Seeing the blazing wall of fire and the enemies scattering in panic, Duoluo snorted two plumes of white smoke from his nostrils, brandished his axe, and prepared to charge into the enemy lines.
Yet Langpu held him back.
"It is time to retreat, Commander Duoluo."
Duoluo turned his head in bewilderment, his crimson eyes smoldering with indignation. "Langpu, under these circumstances, you're telling me to pull back? Did you take gold from those humans?"
Langpu answered flatly, "These are our master's orders. Would you dare disobey them as well?"
Duoluo spat on the ground and snarled, "Don't get cocky too soon, Langpu. I'll make sure to report your idling during this battle to Master in full detail."
"Hmph, let's move!"
With that, the hobgoblin commander rallied his forces, preparing to head back north of the pass.
Duoluo hadn't truly lost his mind to bloodlust. He knew Langpu wouldn't speak with such confidence unless he had backing.
Langpu paid no further mind to the fuming hobgoblin leader. Instead, he reached into his bag of holding and produced a behir horn etched with intricate magical runes.
He activated it with ease.
Immediately, the red dragon's majestic voice, recorded through magic, resonated across the entire battlefield like rolling thunder.
"Kin of Cinder Nest—"
"Hear my command: all forces, retreat!"
Langpu followed up at once, shouting at the top of his lungs:
"This is Master's order—the will of the great red dragon!"
The ogres pounding soldiers into meat mash lifted their heads. The chimeras crushing troops in the crowd swivelled their three heads in confusion. The lizardfolk who had impaled foes through the chest yanked back their bloodstained bone spears. The wyverns swooping down to breathe fire spread their wings and steadily climbed into the sky...
Though the kin of Cinder Nest could not fathom why they were pulling back, the red dragon's order left no room for defiance.
Even in the height of their slaughter, they had no choice but to tear themselves away from the field. Obeying the command, they withdrew from the front line: ogres and hobgoblins sprinted, land drakes plodded forward, and wyverns and chimeras soared overhead, all hurrying toward the kin camp north of the Throat of Trier.
Before long, only blood, the mangled remains of humans and monsters, and lingering embers were left upon the ground.
"Am I dreaming?"
"Did they... leave?"
"Gods above, the monsters are retreating!"
"I... I survived..."
"By the heavens—!"
The coalition soldiers, having just endured the savage carnage, stood frozen in place. Most were battered and drenched in blood, dazed and muttering to themselves as if caught in a dream.
This baffling "victory" did not elicit their usual triumphant cheers; it brought only the hollow relief of having cheated death.
***
A staff officer rode up on horseback, panting heavily as he reported, "My lord, my lord! The kin of Cinder Nest have all retreated!"
Robert wiped the sweat from his forehead and let out a long breath. At the very least, he no longer had to worry about the enemy smashing down his doorstep.
Yet confronted with such an outcome, he remained thoroughly perplexed. "They clearly held the absolute advantage. Why would they retreat?"
"Grey Hawk" Schroeder had also long since withdrawn from the front line. Standing aside, he pondered for a moment before saying in a low voice, "Monsters as greedy and miserly as red dragons rarely bestow true boons. Perhaps the strength these creatures display wasn't merely granted to them. And every power has its price."
"In other words, they are very likely burning away their own lifeforce."
Robert considered this before speaking. "So you mean..."
"Cinder Nest fears a prolonged engagement?"
Schroeder's voice was raspy. "It is merely a reasonable deduction."
"I can only say... that might be the case."
Robert stepped out of the command tent and gazed up at the silhouettes of the wyverns gliding across the sky. Gritting his teeth, he made up his mind.
"Then we pursue!"
"This is the coalition's last chance for victory."
"We cannot allow them to recover!"
A resounding charge was sounded on the war horns. Under Robert's command, the coalition soldiers pushed forward once more, reclaiming the positions they had lost, but their pace was sluggish.
The soldiers trudged forward dispiritedly, step by agonizing step, and even the warhorses let out weary whickers.
"Soldiers, victory is at hand!"
"Those monsters cannot hold out much longer!"
"You will be hailed as the heroes who preserved order in the Northlands!"
The provost officers shouted passionately, yet the soldiers only watched with cold detachment.
"Victory? What a joke."
"Has that fellow ever seen a wyvern's fangs?"
"Has he ever been hit by an ogre's club?"
Discontented murmurs rippled through the ranks.
Having endured the brutal slaughter, these soldiers were already thoroughly war-weary and desperate to avoid combat. Only the fear of execution kept them from deserting outright. Although the provost officers repeatedly emphasized that the monsters were retreating, the men still lagged behind at an unhurried pace, terrified that moving too fast might actually catch up with them.
And through this passive foot-dragging, even the provost marshals could find no legitimate excuse under military law to punish them.
***
North of the Throat of Trier.
Langpu stood on the mountainside, looking down from his high vantage at the coalition troops plodding toward them in the distance. A faint, anticipatory smirk creased his grotesque face.
"Northlanders."
"You've finally come to die..."
Surrounding him were ranks of Cinder kin—ogres, hobgoblins, kobolds, lizardfolk—and even the captured nobles had been brought here.
They clamored raucously, the frenzy stirred by the slaughter still lingering in their veins.
"I smashed twelve humans with my hammer!"
"Haha, I crushed mine to pulp alive!"
"What a shame. I still wanted another taste of blood."
"Tsk, tsk, isn't there plenty right here?"
As the monsters chatted, their greedy gazes kept drifting toward the noble captives.
Viscount Luton was terrified of the beasts around him. Trembling with dread, he asked the tiefling, "M-my lord, why... why have you brought us here?"
"Please, I beg you, ensure our safety."
Mezrolash smiled without uttering a word, offering no answer.
"I was just getting warmed up! Why did we have to pull back?"
"Yeah, I only got six hundred contribution points!"
"Is the battle over?"
"Will there be a final quest?"
"Isn't there even a cutscene?"
The players had also followed their quest markers up to the mountainside camp, eager to watch the spectacle unfold.
Seeing the distant coalition troops draw near, Langpu simply raised his staff.
*Wall of Stone.*
The ground rumbled with a deep tremor.
A massive stone wall rose steadily, sealing off the only remaining exit of the Throat of Trier and trapping nearly ten thousand remnant troops of the coalition within Trier Valley.
"Just as Master said—trapping a turtle in a jar," Langpu murmured to himself as he watched the sudden uproar erupting among the coalition ranks below.
Chapter 116