"General! A large enemy force has been spotted two kilometers ahead! We estimate at least five hundred enemy cavalry.
Furthermore, there are many heavily armored knights at the front. We couldn't get a clear look at any family crests."
Daimon was in the Centaur camp with his warriors. The messenger's report was heard by virtually all of the Centaur high command.
A quiet murmur of discussion immediately arose. The events of the past few days were still fresh in their minds.
The humans here were not the pushovers they had been facing for the past few months.
They were all still shaken by their previous escape.
'So fast!' Dread filled Daimon's heart the moment he heard the news.
He and Marin had suspected as much—that the enemy would likely strike while their men and horses were exhausted, hitting them hard.
But the enemy's speed was truly beyond his imagination. The inefficiency of humans was legendary in the Beastman Empire, a problem rooted in their aristocracy.
