On the edge of the land of evil, at the Sanctus Fortress.
In the upper levels of the magic tower, the magicians were busy receiving transmissions from dignitaries of various countries. Meanwhile, a dozen priests were continuously praying to replenish the magic for the massive transmission array. In the lowest level of the magic monitoring room, a giant magical instrument was slowly rotating, receiving messages from different countries.
The night passed.
As the dawn light started to emerge in the east, a few exhausted magicians were dozing off on their desks, while most had gone to rest. It was the quietest and most relaxed time of the day, the only golden time for everyone to rest peacefully.
An old soldier-like man walked in, scanned around, and was about to leave when he noticed a magic receiver in the corner with a blinking signal, but unattended. The signal kept flashing persistently, indicating a military emergency communication, prompting the old soldier-like man to approach and turn on the receiver.
"Calling Sanctus, calling the Human Justice Alliance... Ah, it's connected, we've been calling all night, finally got through, boss, headquarters has received our call!" As soon as he turned it on, the old soldier heard an excited, hoarse voice shouting.
He was astonished. The other party had been calling headquarters all night? But why hadn't anyone answered? Didn't anyone see the magic signal, or did no one care about the frontline’s call for help?
"I am an elite student from the Norn Ironblood Knight Academy, under the command of General Quentin's Ironblood Cavalry Camp, my name is Rody. I am currently a logistics sergeant in the Ninth Squadron of the Holy Knights, located 65 kilometers ahead of the fifth station of the land of evil, Shield Camp. The military map coordinates are Holy Cross Left 42, Holy Cross Right 9518, Holy Cross Up 171. I am now reporting to Sanctus headquarters about the orc military movements." A clear voice from the magic receiver slowly spoke, and the old soldier-like man immediately extended his one arm to press the magic recording device, recording the frontline military intelligence being conveyed.
"Boss, remember to tell them about our heroic deeds," a clamoring voice came from the other end.
"Yesterday afternoon, we encountered orc scouts. The griffin cavalry captain in charge of security, Xiangdier, fled the battle, taking his fifty riders and abandoning us, six hundred militiamen, and a hundred logistics students." The voice in the receiver continued slowly: "For the glory of the God of Light, for justice, we all decided to resist to the end!"
"Damn it!" The old soldier cursed bitterly, "The damned deserters! Those six hundred militiamen and one hundred students are done for…"
"The orc scout troop had three hundred and nineteen individuals, including twenty-five berserkers and two shamans. By the grace of the God of Light, we were victorious." The voice from the receiver left the old soldier dumbfounded. Six hundred militiamen and a hundred logistics students defeated three hundred orcs? Was this a dream? But the following words from the man named Rody almost made him faint: "Although we were only issued wooden spears, with the help of the gods of wisdom and luck, we ambushed the orc scouts while they were feasting. They were full and not at their best, so we annihilated them relatively easily. Of course, there was a bit of trouble when dealing with the berserkers and shamans. A few comrades were slightly injured, fortunately, we secretly brought some medicines. Although this violates the orders from above, we are willing to accept punishment when we return, if we can make it back!"
"Oh God, I've heard a miracle!" the old soldier exclaimed in amazement.
"After reporting the good news to everyone, unfortunately, I have to report some bad news," the voice of the man named Rody came from the receiver, sounding particularly grave: "Thirty-five miles to our side, at Holy Cross Left 43, Holy Cross Right 9601, Holy Cross Up 185, an orc army of over ten thousand has appeared. They have at least three Bloodflower Axe Savages and two Shaman Warlords. Last night, they headed straight for the Justice Alliance's fifth station, the Shield Camp. Chris and I rushed there to report, but we were harshly scolded and accused by the camp's highest commander, Zunaid. He thought we were alarmist deserters and wanted to arrest us. When the orc army invaded, the Shield Camp was completely overrun. We were powerless to resist and had to escape back to our companions."
"How utterly foolish, who assigned this guy to guard the Shield Camp? Damn it, how can we have such a commander!" The old soldier was extremely angry upon hearing this.
"Now, we want to make a statement to the Sanctus headquarters," continued the voice of Rody from the receiver, filled with sorrow: "We are not deserters. Whether it's the hundred students from our Ironblood Cavalry Camp, the Spurs Mercenary Group that fled back from the pursuit of orcs, or the six hundred militiamen, none of us are disgraceful deserters. We are warriors, and under our feet lie the heads of three hundred orcs. If we return now, the military court will immediately arrest us for disobeying military orders. So, perhaps there is no longer a vanguard army ahead, but we will still continue to carry out General Lot's orders, moving forward to deliver the needed supplies to the vanguard army. May the God of Light bless us, long live the Human Alliance!"
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"Long live the Human Alliance..." In that moment, the old soldier heard the shouts of hundreds of people and was deeply moved.
"Foolish boy, if there's an orc army of over ten thousand ahead, how could there possibly be a vanguard army! You are simply marching to your death!" The old soldier panicked upon hearing this, but he couldn't warn Rody, as the communication was one-way, only transmitting sound back, and the other side couldn’t receive any messages.
With a beep, the other side cut off the magical communication.
But the old soldier was so anxious that he jumped up and down. He didn’t turn off the receiver, hoping to hear any new sounds from the other end. Just as he was pacing around anxiously, a sleeping magician was awakened by his loud voice.
Seeing an old soldier operating the magic receiver, the magician became furious.
"You, after sweeping the floor, get out immediately! Who authorized you to stay here, let alone operate this receiver? Which country are you from? Are you trying to spy on our military secrets? You have some nerve! Do you know how much energy this magic communicator consumes per minute? All your life's earnings wouldn't be enough to compensate for this. Turn it off now and get out!" The magician rushed over to inspect the receiver to see if it was still intact.
"Although it's not my job, I still took the magical communication for you. You should be thankful to me because an important piece of military intelligence was almost ignored by you," the old soldier said with a smile.
"What military intelligence? Utterly foolish. Do you think such a message full of grandiose lies is true? You’re an idiot!" the magician scoffed.
"Did you receive this report earlier this morning?" the old soldier was shocked.
"This guy sent the same message last night via text communication. He also reported an orc army attacking the Shield Camp. We asked Zunaid, the highest commander of the fifth camp, but he said it was absolutely not true and claimed they were just two deserters trying to escape punishment," the magician said with a sneer. "Anyone with a bit of sense would understand, how could six hundred militiamen and a hundred logistics soldiers kill over three hundred orcs? It's impossible! It’s a statement only a fool would make!"
"But even if there's a one in ten thousand chance it's true, it's worth recording!" the old soldier was shocked at the magician's attitude.
"Get out, this is not a place for you to speak!" the magician was furious, pointing towards the door for the old soldier to leave.
"Military intelligence doesn't distinguish between ranks. Even a stable boy, when he gets important military information, must report it to the general. I'm appalled at your attitude towards receiving intelligence. So this is how you handle it!" the old soldier sighed deeply. "So, that boy named Rody sounded so bitter and desperate, and you completely denied them!"
"You, a mere sweeper, have no right to criticize us, the exalted magicians! We have the capacity to discern what intelligence is true or false. Such a laughable lie can only be believed by fools like you!" the magician yelled, "Get out! Now, leave immediately, you crippled stable boy!"
"What's all this noise?" A magical archmage, with the Big Dipper insignia on his robe, came in, sleepy and unconcerned, but was startled to see his subordinate pointing and screaming at the old soldier. He kicked the arrogant magician down and urgently said, "Your Excellency the Marshal, please forgive me... I'm so sorry, I, I..."
"Marshal?" The magician fainted upon hearing this.
"If you're apologizing for me being pointed at and scolded, there's no need. I've been scolded a lot!" the old soldier said sternly. "But you owe me an apology because your subordinate made the gravest subjective error in handling military intelligence. Now, immediately contact Commander Zunaid of the Shield Camp, if he's still alive, have him come here bound to meet me! Also, send a few people to contact the generals, no matter what they're doing, they need to come here for a meeting right away! Generals Lot and Quentin, I want them here in front of me within ten minutes!"
"Your Excellency the Marshal, the fifth, the fifth station's Shield Camp..." The magical archmage, upon making contact, cried out in shock, "The Shield Camp has lost contact, how is this possible!"
"You're still not awake!" the old soldier snorted heavily, "I don't want to talk anymore, listen to this recording first."
The old soldier played Rody's communication recording over and over. The archmage's hand holding the staff trembled, and he was sweating profusely. The surrounding magicians were terrified, shivering like feverish patients in ice water. The generals arrived one after another, and each time a few came, the old soldier made them listen to the recording, then watched everyone's faces intently.
General Quentin, with a goatee and covered in blood, entered and snapped to attention to report.
"Where have you been?" the old soldier glanced at him and asked indifferently, "General Quentin, you didn't seem to have a combat mission, did you?"
"Reporting," General Quentin saluted sharply and said, "Your Excellency the Marshal, I received intelligence about an orc attack and teleported alone to the fifth station, Shield Camp, to warn General Zunaid. But it was too late; the Shield Camp had already been engulfed in flames. In the midst of the orc army's siege, I only managed to save General Zunaid! I'm sorry, Your Excellency the Marshal!"
"General Quentin, you indeed made a mistake. First, you should have brought his head, not the person!" the old soldier said sternly. "The second mistake is that you should have reported to me, not gone to the Shield Camp."
"Reporting," General Quentin saluted again, "Your Excellency the Marshal, I believe the second point wasn't a mistake. After receiving the message, I immediately reported it to your guard. He said you were en route to inspect the Iron Wall Fortress and the Valley of Winds. In the urgency of the situation, I decided to warn General Zunaid directly, so I went alone. Your Excellency the Marshal, if you return to your command tent now, you might find my deputy, Major Wood, still anxiously waiting to see you."
"My leaving the command tent for an inspection was my mistake. But why didn’t my guard report this to me?" the old soldier asked in astonishment.
"Your Excellency the Marshal, because your guard was assassinated last night," Lot entered and saluted, "A dead man cannot report to you."
"So, our enemies are not just the orcs and devils inside the land of evil!" the old soldier gave Lot a cold glance, then looked away and shouted, "Let's not discuss my guard's assassination for now. I want all of you to listen to the miraculous battle of a military genius who led a hundred companions and six hundred militiamen to kill three hundred orcs. Even though he downplayed the process, it made my blood boil! Tell me, how many days has it been since anyone has brought me even a bit of good news? Has anyone told me, 'you've won, you've annihilated the enemy'? You all should feel ashamed! This is a young man who just came out of the Knight Academy, a logistics soldier whom none of you respected!"
"I am an elite student from Norn Ironblood Knight Academy, under General Quentin's Ironblood Cavalry Camp, my name is Rody..."
As the recording played, all the generals present remembered this name. And they were stunned.