As Azpen broke through the barricade, the entire formation charged after him.
Rusty leaped over the shattered wooden fence.
The moment we landed inside, I saw an injured lizardman. One of his arms had already been cut off, yet he still gripped his spear with the other and thrust it toward Rusty.
My spear shot forward.
The tip pierced straight through his neck.
He staggered backward, blood pouring from the wound before collapsing.
We pushed deeper into the nest.
For a brief moment, I caught sight of Azpen.
He had already pulled back to another corner, surrounded by the shield bearers. Even from a distance, I could see him breathing heavily. That flaming slash had clearly consumed a great deal of Aura.
Even an Aura Knight couldn't unleash attacks like that without paying a price.
Now wasn't the time to think about it.
As the spearman fell, a lizardman archer panicked. They hurriedly nocked an arrow onto his bowstring, trying to fire before we reached him.
I didn't give him the chance.
The axe blade attached to my spear swept across his body.
His bow split apart, followed by his chest.
The archers never even had the opportunity to fight back.
They were being slaughtered.
Our objective wasn't to advance deeper into the nest.
Our goal was to strike hard...
...and leave.
Then the gates of the second barricade burst open.
Rows of lizardmen rushed out.
Some were infantry.
Others rode water lizards.
The moment Azpen saw them, he shouted,
"Fall back!"
We immediately began retreating in the same formation.
I cut off the arm of one lizardman that got too close before turning Rusty around.
The shield bearers covered our withdrawal while Azpen remained at the rear.
The lizardmen chased us for a short distance.
Then one of their officers shouted something.
The pursuing warriors immediately stopped.
Without another step, they slowly retreated toward their barricade.
Right then—
"Move!"
Azpen's voice echoed again.
For a split second, I thought he meant for us to continue retreating.
Instead...
He spun his horse around and charged straight back toward the nest.
Without hesitation, everyone followed.
The lizardmen had barely turned around.
Seeing us charging again, they hurriedly reformed their ranks with shields and spears.
The first barricade had already been destroyed, leaving them exposed.
Azpen reached them first.
His broadsword swung horizontally.
Several lizardmen were thrown into the air from the sheer force of the strike.
One shield-bearing infantryman blocked my spear and glared at me.
He expected another thrust.
Instead, I raised my spear high above his shield.
He instinctively lifted the shield to protect his head.
That was the opening.
I gave Rusty the signal.
Rusty slammed his horn straight into the lizardman's stomach.
The horn burst through his back.
He screamed in agony as blood poured from the wound.
Even then, he tried to swing his shield toward Rusty's head.
I blocked it with the axe blade attached to my spear.
Gripping the spear with both hands, I pushed upward, forcing his shield aside.
Then I drove the spear straight into his open mouth.
The tip emerged from the back of his neck.
Using the axe blade, I shoved his lifeless body off Rusty's horn.
The battle lasted barely ten minutes.
"Retreat!"
Azpen shouted once more.
This time, every mercenary immediately withdrew.
Unlike before, the lizardmen refused to pursue.
They remained behind their broken defenses, glaring at us as if expecting another sudden charge.
We steadily retreated from the nest.
Using my sensory field, I noticed archers hidden among the nearby trees, quietly covering our withdrawal. If the lizardmen attempted another chase, they would be met with a rain of arrows.
By the time we returned to camp, the sun had barely reached mid-morning.
It wasn't even lunchtime yet.
I walked back toward my tent.
Slowly, I removed my armor.
Only then did I discover an arrow lodged in the back plate.
During the retreat, I hadn't been able to dodge it.
A lizardman with an axe had attacked me from the front while an archer fired from behind.
I had chosen to block the axe.
The arrow struck my back.
Thankfully, the armor absorbed most of the impact.
The arrowhead had pierced only shallowly into my flesh.
A thin line of blood trickled down my back.
It could have been much worse.
I cleaned the wound, applied antiseptic ointment, and carefully pulled the arrow free.
Sitting shirtless beneath the morning sun, I let the warmth dry the medicine.
The camp had grown quiet again.
The shouting had faded.
The clash of steel was gone.
Watching the quiet camp after the raid reminded me of the people I hadn't seen since leaving the North.
As I leaned back against a log, one thought crossed my mind.
I wonder...
What is Duracal doing right now?