In the ensuing days, Avi and Airen embarked on a journey through the neighboring villages, seeking to rally support from the locals.

The response they encountered was nothing short of fervent; nearly every village boasted eager youths willing to take up arms and join the ranks of the mercenary band. Motivated not merely by defense but by a burning desire for retribution against the marauding orcs, these individuals eagerly joined the cause.

Fortuitously, many of these villages had spontaneously formed militia units, a result of their proximity to the Black Forest. Midenghelm's provision of limited aid in the form of rudimentary crossbows further bolstered their ranks and mitigated the losses inflicted by the rampaging orcs.

This turn of events proved advantageous for Avi and his comrades: in battles reliant on defensive strategy, ranged firepower was paramount. Though the bows and crossbows procured from the militias were of modest quality, they proved effective in combat scenarios where precision was not paramount.

Thirty-seven militia members rallied to their banner, joining twenty mercenaries, eleven squires, and Avi, Rafe, and Airen, forming a formidable force of seventy-one individuals.

The militia's armaments were sufficient to equip twenty-six archers, while the remainder wielded homemade spears and improvised farm implements.

In total, Avi commanded 26 militia archers, 11 degraded pioneer knights, 16 pikemen, 6 greatswordsmen, and 11 militia members.

Before each battle, these militia members doubled as invaluable labor reinforcements. Their newfound strength enabled Avi and his cohorts to expand and fortify their encampment further.

On nights when venturing beyond the camp was not feasible, mercenaries and militia alike underwent rigorous training within the confines of their stronghold. Archers honed their marksmanship skills, while melee fighters refined their coordination and close-quarters combat techniques.

With the influx of labor, Avi decided to entrust the defense of the camp's flanks and rear to pitfalls, barriers, and trenches. All pikemen were to form a spear wall to repel the beasts' charge, complemented by the archers' firepower on the flanks and rear to maximize their effectiveness.

Upon completion of the pitfall preparations, they erected a stout earthen wall fortified with rubble and timber, standing at chest height and capable of withstanding the brunt of the beasts' onslaught.

Nearly a month passed unnoticed, with no sign of movement from the orcs or alteration in their compensation.

On the thirtieth day, news arrived from Midengheim that the Elector had decided to base payment on the results of defeating the orcs. A messenger delivered fifteen days' worth of compensation as a reward for their previous efforts.

Avi had long realized their role as mere pawns or expendable tools in Mideng's scheme. Nevertheless, having already received sixteen hundred gold coins, he deemed the compensation satisfactory.

"Why resist when sheltered under the eaves?" Avi pondered. "Midenghelm holds sway over all, and we mercenaries must acquiesce to their whims. Moreover, we've already reaped the benefits of sixteen hundred gold coins, which suffice."

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Despite Mideng's breach of contract, their resolve remained unyielding, and both mercenaries and militia embraced their settled existence.

However, the world seldom favored tranquility and peace.

To everyone's astonishment, the horde materialized one fateful morning, their arrival as silent as it was overwhelming.

As the alarm horn reverberated throughout the camp, hooved creatures converged and howled, replacing the familiar shadows with countless orcs.

These grim, filthy creatures usurped the forest's shadows, now the harbingers of fear and dread. The hooved creatures bellowed, proclaiming allegiance to their chaotic gods in a tongue akin to chaos itself.

Ordinary humans couldn't comprehend the nefarious words spoken; they merely gripped their weapons tightly behind the fortifications, prepared to slaughter those creatures filled with malice and bestiality.

But Avi understood their language; he knew that orcs harbored nothing but hatred and disdain towards humans—a piece of useful information. Such enemies had no need for conversation; he drew his sword and raised it high, signaling readiness for battle.

The sun had not yet risen, and the mercenaries' armor and weapons didn't gleam as they did in daylight, but they had never stood so resolutely in the face of these creatures—not just because of the desire to survive but also because they knew they now had companions and were sufficiently powerful.

The horde wasted no time and swiftly launched their attack while the mercenaries were still not fully awake.

The first wave of the assault consisted of Chaos Mastiffs, their eyes glowing red with malevolence. There was no fear or hesitation in these twisted creatures; they were obsessed with the scent of "prey" in the air, barking loudly as they rushed towards the mercenaries' camp.

"No need to be too tense; let our fortifications do their work first!" Avi shouted. "Infantry, fall back, and archers, prepare to shoot!"

The low barriers placed in front of the pitfalls were the first to react. The ferocious and violent Chaos Warhounds, unable to brake at their high speed, crashed into the sharpened tree branches and wooden stakes, their bellies pierced, and they howled in pain.

Nevertheless, the remaining warhounds disregarded their fallen brethren and continued to surge forward, their minds consumed by slaughter and hunting. Their mouths dripped with foul saliva, hungering between rows of sharp teeth, frenziedly struggling to break through the barriers.

Behind the low wall, 26 archers had already nocked their arrows, awaiting their commander's command.

"Loose arrows!" Avi issued a loud command.

The militia archers quickly drew their bows, aiming their crude yet still sharp arrowheads at the writhing mass of black hounds, releasing the taut bowstrings with vengeance in their hearts.

Arrows flew, carrying the humans' fury towards the hounds, and where they landed, there were piercing screams. Yet, the horde remained unfazed. When the warhounds were slain or injured, their bodies piling up against the barriers, the Chaos Minotaurs launched the second wave of assault.

Seeing this, Airen immediately ordered all squires to prepare their firearms for a volley, but Avi quickly stopped him.

"Not yet!" Avi said. "It's not the time; stay calm."

"My lord, behind those barriers are the pitfalls and trenches, and beyond the trenches, there's nothing."

"I know, that's why I said it's not the time yet. Good steel should be saved for the right moment; your firearms should only appear at the most crucial moment."

"But, my lord—"

"Trust me," Avi said firmly. "I've gleaned some information from their words; now we need to execute a tactical maneuver!"

Airen relinquished his insistence and sheathed his sword, bowing to Avi. "My lord, forgive my impudence and presumption. We will follow your command and ask for the honor of fighting under your guidance."

"That is inevitable," Avi replied.

With that, Avi turned around, facing the charging Chaos Minotaurs, the lowest of the low among the orcish warband.

They were a combination of all the worst traits of both humans and beasts. With human bodies and beastly hooves, they wielded crude axes and wooden spears, charging towards the camp, effortlessly crossing the barriers and leaping onto the open ground littered with the bodies of the hounds.

There, they would be met with a series of pit traps bristling with spikes.