While Bertrand was overwhelmed with shock the traitor rushed at Blindie, he only made it a few steps before his torso was eviscerated though.

One of the few infantrymen had smoothly turned around and put them down without so much as a grimace.

The sheer force of the musket shot had vivisected the traitor, their top half slid down and got stuck against the railing, while their bottom got hooked on some tile shards and got stuck.

It was bloody and nauseating but above all else, it was horribly depressing.

Having to face down twisted parodies of former humans and nightmarish abominations was bad enough, but having to do it with your back exposed was worse.

Already everyone was more focused on eyeing each other up than on dealing with the small horde.

At least until the cohort leader spoke up.”Eyes on the zombies, we wipe them out and then we withdraw.”

Their words broke the spell of distrust and slowly everyone got back into position, aiming down at the zombies.

Of course, uneasy glances were still present but at least the cohort was back to trusting each other somewhat.

Bertrand didn’t even need to fire his beamer this time as the musket volley took care of the zombie threat.

A few zombies still shambled forwards of course but they weren’t worth the cost of a mana cube to kill.

So he just waited while his fellow soldiers reloaded and then watched as they put down the surviving zombies.

He must have still been in shock because he didn’t even register the veteran telling everyone to retreat, he only noticed they were falling back when he got slapped in the face.

Turning around the culprit was exactly who he thought it would be, it was the overly aggressive and burly fellow who had stopped him from slipping when he first got onto this roof.

Just like before, even though their methods were rough they worked.

So after cursing the man under his breath Bertrand followed their lead and walked with them over the wooden plank and away from their defensive point.

They should stay and fight but they had already crippled what should have been a fearsome offensive of the zombie horde.

And they didn’t have the heart to stick around to find out what was next.

They also didn’t have the trust, logically that traitor should have been the only one since if there was another they would have joined in but still the fear of betrayal lingered.

A positive occurrence of his prior dazed state was that he was at the back of the group now.

So he didn’t have to worry about getting stabbed in the back, all he had to worry about was the shabby wooden planks he had to tread upon.

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He truly hoped they were actually reinforced with magic, dying because of a piece of wood would be a humiliating way to go.

When he finally got off of them he almost jumped with joy.

Almost, he obviously didn’t actually do it, instead he carefully made his way down the gaping hole in the roof so he could follow after the infantryman.

It was uncomfortable as the jagged edges raked along his stomach but he endured it quite happily, the joy of getting away from the rooftops overwhelming any pain that the edges caused.

It was weird, he was fine with being on watch towers but not on rooftops.

Something to ponder for another day he thought as he dropped down the hole, it was a short fall, only a foot or so at most.

His heavy boots helped dampen the already small impact, he didn’t even need to bend his knees.

What he did need to do was get a move on though, he had to catch up with the others if he wanted a scrap of safety in this besieged town.

Well, fort, townfort?

It was something he would have to ask Francois after this was all over.

Hurrying outside, he found the group waiting for him.

Or more accurately, getting ready for their journey.

If they were able to move in a straight line it would take them around thirty yards to get back to the inner fort wall but instead, it would take them a hundred thanks to all the fortifications and traps.

That was only for them, any adapters would be able to move in a moderately straight line as they clawed their way up and down houses, so even though they should be walking back to safety, they could actually be walking into a trap.

That was why they were still waiting outside, they were all busy arguing about what to do.

Blinde was standing off to the side watching the ongoing argument while the veteran was busy mediationing.

The burly and contradictory infantrymen who had snapped Bertrand out of his daze was already storming towards everyone, visibly angry and frustrated.

Bertrand didn’t bother listening or trying to take part, he just made his way over to Blindie and stood beside them.

This time he made a conscious effort to stay focused and not become overburdened by battle exhaustion.

He did this by pinching himself after every tenth breath and by alternating between different postures, he would go from standing up as straight as a pole to slowly leaning forward until he looked like he had a backpack on.

He also made sure he was keeping an eye on the rooftops they had just gotten off, there shouldn't be any more zombies coming their way any time soon but it still didn’t hurt to be careful.

After a few minutes that felt far longer than they had any right to, the argument was over, mostly because everyone was starting to get anxious.

And so with a final few words from the veteran, they began to head off.

The argument wasn’t without any merits, they had figured out a proper way to retreat which was something.

They would be bunched into three small groups, each one tailing the other a few yards apart. The main purpose of the formation was to help defend against an ambush.

They were spread out far enough that if they got ambushed it would only be able to affect two groups at most, giving the other one an opportunity to open fire.

So funnily enough the middle group was in the most danger, usually those in the middle of the formation were in the safest spot.

Due to this inherent danger, Bertrand was placed in the front of their formation and Blindie in the back, that way there would always be a skirmisher available to counterattack.

Bertrand wasn’t a big fan of being at the tip of the spear but he understood the logic of it.

And as they began their steady retreat, Bertrand found himself looking over his shoulders more often than he was looking forwards.

His fellow soldiers in group one were doing the same, paranoia was starting to set in and it was proving hard to dislodge.