Chapter 684: Cornered
The moment General Tiberius gave the order to retreat, an icy wave of shock rippled through the Graecia army. For over six arduous months, they had fought on these bloody slopes of the Korokor Mountains, each confrontation ending in a hard-earned victory. Even though every battle carried casualties and tested their endurance, they had never tasted the sting of outright defeat.
Yet now, for the very first time, the call to withdraw echoed across the battlefield.
Despite the surprise, the men and women of Graecia were seasoned soldiers—fighters who had survived years, some even decades, in the unforgiving Land of the Three Calamities. Their discipline did not waver. While a knot of dread twisted in their stomachs, they reacted swiftly, trusting in General Tiberius’s judgment. They had not become veterans by hesitating.
Formations pivoted with methodical grace, Sages and Guardian-tier warriors adjusting their lines, ensuring that no one was left behind. Steeled by countless life-or-death clashes, they erected a temporary defensive perimeter, skillfully stalling the Vorometallicae’s advance while their main body began the withdrawal to the relative safety of the Korokor Stronghold.
Unlike the Voroe, who often sacrificed their Guardian-tier soldiers as meat shields for retreat, the Graecia’s forces had started pulling back while they still possessed enough strength to hold a defensive line. Moreover, their fortress was only a few kilometers away, putting them within reach of protective runic barriers and potent artillery well before they risked total collapse.
The strongest Sages remained at the forefront, their auras exploding in a show of defiance that kept the enemy Sages at bay, while the Guardians quickly fell back. Groups like Angelo and his Viking brethren took on the role of a fearless rearguard, brandishing axes and hammers in fluid, coordinated arcs to repel any Voroe bold enough to exploit a gap.
Meanwhile, the blitzkrieg units that had wreaked havoc behind enemy lines adapted seamlessly to the new dynamic. They flanked the retreat, ensuring no pockets of the Voroe forces could encircle them. Their speed and unpredictability continued to confound the enemy’s attempts to break through.
On the opposing side, the Vorometallicae Sages and Half-Step Legends seethed with frustration. They had anticipated a moment to exact vengeance for the rivers of Voroe blood spilled these past months. Now, with the humans seemingly on the run, it should have been a prime opportunity to strike decisively.
However, the discipline of the Graecia retreat proved as formidable as any direct assault. Every time a Voroe Sage lunged forward to deliver a killing blow, a well-timed wall of magical force or a savage Viking ax barred their path.
Anger and hatred flared in the Voroe ranks as they realized the humans were slipping through their grasp. The unstoppable tide of High Champions they had unleashed now marched aimlessly ahead, many still thrashing themselves against the protective force field already active around the Korokor Stronghold.
The colossal dome of shimmering energy repelled them effortlessly, leaving the mindless monsters flailing in vain. Brainwashed and reduced to mere killing automatons, they would never cease their forward momentum—even with the Graecia’s soldiers now sheltered behind thick runic defenses.
Within the stronghold, a tense hush settled among the weary defenders. Soldiers collapsed against battlements, panting from exertion, adrenaline still coursing through their veins. Mage healers bustled around, tending to the wounded, bandaging injuries, and administering potions to keep the worst cases from drifting into the abyss of death.