As I returned to my tent, I noticed a folded parchment placed near the entrance.
My assignment.
I picked it up.
My hands trembled slightly.
Rany had said that position was everything.
A safe position in the rear meant lower pay but a much higher chance of surviving.
A dangerous position meant greater rewards—
and a greater chance of dying.
Part of me believed that, as a mere two-star copper mercenary, I would be given a low-risk assignment.
Still, my hands shook.
I closed my eyes.
Took a deep breath.
Then opened the parchment.
I had been assigned two roles.
The first assignment placed me among the long-range support units.
During the bombardment and the initial charge, I was to provide ranged support alongside the other archers.
I let out a breath of relief.
But as I continued reading, my expression froze.
My second assignment was listed under the Fourth Wave.
Objective: Enter the nest.
Reason: Mounted combat capability.
I read it twice.
Just because I had Rusty, they had assigned me to one of the assault waves.
The aura knights would lead the first charge.
The second and third waves would follow.
The fourth wave would enter after the breach had been secured.
Only around fifty people had been assigned to it.
And I was one of them.
Something about it didn't sit right.
But there was nothing I could do.
Even if I argued, nobody would listen.
To them, I was simply another mercenary.
A child throwing a tantrum.
So I prepared myself.
I checked my sword.
My spear.
My bow.
The butterfly knives Duracal had given me.
Everything was ready.
Soon, the prisoners were brought out of their cages.
Chains were removed.
Weapons were distributed.
Armor was handed out.
Horses were prepared.
Some prisoners laughed.
Some stayed silent.
Others stared at the forest with dead eyes.
I could clearly see fear.
But I could also see determination.
They wanted to survive.
No matter the cost.
The mages began gathering near the rear.
Their chanting slowly filled the air.
Meanwhile, I climbed one of the assigned trees alongside the other long-range fighters.
The position allowed us to see the battlefield while remaining partially hidden.
For the first time—
I saw the nest clearly.
It resembled a small fortified town.
Wooden barricades surrounded the entire area.
Watch platforms had been built between trees.
Lizardmen stood guard.
And unlike the ones I had fought before—
these wore proper equipment.
Armor.
Shields.
Spears.
Bows.
This was not a tribe.
This was an army.
Then the prisoners were each handed a bottle.
One after another, they drank.
Almost immediately, their eyes turned red.
Veins bulged across their necks and faces.
Whatever had been inside those bottles—
it wasn't normal.
They mounted their horses.
Then the charge began.
The prisoners rushed forward.
The ground itself changed.
Earth mages had hardened portions of the swamp, creating a temporary road so the cavalry could charge.
As they advanced, the lizardmen finally reacted.
Arrows flew.
Spears rose.
One lizardman tried lighting a signal fire—
but an arrow struck him before he could.
The battle exploded.
Fireballs crashed into the barricades.
The prisoners slammed into the defenses.
Arrows pierced bodies.
Rocks crashed down from above.
One prisoner took a stone directly to the head.
Blood covered his face.
Yet he still raised his sword and cut down a lizardman before collapsing.
Another man wielding a massive war hammer struck the gate with all his strength.
The sound reached even my position.
Crack.
A small opening appeared.
Suddenly—
a spear shot through the gap.
It pierced the prisoner's chest.
He dropped the hammer.
For a moment, he simply stared at the spear sticking through his body.
Then, with his remaining strength, he grabbed it.
Pulled.
And dragged the lizardman toward the opening.
Around him, the battle became hell.
Arrows.
Spears.
Darts.
Falling rocks.
Men screaming.
Blood mixing with swamp water.
Bodies piling near the barricades.
Some prisoners fought with arrows buried in their shoulders.
Others continued swinging despite losing fingers or hands.
The gate slowly cracked.
Small openings appeared.
Lizardmen thrust spears through them repeatedly.
The prisoners answered with axes and hammers.
The smell of blood reached even my position.
Iron.
Mud.
Death.
Then—
I looked upward.
The mages had finally finished.
The bombardment was about to begin.