"T-This crazy do– dawg!" Ascalon cursed.

However, the expression on his face was unclear. It was as though the SS-ranker didn't know whether he was angry or happy.

The objective of Hark's party, the fastest workers among the wretches of Egress, was to retrieve Nando's head and dig three target graves — four if possible.

The half-dog went batshit insane and went for seven graves.

Ascalon knew that dogs were naturally good at digging, 'but seven?...damn…'

It was unclear whether the last word in the SS-ranker's thoughts was an expression of his being impressed at the wretched kobold's efficiency and boldness or a curse at the current situation.

A few dozen meters behind the crumbling defensive lines of the Damnedlings of Egress were two small groups of seven and eight Damnedlings digging through the condensed ash.

Hark and six others from his party were defending the diggers from another side, while Daru and the others did so from the side they came from, holding back a little over fifty wraiths despite numbering only a little less than forty.

The leaders of the Egress Army had varying reactions to the kobold's daring.

Borz was displeased at being outdone by the half-dog but agreed with Hark's decision.

After all, if they want to succeed in escaping Limbo, they must be willing to take such risks, especially when there's a good chance of succeeding.

Thrad, on the other hand, was fuming deep inside but knew that this was not the time to reprimand Hark.

He was a veteran of Egress and had watched dozens of comrades fall.

To him, risking the lives of their comrades for a few extra benefits that could be taken in the next operation was outright dumb.

But then again, beastkin mostly acted on instinct and intuition.

Intelligence wasn't really their strong point.

Aesyn and Lesha merely went with what was happening, dealing with the problem due to necessity.

They were neither happy nor unhappy about the situation.

Ascalon, too, had discarded his anger for now and merely worked to preserve the lives of his comrades.

Only one person was happy with the situation: Daru.

He found Hark quite pleasing to the eyes.

Stepping back, he waved his sword multiple times, dealing with the rotting gray crescents fired by two Ashen Cleaners and protecting his comrades.

Daru's legs then moved into an L-stance, and he slashed his tachi two times in quick succession, firing a spinning crescent aimed at a diagonal line of unsuspecting servant wraiths.

[You've slain an Ashen Cleaner Lv.50]

[You've obtained 6,031 Experience Points.]

[You've obtained (3) Purge Tickets.]

[You've obtained a Wretched Soulslip.]

[You've slain an Ashen Cleaner Lv.50]

…

[You've slain a Twisted Custodian Lv.50]

…

[You've slain a Twisted Custodian Lv.50]

…

[Crescent Dicer] instantly took out two Ashen Cleaners and two Twisted Custodians, granting Daru a blood-pumping total of 24,000 experience points with one C-ranked Sword Skill.

The spinning crescent didn't stop there, proceeding to wound a few more wraiths before being destroyed by an Accursed Soulcatcher.

He couldn't explain the overwhelming rush of satisfaction he was experiencing, even muddying his focus for a moment.

'Dangerous…'

Daru violently shook his head, clumsily defending himself from the approaching blade of an Accursed Soulcatcher.

That was the first time he felt such an exhilarating rush.

'I'll be more careful next time…' he noted to himself, embedding the lesson that too much satisfaction was just as lethal as pent-up frustration.

Meanwhile, Ascalon gritted his teeth, anger resurfacing.

They were overstaying.

"Hark, how much longer?" he asked as calmly as he could so as not to affect the morale of his comrades.

But there was no immediate response again.

"HARK!" The SS-ranker finally exploded.

"W-We're done-sah! We can go now-sah!"

The kobold's response was nothing short of a heavenly reprieve in the ears of the weaker Damnedlings.

Ascalon, too, felt as though a massive thorn was pulled out of his heart.

He instantly ordered, "Begin the retreat! Don't rush, make sure to follow the plan!"

The plan…wasn't too complicated.

The strongest among them would be the last to retreat, and this time, no one was bound by their assigned parties.

Hark, Borz, Thrad, and Aesyn would only retreat before the top-ranker trio did.

There was also no need to be in a neat formation, since they would be climbing over a black metallic fence.

The looser and more widespread they were, the better.

It was every wretch for himself at the end, though of course, the same couldn't be said to the leaders, who would be giving the weaker Damnedlings a more-than-decent chance.

If they still couldn't make it, then painful as it was, they would be left to their deaths.

The top-rankers would face the tougher opponents.

However, this didn't mean they could be sacrificed, and this was an ironclad rule of Egress that even the dutiful Ascalon was unwilling to break.

The herculean task of leaving the god-forsaken realm would simply be unattainable for the lower-rankers alone.

Even now that there were three top-rankers — the strongest the Egress Army had ever been — they still had no choice but to raid and flee like wretched bandits.

This was why Ascalon and Lesha would rather watch one of their comrades die and take the heavy burden in their hearts than sacrifice themselves, knowing that they would be betraying the rest if they didn't, though a part of the reason was also that they wanted to return to the Surface themselves.

They would be hypocrites if they said otherwise.

Another part was because saving themselves would be the "greater good" in such a case.

Either way, rarely did people slip up in this stage of the operation.

…But it didn't mean they couldn't…

Just when the army was transitioning to retreat, a sharp shinging sound echoed, followed by Lesha's roar:

"Damn it!! Watch out!"

An Accursed Soulcatcher's manifested hand managed to get past her after her curved blade slid through the blade of the Ashen Cleaner's jian, resulting in her losing her balance slightly and failing to retract her arms in time to cut the ghostly hands.

Everything happened too fast.

Before everyone else could react, the nearest Damnedling had been grabbed and ruthlessly tossed deep into the back of the wraiths' lines.

A harrowing, unholy shriek then erupted a split second later.

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