unleashed a barrage of incredibly powerful bolts, the "whoosh" sound echoing in Atli's ears, and he could feel a sharp pain shooting through his back every now and then.
Fortunately, his symbiotic animal was a wild beast with extremely strong resilience, which prevented him from dying on horseback on the spot.
However, the ordinary soldiers were not so lucky. Just as the Tree Worship Church priests without talent could only contract with the most common Aberration plants, these low-ranking soldiers of the Imperial Army were not exactly good symbiotic partners either.
As attacks from the sandcastle continued, Atli's loyal guards dwindled in number and began to fall behind.
But Atli was completely unaware of this, and even if he had, he hadn't taken any action.
At that moment, his heart was as firm as iron, and only one thought occupied his mind—
The more arrows are stuck in someone else's body, the safer you become.
As for the fallen soldiers...
All I can say is that my connection with them has run its course, and there's nothing I can do about it.
However, he still had a chance. As long as he returned to the Viscount's camp and exposed the despicable acts of those savages, their good days would be over!
That little brat who hasn't even grown his first hair yet—no, that esteemed Viscount, he'll definitely believe me!
After all, he was his father's old subordinate!
"A bunch of idiots! The old man's men are no laughing matter!"
Atli, of course, had no idea that just as he was about to appeal to the Viscount's emotions, the Viscount was actually cursing at him and several centurions.
The viscount, who was usually steady and reserved, was forced into this situation because he was truly desperate.
Ultimately, it all boils down to one reason—his luck was just really bad today.
Ten minutes ago, a few moments after midnight, when everyone was soundly asleep...
"Waaaaah~~~~~~"
In the still of the night, a loud, high-pitched howl suddenly pierced the dark night sky.
Immediately following was a burst of shouts of battle, and the chaotic footsteps echoed like muffled thunder.
In that instant, at least dozens of sharp-witted imperial soldiers and officers regained their senses. They were all veterans who had seen blood and fought on the battlefield, and naturally knew what this meant...
Night raid!
The enemy has launched a night attack!
Damn it, this distance might only be a few hundred steps!
What were the scouts on patrol doing tonight?
They're a bunch of scoundrels!
Realizing what had happened, the veterans shouted loudly, waking their sleeping comrades, and then immediately began to put on their armor and pick up their weapons.
Those who were woken up did not have this reaction.
Some of them were completely unaware of what was happening, and their first reaction was to wonder why they were being woken up before morning.
Others realized what was happening, but they were in a panic, and what they could usually do quickly, they kept making mistakes in their haste.
Some people were extremely anxious, but they couldn't even find a single piece of equipment that belonged to them.
Left with no other choice, he could only grab the equipment of his companions to arm himself.
One person had half a suit of armor behind him, another had several arrows drawn from his back. What would they do once they realized their equipment was missing?
There's no other way then, you'll have to take someone else's.
The battle-hardened veterans, fully dressed, stepped out of their tents and were met with the enemy already close at hand, about to breach the camp gates.
Although experience tells me the enemy is at least a hundred meters away, which should be considered safe, this distance is incredibly close at night. The enemy could get here in the time it takes to put on armor, which is no different from having a dagger pressed against your back!
Meanwhile, in the central camp in the distance.
Young Alfonso Lange leaped out of bed:
"It's a whistling arrow!"
" Saili!"
"My lord! I'm here!"
A deep, almost roaring voice came from outside the tent, which reassured the young viscount considerably.
He immediately issued the order:
"Order the guards to consolidate their defenses and prepare for battle!"
"Do not launch an attack. Form a defensive formation and hold our camp. Defending our camp will be a great achievement!"
"Yes!"
"Get this done, then immediately go and investigate the situation of all the hundred-man squads!"
"Yes, sir!"
Upon hearing the whistle, the Knight of Saili entered and immediately obeyed the order to leave, while the Viscount, who had already risen, gradually calmed down.
Although he was indeed outnumbered and outmatched, as the second son of a noble war family, Alfonso also had dozens of elite guards.
It should be noted that those who can join this team are not ordinary people. Some of them may lack administrative skills, but in terms of combat prowess, even Saili is ashamed of himself.
They are the "fighters" of the Low Tier, just one good opportunity away from crossing the threshold of the Middle Tier ranks. In most games, they would be top-tier elite monsters.
Saili left the tent, and Alfonso also got up and dressed presentably. Then he summoned two guards and loudly ordered:
"Dismantle my camp and let the defensive perimeter continue to shrink!"
"Yes!"
The two loyal guards immediately began to carry out their mission.