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The vanguard of the allied forces moved into the hilly terrain before the Trier Valley.

"Damn it, where are the enemies?"

The knight on horseback scanned the distance, seeing no trace of the creatures, but the valley was filled with traps—pits, poisoned arrows, snares, and tripwires. Though only causing a few dozen casualties, these had reduced their progress to a cautious crawl.

After all, their primary task wasn’t combat; before the war, these conscripts had been timid peasants or even enslaved serfs with no personal freedom.

The "Honor Legion’s" commander, a baron named Joseph, led them.

However, he didn’t even possess his own land, and his title was more honorary than real. Once the low-born son of a carpenter, Joseph had been chosen by the Lackman family, received knightly training, and achieved a social ascent to become an honorary noble and commander of the so-called "Honor Legion."

He was deeply grateful to the Lackman family, often envisioning his heroic death in battle, repaying his family’s kindness in the manner befitting a knight.

Watching the cowering soldiers, Joseph felt an uncontrollable surge of anger.

"These insects are unworthy to march with me!"

"I am a knight!"

"An exalted noble!"

With that, he rode to the front of the ranks.

"Crack!"

He lashed the hesitant soldiers, the whip leaving bloody marks and eliciting cries of pain.

Joseph roared,

"March forward!"

"No one hides at the rear!"

"The Duke, in his mercy, gave you wretches food and even a pension. Are you here to waste time?"

"If these petty traps stop you, where is your courage? How dare you disgrace the honor of the Honor Legion bestowed by the Duke?"

Under Joseph’s fierce orders, over a hundred overseers also pushed the soldiers forward by force, finally enabling the "Honor Legion" to march steadily.

Though often resulting in trampling incidents, they were at least no longer halted by every small trap.

At last, they reached a broad, open expanse, officially entering Trier Valley.

"Finally here."

Joseph breathed a sigh of relief.

The traps in the hilly terrain had been a nightmare.

Already, they’d lost over a hundred men before seeing any real battle, and the rest were growing anxious due to their fallen comrades. Only after executing several deserters did Joseph manage to keep them in line.

"These lowly animals—they don’t deserve the title of 'Honor Legion.'"

"These creatures have no understanding of noble honor…they should starve to death!"

Joseph muttered angrily from atop his horse.

"Sir…"

The messenger spoke with a trembling voice.

"What is it?"

"Is it more deserters, another trampling accident, or yet another trap? Don’t bring every little matter to me. I am here for honor, not to be your nanny!"

Joseph, irritated, replied impatiently.

"No…it’s neither."

"Then what is it?"

"Sir…please…come see for yourself."

The messenger’s voice shook more with each word.

Spurring his horse forward, Joseph looked ahead—and was left speechless.

Across the flat, open wasteland, an army of goblins and kobolds advanced, a chaotic wave of creatures stretching to the horizon.

Their march raised clouds of dust.

The horde was endless, surging from all directions, numbering in the tens of thousands, their eyes glinting in the distance as they growled in low, menacing tones.

Many of the creatures bore scattered scales, the gift of the red dragon’s blood imbuing them with an insatiable lust for destruction.

Dozens of winged kobolds fluttered through the air.

"This…this…"

Joseph’s hands trembled as he gripped the reins.

He’d often dreamed of galloping heroically across the battlefield, cutting down foes and sacrificing himself for his family with nobility and dignity.

It moved him to tears every time, firming his resolve to meet such a glorious end if given the chance.

But he’d never imagined the battlefield would look like this.

To charge into this monstrous flood would mean being torn to shreds—without honor, without dignity.

"It…it shouldn’t be like this."

Joseph muttered to himself.

For a moment, he wanted to turn his horse and flee back to camp.

But the creatures had already surrounded them, clashing with the vanguard.

Snapping from his daze, Joseph shouted with trembling voice, "Fight back! Kill them!"

In fact, the strategies of the commanders at Ember Nest and the allied forces were eerily similar—both intended to use their disposable troops as a vanguard and have elite units follow.

This monster army of over twenty thousand kobolds and goblins had been summoned from every corner of Storm Highlands, with only a third infused with diluted dragon blood.

Despite their small size, goblins and kobolds were weaker in combat than human peasants, but exposure to the dragon’s aura had made them vicious and eager to fight, far more willing than the serf-filled "Honor Legion."

"For Ember Nest!"

"For the Great Red Dragon!"

Waves of shouts rose from the monster army, while the Honor Legion’s horns sounded for an attack at Joseph’s command.

And so, two massive armies clashed, marking the true beginning of the war.

Goblins and kobolds attacked wildly, throwing themselves at the enemy without regard for their lives, even if they only faced mere peasants.

Several kobolds surrounded one human, clinging to his rough leather armor, bashing his head with stones, and repeatedly stabbing his body with crude daggers.

"For Ember Nest!"

A draconic-blooded goblin hurled a spear that pierced a soldier’s body, then clawed at him when it had no other weapon, even resorting to biting his face, drawing blood and eliciting screams.

The winged kobolds spewed flaming arrows from above, setting soldiers’ clothes aflame and turning them into blazing "human torches."

Flames, blood, and dust.

There was no strategy here, just raw, primal slaughter, the battle a scene of utter chaos.

In mere minutes of engagement, the "Honor Legion" had already lost hundreds, their screams, cries, and panicked shouts ringing out. This cannon fodder army was inevitably collapsing into disarray.

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