Aswald's movements, though still deadly, had begun to slow. His reactions, dulled by exhaustion, became a fraction slower with each passing moment. A misstep, a delayed parry, a moment's hesitation–and suddenly a skullsnap's massive jaws were closing in on his leg, dragging him down. More enemies piled in, sensing weakness, their weapons and claws reaching for his exposed flesh. Aswald's long career was about to end in a welter of blood and snapping teeth.

Reality torn asunder as Hugo's shadow plummeted from above. His impact was apocalyptic–a demonstration of raw power that transformed the battlefield. The ground didn't just shake; it erupted in a catastrophic wave of force that rippled outward like a stone dropped in a still pond. But this was no gentle ripple–it was devastation given physical form.

The initial impact created a thunderous explosion that sent the closest enemies flying like ragdolls, their bodies torn apart by sheer force. But the true horror was just beginning. The pulse of energy transformed into a visible wave that rolled across like a tsunami of destruction. As it passed through the ranks of the horde, it didn't just knock them down–it literally tore them apart from the inside out.

Bodies exploded in its wake, turning solid flesh into red mist. The wave of force passed through their forms like an invisible blade, reducing everything to bloody fragments. Row after row of enemies simply ceased to exist, transformed into a grotesque rain of meat and bone that painted the battlefield crimson. The devastation carved a semicircle of death in front of Hugo's position.

The sound reached every corner of the battlefield–a deep, resonant boom followed by the wet percussion of many bodies being simultaneously torn apart. The ground continued to tremble in the aftermath, as if the earth itself was acknowledging the display of power it had just witnessed.

"I can't believe I'm about to save your f*cking @ss, you reckless b*stard!" Hugo's voice carried equal parts exasperation and determination as he positioned himself between Aswald and the recovering enemy forces. His unexpected arrival had temporarily scattered the horde, creating a brief respite in the chaos of battle.

Hugo turned to glance at the man on the ground. Aswald met his fellow captain's gaze with momentary surprise before a slow grin spread across his blood-spattered face.

"You fucking bastard. You never change," Aswald chuckled, shaking his head. "Still got that flair for dramatic entrances." He wiped at his face, now covered in gore from Hugo's devastating attack. "Look at this mess. I'm practically wearing what's left of them. Pretty sure I got a mouthful too."

Hugo scowled at his friend's casual attitude. "You're laughing? Should be thanking me for saving your worthless @ss." His eyes narrowed. "If we weren't in the middle of a battle, I'd punch that ugly face of yours."

Aswald's expression sobered, his eyes dropping to the ground. "I didn't have a choice," he said softly, conflict cross against his features. "We were about to be attacked and surrounded. It was either strike first or wait for death to find us. I needed to fight now before their entire force arrives."

"What are you talking—" Hugo's question was cut short as waves of enemies surged forward again, forcing him to redirect his attention to the immediate threat.

He spun toward Bran and Osric, who stood frozen, still processing the devastating display of power they'd just witnessed. "What are you two gawking at?" Hugo barked. "Help this useless b*stard up so that we can get out of here!"

The urgency in his voice snapped them out of their daze. As they rushed to assist Aswald, Hugo took up a defensive position, his presence alone making the approaching enemies hesitate. The battlefield might have a momentary break, but the worst was yet to come.

As Hugo continued to slaughter the hobgoblins and wildermen, his troops suddenly advanced behind him, forming a protective column with their shields. Using their swords, they efficiently cut down any enemy that dared draw near.

"Hey, let me go, you brats! I can stand on my own," Aswald snapped in irritation, but Bran and Osric refused to listen. "I said let me go! I can still fight!"

After killing a skullsnap, Hugo whirled around in frustration. "You fucking @sshole! Get back now and stop wasting time," he barked, cutting down another wilderman. "Or I'll throw you straight to these savages so they can feast on your sorry @ss!"

"Let's see you try that, you b*stard," Aswald retorted, shrugging off Bran and Osric's support. But with a grumble, he withdrew back to his own troops.

Seeing Aswald withdraw, Hugo sighed in frustration before quickly commanded, "Slowly retreat. Step by step. I don't want to see any idiotic mistakes."

His soldiers obeyed without hesitation, methodically cutting down wave after wave of enemies as they fell back. The coordinated retreat was a well-oiled machine, the unit maintaining cohesion and discipline until they rejoined the main force.

Though they had rejoined the main force, escaping their isolated position, safety remained a distant dream. The endless horde continued to press in, slowly constricting around them like a serpent around its prey.

Hugo fought with relentless fury at the front, his blade carving through the enemy ranks. Each time he unleashed his abilities, swathes of enemies fell like a massive rock had dropped over their heads, but for each one that fell, two more seemed to take their place. The sea of savage faces stretched endlessly in every direction, their war cries a constant reminder of the noose slowly tightening.

The reality of their situation weighed heavily on Hugo. No amount of valor could overcome such overwhelming numbers. "Sound the horns! We withdrew!" his voice thundered across the battlefield as horns blared their retreat. "Cavalry, fall back to Grimwatch first!" He cleaved through another wilderman, his commands continuing between strikes. "Execute the practiced withdrawal! Support the wounded! And if anyone breaks formation, they'll answer me personally!"

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The army responded with practiced precision, decades of military discipline evident in their movements. The cavalry peeled away first, followed by the archers, providing covering fire with their bows as they retreated. Infantry units withdrew in alternating waves, each group covering the other's retreat while maintaining a solid defensive line.

Aswald fought his way to Hugo's side, his voice hoarse with exhaustion. "Hugo, we can't go to Grimwatch," he said grimly, parrying a hobgoblin's strike before killing it. "It would be the death of us."

Hugo's mace caved in a hobgoblin's skull before he turned to his fellow captain. "Explain."

"The food stores are gone," Aswald continued, his face grim. "Every last grain, every scrap of meat–all of it's been infected with some kind of poisonous mold. Completely inedible."

Hugo's face drained of color as the implications hit him. "How? Those stores were meant to last us through winter..." His voice trailed off as he cut down another attacker.

"Has to be sabotaged. These savages are craftier than we thought." Aswald spat blood from a split lip. "We discovered it just before news of their imminent attack began–didn't even have time for a proper investigation." He watched Hugo's face, seeing the weight of command bearing down on his friend. "If we retreat to Grimwatch now, we're just choosing a slower death. Starvation instead of the sword. At least out here, we can die with steel in our hands."

The battlefield seemed to grow quieter as Hugo processed this revelation, though the clash of steel and screams of the dying continued unabated. Their carefully planned retreat had just become a death march, and many lives now hung on his next decision.

"Hugo! Are you even f*cking listening?" Aswald shook his fellow captain, snapping him from his daze.

Hugo's eyes refocused, hardening with renewed resolve. "We still need to retreat to Grimwatch."

Aswald's face twisted in frustration. Though they shared the same rank, Hugo's seniority gave him final authority. Still, Aswald wouldn't let this go without a fight. "So we can sit inside those walls and starve like rats?" He grabbed Hugo's shoulder, forcing eye contact. "We're warriors man, warriors—damn it! The enemy hasn't surrounded Grimwatch yet. Even if our chances are next to nothing, better to die here with steel in hand than waste away behind stone walls!"

"My decision is final," Hugo's voice carried the weight of command. "We'll retreat and hold out as long as we can. There might still be a way out of this mess."

"And if there isn't?" Aswald challenged, his eyes blazing.

Hugo looked skyward for a moment, giving an exhausted sigh before he met his friend's gaze. "Then you'll get your wish—a glorious death. And I'll follow behind you."

Their grim exchange was interrupted by panicked shouts from the rear. Through the chaos of battle, they could see their defensive line buckling. A mass of hobgoblins had found a weak point, and now wildermen were pouring through the gap like water through a broken dam. Soldiers scattered before the onslaught, their formation crumbling. If the breach wasn't sealed quickly, the entire army would be encircled.

"Hold this position," Hugo ordered Aswald, who nodded grimly. "Bran! Osric! With me!" He turned and sprinted toward the chaos, knowing that every second counted. Once the enemy completed their encirclement, there would be no escape–only a slow, bloody end for his entire command.

Hugo charged into the collapsing line, his mace striking the ground with devastating force. The impact eviscerated the surrounding enemies, their bodies torn apart by the sheer power. Bran and Osric immediately flanked him, their swords ready as more enemies surged forward to fill the gap left by their fallen comrades.

"What are you doing, you worthless b*stards?" Hugo's voice thundered, cutting through the chaos like a blade. "Cowering like children? Stand up! Show these savages what it means to face warriors of Ironspire!"

His words ignited something in the soldiers. Shame and pride warred on their faces before resolve won out. They scrambled to their feet, reforming the defensive column with renewed determination. The panic in their eyes hardened into focus as they held the line.

As Hugo cut down another wilderman, he spared a glance at Bran and Osric. Pride swelled in his chest despite the dire circumstances. Where seasoned veterans might hesitate at such overwhelming odds, these boys fought with unwavering focus. Their blades moved with deadly precision, cutting down hobgoblins and wildermen alike without a moment's hesitation. There was no trace of the usual panic or disgust at their first taste of real combat–only a cold efficiency that spoke of rare talent.

Hugo mentally saluted Elysian for having such promising talents. In any other times, they could have easily become captains like himself, their names spoken with reverence among soldiers of Ironspire. But fate had other plans. These brilliant young flames might be snuffed out here, their potential lost to the savage tide that threatened to overwhelm them all.

Their swords continued to flash in the chaos, buying precious time for the retreat to continue. But Hugo couldn't shake the bitter taste of knowing that these gifted youths might never see another dawn, their stories ending before they truly began.

As Hugo fought at the front, more screams pierced the air from his left flank. Another section of their defensive column was beginning to buckle under the relentless assault. "Bran, Osric, hold this position. I'll help support the other side," he ordered, receiving sharp nods from the young warriors as they continued to fight.

He turned to rush toward the failing defense, but stopped dead in his tracks. In front, the line was also beginning to crack under the savage tide. Everywhere he looked, the situation was deteriorating. Their carefully organized retreat was transforming into a desperate struggle for survival.

The enemy pressed in from all sides like a rising flood. For every breach they sealed, two more threatened to burst. His soldiers fought valiantly, but exhaustion was taking its toll. Shields drooped, sword arms grew heavy, and gaps began appearing in their formations. The relentless waves of hobgoblins and wildermen showed no signs of tiring, their endless numbers making up for any lack of skill.

"Sh*t!" Hugo cursed, watching his retreating forces move at an agonizingly slow pace. They couldn't move any faster without their defensive lines collapsing completely, but at this rate, they'd be overwhelmed before they could reach safety.

His mind raced through options, each more desperate than the last. Rush to the left flank? Reinforce the front? Split his remaining reserves? Every choice felt like choosing which finger to cut off first. The savage horde was slowly but surely tightening their grip, and Hugo could see no way to break free of it.

"We're fucked," he muttered, the weight of command crushing down on him as he watched more of his defensive positions begin to crumble. The noose was tightening, and for the first time in his military career, Hugo couldn't see a path to victory–or even survival.

The battlefield's chaos suddenly froze as a horn blast unlike any other tore through the air. This wasn't the crude war horns the savages had been using–this was something ancient and terrible. The sound reverberated through the earth itself, a deep, primal note that seemed to shake the very foundations of the world. It was as if some ancient entity had awakened and announced its presence to all who could hear.