NOVEL NEXT Chapter 113: Ridge
Before sunrise, the camp awoke to chaos.
Runners sprinted between tents, shouting hoarse through the foggy air, dawn almost an hour away.
"Command orders! Assemble at once! Division Seven! Form up immediately!"
Wade jerked upright, heart pounding, and nearly hit his head on the tent pole.
Around him, the others were already moving. Rowan was pulling on his boots, muttering curses under his breath. Brody strapped on his sword belt while Mercy tightened the straps of her healer's pack.
Outside, horns blared. The deep calls rolled across the sprawling encampment, waking anyone who hadn't yet moved.
Tents were thrown open. Men and women stumbled into the cold, fastening armor, adjusting pauldrons, and buckling straps.
By the time Wade stepped outside, the sky was still ink-dark, the stars beginning to fade into the first hints of gray.
The entire camp was stirring like a disturbed anthill. Torches flickered across the field, throwing shadows on the churned mud.
"Come on!" Rowan shouted over the noise, slinging his shield onto his back.
They joined the mass of adventurers and soldiers streaming towards the central assembly ground, where Captain Wells stood surrounded by lieutenants and messengers.
His beard was still damp with dew, and his breath came out in white puffs as he barked orders to the forming lines.
When everyone in Division Seven had gathered, hundreds of adventurers standing in rough formation, Wells raised a letter high for all to see. The royal crest was burned into the wax seal.
His voice boomed through the morning air. "Orders from High Command!"
Silence rippled across the field. Even the restless clatter of armor faded.
"Division Seven," Wells continued, reading from the parchment, "is to move at first light towards the designated ridge east of the Great Plains."
"You will join Divisions Six and Eight in a coordinated sweep. The army will be divided into two wings. The northern wing will be the first to engage the horde directly. The southern wing, our wing, will advance along the ridge and strike the rear once the signal is given."
He looked up from the parchment, scanning the faces before him. "The objective is to encircle and crush the main body of the horde. Timing will be crucial. Failure to act in coordination will lead to disaster."
No one spoke. No one needed to.
Wade felt his throat tighten. On paper, the plan was simple. But everyone knew that once the battle began, simplicity died first.
He glanced sideways at Rowan, who stood beside him tightening his gauntlets.
Their eyes met briefly. Neither said a word, but the look was enough. They both understood what this meant.
Around them, people murmured softly. Some muttered prayers to gods, some to ancestors, and others to fate.
A few kissed charms or pendants hanging from their necks.
Someone nearby whispered, "May the goddess of mercy walk with us," only to be answered by another muttering, "She stopped walking these fields long ago."
Wade's hand strayed to the charm he'd bought back at Hiving. Whatever has brought him to this world wouldn't let him die here, right?
He wasn't so sure.
Then, Wells raised his hand. "Form up by squads! Prepare to march!"
Instantly, the field came alive.
Banners unfurled and sergeants shouted, organizing units into columns.
Wagons creaked as supplies were loaded. Crates of rations, barrels of arrows, and boxes of potions were given priority.
Wade adjusted his pack and followed his squad towards the wagon line.
The first campaign of their lives was about to begin.
By the time the sun broke over the horizon, Division Seven was already moving.
The army advanced in waves, a seemingly endless procession of armored figures stretching across the open plains.
Ahead, scouts on horseback rode in formation, leaving trails of dust behind them.
For hours, they marched.
The plains stretched on endlessly, sprawling around them in a sea of tall, pale grass swaying in the breeze.
Conversation was scarce. No one really felt like talking.
At first, the air was clean, crisp with morning freshness. But the further they went, the heavier it grew. The smell of smoke began to creep in, faint at first, then stronger.
Wade noticed the change before the others did. The grass grew darker in patches. The soil underfoot was scarred and blackened.
Soon, they passed the first village.
Or what was left of it.
Charred beams jutted from the ground. Ash clung to the walls that still stood.
The road was littered with bones, both human and monsters. Burnt wagons lay overturned beside the path, their contents scattered and forgotten.
The column kept marching on without stopping, but they all turned to look as they passed.
Rowan exhaled quietly beside Wade. "Monsters did this."
Wade nodded grimly. "Looks that way."
More wreckage followed as they marched.
The carcasses of beasts piled beside trenches. Their twisted forms, some larger than horses, were rotting under the sun. The smell was nauseating. Flies swarmed in black clouds.
It was proof that adventurers and soldiers had already clashed with the fringe of the horde. Proof that the war had already begun before they'd even seen the enemy.
By midday, the ridge came into view, a jagged line stretching across the horizon.
Its sides were steep but not impassable, dotted with boulders and sparse vegetation. The ridge extended for miles, overlooking the plains below like a natural fortress.
Division Seven reached the base and stopped. Orders rippled down the lines. Establish defenses.
The air filled again with motion.
Men unloaded lumber from wagons. Axes rang against wood. Hammers pounded nails into makeshift barricades. Others began digging trenches, marking perimeters, and setting up watchposts along the higher ground.
Wade joined his squad in raising a supply tent near the inner ring of defenses. The canvas was heavy, the poles rough, and the wind fought them every step of the way.
"Hold it steady!" Brody grunted, shoving a pole into the dirt.
"I am holding it steady!" one of the twins shot back.
The argument went back and forth until the tent finally stood upright. Everyone stepped back, sweaty and panting.
Wade rubbed his hands together, grimacing at the blisters forming along his palms. He flexed his fingers, shaking off the sting.
"Didn't think being an adventurer meant becoming a carpenter," he muttered.
Rowan chuckled, slumping beside him. "Oh the dangers of war. The work might kill us before the monsters even have a chance to try."
He picked up one of the wooden stakes meant for the barricade and drove it into the ground, missing the angle entirely. The stake tilted awkwardly.
Wade smirked. "Nice work."
"Shut up," Rowan said, laughing.