Ainz Ooal Gown: Noble Knight

The father let go of his hand, the boy staggered, then turned and ran 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.

A muffled bugle call 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 charged ahead, his golden hair fluttering in the wind, his armor brighter than the others, with a black sword carved in the center of his breastplate.

Chapter 55 Identity Transformation

The boy's teeth began to chatter, and his tail was tucked tightly between his legs.

“Dasha…”

The boy heard his mother's hushed voice behind him. He turned around and saw his mother coming out of the inner room.

Her tiger ears were pressed low, close to her head, and her eyes were filled with terror.

The mother quickly walked to the door, squatted down, and hugged the boy.

Her arms were trembling, but she held on tightly, as if trying to meld Dasha into her own body.

"Mother……"

"Shh." The mother put her finger to her lips, her tiger-like eyes fixed on the wooden door.

Outside the door, the sound of horses' hooves grew louder and louder, like muffled thunder rolling across the rooftops.

The ground was shaking, the walls of the stone house made a slight rustling sound, and dust was falling from the cracks in the stones.

The mother pressed the boy's head against her shoulder, preventing him from looking through the crack in the door.

Dasha could feel her mother's heart beating very fast, as if it were about to jump out of her chest.

At the village entrance, my father stood at the front of the militia line.

Some militia members were conscripted into the Steel Teeth Tribe's main force that attacked the Dragon Kingdom this year.

There were dozens of stone houses, but at this moment only about twenty militiamen were standing here.

He watched the approaching, silvery-white torrent, and the muscles on his tiger-striped face twitched uncontrollably.

He turned his head and looked at his companion beside him.

“In previous years, even when the ‘Silver Demon’ legion took the initiative to attack, it was always to attack the fallen towns of the Former Dragon Kingdom near the front line.”

His voice was dry, like two pieces of sandpaper rubbing against each other.

"How could this year be like this..."

How could they have penetrated so deep into the heart of the Orc Kingdom?

Fifteen minutes ago.

Gehrman rode his horse around the perimeter of the small village.

The horse's hooves kicked up a small cloud of dust as they trod on the cracked earth.

His eyes were half-closed, and the veins on his forehead bulged slightly, as if he was trying to catch some unseen signal.

This is Gehrman's "innate ability".

The ability to vaguely perceive the location of subhumans has a limited range and low precision, but it is still quite convenient for perceiving a large number of subhumans.

He reined in his horse behind a thicket of bushes on the west side of the village, used his innate ability one last time, then turned the horse around and galloped back towards the group.

“Lord Aindora,” Gehrman reined in his horse before the rune, “we have not found any ambushes around the village, nor any other orc settlements within several miles.”

Rune nodded.

"Thanks for your hard work."

He looked up at the sky.

The sun was hanging high in the west, and the distant village was slightly distorted by the heat, like a painting soaked in water.

"Let's proceed according to plan, starting with this village."

Rune's order was relayed to the ears of every cavalryman behind him.

"Charge in and kill all the armed adult male orcs."

Hundreds of cavalrymen gripped their weapons tightly, their taut fighting spirit spreading silently through the ranks like an invisible tide.

Rune rode at the very front, choosing not to approach stealthily.

The sound of horses' hooves rolled across the plains like muffled thunder, and dust rose from the ground like a giant, earthen-yellow dragon surging toward the inconspicuous village.

The village alarm horn finally sounded.

The adult male beastmen rushed out of their respective houses.

Some carried iron axes, some held bone spears, and some only had time to grab a sharpened wooden stick.

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

But those faces covered in beast markings showed little fighting spirit; their fear was almost impossible to conceal.

Several orcs' hands were trembling.

Clearly, the "Silver Devil" is not a name that only children are afraid of.

Rune charged ahead, his golden hair fluttering in the wind.

The warhorse neighed and charged into the open space at the village entrance, and Rune's sword was already drawn.

The silver-white sword drew an arc in the air, heading straight for the tiger-striped orc standing at the front.

It was an exceptionally robust orc with clear, deep tiger stripes on his forehead, and he gripped a heavy iron axe in both hands.

He saw the sword light coming and instinctively raised his iron axe to block it.

But Rune's sword did not collide with the iron axe.

The blade deflected slightly just before touching the axe handle, gliding along it before [the water accelerated].

The moment the martial skill was activated, the speed of the sword suddenly increased by a level.

A silvery-white light left a trail in the air before slicing across the orc's neck.

The head flew off.

The tiger-headed orc's eyes were still open, an expression of disbelief frozen in his tiger-like pupils. The iron axe fell from his loosened hand, smashing into the ground and leaving a small crater.

The headless body swayed for a moment, then collapsed to the ground with a thud.

Blood gushed from his neck, drawing a dark red arc in the sunlight.

Rune's horse did not stop.

He charged into the orcish horde, his left hand gripping the reins, his right hand brandishing the sword.

With each sword strike, an orc fell.

To minimize potential casualties among his troops, Rune chose to wield his sword against only the strongest-looking orcs.

His movements were swift and sharp, like harvesting a field of ripe wheat, each swing of his sword landing precisely at the root of a stalk of wheat.

The cavalrymen followed closely behind.

The mithril-plated armor formed a continuous silver-white torrent under the sunlight, and the horses' hooves trampled the mud, splashing up dust mixed with blood, which spread into a dark red mist in the air.

They charged into the orc horde, spears thrusting and swords slashing.

The shield blocked the thrust of the bone spear, and then his companion pierced the orc's chest with a sword.

Because of their racial hierarchy, orcs can grow without deliberate learning.

Their upper limit is also one level higher than that of native humans.

These orc militia members are generally around level 10, far exceeding the level of ordinary kingdom soldiers, but they are no match for the well-coordinated and well-equipped Aindora cavalry.

Victory is not guaranteed even in a one-on-one fight, let alone when the cavalry far outnumber the orcs.

The battle was over in minutes.

More than twenty orc corpses lay scattered haphazardly on the open ground at the village entrance, their blood soaking the soil.

Rune pulled on the reins and shook the blood off the sword.

"Take a headcount of casualties," he said to his adjutant behind him, turning his head to the side.

The adjutant quickly reported back.

"My lord, no one was killed, only three were lightly wounded."

Rune nodded and gave the instructions.

"To treat wounded soldiers."

Then he raised his head, his gaze passing over the corpses lying on the ground, and looking into the depths of the village.

There were low stone houses, shivering orc cubs, and orc women huddled behind doors.

The center of the village is an area enclosed by a thick wooden fence.