Eric Town was finished.
The moment Marcus Eric saw the beastmen appear outside the town walls, he knew the fate of this border town.
As a Baron of the Nolan Empire, this town was his fief, but the beastmen army was not something a town of only three thousand people could withstand.
When the beastmen's wolf cavalry leaped onto the town walls in a single bound, he knew it was over.
Ignoring all objections, Marcus fled with his family and the craftsmen from his territory, hauling all his wealth in carriages from the other side of the town.
Before leaving, he ordered the town's militia, formed by the civilians, to hold off the beastmen.
But he knew it was futile. If even the Nolan Empire's army couldn't stop the beastmen, what chance did a town's militia have?
The order was merely to buy him some time to escape.
Sure enough, after he fled, the town, which had taken two hundred years to build, was plundered by the beastmen. The civilians who hadn't managed to escape all met their end at the hands of the God of Death.
Though the civilians he had abandoned glared at him with hatred after narrowly escaping the town, he didn't care.
As a noble Baron of the kingdom, a group of filthy commoners had no right to demand anything from him.
Sacrificing for the nobility—wasn't that what these crude, lowly commoners were supposed to do?
He believed his decision was correct. If those civilians hadn't slowed down the beastmen, he might have ended up as food for the dire wolves.
The beastmen had invaded the Nolan Empire to plunder food. After capturing a town, they wouldn't leave until they had emptied it of all provisions.
Those filthy, disgusting beastmen had no idea what was truly valuable.
Marcus sat smugly on his horse, looking back at the five carriages filled with silver pucks and various precious gems, guarded by over thirty fully armored knights. He inwardly praised his own wisdom.
Every winter, he would load his territory's most valuable possessions onto carriages, ready to flee at a moment's notice when the beastmen came.
Living on the empire's border, this wise practice had preserved the seeds of his family's continuation.
As long as he returned to the town next spring, everything would still be his.
At the back of the procession, two young figures eyed the carriages guarded by the knights, their hearts stirring with ambition.
"Brother Rekel, are we really going to do this?
Marcus has over thirty guards. Can we win?"
Oli's young face was filled with fear. The unease in his heart refused to dissipate as he looked at Marcus on his horse.
The authority of the nobility, solidified over their long reign, was as unshakable as the walls of Green City. Attacking a noble was a grave crime, and he knew that if word got out, he would be hunted by Green City's bounty hunters.
The mercenaries and bounty hunters would be more than happy to claim the reward for his head.
Rekel, the one being questioned, was a burly young man with short golden hair that made him look like a lion. The massive sword on his back, as wide as two palms, indicated that he was no slouch in combat—perhaps even capable of taking on a wolf cavalry rider.
"No, Oli. If we don't act now, we'll never get another chance once we reach Green City.
We fled Eric Town without a single copper puck. Those noble lords won't care whether we live or die.
We need this money. Everyone here needs this money."
Rekel glanced at the hundred or so people gathered around him, his tone filled with solemn determination.
From the moment the beastmen breached the town walls, they were as good as dead. Without food or wealth, they would starve to death even if they made it to Green City.
Winter was coming, and no one could afford to wait.
Besides, a noble who abandoned his people didn't deserve their respect.
"Brother Rekel, we'll follow your lead."
Oli gritted his teeth, his gaze filled with hatred as he stared at Marcus's back. If Marcus hadn't ordered the militia to hold off the beastmen, his friends wouldn't have been killed by those dire wolves.
"Once I get close to Marcus, I'll attack the captain of his guard. He's a mid-tier professional, probably above Level 7—a formidable opponent.
After I make my move, you all charge the guards. We have the numbers; we can win.
Don't be afraid of death. Your families and children need the spoils we'll take. If we fail this time, none of us will survive."
If they didn't act, they would die. They wouldn't make it through the winter. But if they acted, there was still a chance to survive. Even the most timid farmers among them had cast aside their fear.
On the border, the timid didn't survive.
"May the Goddess of Life be with us."
Rekel gave a deep look at the solemn faces around him before turning and walking toward Marcus's convoy.
When Marcus heard his servant's report, he summoned Rekel, the most respected among the civilians, to his side.
Sitting high on his horse, he looked down at the burly commoner with arrogance. "Rekel, though you are a resident of my town, if you wish to join my guard, you'll need to prove your worth."
"Baron, I am willing to spar with your guard captain. I believe someone of your discerning eye will recognize my strength."
Rekel bowed slightly, calmly meeting the wary gazes of the guards. After he stated his intentions, their vigilance relaxed somewhat.
The plan was progressing step by step.
"Hahaha, very well. Since you're so confident, I'll grant your request.
Enda, go. Show this challenger what you're made of. And if he's decent, don't hurt him too badly.
If he's just a boastful fool, bring me his head."
Marcus spoke with haughty disdain.
When Rekel saw Marcus's guard captain dismount, lured by his ruse, the killing intent in his heart could no longer be contained.
Gripping his greatsword with both hands, he charged like an enraged bull, using the most brutal method to close the distance.
Each step left a deep imprint in the ground.
Warrior skill—Furious Charge.
The civilians, who had been waiting for this moment, erupted into a cacophony of angry shouts the moment Rekel made his move. These borderland commoners, with their tragic yet fervent determination, fought for a chance to survive the winter.
Everything to survive.