Restlessness had been going on in the Mercenaries' Lodge for almost five years, but the orc threat had descended upon them like a nightmare in the last year. Even if there were geographical situations dividing the civilization into three, everyone knew the Hell Realm border was lost, the Balsici Family broke the siege, and destroyed the Golden Leaf Army.
There was only one thing the public and the others didn't know, and that was the army lined up in front of the walls after exiting through the ruined gate separating the Heart of the Sand from the desert. Perhaps within the next three days, the Emerald Leaf Guild would be shaken by learning of their existence, perhaps the plans of the other guilds thinking they could get their help would fall through, but the orc warrior nicknamed Boss didn't care about any of this.
The orc warrior, who parted the army in two with every step he took despite not having his staff in his hand, stopped when he reached his desired spot and, taking off the helmet of the armor the orc artisans produced for him, watched the twelve-thousand-strong crowd lined up before him.
Even though he stepped on the same ground as them, he was still imposing enough to look down on them all. He had neither crown nor throne nor fancy clothes, but you understood at a glance that ruling was in his nature.
"Sand Army, are you ready?"
Every letter making up his question scattered around the moment they came out of his mouth. Some hit the walls of the Heart of the Sand, some entered the ears of the warriors, and some rose to the sky with the joy of attaining their freedom, but the answer that came would be a Tsunami hitting Boss's face.
"We are ready!"
Was there a need for another word? When the orc warrior, turning his back to the twelve thousand people, took the first step, the captivity that lasted for years was broken. Maybe they would be defeated, maybe they would die, but the chains of captivity would never touch their bodies again.
Inside the Heart of the Sand, there was no one except the old, the sick, and women and children unable to fight. Clemens Holzmeister activated the defense systems he renewed using the resources and knowledge of the Orc Empire. If those left inside didn't want to step outside, they had enough resources to last for at least ten years. No one joining the army had to worry about the lives of those they left behind.
The engineer, the architect of all these, was traveling with his son inside a transport-purpose mechanical vehicle following the army from behind. In another of the three vehicles lined up side by side was Dona Gracia, and his servant, who didn't leave his side for a second, was also with him.
You might find the formation of the army in the front and the most important figures of the Heart of the Sand in the back absurd until you learn that the Elite Ten members were inside the vehicles and Wind of Death was in the one right in the middle.
After a half-hour advance, the army lined up like a wolf pack; those gathered from all four sides of the Desolate Realm and trained were in the front, the core team of the Hyenas right behind them, the main army in the middle, and the hidden pack leader in the very back.
While the bandits and wild tribes that caused them trouble in their previous attempts were nowhere to be seen, maintaining their speed was easy. The wild creatures that rarely appeared were destroyed by the assault-purpose mechanical vehicles the Chief Engineer produced for the journey.
Ultimately, even if low, the wild creatures possessed intelligence and a strong will to live. When they realized the human group they targeted wasn't a morsel they could bite off, they quickly gave up trying to break their teeth.
Knowing the news would reach the enemy once they set out, the Sand Army continued its steady advance throughout the night as well. The commanders knew the first stop they had to reach; even if they had to make the warriors under their command run until they got there, they aimed to arrive on time.
Following the activity in the southern and central parts of the continent, the ten-thousand-strong force belonging to the Balsici Family was getting their last comfortable sleep on the night of the day they would move with the dawn. The soldiers had somewhat slacked off due to the wait that lasted for days and the uncertain time of movement, but some gathered on the bastions of the castle weren't keeping up with them.
"Hammerstriker, are you absolutely determined about moving tomorrow?"
"Yes, we have passed half of the determined time. If we don't set out, we'll miss the chance to make things easier for the other regions."
Dimitri didn't know the orc he would entrust the army to intimately. Bookworm had chosen him and the order was final, but his worries caused him to question Hammerstriker's decisions.
"Already in the first stage, all we need to do is maintain a heavy pace and ensure everyone, including the Golden Leaf Guild, is aware of this. I don't think we will engage in an active struggle in the time until the meeting point!"
Even though Hammerstriker was inwardly annoyed at having to explain the reasons for his decision, the impression he gave outside was positive. The sense of responsibility honed under the cold winds of the Glacial Region managed to suppress his mischievous character and his ego, and a person who wanted to appreciate this would take the word from where he left off.
"The commander's decision is perfectly appropriate, if we are delayed a little more, we can spoil both our own and the others' work. At the same time, I can understand your concern, Mr. Dimitri. The departure of the orcs called Chief Alyon, Bookworm, and the Nameless Ten from among us has dramatically pulled down the power of our army.
I assume a few things I will say on this matter will set your heart at ease a little. According to the information relayed by our spies, Hubertus Strughold is at the head of the Empire of Machines' forces, and I want you to know his presence is good news for us.
Hubertus is among the leading figures of the defenders of the Aryan race philosophy. Of course, I suppose I don't need to say he is the highest authority regarding human experiments. Since they caught the suitable environment for the perverted experiments they carry out under the name of science after years, I assume he came to the Mercenaries' Lodge in order not to let their order be disrupted as a result of the civil war.
Even though it isn't possible for him to succeed right now, I'd bet my life we will be under surveillance when we take action. Hubertus can only have one concern, and that is their facility where they carry out their secret activities being attacked by us.
Even though he won't take conspicuous measures in order not to reveal its location, I know he will come upon us with all his might once we turn in that direction. Otherwise, his arrogance will get ahead of his mind. Judging by the fact that he sent a group of soldiers of only a thousand people to the front with his subordinate, he wants to fight us with science, not brute force.
Even though this move is natural as a scientist, driving his apprentice to the front line instead of himself is a trick his arrogance played on him. I guess there aren't many people left in my homeland who remember who I am. With this war, they will see the price of underestimating Leonardo's intellect, but since there is an apprentice before me, why shouldn't I bring my own apprentice before him?"
Michelangelo, crossing his arms that stole the color of the night on his chest, taking a step forward from where he hid along with his master pausing his speech, began to enjoy being baptized by the moonlight.
Dimitri Balsici couldn't find a word to say in the face of the point things had reached while he was worrying about the loss of human lives. Hammerstriker was also silent; while advancing the army as slowly as possible, he had no intention of getting involved in a war of machines to be waged on the front line.
"Master Leonardo, I present my gratitude to you for granting me this opportunity. You can be sure I won't let you down!"
The young man didn't hesitate for a second while taking the duty upon himself. The ambition he hid between his respectful words didn't seem strange to anyone; actually, if it had been the opposite, they would have been surprised, because there was a grudge going way back between Michelangelo and his enemies.
The leader and the apprentice of those who severed his limbs, massacred his family, and tortured his compatriots were on the opposing front. If Michelangelo desired revenge, the universe couldn't have given him a better opportunity than this.