"Clang!" The iron axe heavily struck the iron lock of the prison cart, sending sparks flying.
Kurzadh gritted his teeth, enduring the searing pain of his shoulder wound tearing open, and swung the axe again—this time, the rusty iron lock finally gave way under the pressure, snapping open with a "Crack."
He shoved open the wooden door of the prison cart, and the door panel hit a nearby tree trunk, making a dull sound.
"Quick! Pry the chains!" Kurzadh shouted back.
Four hobgoblins who had been waiting rushed forward immediately, gripping homemade crowbars, and violently jammed them into the chain lock eyes on the orcs.
"Screech—" The iron crowbar twisted, and the thick iron chains on the orcs' wrists snapped instantly.
The first orc to regain his freedom leaped violently from the cart. He was two meters tall, his greenskin covered in old scars, rage burning in his red eyes, and his landing shook the ground, splashing mud.
"WAAAGH!" The orc let out a deafening war cry, snatched up a broken spear from the ground, and immediately charged towards the nearest human soldier.
Just as that soldier raised his spear to block, the orc stabbed him through the chest with a single thrust. His body was hoisted high, then slammed heavily onto the ground, splashing mud onto the faces of the surrounding soldiers.
The other orcs also broke free from their chains. Some grabbed battle axes dropped by the soldiers, some picked up corpses from the ground, and one orc even directly hoisted a broken wooden panel from the prison cart, swinging it like a makeshift door as he smashed it into the crowd.
"Quick! Smash open all the other prison carts!" Kurzadh commanded the hobgoblins to disperse.
The hobgoblin spearmen split into small teams. Some used iron axes to chop the locks, and others used crowbars to pry open the doors. The wooden doors of eighteen prison carts were opened one after another, and more and more orcs flooded into the battlefield.
In just fifteen minutes, nearly two hundred orcs raged through the camp like a burst dam. Their roars, the screams of the soldiers, and the "Clanging" of colliding weapons merged into a single, horrific sound of slaughter.
The soldiers of the slaver Squad had initially formed ranks under Habee's command, but once the orcs charged in, the camp descended into complete chaos.
A spearmen formation had just been assembled when an orc smashed a gap in it with a door panel. Several archers were firing at the high ground, only to be tackled from behind by orcs and have their throats savagely bitten through.
On the muddy ground, soldiers' chainmail, orcs' greenskin, and hobgoblins' hides were mixed together. Blood stained every inch of the land, and the air itself was thick with the stench of gore.
Habee, wielding a short sword, successively cut down two charging orc Boyz.
The first orc had barely lunged at him before Habee ran him through the throat with his sword. The second orc swung an axe, but Habee dodged, then backhanded a slash across the creature's belly, causing its intestines to spill out of the wound.
But his expression grew increasingly grim—the camp was completely out of control. The soldiers were scattered by the orc charge; some were fighting desperately, some were fleeing in all directions, and others were surrounded, screaming as they were torn apart by the orcs.
"This can't continue!" Habee gritted his teeth and roared at the personal guards beside him. "Go fetch some warhorses! Then gather all the scattered cavalry! Hurry!"
Two personal guards immediately took the order and rushed towards the tethered horses, braving the arrows.
Most of the warhorses were startled and running wild; some had been wounded by orcs, and others were crashing around the camp. But the personal guards, relying on their skilled horsemanship, managed to secure four relatively calm warhorses.
At the same time, Habee swung his short sword and ran towards the eastern side of the camp—where several cavalrymen were still resisting the orcs. Although their warhorses were startled, they hadn't run far.
"All of you, follow me!" Habee shouted, cutting down an orc that was lunging at a cavalryman.
Those cavalrymen seemed to have found their backbone; they immediately mounted their horses and charged with Habee towards the direction of the other cavalry.
In less than half an hour, eighteen cavalrymen had gathered behind Habee. Although their warhorses were panting heavily, they still maintained a charging stance, their sabers glinting coldly in the moonlight.
"Charge! Use the cavalry to break them up!" Habee spurred his horse and led the charge toward the densest cluster of orcs.
The warhorses neighed, their hooves pounding the mud, kicking up high waves of sludge.
Sabers swung. The first orc hadn't even reacted before its arm was severed by a blow, blood spraying onto the horse's flank. The second orc raised its axe to counterattack, but the warhorse slammed into him, sending him flying. He crashed heavily to the ground and was instantly trampled into pulp by the cavalry following behind.
The eighteen cavalrymen formed a wedge formation, tearing a gap through the orc crowd like a sharp blade.
Relying on the mobility of their warhorses, they alternated between charging and flanking, their sabers continuously harvesting orc lives.
One orc tried to grab a horse's leg but was kicked in the face by a cavalryman, sending teeth flying. Another orc hoisted a wooden plank to smash the warhorse, but was split in two by a saber. The plank and the corpse fell to the ground together.
Even more terrifyingly, the cavalrymen were constantly gathering the remaining forces.
Habee directed the cavalry charge while shouting, "Those who don't want to die, come form a rank! Follow the cavalry!" The scattered soldiers, seeing the cavalry's presence, clung to it like a lifeline and flocked towards the cavalrymen.
Habee had the cavalry provide cover on the outside, while the remaining forces formed an outward-facing spearmen formation on the inside, their spears pointing out, creating a temporary defense line.
Relying on efficient coordination and superb discipline, this hastily assembled unit actually began to overwhelm the greenskins , who outnumbered them several times over.
"Let these greenskins see what Barton Warriors are made of!"
The cavalry constantly charged, disrupting the greenskins' formation, while the spearmen formation firmly held the core, stabbing every charging orc to death.
A hobgoblin had just raised his stone spear when he was pierced through the body by a long spear. An orc lunged at the flank of the formation but had his neck severed by a saber.
In a short time, dozens of greenskin corpses piled up in the camp, their blood forming small streams that flowed along the terrain.
"Damn it! These human cavalrymen are too strong!" Kurzadh hid behind a large tree, watching the scene unfold, his fists clenched in fury.
His shoulder and chest were bleeding, and he was left with only twenty or so hobgoblins; the rest were either cut down by the cavalry, stabbed to death by the spearmen formation, or scattered.
What frustrated him most was that while the orcs were fierce, they were completely uncontrollable—some orcs only cared about chasing down individual soldiers, and some were even fighting each other over weapons, failing entirely to form an effective fighting force.
If he could command the orcs, he could easily have them flank from both sides, cut off the cavalry's retreat, and then use their superior numbers to surround them. But now, the orcs were like headless flies, charging wildly and aimlessly. Not only were they failing to suppress the humans, but they had become easy targets for the cavalry.
Watching the greenskins fall constantly, Kurzadh felt both anxious and furious, yet helpless—he could control the hobgoblins, but he couldn't control these untamable orcs.
Nevertheless, the greenskins still held the numerical advantage.
Outside the camp, in the woods, an endless stream of hobgoblins and orcs continued to pour in—some were hobgoblin scouts who had been lurking in the forest earlier, and others were greenskins who had just been released.
Although they were poorly equipped, they relied on sheer ferocity, continuously charging the human formation.
One orc Boyz, wielding a axe, forcibly chopped through a spear in the spearmen formation. Several hobgoblin Boys slipped into the formation's base, throwing stones at the soldiers' knees. The soldiers screamed and fell to the ground, instantly hacked to death by the greenskins behind them.
Habee, seated on his warhorse, looked increasingly grim.
He could feel the soldiers' stamina rapidly depleting. Several gaps had already appeared in the spearmen formation's defense line, and the cavalry's warhorses were beginning to pant heavily; some even had arrows lodged in their legs and were running slower and slower.
Although they currently held the upper hand, the greenskins were pouring in like a tide. If this continued, they would eventually be worn down.
"We must break out!" Habee gritted his teeth, making his decision.
He looked up at the eastern exit of the camp—the greenskins were relatively sparse there. If they could break through and run south along the Khyprian road, they could return to the borders of Prince Patton's Fiefdom.
He took a deep breath, raised his saber, and shouted to the soldiers and cavalry behind him: "Everyone listen up! Target the eastern exit! Cavalry lead the way, spearmen cover the rear! Break out!"
The eighteen cavalrymen immediately turned their horses and charged toward the eastern exit.
Sabers swung, cutting down the greenskins blocking their path one by one. The spearmen formation followed closely, the soldiers holding their spears, continuously stabbing the charging orcs.
The greenskin hobgoblins, seeing the humans starting to break out, immediately moved to block them.
But the number of hobgoblins was too small to stop the cavalry charge.
One hobgoblin had just rushed up when he was cut in half by a saber. Another hobgoblin attempted to stab a horse's leg with a stone spear but was pierced through the throat by a soldier's long spear.
The human force advanced steadily toward the eastern exit like a sharp knife. Although the greenskins were constantly counterattacking, they could only watch helplessly as the humans drew closer to the exit.
Habee glanced back at the camp behind him. It had already turned into a sea of blood, with countless greenskins still fighting.
He gritted his teeth, spurred his horse, and led the cavalry toward the exit—if they broke out, they would live. If they were entangled by the greenskins , only death awaited them.