Disaster in the Night

"Dorian, how did you conduct your reconnaissance?"

Moriarty grabbed a handful of ash and felt its lingering warmth, then demanded an answer in a harsh voice.

They had been in the Dragonbone Mountains for three days and had yet to see a trace of the enemy, but the Cors Tribe had already lost over a hundred men.

Here, someone would step into an enemy trap; there, an arrow would fly out of nowhere.

Things were fine as long as they stayed with the main force, but anyone who left the group was far more likely to meet with an accident.

"Chief, the enemy is far too despicable!"

"They haven't a shred of chivalry. They won't fight us head-on."

"More than thirty of our scouts have been lost one after another. I really don't dare send anyone deeper in rashly..."

Dorian explained with an uneasy expression.

Had he known the enemy would be this troublesome, he would never have urged his chief to send out the troops.

They had mobilized a great force to launch a war, only to find that, instead of feasting on a fat sheep, they had put themselves on the roasting rack.

"Useless!"

After cursing him, Moriarty inwardly lamented his own predicament.

They still hadn't found the enemy's position, and their casualties continued to rise. He was under tremendous pressure as well.

If this continued, the Cors Tribe would have no choice but to withdraw.

Without a doubt, that was no good option.

He was able to serve as tribal chief because he could lead his people to victory.

Returning empty-handed like this would deal a heavy blow to his personal prestige.

If it were only internal problems, he could always find a way to resolve them, but the Cors Tribe also had a good neighbor.

Given the bad blood between the two tribes, news of his defeat would spread among the surrounding tribes, great and small, before long.

"Chief, the ash on the ground is too clean."

The old priest beside him spoke up to warn him.

No matter how careful a group of several hundred people was, lighting fires and cooking would leave traces.

Yet these piles of ash contained no cooking remnants, and the ashes themselves showed no sign of having been disturbed by human hands.

"Mm!"

"The high priest is right. The enemy deliberately left these fires as bait to lead our pursuit in the wrong direction.

"If I'm not mistaken, what we're pursuing now is only a small, elite enemy force.

"Their real main force isn't in this direction at all!"

Moriarty said, struggling to suppress his anger.

He had thought he was coming out to hunt a fat sheep, but instead he had run into a pack of foxes.

After foolishly chasing them for days, he had discovered that it was bait laid by the enemy.

Deep down, he was relieved they had discovered it in time. If they had continued pursuing along this trail, there was no telling what godforsaken place they would have been led to.

"Chief, terrible news!"

"The soldiers found droppings from Berserk Porcupines while on patrol!"

When Moriarty heard the news his tribesman brought, his expression changed instantly.

Among the many species of magical beasts on the Pannosia Continent, Berserk Porcupines were not particularly powerful, but they were ill-tempered and lived in groups.

A group of ten or twenty was normal, and thirty to fifty was not unusual for a larger one. They were usually between the first and fifth tiers, and generally stronger in combat than human knights of the same tier.

Finding Berserk Porcupine droppings meant the army had entered their territory.

"Pass down the order. Break camp and withdraw from this area immediately!"

Without the slightest hesitation, Moriarty decisively ordered a retreat.

Hunting down the remnants of the Holy Glory Empire's army would earn them military merit and a share of the spoils.

Fighting these berserk magical beasts would serve no real purpose beyond gaining a pile of meat and magic cores.

Magical beast meat could indeed fetch a good price if transported to a large city in the south, but on the grasslands, it was nothing more than an improvement to their meals.

Magic cores were worth some money-a first-tier core could be exchanged for a sheep-but that wasn't enough to make them risk their lives.

Unless a natural disaster left them with no way to survive, no one would set their sights on magical beasts.

"Chief, it's already late, and the mountain paths are rough. If we retreat in haste, the enemy may take advantage of it!"

Dorian hurriedly tried to persuade him.

Entering magical beast territory was dangerous, but marching in the pitch dark was hardly any safer.

If they blundered into the territory of high-tier magical beasts, the situation would be even worse.

Even if they encountered no magical beasts, traveling through the mountains at night alone would cause noncombat losses.

"Cut the nonsense. It's precisely because it's late that we have to leave!"

"Berserk Porcupines like to come out and hunt at night. In the dark, the army can't use its advantages. We'll be food for them!"

Moriarty snapped.

There was no room to form ranks in the mountains, and ordinary soldiers had little power to resist magical beasts.

Only the few strong fighters in the tribe could stand against them.

"Ah!"

The retreat order had barely been given when a scream came from the woods.

A second and third followed, then more rang out through the mountains in quick succession.

"Slaughter those beasts!"

Seeing his tribesmen killed one after another, Moriarty flew into a rage and immediately gave the order.

On the outskirts of the Dragonbone Mountains, Victor was surveying the distant Goshawk Tribe camp with a group of soldiers.

If the enemy refused to enter the mountains, he would take the initiative and attack.

With meat at their lips, they would certainly eat it.

As long as they wiped out the enemy force before them, all the Goshawk Tribe's cattle, sheep, and horses would be theirs as spoils.

One tribe's supplies could feed the army for at least half a year.

If they included the neighboring Cors Tribe, the horses they captured might even be enough to turn the force into cavalry.

With that achievement to his name, the charge of diverting military supplies would no longer be a problem.

Even if someone blind to the situation brought it up, the empire's higher-ups would pretend not to see it.

With crushing defeats all along the front, the Holy Glory Empire needed an achievement it could show off to prove its capability to the entire continent.

"Commander, the Goshawk Tribe is extremely cautious.

"They've camped in a very open area. Besides the soldiers patrolling in plain sight, they've posted eight groups of hidden sentries.

"It would be difficult to approach the camp without making a sound from any direction."

Felix lowered his voice as he spoke.

When he heard that the commander had decided to launch a night raid on the enemy camp, his first thought was that his commander had gone mad.

There was nothing wrong with the tactical plan; the problem lay with the people responsible for carrying it out.

Although Victor's reforms had transformed the Third Supplementary Army's appearance and bearing, they couldn't change the fact that it was a third-line legion.

Sending them on such a difficult mission was military suicide.

Yet what happened next proved him wrong. As Victor ordered the men to creep toward the enemy camp, they actually managed to do so without making a sound.

Obeying orders and prohibitions sounded simple, but in practice, few armies could do it.

Under cover of darkness, they closed to within five hundred meters, and the enemy still hadn't noticed them.

"Assign a few skilled soldiers to take out the enemy's hidden sentries first.

"If the operation fails, launch a frontal assault immediately!"

Victor gave the order without expression.

The arrow was on the string; there was no choice but to loose it.

If they couldn't finish off the Goshawk Tribe tonight, fighting them would be difficult once the enemy had time to react.