Chapter 142 – Stalking The Orcs.

Rusty stood motionless, his blade lowered while his thoughts churned. The orcs were not fleeing in fear. They were retreating with intent, turning around as one and marching away in perfect coordination. Just moments earlier, they had seemed like frenzied beasts driven only by bloodlust. Now they moved like disciplined soldiers.

“Why would they pull back now?”

Rusty wondered.

“It must be the horn.”

Aburdon replied.

“Someone is controlling them. It might be magic, a ritual, or perhaps fear itself.”

Although Aburdon appeared only as a floating orb of black light, his knowledge of monsters ran deep. His words always carried the weight of someone experienced in battle, but also of a leader who once led a demonic nation.

“Perhaps some kind of inborn trait, reminds me of one of the armies a general of mine bred for combat…”

Suddenly, the horn sounded again. This time, the orc brutes broke into a run. Rusty turned his helmet to the side just as the last of them vanished into the smoke-filled woods beyond the ravaged field. Flames still smoldered on the ground, and smoke twisted upward like a ghostly serpent reaching for the sky. Yet for many, the silence left behind was more unsettling than the chaos of battle.

“They don’t seem to be regrouping.”

Now it was Alexander who commented. Though not a demon lord, he was still a seasoned hero and former adventurer whose words carried weight.

“This might be part of their strategy. Orcs and goblins breed quickly, and with shamans to aid them, the process can be accelerated.”

Alexander believed the monsters were using a war of attrition. Exhausting the defenders of this settlement would be easy if they could keep replenishing their ranks. Several human fighters had fallen today, and while the monsters had suffered heavier losses, it meant little if they could replace their warriors within months. For the humanoid races, it took years just to reach adulthood, and even longer to grow strong enough to stand against creatures like these.

“Whoever is managing this place is a fool. They need to cut out the root of this invasion.”

Aburdon said, his tone sharp and heavy with irritation.

“Perhaps they lack the manpower. This settlement is barely standing. Who would defend it once the main force leaves? That might be exactly what the monsters are counting on. We cannot afford to underestimate them just because they are orcs.”

Alexander replied. In his view, the issue was not just incompetence but also a lack of options. Even if the leaders wanted to strike at the enemy’s source, doing so would leave the settlement exposed. If most of their defenders marched out, the remaining townsfolk would be easy prey. It was entirely possible that the orc leader was waiting for that exact moment, holding back now only to strike when the gates were unguarded and the walls were quiet.

“Hm, sometimes you do make a little sense, Hero… but this might be an opportunity for our dear Rusty.”

Aburdon said with an amused cackle.

“A chance for me?”

Rusty asked, uncertain what the demon lord was suggesting. Aburdon continued without missing a beat.

“It’s simple, Rusty. We follow this small horde and pick off a few of them while they are weak.”

“You want him to chase after them? Are you insane?”

Alexander interjected as he was not fond of this idea.

“Am I, Hero?”

Rusty stood in silence, thinking over it. Was it really such a bad idea? The orcs were likely injured, possibly fatigued from the march and battle. Unlike them, he did not tire or grow hungry. He did not require rest. As a living armor creature, he could follow their trail for hours without slowing. He might even catch them while they were vulnerable, resting or unguarded. And if it turned out they were still too strong, he could always retreat after gathering information about their numbers and camp. It was risky but it might also be the best chance he had to gain more quick experience.

“W-we did it!”

As his guides continued to debate, a sudden cheer erupted from one of the adventurers nearby. While Rusty felt a hint of disappointment at the lost opportunity for more experience points, the humans around him were simply overjoyed to still be breathing.

Weapons were raised into the smoke-laced sky, voices lifted in strange, celebratory noises that grated on his nonexistent ears. Below, the battlefield still smoldered. The thick scent of scorched flesh, blood, and burnt oil clung to the air like a curse. The cheering was not one of victory, but of survival.

Some leaned over the parapets, retching as the stress and stench overtook them. Others slumped against the stone barricades, their energy spent, their adrenaline drained. One young fighter dropped to his knees and collapsed outright, his shield falling from his hand as unconsciousness claimed him.

A few hugged each other, their eyes wide with disbelief. Tears mixed with blood and soot. Rika, the feline-eared girl Rusty had saved, sat down with her knees to her chest, hands shaking. Her companions joined her in silence, too tired to speak.

Through it all, Rusty remained motionless near the shattered gate, his blade still drawn. Blood dried along its edge, flakes of it clinging to the sharp metal like rust. His visor pulsed faintly, flickering with mixed hues of dim light and lingering shadow as he considered what came next. If he wanted to follow the retreating Orcs, he would need to leave soon, but simply walking off would raise suspicions. Then, out of nowhere, an opportunity presented itself.

“You there”

A voice barked from behind him.

“Go outside and check the corpses. Finish them off if any are alive.”

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It was the guard captain, their temporary leader. He had noticed Rusty still standing at attention while the others had either collapsed or wandered off. It seemed natural to assign the task to the silent armored figure. It was a perfect chance. Rusty turned his helmet toward the man and gave a slow nod. He said nothing as he rarely needed to and then stepped through the broken gate, sword still in hand.

Even if he wandered farther away, no one would question his departure now. He was still seen as an expendable adventurer—someone outside the regular army, not bound to strictly follow orders. Still, it was worth checking the orcish corpses. If even one of them was still alive, it would be an easy way to gain experience.

He picked up one of the spears lying on the ground and stepped forward. Gleam, who had paused to use her magic on some injured adventurers, eventually returned to his shoulder. Together, they eventually slipped through the shattered gate.

“Good job, Gleam.”

“ (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) “