God-Tier Extraction Talent: Reincarnated in a Game-like World!

Chapter 358: The Enemies Strength

Gabriel was led by Anna into a small building close to the camp’s storage area. All the while, Seraphina followed closely behind, an umbrella in hand, her expression downcast.

As they walked, Anna’s hunter instincts flared. She had a nagging feeling that someone was watching her.

The huntress turned a couple of times, hoping to catch whoever it was, but she found no one.

"She’s quite impressive. I bet she could easily see through traps and illusions," Seraphina commented, clearly impressed. "Not even that swordswoman or the one named Sophie could sense it, yet somehow she, who is much weaker, could."

Gabriel heard her but did not reply. It would have looked awkward in front of Anna if he suddenly started talking to thin air.

His eyes flashed sharply. Even though he did not say it out loud or show it on his face, he was also impressed by Anna’s senses.

’Her perception stat must be quite high,’ he thought to himself.

Moments later, they arrived at their destination.

Inside was a room with a single window where light filtered in, bathing the interior in a dull glow. It was an interrogation room built by the previous leaders of the camp.

Why they had built it was unclear, considering that not many dared to go against Kairos, as his camp was an extension of the powerful eastern and northern base alliance.

Knowing Kairos, it was not hard to guess that the people interrogated here were mostly the inhabitants of this camp.

Presently, the light from the lone window bathed Geoffrey, who was seated at the center of the room.

Earlier, two players had been stationed at the door. However, upon arrival, Gabriel had dismissed them. Not because they were unnecessary, but because they could not be trusted.

He trusted the NPCs of this world more than players for several reasons.

One of them was that players were very active on the forums, sharing bits of information they considered harmless without realizing how dangerous loose words could become in the wrong hands.

To most of them, it was just casual chatter, flexing achievements, complaining about losses, or speculating about future moves. But Gabriel knew better than anyone that the forum was not a safe space.

Information did not exist in isolation. Once it was posted, it spread. And once it spread, it could be pieced together, analyzed, and weaponized by people patient enough to read between the lines.

What one player called a rumor today could become confirmed intelligence tomorrow, especially when enemy factions also had players within their ranks.

Gabriel was very certain that there were players among the eastern and northern camps.

These players did not need full plans or clear orders. Even fragments were enough. A name here, a location there, a casual mention of strength or weakness, and suddenly the enemy leader knew where to strike.

That was why he never trusted players with sensitive matters, which was also the reason he had warned everyone to keep their mouths shut once the meeting concluded.

Noticing the two presences entering the room, Geoffrey slowly raised his head. Seeing them, especially the towering frame with those peering electric blue eyes, an involuntary shiver ran down his spine.

"Y you are back," he stuttered.

"Yes, I am back," Gabriel replied calmly as he pulled out the second chair and sat down, his gaze boring into the older man, who gulped nervously.

Geoffrey grew paler under that stare, sweat glistening at his temples.

"I won’t hurt you," Gabriel said softly. "As long as you comply."

The older man nodded more than necessary.

"Good," he said calmly before asking the first question. "What is the military strength of the eastern camp?"

This was crucial information for anyone about to go to war. It was always wise to understand an opponent’s strength and weaknesses.

It was a common tactic used by powerful generals, and Gabriel himself had employed it many times in his past life.

Realizing the weight of the question, Geoffrey hesitated, his eyes flickering from side to side.

"Don’t lie to me. I can tell when you are lying," Gabriel said, a trace of his aura leaking out.

Geoffrey did not know whether it was the truth or a bluff. Although he was unaware of Alice’s unique talent that detected lies, the old man, who cherished his life dearly, did not dare take any chances.

Taking a deep breath, he finally spoke. "The total population of the eastern and northern camps combined is about three hundred thousand."

Gabriel’s eyes widened slightly at the absurd number. Fortunately, Geoffrey was too frightened to notice, his gaze fixed on the plain, watery soup before him, which reflected his trembling face.

Instinctively, Gabriel briefly checked his lord status.

The numbers displayed before him were stark.

His total population had previously been around four thousand five hundred, but after the massacre, hundreds had died. Now it stood at just four thousand four hundred, including the otherworlders.

Compared to the combined eastern and northern camps’ massive three hundred thousand, Broken Dawn was like an ant.

An ant in every sense of the word.

He could not help but recall Kairos’ arrogance and the threats he had made. It all made sense now.

However, numbers alone did not tell the full story, and Gabriel knew that better than anyone.

He leaned back slightly in his chair, fingers interlocking calmly as his sharp gaze never left Geoffrey’s trembling figure.

"Break it down," he said evenly. "How many of them can actually fight?"

Geoffrey swallowed hard again, his lips dry as sand as he hesitated for a brief moment. He quickly realized that vague answers would only worsen his situation, so he forced himself to speak clearly.

"Not all of them are fighters," he admitted hurriedly. "Most of the population are refugees, unawakened civilians, families that were absorbed after smaller camps were destroyed or annexed."

"Out of the three hundred thousand," he continued, his voice trembling, "less than a third are awakened. And even among those awakened, many are low level otherworlders or natives who have never seen real battle."

That piece of information settled heavily in the room, reshaping the picture Gabriel had formed in his mind.

So the camp’s real strength was never its numbers.

It was fear.

Initially, he had thought the camp was a solid wall of fighters, a human tide that would drown any force that dared approach it. Going against three hundred thousand people while having barely four thousand would have been suicide by any conventional standard.

But that assumption had been wrong.

"So how many real combatants?" he pressed calmly.

This was perhaps the most important question.