As the sixth wave entered the battlefield, the fighting inside the nest became somewhat manageable.
The mounted lizardmen had begun to decrease, and their attacks were losing momentum. However, our casualties were not slowing down. For every five lizardmen we killed, at least one mercenary was wounded, seriously injured, or dead.
Still, the battle continued.
I swung my spear, the axe blade attached to it cleanly cutting through another lizardman's neck.
My armor already had four arrows embedded in it. I had been hit several times, but thanks to my sensory field and the armor, none of the wounds were serious. There were scratches and small bleeding wounds, but nothing major.
The battle between the knights and the mages still echoed throughout the entire nest.
The aura knights continued attacking the mages while their bodyguards desperately defended them. No one dared step between their battle.
One lizardman on the ground suddenly tried to stab me.
I leaned backward and brought my spear down with both hands. The axe blade struck his skull, splitting it open instantly.
At the same moment, another lizardman approached me from behind with an axe.
Before he could strike, Rusty kicked backward with his hind legs, hitting him directly in the stomach.
I had already sensed him through my sensory field.
But in this chaos, maintaining my sensory field across the entire battlefield was becoming dangerous. I had to constantly identify friend from enemy while tracking movements from every direction.
My head felt like it was splitting apart.
Blood began flowing from my nose.
There was no external injury.
The strain of maintaining my sensory field for so long was taking its toll.
But if I stopped, I would become vulnerable to attacks from behind.
So I endured.
The fighting continued.
Every lizardman that approached us died, but one pair became particularly troublesome.
One carried a shield and spear.
The other hid behind him with a blow dart.
The shield user covered both himself and his companion completely.
Whenever I attacked, the blow dart user would raise his weapon and prepare to fire.
If I dodged the spear, I would be hit by the dart.
If I focused on the dart, the spear would reach me first.
They fought together perfectly.
I remained atop Rusty, trying to find an opening.
The dart suddenly changed targets.
The dart suddenly changed targets.
Instead of aiming at me, it targeted Rusty's neck.
At the same time, the shield lizardman thrust his spear.
Rusty sensed the danger and quickly moved his body sideways. The dart missed its mark, passing beside his neck.
But that movement created an opening.
I blocked the attack, but the impact caused my spear to slide aside.
The spear user took advantage of that moment and struck my left shoulder.
Not the blade.
The wooden shaft.
The armor absorbed most of the impact, but the force still exploded through my shoulder, sending pain through my entire arm.
For a moment, my grip nearly loosened.
I tried to swing my spear.
He blocked it.
The two of us remained locked.
Then I gave Rusty a signal.
Rusty charged forward.
The spear lizardman attempted another thrust.
I swung upward, striking the shaft of his spear and forcing it away from Rusty's path.
Rusty lowered his head and slammed directly into the shield.
The shield-bearing lizardman was thrown backward several steps before falling to the ground.
The blow dart user lost his protection.
Rusty didn't stop.
He rushed forward and trampled both lizardmen beneath his hooves.
The shield that had protected them until now became their grave.
My arms felt heavy.
Each swing of the spear felt slower than the last.
My breathing had become uneven. Maintaining Beast Breathing while keeping the sensory field active was draining everything from me.
Blood still dripped from my nose.
My vision blurred for a moment before clearing again.
Even lifting the spear was beginning to feel difficult.
The sounds around me had become distant.
I no longer knew how many enemies I had killed.
Only one thought remained.
Survive.
Then—
A loud siren echoed throughout the battlefield.
It was different from the horns.
Every mercenary immediately understood.
We could retreat.
Not in panic.
Not by running.
We had to continue fighting while slowly withdrawing.
As we retreated, many lizardmen believed they had won.
I could see hope appearing in their eyes.
But then, from the opposite side of the nest, the infantry finally arrived.
Fresh soldiers rushed forward.
The lizardmen's victory turned into despair.
And in the eyes of the infantry, I could see something else.
The certainty of victory.