Lord: I Grind EXP with Warband Panel

"You’re looking to die!"

Regov knew this human before him was likely the mastermind behind the ambush.

Rage instantly erupted in his chest. Chief Regov’s eyes burned even redder. Even in the dense forest, he swung his stone axes with enough force to make them whistle through the air as he brought them down violently on Robson.

Robson took half a step back. His battle aura flared as he executed the Knight’s Eight Techniques perfectly, skillfully deflecting the full force of the axe blow.

"Die!"

Seeing his first strike miss, Regov swung his great axe again, intending to finish his enemy in a single blow.

But Robson wasn’t about to give him that chance. He would stay out of reach when there was no opening, then dart in for a quick, bleeding cut whenever one appeared.

His entire strategy revolved around nimble movement and a cautious approach.

Naturally, Chief Regov couldn’t withstand such a battle of attrition. Before long, he was covered in bloody gashes.

’Damn it! This human is so damn persistent.’

Chief Regov cursed his luck internally. He had to admit his earlier victory had made him overconfident. If he could do it all over again, he would have just grabbed the loot and run.

Of course, he had no way of knowing that his enemy’s mastery of the Knight’s Eight Techniques was considered top-tier among the entire Human Race. Robson’s troops were an elite force, the kind that could hold their own even on the treacherous central front.

’I can’t let this go on.’ 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

Feeling his battle aura draining away at an alarming rate, Chief Regov knew he was in serious trouble.

’An opening!’

Regov spotted a vacuum in Robson’s overhead defense. He instantly seized the opportunity, raising his axe high.

"Human! Die!"

Chief Regov roared as the stone axe came crashing down.

He didn’t realize, however, that a master of the Knight’s Eight Techniques like Robson would never have such a glaring weakness. It was merely a ploy to lure him in.

Seeing his ploy succeed, Robson made his move. His first sword strike parried the blow, and he immediately followed up with a second thrust aimed at Regov’s chest.

Regov dodged frantically, but in the end, Robson’s blade sliced off one of the Chieftain’s arms.

All of Regov’s earlier arrogance vanished. He knew he was no match for the human before him. Without a moment’s hesitation, he turned and fled.

Even in the forest, an Extraordinary Centaur could burst with a speed that Robson couldn’t possibly match.

Besides, his objective had been achieved. Robson didn’t pursue.

"Robson, are you alright?"

Seeing the fight was over, Knight Ed came forward and asked with concern.

"I’m fine. How are you feeling?" Robson sized up Ed.

Ed was spattered with bloodstains, and there was a large gash on his arm. His sword was also slick with blood.

"So this is a battlefield? I don’t understand why my father would like a place like this. It doesn’t feel great," Ed replied with a smile.

"Is that so? I don’t much like it either."

Sometimes, all it takes is that first step to realize things aren’t as terrifying as they seem.

Knight Ed was a prime example of this, having adapted to the battlefield after a single engagement. One could only chalk it up to Count Offman’s excellent genes.

Seeing that Knight Ed seemed to have recovered his composure, Robson smiled in agreement.

....

"The Chief... The Chieftain fled?"

"The Chieftain fled! The Chieftain fled!"

"Retreat! Retreat! These humans are a completely different breed from the last ones!"

The unknown is the most terrifying thing. Ambushed by arrows from an unseen enemy, the Centaurs’ morale was already low.

Then, the appearance of the Frank Skilled Infantry out of nowhere was another heavy blow.

They had held on this long partly because of the morale built from their victory against Viscount Leo, and partly because of their trust in their Chieftain.

Now that their own Chieftain was leading the retreat, the Centaur Warriors were instantly filled with despair. They immediately followed in their leader’s footsteps.

Robson didn’t give chase. Instead, he had his troops spread out, forming a net to herd the fleeing Centaurs toward the Tier Two Soldiers.

He hadn’t forgotten that the main purpose of this operation was to train his soldiers.

"Over here! There are human troops over here too!"

Chief Regov was greatly alarmed.

It wasn’t just his men; he was utterly spooked himself.

It might have seemed like the humans had simply held the advantage of time and terrain, but Chief Regov knew that even on open ground, he would most likely have been defeated by this army.

Their aim with the bow was comparable to the most seasoned old Hunters of the Centaur Clan, and the coordination among their Soldiers was unlike anything Regov had ever witnessed.

So how could he not panic now that another army had suddenly appeared?

"Run towards the camp! Towards the direction we came from!"

Chief Regov commanded.

This army was composed of the Frankish Infantry and Frank Shooters that Robson had left behind, under the command of Viscount Fuman.

Their task was simply to channel the Centaurs’ escape route, and Viscount Fuman was an even more cautious noble than Robson.

Seeing his mission accomplished, Viscount Fuman had no intention of causing any further trouble.

As a southern Frankish noble, Viscount Fuman was the classic "rich in coin, poor in soldiers" type. ’So this is what it feels like to command an army,’ he thought with a sense of newfound pride.

He’d had armies before, but they were mostly rabble. On Robson’s side, they’d be classified as "promising" Tier One Peasants or "high-potential" Tier Two Militia.

This time, even though he was only commanding Tier Three Frankish Infantry and Frankish Archers, it was more than enough to satisfy his craving for command.

....

"My... My Lord... It’s bad!"

Before Regov even reached the camp, he saw several blood-soaked, wounded Centaurs stumbling out of it. His heart sank. ’This is bad.’

"My Lord, the camp! The camp has been taken!" the Centaur reported frantically.

’What have I done to deserve this...’

Regov was filled with a bitterness he couldn’t express. He now understood that this was all a chain reaction from his earlier raids.

His sorrow today was as great as his joy yesterday.

He’d made a huge score and was happily bathing by the lake when a group of humans suddenly appeared.

It would have been one thing if they were just any group, but they were all incredibly tough. He finally thought he’d escaped with his life, only to return and find his home gone.

He didn’t even have to think about it; all the supplies he had plundered were surely gone as well.

Regov felt like crying but had no tears left. It seemed the clan elders were right all along: humans were cunning, tenacious, and if you fought one, a whole horde would show up.

He swore that if he made it back alive, he would never again join the southern campaign. Anyone else who wanted to could go for all he cared.

"There’s no retreat! We fight our way out!"

Though he was panicking internally, Regov knew this was the worst possible moment to show it. He gathered his remaining followers to launch a final, desperate charge.

He was still hoping his Centaur Warriors would unleash some astonishing combat power in this desperate situation.

Unfortunately for him, while he might know the principle of "leaving one side open in an encirclement," he didn’t understand that a breakout is a severe test for both commander and soldier. Moreover, with only a thousand or so men, Robson couldn’t possibly have sealed off the entire battlefield.

Since the way wasn’t completely blocked, the Centaurs’ will to fight was not particularly strong.

Led by Regov, they plunged headfirst into the wagon phalanx prepared just for them. Hidden within the formation, militia soldiers raised their long pikes, aiming them at the Centaurs.

The phalanx now served as an obstruction. The Centaurs had no room to swing their stone axes, and at such close range, their shortbows were useless.

But Robson had planned for everything. The militiamen, sheltered behind the wagons, turned their long pikes into veritable life-reapers on the battlefield. The formation rang with the unending screams of the Centaurs.

Regov was helpless as he watched the carnage. He could only abandon his troops and prepare to flee.

’Just let me get out! Just let me get out of here!’

Beastmen campaigns were organized by tribe; these Centaurs were not merely Regov’s subordinates, but his kinsmen.

His hatred surged, and his mind was consumed with a single thought: ’Break through!’

"Beast! Where do you think you’re going!"

Unfortunately for him, when it came to hatred, there was someone else on the field who hated him even more.

Viscount Leo had lost soldiers and commanders to Regov, suffering a complete loss of face. The humiliation Regov had inflicted upon him was a fate worse than death.

"Beast! Take this!"