The commander of the 6th Legion infantry of the AtrodeÌ Army, Viscount Kedron, was utterly miserable.
They werenât even fighting directly, yet the mere act of moving was exhausting.
âIsnât marching supposed to be the virtue of infantry?â He grumbled internally. It felt like they never stopped walking.
âHurry up! We need to establish our position at the next area!â
The soldiers moved frantically, obeying orders without knowing why or where they were headed.
Those decisions were made by the higher-ups and simply relayed down to them.
The soldiers whispered among themselves, their faces marked by exhaustion.
âGod, this is insane.â
âMove quickly!â
Though the enemy forces had been reduced, no one knew when they might reappear. Since their infantry unit was relatively small, speed was of the essence.
As they marched with effort, a dusty cloud began to rise from the rear.
A soldier with sharp eyes noticed it first.
âHuh? Huh?â
Rumble, rumble, rumble!
The ground trembled faintly as a group of riders appeared on the horizon, all mounted.
The observing soldierâs face contorted in horror.
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