Odis has been stationed at the border for five days now.
Currently, he finds himself in a desolate small town recently ravaged by marauding orcs, leaving behind a trail of destruction and death among the hapless civilians.
In the wake of the orcish onslaught, this once-thriving settlement now lies deserted—a ghost town. The orcs rarely return to plunder the same location twice, rendering it a relatively safe haven for Odis and his band.
Accompanying Odis are 30 members of the Blood clan, their vampiric prowess honed and ready for action. Additionally, Odis commands a legion of 50 magic bats, their wings slicing through the air with silent precision.
The sprawling landscape, dominated by distant mountain ranges stretching for miles on end, presents an insurmountable challenge. Even with focused exploration, the vastness of the terrain defies quick scrutiny. Furthermore, the constant threat of aerial predators—be they the orcish bipedal flying dragons, the majestic griffins of myth, or the noble Pegasi of human lore—necessitates caution and evasive maneuvers at every turn.
He can only endeavor to deploy his forces strategically for reconnaissance missions. Over the past few days, he's stumbled upon several orcish reconnaissance outposts due to his ventures deep into the borderlands.
The beast cavalry, mounted atop bipedal dragons, possess a formidable combat prowess comparable to the demon language bats, rivaling even that of the Blood clan.
In the face of such formidable adversaries, Odis can only exercise restraint and instruct his companions to avoid unnecessary conflicts.
His mandate, handed down by the patriarch, is clear: locate and aid displaced humans fleeing the ravages of war, not engage in skirmishes with the brutish and uncouth orcs.
With the Blood clan's numbers dwindling, each member is too precious to risk in battle.
Mr. Viscount," the messenger spoke urgently, "word has arrived from the patriarch that provisions have been readied at the ancient castle.
Ivy, Lucy, and Dylan, the three viscounts, will be joining forces with us, accompanied by their full contingent of magic bats.
Under the authority of the ancestral crown, our directive is clear: prioritize the safe retrieval of as many individuals as possible while safeguarding our own well-being.
Furthermore, it is imperative that we steer clear of any encounters with both human and orc armies."
A member of the Blood clan, clad in a weathered leather windbreaker, approached Odis and handed him the bat responsible for delivering the message.
After receiving the bat and listening to its nocturnal message, Odis extracted the letter paper stowed on his person. He gingerly tore it open, his eyes scanning the parchment with meticulous attention.
"Well, the patriarch's directive is to be taken seriously. I won't tolerate seeing any of our kin hanging from the ropes at the mercy of those filthy orcs."
The moment has arrived.
Odis vividly recalled the electrifying speech the patriarch delivered a few days prior upon his return.
"Build a city greater than Green City."
The proprietorship of this city—destined to surpass even the renowned Green City—is to belong to the Blood clan.
Since that pivotal moment, a resolute determination had taken root within Odis. Regardless of the cost, he pledged to fulfill this ambitious goal.
He eagerly anticipated the arrival of that fateful day, knowing that his name, Odis, would be immortalized in the annals of Blood clan history alongside the grandeur of the city.
As a witness to the ascent of the Blood clan, as the direct descendant of the clan's patriarch—Odise Kachar—the prospect of such a momentous occasion filled Odis with unparalleled pride.
What a glorious day it would be.
Odis's eyes gleamed with anticipation.
The bats, meticulously trained by the Blood clan through their unique methods, possessed extraordinary abilities. Not only could they pinpoint the location of nests, but they also had an innate sense of each other's positions through the mystical connection of blood.
Thus, Odis harbored no concerns about Ivy's ability to locate him.
The wait was brief.
Ivy encountered Odis at midnight, and it took almost five weeks to travel from the castle to the border using the magic bat's speed.
This is a great distance. If traveled by land, it would take a cavalry unit ten days to cover it.
Given the extremely inconvenient transportation options available, having aerial flying monsters is a significant advantage.
This is also the reason why the human kingdom breeds a large number of griffins and pegasi.
"Ivy, I have received the patriarch's order, and I am assigning this task to you."
After receiving Morgen's order, Odis simply transferred the command to Ivy.
Ivy is the most intelligent of all their second-generation blood descendants, and he was very happy about her arrival.
This meant that they might gain more from this task.
"Odis, thank you for your trust. I swear by the goddess of the night and my father that I will never let you down."
Ivy's face was solemn, and her pure black mage's robe set off her exquisite face.
"You can now report all the information you have gathered to me."
"This is York's town, located 100 kilometers from the war-ravaged border. It has already been plundered once by the orcs.
The orcs won't return after pillaging a town, so we're relatively safe here.
During the harsh winter months, the days grew shorter while orcish forces relentlessly increased. To escape the orcish threat, many civilians from the town began fleeing towards Green City. However, misfortune struck as many of these refugees were plundered and harassed by the marauding orcs.
In response to this dire situation, I dispatched 30 scouting parties to monitor the movements of these refugee groups. One group, located approximately 50 kilometers away, consists of over 800 individuals, closely observed by 10 of our scouts.
My suggestion is to prioritize targeting this specific refugee group, as it reportedly includes a substantial number of nobles and potentially valuable individuals. These literate humans would be of great asset to the patriarchs, who have expressed a need for such talents.
Morgen specifically instructed Audis to prioritize the discovery of highly skilled individuals during intelligence gathering missions. Given the scarcity of literate humans and their concentration among the aristocracy, Morgen considers the nobility to be a prime target for acquiring these valuable assets.
Ivy, having a deep understanding of Morgen's plan, acknowledged the importance of capturing these literate individuals. Although Ivy and Audis, both second-generation blood clan members, were born into aristocratic families and received proper education, they recognized the need for a systematic knowledge reserve that only orthodoxly educated aristocrats possess.
"Audis, I appreciate your clear thinking on this matter. Perhaps my father's decision to appoint me as the commander was not the best choice," Ivy remarked.
"No, Ivy, no one can question the patriarch's decision. I will follow your orders," Audis responded respectfully.
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Undeterred by the potential risks, Ivy promptly instructed Audis to recall the scouts monitoring the refugee group, emphasizing the need for comprehensive information. Despite possessing enough forces to engage in a small-scale battle, Ivy chose a cautious approach, understanding that humans often conceal their true capabilities until the crucial moment.
Over a century of experience had tempered Ivy's youthful impulses, fostering a pragmatic and calculated mindset.
"Audis, I am confident that our scouts will deliver the information we need," Ivy stated with conviction.
Audis held out his hand, and a bat that had been circling overhead landed in his palm.
"Tern, relay the latest intelligence back to me," Audis commanded, dispatching the bat as a messenger.
With this directive, the first operation to acquire human resources was officially initiated.
In the lands of Nolan Empire, the Baron of York, Marcos York, found himself gazing upon the terrifying spectacle of an orcish army swarming the walls of York town. His heart pounded as the realization of the town's grim fate washed over him. Despite his sworn duty to protect his people and land, Marcos knew that their meager force of 3,000 soldiers would be crushed beneath the sheer might of the orcish horde.
As the orcish wolf cavalry tore through the town's defenses, Marcos made the agonizing decision to abandon York Town. With a heavy heart, he gathered his family, skilled craftsmen, and all their wealth, preparing for a desperate flight. In a bid to grant them a chance of escape, he commanded the town's militia, composed of ordinary citizens, to engage the invading orcs.
"Hold them off as long as you can," Marcos implored the militia's captain, a grizzled veteran named Eldric. "Every moment you buy us is precious."
Eldric nodded grimly, a determined glint in his eyes. "We will fight to the last man, My Lord. For York town, and for Nolan!"
With a surge of emotion, Marcos embraced Eldric tightly. "I have no doubt, my friend. May the gods grant you strength."
As Marcos and his entourage fled the doomed town, the sounds of battle roared behind them. The clash of steel and the war cries of orcs and humans echoed through the air, a grim testament to the sacrifices being made to save their lives.
As they rode through the night, Marcos experienced a fleeting sense of relief. Thankfully, he had entrusted the leadership of the militia to its captain, who valiantly guided the civilians in their brave stand against the orcs. Otherwise, Marcos realized, he might have met his end within the besieged walls of York town.He knew that the brave men and women of the militia were fighting a hopeless battle, giving their lives so that he and his family might live.
"Father," whispered his young son, tears streaming down his face. "Why are we leaving? Why can't we stay and fight with them?"
Marcos looked into his son's eyes. "Because we have to survive, my boy. We have to carry on the legacy of York town, no matter the cost."
As they continued their journey, Marcos couldn't shake the feeling that he had forsaken his people. But he knew that the survival of his family, and the future of the Nolan Empire, rested on their shoulders. He vowed to honor the sacrifice of the militia and work tirelessly to rebuild York town and reclaim their lands from the orcish scourge.
As Marcos and his entourage fled under the cover of darkness, the town of Lythmore, which had taken centuries to build, fell to ruin. The orcs, sensing the town's vulnerability, descended upon it like a pack of ravenous wolves, plundering and pillaging everything in their path.
Those civilians who failed to escape the orcish onslaught met their tragic end, their lives extinguished in a sea of blood and chaos.
As news of Marcos's escape reached the ears of the devastated townspeople, a wave of anger and resentment washed over them. They cursed his name, branding him a coward and a traitor.
"Marcos, you abandoned us to our fate!" Cried a grief-stricken mother, her voice hoarse with anguish. "You sacrificed our lives for your own survival."
"We trusted you, and you betrayed us!" shouted an elderly man, his eyes blazing with fury. "Your selfishness has doomed us all."
But Marcos remained unmoved. As a baron and a noble of the kingdom, he believed that the sacrifices of these lowly civilians were justified for the survival of the nobility.
In Marcos's eyes, the civilians were mere tools to be used and discarded as needed. He saw them as expendable pawns in the grand game of power and influence.
"They were replaceable," Marcos declared coldly to his inner circle. "The kingdom needs strong leaders like us, not weak peasants who cannot defend themselves."
His words were met with a chorus of agreement from his fellow nobles, who shared his disdain for the common folk.
"We cannot allow the whims of the masses to dictate our actions," said one of his advisors. "The fate of the kingdom rests upon our shoulders."
Marcos nodded in agreement. "The survival of our noble lineage is paramount. We must focus on preserving our power and wealth, no matter the cost.”
In the procession, two young figures, Recker and Ollie, harbored clandestine intentions against the wealthy Lord Marcos.
"Brother Recker, should we truly enact this plan? Marcos has over 30 guards. How can we possibly overcome them?" Ollie, the younger of the two, expressed his doubts, his eyes reflecting fear and uncertainty.
The burden of assaulting a nobleman, a figure of majestic inviolability, weighed heavily on his mind. He understood that if their actions were exposed, they would be labeled as outlaws, hunted by mercenaries and bounty hunters drawn by the reward offered for their capture.
Recker, his elder brother, possessed a sturdy physique and a mane of short blonde hair that resembled a lion's. Strapped to his back was a broadsword that spanned two palms in width, hinting at his immense strength and potential prowess against the orcish wolf cavalry.
"Ollie, if we don't act now, we will have no opportunity once we reach Green City," Recker said grimly. "We fled York town with nothing but the clothes on our backs. The nobles there will show us no mercy. We require this money, and so does everyone else here."
Ollie hesitated, still grappling with the gravity of their actions. "But what if we fail? What if we're caught and executed?"
Recker's eyes held a resolute determination. "We mustn't think of failure. We have to believe in ourselves. Besides, we're not alone. Many here also yearn for liberation from the oppression of these nobles. We'll find allies among them."
Ollie's determination grew as he listened to his brother's passionate words. He realized that their actions were not only about personal gain but also about fighting for the rights of the common folk.
"You're right, brother," Ollie affirmed, his eyes filled with newfound resolve. "We'll do this. Together."
The plot was set, and the seeds of rebellion were sown. Recker and Ollie knew the risks were great, but they were ready to face them head-on. They were determined to challenge the unjust rule of the nobles, to seize their rightful share of wealth, and to bring about a change for the better.
Amidst the throngs of desperate and determined people, Recker's eyes swept across the assembled faces, etched with the grim reality of their dire situation.
Ravaged by orcish hordes, their existence teetered on the brink of oblivion. Destitute and starving, fleeing to the fabled Green City offered no salvation, only the specter of starvation and death. The relentless winter's icy embrace would claim them long before they reached the sanctuary of Green City's walls.
Compounded by the nobility's callous abandonment, the common people's loyalty and respect had withered, replaced by resentment and contempt.
Ollie, his teeth gritted and eyes ablaze with hatred, pledged their unwavering allegiance, "Brother Recker, we'll follow your lead." The memory of Marcos's disastrous order, resulting in the brutal demise of his comrades, seared into his soul.
Recker, with a steely glint in his eyes, unveiled his meticulously crafted plan. "When I close in on Marcos, I'll target his formidable right-hand man, the alpha-level strongman. He won't be an easy adversary."
"Upon my signal, charge in and overwhelm the guards. Our superior numbers will secure victory. Don't falter in the face of adversity. Our families, our children, depend on the wealth we'll seize. Failure spells doom for all of us."
Ollie's voice echoed with unwavering resolution, "We won't let you down, Recker. We'll fight for our freedom, for our families. We'll fight for the future."
The air throbbed with newfound purpose and the intoxicating allure of rebellion. Inspired by Recker's leadership and their shared desperation, the downtrodden villagers embraced the daunting task of confronting the tyrannical Marcos and his oppressive forces.
In a land ravaged by conflict, the words of Recker, a battle-hardened leader, sparked a glimmer of hope among the beleaguered civilians. The mere whisper of survival, though distant, dispelled their fear and kindled a resolute determination within them.
The timid farmers, weathered by a life on the unforgiving border, cast aside their inhibitions and embraced their inner warrior spirit. The meek had long succumbed to the harsh realities of their existence, leaving only the resilient to endure.
"May the divine protector of life guide us," Recker solemnly uttered, leading the charge towards Marcos' motorcade. His voice carried the weight of conviction, and his eyes burned with unyielding resolve.
The civilians followed Recker, their hearts pounding with a mix of trepidation and newfound courage. They knew the odds were stacked against them, but the prospect of liberation from Marcos' oppressive rule fueled their determination.
Amidst the chaos, word of Recker's challenge reached the ears of Marcos, the tyrannical ruler. With an air of arrogance, Marcos summoned the sturdy civilian to his presence.
"Recker," Marcos pronounced, his tone dripping with disdain, "while you may reside within my domain, if you aspire to join my retinue, you must prove your mettle."
Unfazed, Recker bowed respectfully, his gaze unwavering despite the watchful eyes of Marcos's guards. "My lord," he proclaimed, his voice unwavering, "I respectfully request a duel with your captain of the guard. Let my strength speak for itself.
Intrigued by Recker's apparent humility, the guards lowered their vigilance, allowing him to set his plan in motion. Marcos, amused by Recker's boldness, granted his request.
"Enda," Marcos said to his captain of the guard, "display your might to this challenger. If he proves worthy, spare him. But if he is merely a pompous fool, take his head.”
Enda, a mountain of a man with a scarred face and a glint of steel in his eyes, cracked his knuckles. "As you command, Lord Marcos," his voice rumbled, deep and gravelly. He turned to Recker, his gaze raking over him with undisguised amusement. "So, you think you can handle a real warrior, farmhand?"
Recker met his gaze unflinchingly, a faint smile playing on his lips. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't," he replied, his voice steady. "But perhaps your 'real warrior' needs a reminder that strength comes in many forms."
The air crackled with unspoken challenge. Enda snorted, a sound like a bull preparing to charge. He unsheathed his sword, the polished metal glinting in the sunlight. "Then let's see what form yours takes," he growled.
With a swift dismount from his horse, Recker charged towards Enda, unleashing a pent-up fury that reverberated through the cobblestone streets. Each thunderous step left deep imprints in the ground, a testament to his indomitable spirit.
"Warrior skill - Violent Impact!" Recker bellowed, unleashing a devastating attack that sent shockwaves through the onlookers.
The assembled civilians, desperate for liberation from Marcos' oppressive rule, erupted in a deafening roar, their collective will fueling Recker's determination. No matter how bloody or tragic the outcome, they were determined to seize this chance at survival.