"Good."
Aaron gave a barely perceptible nod.
"One hour to complete the equipment pickup, distribution of supplies, and... will preparations!"
"Dismissed!"
With the order given, the entire training camp immediately sprang into action.
A large number of new recruits rushed towards the armory.
There, stacks of freshly unsealed standard-issue equipment awaited them: black, iron-cutting swords.
Divided into three types based on weight, these swords were far superior to the training blades in terms of performance!
Light hard leather armor that only covered the chest, abdomen, shoulders, and neck, along with some personal supplies: flatbread, water, and a small bottle of hemostatic powder…
Simple to the point of being depressing.
"Is this all we have?"
Matthew, clutching his leather armor, spoke with a trembling voice.
"It's enough."
Kyle picked up a light longsword while checking his greatsword with practiced ease.
"The blades are sharp, the armor will block some arrows and claw strikes, the rest is up to us."
Raine silently donned the leather armor.
The leather was stiff, with a strong smell of tung oil.
He hung the iron-cutting sword at his waist and took a spare short sword to tuck into his boot.
Finally, he stuffed the small bundle of supplies into his backpack.
Throughout the process, he remained unusually calm.
His past military training had given him a clear understanding of equipment: no matter how good the gear, it was just a tool; what determined life and death was always the person.
Kyle walked over to the four of them and lowered his voice.
"Guys, there's a good chance we might die in this fight, but I still hope one of us survives… no matter who!"
Raine and the others looked at him.
Kyle's gaze was complex.
"If there's a chance to survive, we must decisively abandon what must be left behind. The ones who live... kill more alien races and avenge us."
"Kyle, uncle..."
"Kyle, you seem to misunderstand me; I won't place your lives above anyone else's!"
Beside him, Pros silently sharpened the battle axe in his hands.
Kyle slapped him on the shoulder and grinned.
He remembered the time on the mountain path when, if not for this guy risking his life to block a fatal blow for him, he'd probably be dead by now!
"That's good!"
"Enough with the whining, my hook's already aching to get to work!"
Old Gore gestured with the iron hook on his severed arm.
"Hahaha... let's see who ends up with the bad deal!"
If they died without killing a single alien race, that'd be a real loss!
One hour later.
The huge city gates slowly creaked open with a rumble.
Outside was the pitch-black night, with the outlines of distant mountains resembling crouching beasts.
More than five thousand new recruits from the castle, including the seventh and eighth brigades, fifteen hundred elite soldiers from the second brigade, two thousand arcanists, and mercenaries...
A team of over ten thousand marched out of the city in silence!
There was no pre-battle rallying, no boastful speeches.
Only the heavy footsteps of soldiers and the creaking of wheels over the stone road.
Raine walked in the ranks of the fourth squad and looked up.
The castle walls were lined with soldiers who stood in silence, watching the departing army.
At the highest point, on the watchtower, stood Garson, the one-eyed commander.
His gaze swept across the troops and finally landed on the new recruits, including Raine's group.
Then, Garson raised his right hand and clenched his fist against his chest.
All the soldiers on the walls made the same gesture.
A silent salute.
For the comrades going to battle, and for the undead who were destined to sacrifice!
The team disappeared into the darkness.
Raine took one last look at the Iron Dragon Fortress.
The crystals atop the three arcanist towers flickered madly, emitting a bluish-white light that pierced the night sky. It was as if they were bidding farewell to the army heading towards death, or perhaps sending one last warning to the far distance.
He turned his head and gripped the hilt of his sword tightly.
...
In the early morning, at the darkest hour.
The vanguard, consisting of the seventh and eighth brigades, trudged through the muddy ground for six hours, covering a distance of seventy kilometers!
The new recruits, having never endured such a high-intensity forced march, had blisters forming on their feet.
"Stay in formation! Don't fall behind!"
"Hahaha... look at these rookie newbies!"
The voice of the officer was muffled by the rain.
Raine adjusted his breathing, focusing on coordinating his movements.
His past experience with heavy-loaded marches allowed him to adapt to the pace better than most of the new recruits, but after days of continuous training and a night of forced marching, his stamina was running low.
"We'll reach the Anvil Village supply point soon!"
Aaron's voice came from the front of the line.
"Wasn't it here where your men got bitten by a gargoyle last time, Aaron? Hahaha..."
The eighth brigade leader, Roderick, spoke with a gruff voice.
This burly red-haired man was riding a large, mutated warhorse, his expression carrying a hint of amusement.
"The life detection equipment can't detect those damn things!"
Roderick glanced at Aaron and then turned to address the others.
"What do you think, Lia?"
"Lia, Vice-Captain! We've learned the lesson of underestimating them before, haven't we?"
A woman's voice sounded next to Roderick.
The speaker was his vice-captain, Lia!
She wore a tight-fitting silver uniform and had a beautiful face, yet carried the characteristic toughness of a soldier.
Roderick's face showed a hint of embarrassment.
He was an aggressive type, but his years of combat experience made him realize that Aaron and Lia's concerns were justified.
"…This is troublesome!"
He spat and waved his hand, "Fine! We'll listen to you!"
"Scout ahead and check the road!"
A few scouts quickly disappeared into the darkness ahead.
The team paused outside the village for a rest. The soldiers quickly drank water and nibbled on hard flatbread.
Raine also sat down, but he didn't relax. His eyes were fixed on the ruins of Anvil Village in the distance.
The tilted stone houses were indistinct in the night, and the faint scent of rust and earth hung in the air...
Overall, it looked no different from when they passed through a few days ago, with only the soft sound of raindrops hitting the stones.
"Scout's report!"
A voice came from the front.
"Currently, no signs of life! The gargoyle corpses are still scattered around, no danger!"
Roderick grunted and turned to look at Aaron beside him.
"Hear that? I told you two were too cautious!"
Aaron remained unfazed, his eyes sharp as an eagle's.
"We're the vanguard. We can't take unnecessary risks. Just because no life signs have been detected doesn't mean it's absolutely safe. Gargoyles are good at camouflage, and other alien races may use this place to ambush us."
"When we left last time, the gargoyle corpses were piled up like mountains. Now they're scattered? This means either the bodies were cleaned up, or..."
"Or what?!"