Ainz Ooal Gown: Noble Knight.

Chapter 132 Attack

In the heart of the Orc Kingdom, the Steel Fang Tribe.

An unassuming village sits on a gentle slope nestled among the hills.

The village is small, with only a few dozen households. The houses are built with rough stones and animal hides, low and simple, but sturdy enough.

At the village entrance stood several sharpened wooden stakes, on which hung dried strips of meat, glistening with a dark red sheen in the sunlight.

The air was filled with a mixture of animal stench, smoke, and the stench of blood.

This is the unique smell of the orc village, so strong it's almost tangible.

Several orc children were chasing and playing in the open space at the entrance of the village.

"I'm an orc! I'm arresting you!"

A sturdy little orc opened his arms and pounced on the other children.

His skin was light brown, covered with fine short hair, and the tiger stripes on his forehead were clearly visible. His two round tiger ears were slightly turned on his head, catching the sounds around him.

The other children screamed and scattered.

"Run faster! If the orcs catch you, you'll be eaten!"

The one who shouted was a slightly younger orc boy. His canines hadn't grown in yet, so he ran a bit clumsily, but his amber eyes sparkled with excitement.

A tiger-striped tail swished back and forth behind it, maintaining its balance.

He likes this game.

He was happiest when he was playing the "orc". Every time it was his turn to play the orc, he would pretend to be his father when he went hunting, and chase after the "humans" in a majestic manner.

That feeling made him feel like he was participating in a real hunt.

But today, he is "human".

As the boy crossed the village, he paused, his gaze involuntarily drifting towards the enclosed area in the center of the village.

There was a thick wooden fence that formed a circle, very high with sharpened tops to prevent anything inside from climbing out.

There are people locked up inside.

To be more precise, it's human beings.

The boy peeked through the gap in the fence.

The humans were curled up on the ground, naked, and a few leaned against the fence, motionless, it was hard to tell whether they were asleep or dead.

One of the little girls looked up and met the boy's gaze.

Her eyes were large, but empty, like two dull glass beads. She looked at the boy without any expression, then slowly lowered her head and buried her face in her knees.

The boy pursed his lips.

Humans are nothing more than walking food. My father said they're easier to raise than livestock; they can survive on just swill. And their meat is even more tender than pork.

It is said that human babies are even more of a delicacy, but since feeding babies with very little meat is a very extravagant act, the boy has never eaten one.

He looked away and continued running toward the edge of the village.

"Got you!"

Cheers erupted from behind. The little orc playing the role of an orc had already tackled one of the slower runners and was now riding on his back, laughing heartily.

"That's all humans are capable of!"

The boy smiled, then quickened his pace; he didn't want to get caught.

The houses on the edge of the village were becoming sparser. The boy hid behind an abandoned stone house, peeking out half his head to observe the movements outside.

The game isn't over yet.

He only needs to hide here until time runs out, and he will have won.

The boy took a breath and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

Just then, his gaze inadvertently swept across the distant horizon.

At the edge of the hills, something seemed to be moving on the horizon.

The boy squinted and looked for a few seconds.

Smoke and dust.

A thick cloud of dust rose from the ground, like a giant, earthen-yellow dragon, surging towards the village along the valley between the hills.

The smoke and dust grew thicker and thicker, obscuring the sky behind them.

A light flickered amidst the smoke and dust.

Silvery-white light.

The boy's lips parted slightly, and he let out a muffled murmur.

He remembered what his father had said.

"When you go out to play, don't go too far, or you'll get caught by the silver-white demon that eats orc children."

The boy asked his father curiously.

"What kind of creature is the Silver-White Demon? Is it a special kind of demon?"

The father's expression was somewhat complicated: "It's human."

Silver Demon.

The boy always thought it was a story his father made up to scare him.

Those humans trapped in the enclosures could barely stand up, how could they possibly defeat the orcs? How could any orc possibly be afraid of humans?

But now—

The dust and smoke drew ever closer. The earth began to tremble slightly, and the vibrations from countless hooves pounding the ground traveled up through his feet, making his calves go numb.

The silvery-white light grew clearer and clearer, the rays of light connecting together, like a silvery-white river flowing through the hills.

Groups of cavalry.

The boy stood frozen in place, his legs seemingly nailed to the ground.

"Gurgle!"

Suddenly, a thick, tiger-striped arm reached out from behind and grabbed him by the back of his collar. The boy's body was jerked up, his feet leaving the ground.

"Waaah, before he could even struggle, he heard his father's voice."

"Don't make a sound!"

The boy turned his head.

His father's face, with its distinct tiger stripes, was close at hand, and his tiger eyes were filled with a tension the boy had never seen before.

Its two tiger ears stood upright, trying to catch the approaching sound of horses' hooves in the distance.

"Go home and be with your mother," the father said sternly, his rough voice trembling slightly. "No matter what, don't come out. Do you hear me?"

The boy opened his mouth, as if to say something.

"Did you hear that!" The father's voice grew louder, and his bared canine teeth flashed in the sunlight.

The boy nodded vigorously.

The father released his grip, and the boy staggered before turning and running deeper into the village.

He ran a few steps, then couldn't help but look back.

The father had turned around, facing the approaching cloud of dust. His hand was on the iron axe at his waist, his shoulders were taut, and the tiger's tail stretched into a straight line behind him.

The alarm horn finally sounded in the village.

The muffled bugle calls echoed over the village, one after another, urgent and shrill. It was the highest level of alarm—enemy troops were attacking.

The adult male beastmen rushed out of their respective houses.

They quickly assembled at the village entrance, forming several loose battle formations.

But the boy saw that the uncles and elders who usually patted their chests and boasted about their bravery now had a look of ashen discoloration on their faces.

Several people's hands were shaking.

The boy had never seen them like this before.

The boy ran past the last row of houses and slipped into his own stone house. He closed the door, crouched behind it, and peered out through the crack.

The silver-white cavalry drew ever closer.

He could now make out the outline of the person in front of him.

That person was at the forefront, his golden hair fluttering in the wind, his armor brighter than the others, with a black sword carved in the center of his breastplate.

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