Chapter 68: Harassment

At midnight, a rare drizzle fell over the desolate wilderness, adding a hint of gentleness to the otherwise bleak and barren land. Raindrops pattered softly on the greasy torches, causing faint crackling sounds.

Dozens of sentinels kept a vigilant watch on the surrounding darkness. Even with the brightest torches, visibility in this pitch-black wilderness was limited. The sentinels knew well that lurking in the unseen shadows were dozens of orcs and lizardmen. Yet, no matter how they steeled their nerves, their exhaustion and anxiety were evident—they hadn't rested in nearly two days.

This was a supply convoy transporting large amounts of grain from the heart of Alrasia to the allied army at the front lines. What they didn't expect was to encounter small bands of orcs in such an area.

Since Celeste handed command of the allied forces back to the generals of each nation, the pace of the coalition army had doubled. Morale was sky-high, and the defeat of the temple knights a while ago had not dampened their spirits in the least. They believed that once their force of 100,000 reached Orford's gates, any scheme or strategy would be crushed under the sheer weight of their numbers.

But no matter how high their morale, an army still needed food. Sustaining 100,000 soldiers required an immense amount of supplies. As the army advanced deep into the highlands, larger convoys like this one had to continuously deliver supplies from the rear. This particular group was just one of many.

This escort consisted of 500 soldiers—more than sufficient to handle wild beasts. Being nearly a thousand miles away from Orford, with the main allied army separating them from potential threats, it seemed inconceivable for orcs to be present here. Yet, they had encountered them.

Two days ago, this convoy had been ambushed by a small group of about a dozen orcs. Since then, they had been under relentless harassment. The orcs did not engage them directly but skulked around the convoy, sporadically killing soldiers with arrows shot by lizardmen. The convoy's archers could not match the range of the lizardmen, and the orcs' superior mobility made pursuing them impossible.

The true nightmare began at night. The orcs' constant hit-and-run tactics deprived the soldiers of any rest.

It wasn't as if the entire orc group attacked; the soldiers couldn't tell if the figures emerging from the shadows were two or three lone harassers or a prelude to a full-scale assault. The orcs employed hit-and-run tactics, never engaging in direct combat, yet the impact was devastating. The convoy made little progress the following day due to sheer exhaustion.

That night, the harassment resumed. The soldiers divided into groups of fifty to stand guard in shifts. Over time, they grew numb to the harassment. Despite their fatigue, the soldiers' morale remained relatively high. After all, they were technically within allied-controlled territory, sandwiched between the main army and Alrasia, so they didn't feel overly threatened.

"These must be deserters from Orford, foraging for food nearby. Don't worry, the carrier pigeons have been sent. Reinforcements from the main army or the rear will arrive within two days to wipe out these orcs," the captain reassured his troops. Most soldiers shared this sentiment; the coalition's overwhelming advantage made it hard to feel a sense of crisis.

However, one soldier's reaction stood out. He was visibly panicked and terrified, even pleading with the captain to abandon the supplies and retreat to Alrasia or rejoin the main army. This soldier, who claimed to be a former hunter, argued that the orcs' tactics resembled those of wolves hunting prey.

"They're wearing us down while sending some of their own to gather reinforcements. If we don't retreat now, we're as good as dead," he warned.

His suggestion was dismissed outright, and the captain nearly executed him for spreading fear. Everyone believed the harassment would end soon.

Suddenly, a single arrow flew from the darkness, striking a sentinel's throat. The soldier let out a muffled groan before collapsing.

"Stay alert! Keep your shields up!" the sentinel captain ordered. He didn't even bother sounding the alarm—after more than fifty false alarms over two nights, the men had grown desensitized.

As expected, no follow-up attack came. The night returned to silence, save for the dying soldier's gurgling and twitching. Attempts to save him proved futile. Without a priest in the unit, one soldier had to end his comrade's suffering with a swift sword thrust.

"Damn those beasts! Do they have the guts to face us head-on? I'll cut off their tails and shove them down their throats!" an enraged soldier roared into the darkness. His voice echoed hollowly across the barren land.

"Quiet down! Let the others sleep," the sentinel captain said wearily. Years on the battlefield had inured him to death, but the endless harassment was pushing him to the brink.

Just then, the captain thought he saw shadows flickering at the edge of the firelight.

"Huh?" He squinted for a clearer look, but his vision blurred as something whirled toward him. A small axe embedded itself in his face, and he fell backward, lifeless.

Orcs and lizardmen finally emerged from the shadows. The soldiers' nascent sense of alertness turned to terror as they realized the attackers weren't a dozen or so—it was dozens upon dozens, charging in waves.

"They're here... Just like I said..." the former hunter screamed in panic, but his cry was cut short by an axe to the throat.

The orcs and lizardmen continuously surged out of the darkness into the bright light of the flames. They had made no sound prior to their assault, and even now, as they charged and attacked, there was almost no noise. Their soft footsteps and movements seemed to merge seamlessly with the ground, and there were no roars or howls of beasts. Like nightmarish phantoms conjured from the darkness, they silently brought terror to everyone before them. The fifty sentries didn't even have time to cry out or scream, let alone to fight back; they were swiftly reduced to lifeless corpses.

The resting soldiers in the camp were eventually alarmed, all grabbing their weapons to counterattack. However, the rushed and exhausted human warriors were never a match for the orcs. Amid the one-sided screams of despair, over a hundred orcs completed the massacre with astonishing efficiency. Their precision and skill were like those of seasoned butchers. Without any unnecessary movements or even a single word exchanged among them, they operated like killing machines, calmly carrying out their grim task.

The horses pulling the supply wagons had already been spooked by the scent of dozens of orcs. After the orcs and lizardmen finished slaughtering the soldiers, they turned their attention to the livestock. In a remarkably short time, all the animals were killed. The camp, now under the orcs' control, became a place filled with deathly silence.

At this point, the leading orc finally issued commands to the other orcs. They gathered all the grain supplies but refrained from burning them. Setting such a massive pile of provisions ablaze in the dark wilderness would have created a fire visible from hundreds of miles away. Instead, the orcs took what they needed and desecrated the rest. They dismembered the corpses on the ground and evenly stuffed them into the food supplies, drenching the provisions with blood and innards.

A light drizzle fell on the exposed grain. Given the harsh daytime climate of the wilderness, by the next evening, the provisions would become so infested with flies and maggots that no animal would go near them.

After completing this gruesome task, the orcs quickly vanished into the dark night. This was only the second attack. According to reports from their comrades, at least three more supply convoys were waiting to be ambushed.

Ten days later, the allied army was finally forced to halt its advance due to supply shortages.

It seemed almost impossible for a besieged force to cross the blockade of an army of 100,000 on a barren wasteland, conduct a thousand-mile raid into the enemy's rear, and disrupt their supply lines without any reinforcements. Yet, for orcs skilled in nighttime operations, what seemed implausible became reality. A force of several hundred or a thousand would naturally struggle to breach the main army's frontlines, but a small squad of a dozen or so could easily slip through. Once behind enemy lines, they would regroup and employ their distinct wolf-pack tactics.

The allied generals were no fools. As soon as they received news of the supply raids, they dispatched troops to annihilate the raiding parties. However, they quickly realized that conventional pursuit tactics were almost entirely ineffective. These orcs, seasoned survivors of the wastelands, had unmatched endurance and speed compared to any human forces. More critically, they required almost no external supplies while traversing the wasteland. Small animals in the forest, snakes, lizards, and even insects could serve as their food, and their primary sustenance often came directly from the corpses of their enemies. Such a force was entirely unrestrained, freely roaming, lurking, and harassing across the desolate land.

By this point, the allied forces had advanced deep into the wasteland, leaving ample space behind for these raiders to operate. The orcs concentrated their activities during the pitch-black nights, making it nearly impossible for even griffin riders to detect their movements from the skies. The allied troops sent to eliminate them had almost no chance of engaging the orcs in direct combat. Even the single unexpected encounter ended in defeat for the allied forces. These dispatched orcs were undoubtedly elites—highly intelligent individuals capable of executing such precise tactics. Coupled with innate combat prowess, extraordinary survival skills, expertise in night raids, and strategies that maximized their strengths, these hundred or so orcs became the most effective and terrifying guerrilla force.

Three thousand, five thousand, ten thousand—eventually, the allied forces increased their pursuit to an astonishing 20,000 troops. They even employed multiple high-tier water-element reconnaissance scrolls to finally corner that small band of orcs on the vast wasteland.

Yet, they still failed to completely annihilate the group. In the final moments, about a dozen orc leaders managed to escape using teleportation scrolls under the cover of their comrades' sacrifices. At this point, it became undeniable that Orford possessed functional teleportation magic arrays.

A mere hundred orcs forced the allied army to halt its advance and even retreat a considerable distance. The losses in supplies alone, when converted to gold coins, amounted to astronomical sums. Even without counting the provisions destroyed by the orcs, the daily consumption for an army of 100,000 was enough to give any treasurer a significant headache.

Ultimately, these raids forced the allied generals to admit that the methodical, steady strategy initially proposed by the temple knights might have been necessary. While such an approach lacked the exhilaration of a swift and decisive advance, it ensured mutual support between allied units and comprehensive protection of supply lines, making raids like these nearly impossible to execute effectively.

However, at this point, it was no longer feasible to turn back and adopt the temple knights' strategy. Dealing with the orcs' harassing tactics required mobility that ordinary infantry simply could not match. After a joint meeting, the allied generals devised a new strategy: deploying 30,000 cavalry to guard the supply routes, with each segment of the line receiving dispersed protection.

Now, the allied army was within ten days' march of Orford. As long as the supply lines could be secured, victory seemed almost within reach.