In the Blackstone Valley, across the open floor before the city of Evindeldan, scorched orc corpses lay piled everywhere. Residual flames still crackled, their tongues of fire flickering in the wind.
Dwarves and elves stood ready along the battlements, gripping longbows and warhammers in grim silence as they awaited the enemy's arrival.
"My kin! Our allies!
"At this moment, the fate of Evindeldan rests in our hands! Even the destiny of the entire Feanso Continent may be reshaped by this great war!
"If we prevail, what you achieve here today will surely go down in history!"
King Ed's voice rang steady and powerful, each word resounding along the flag-strewn battlements.
The dwarven king raised his warhammer high, a formidable presence radiating from him. "For order and justice! Evindeldan will never fall!"
"For order and justice!"
At that moment, dwarf and elf alike raised their weapons, letting out an earth-shattering roar. Even the gold dragon atop the watchtower lifted his head and gave a low cry.
Just then, Rhea tightened her grip on her silver sword, looking gravely into the distance with a faint furrow in her brow.
"This is..."
With the heightened perception of a legendary paladin, she sensed it at once—a slight tremor in the ground beneath her, accompanied by a clamor drifting from far away.
She lifted the crystal pendant hanging at her neck; ripples were spreading across the water of the sacred tree sealed inside.
"It seems the orcs are coming. May we fulfill Her Majesty Catherine's mission smoothly this time."
Before long, the vibrations grew pronounced. The entire Blackstone Mountain range seemed to tremble as a low rumble traveled through the earth.
Loose stones tumbled down the cliffs, a sign even the dwarven warriors could easily notice.
"Moradin above..."
"What is that sound?"
"Do—do you feel that? It's no illusion! The ground is shaking!"
Feeling the coppery stench of blood washing toward them on the wind, King Ed shouted, "Orcs! The orc army is coming!
"All units on alert! Prepare to repel the assault!"
The sentinel atop the watchtower looked into the distance, his jaw dropping in shock. "Du—Dumathoin preserve us..."
Across the distant horizon, a suffocating shroud of dust and crimson mist rolled forward, blotting out the sky and choking the valley.
Then came the orcs, bursting forth like a turbid torrent to engulf more than half the valley, amidst hordes of raging beasts running wild. From within the dust, endless ranks of orcs surged forward, wave after wave.
A sprawling host numbering in the hundreds of thousands had marched out in full force.
Compared to the vanguard led earlier by Monk, this horde was vastly larger, its momentum far more terrifying.
"Hwooo—!"
Orcs threw their heads back and blew into yellowed horns carved from the thigh bones of their foes. A long, mournful blast echoed out, low and heavy as the growl of a behemoth.
Orc light cavalry galloped across the field, brandishing spears, drawing shortbows, and bellowing deafening war cries.
Their worg mounts exhaled foul, reeking breath and snarled rabidly, their bloodshot triangular eyes gleaming with sinister light.
This was the vanguard of the orc army—worg light cavalry. Leveraging their speed and maneuverability, they sought to draw defensive fire and wear down the garrison upon the walls.
Yet atop the towering ramparts of Evindeldan, elves in silver light armor drew their longbows taut in unison, nocked arrowheads angled toward the sky.
Whoosh!
Countless arrows streaked through the air like comets, tracing elegant silver arcs across the heavens before plunging down toward the orcs.
Their bows were no ordinary weapons, but magical wonders; each arrow shot from them trailed dazzling silver light.
Upon cresting over the orc ranks, the missiles burst apart, transforming into a sweeping storm of silver light arrows.
The glowing shafts cascaded from the heavens like a tempestuous deluge, peppering the orc formations in dense clusters.
"Aaargh!"
"Elven magic arrows!"
"Damn those long-ears! I'll scalp every last one and sacrifice—"
The elven shafts possessed homing properties; even agile worg cavalry found it impossible to evade the barrage.
Nearly every shaft struck true, piercing chests and skewering beating hearts.
Cries, wails, and curses filled the air as several hundred orc riders fell dead, their lives snuffed out in an instant.
Gazing at the field strewn with corpses, Ed grinned broadly and clapped in delight. "Splendid! As expected of Therenia's elite! Truly extraordinary!"
The elves drew their silver bows taut once more, channeling power upward until a brilliant silver radiance almost bathed the entire rampart.
An orc officer brandished his scimitar and roared, "Where are our spellcasters?! Block those pointy-ears' arrows!"
"O Great All-Father..."
"You are the unconquered conqueror! Grant us your protection, shield us from our enemies' spears and arrows..."
Shamans daubed in crimson runes hovered in midair, raising bone staves as they chanted ancient, droning prayers.
Whoosh—
The thick crimson fog churned and coalesced, forming a vast, scarlet curtain across the vanguard of the orc army.
Another volley of elven arrows whistled through the air, only to crash into the barrier and drop feebly to the earth before reaching the orcs.
Meanwhile, the orcs' counterattack came swiftly.
"Fragile pointy-ears..."
On a slope, a high-ranking Eye of Gruumsh stood drawing a rune-engraved greatbow, his single eye burning with bloodlust.
With a crack that tore the air, a pitch-black arrow burst forward enveloped in a bloody gale, crossing a distance of over a thousand meters in a heartbeat.
"Look out!"
The targeted elven archer's expression warped. He tried to dodge, but could not evade an arrow flying faster than sound.
A violent shockwave hit him, and agony ripped through his abdomen as the shaft punched through, tearing his entrails to shreds.
Bang!
The elf's slender frame was hurled backward by the tremendous momentum, slamming hard into the parapet behind him and painting the stone in blood.
A noble, pureblood elven archer had been pinned dead from a thousand meters away, granted not even the chance to struggle.
Rhea's face darkened. Every member of this company was a top-tier elite and a loyal follower of Her Majesty Catherine.
If the Silvermoon Followers were depleted here, it would deal a devastating blow to the Queen's future plans to reclaim the Sacred Tree and take back power in Therenia.
She could not permit that to happen.
With that in mind, Rhea turned to a robed elven wizard and ordered, "Seymour, do everything in your power to protect our people."
"Yes, Lady Rhea."
The wizard nodded. Raising a wooden staff topped with a moonstone that shed a gentle glow, he chanted an incantation under his breath.
He floated into the air, his pure white robes flapping in the wind.
Above the walls of Evindeldan, a colossal barrier of light began to coalesce, expanding to shelter all the elves.
It was a 7th-tier spell unique to the elven realm—the Radiant Barrier of Therenia!
Whoosh—
Just then, another ear-splitting sonic boom rang out from the distance as a second black arrow shot across the sky like a meteor.
Seymour had not yet completed the spell and remained suspended in midair—and the arrow was aimed squarely at him!
"Don't even think about it!"
Rhea shouted fiercely. She slashed her silver sword, sending twilight radiance flying from the blade to intercept the incoming arrow.
In a flash, the light erupted, and the arrow disintegrated into blackened powder.
Seymour's spell finally took shape. The radiant barrier enveloped the ramparts of Evindeldan, warding off all incoming strikes.
The dwarves cranked winches and released catapults, hurling barrels packed with gunpowder and strong spirits into the mass of orcs.
Some barrels crashed against the barrier, while others exploded in midair, blowing whole clusters of orcs to pieces.
Orc light cavalry continued to skirt the battlefield, dodging the sweeping arrow fire as they sought opportunities to snipe the defenders on the walls.
Meanwhile, the elven wizards raised their staves together, showcasing the magical heritage Therenia had amassed over millennia.
Searing flames, freezing ice spikes, and sacred radiance rained down from above into the orc throngs, multicolored magical auras gleaming brilliantly over the parapet.
Death struck relentlessly across the field, but since the orc army had yet to reach the walls of Evindeldan, their casualties far outstripped those of the dwarves.
In mere moments, the foremost orc cavalry lost nearly three thousand riders, leaving the battlefield strewn with their corpses.
"Death is not the end! Those who fall in valor shall attain eternal life in the All-Father's realm—Nishrek!
"Warriors of the orc race, charge! Reclaim the world for the glory of our people!"
The warlord's deep, booming voice echoed over the field. Even with staggering losses at the front, more worg cavalry poured out without pause.
Indeed, as orc faith dictated, if they fought valiantly and brought honor to their clan, Gruumsh would claim their souls for Nishrek, his divine domain within Acheron.
There, they would spend their afterlife in Gruumsh's grand army, waging endless, planar wars of conquest and doing battle against the goblinoid gods.
Yet what they did not know was that every night in Nishrek, the orc warriors engaged in ruinous internecine warfare, abandoning all diplomacy for horrific slaughter, while Gruumsh watched with relish from his iron fortress.
Worse still, while there was boundless agony in his realm, there was no true release of death; every soul was resurrected at sundown, leaving the weaker orcs to be butchered again and again in an existence far worse than oblivion.
Yet at this moment, the orcs harbored nothing but yearning for Nishrek. They thrust their weapons into the air with frenzied roars.
"For the Great All-Father!"
"Victory to the orcs! We shall live forever!"
Behind the light cavalry, the main body of the orc army advanced steadily, trampling the corpses of their own kind as the distance to Evindeldan's walls dwindled.
Raging beasts charged headlong through the rain of arrows. Half-orc giants and ogres bearing massive bone shields held the front, followed by tens of thousands of orc foot soldiers.
In the sky, tamed giant eagles and vultures circled with piercing shrieks, accompanied by manticores, wyverns, and other monsters drawn by the scent of the crimson mist.
Far behind the vast army, Batu Skullsplitter stood atop the lofty back of a wasteland landwyrm, gazing toward Evindeldan.
He saw the massive gold dragon perched upon the watchtower, flexing its great wings and sweeping its thick tail, poised to meet the orc assault at any second.
The orc chieftain ground his tusks until they nearly shattered, muttering under his breath, "Curse that gold-scaled reptile... How did it end up here? So long as that dragon is there, taking the walls will be nearly impossible.
"I have to catch it off guard... and kill it now!"
Batu's expression twisted with malice, a savage glint flashing in his lone right eye.
He held out his hand and barked, "Nasu, bring me my bloodspear."
"Yes."
The old shaman reached into empty air and retrieved a folded piece of cured hide. Unwrapping it, he took out the spear within and gingerly handed it to Batu.
"Heh, nothing suits me like you, my old friend..."
Batu took the weapon and ran his hand along its rough surface. Ancient and heavily mottled with blood, the spear had skewered the beating hearts of countless foes, and had even felled a mighty Titan godblood.
Now, the chieftain wielded this killing implement once more for a single objective: that meddling gold dragon obstructing their conquest.
Batu gripped the spear, eyeing the distant dragon like prey, a fanatical grin spreading across his face.
He pressed the spear to his brow, shut his eye, and prayed in a low, rasping voice: "O Great All-Father...
"Supreme One-Eyed God, He Who Watches, He-Who-Never-Sleeps! Your humble son seeks to remove an obstacle to orcish conquest. Bestow upon me... the power of slaughter!"
Rumble!
Thunder crashed out of nowhere, rocking the valley.
Batu's eye snapped open, blazing with an unsettling crimson glow. A thick, bloody fog boiled from his eye socket, gradually enshrouding the spear.
Upon his forehead, the rune of the single eye blinked as if alive, brimming with venomous malice.
"Thank you, All-Father...
"In return, I shall offer you the most precious sacrifices—the city of Evindeldan! And the severed heads of dwarves, elves, and that gold dragon!"
Feeling the overwhelming, frenzied power coursing into his grip, the orc broke into a hideous roar of laughter, puffing out foul white smoke. He squeezed the bloodspear tightly, thick veins bulging across his arms like gnarled tree roots.
"Gold dragon—
"Standing before the orc horde is the greatest mistake of your life!" Amidst rolling thunder and screaming gales, Batu Skullsplitter raised the bloodspear high. Taking a sprint of nearly a hundred meters, he roared and hurled it with every ounce of strength in his body.
Boom!
In an instant, the atmosphere was torn asunder with a shrill, shrieking wail. The sky seemed slashed open by a blade, leaving a narrow, dark red scar across the heavens.
The sky itself was bleeding!
The bloodspear vaulted into the air, traversing thousands of meters in a deadly arc. Trailing endless crimson light and bearing terrifying might, it bolted toward the massive gold dragon, the wake it carved through the air taking the shape of a colossal spear thousands of meters long.
Dwarves and elves looked up in dread. In that blurred moment of terror, they seemed to see a hulking, one-eyed orc deity hundreds of meters tall, gripping a giant spear and thrusting it toward the gold dragon with a wicked sneer.
Such was the power of Gruumsh!
In their eyes, before such immense might, even the thirty-meter-long gold dragon seemed pitifully small, fragile, and doomed.
"Lord Titus, watch out!"
Rhea stood braced with sword in hand, paying no heed to her silver hair whipping in the violent, coppery wind as she yelled a warning.
Roaaar!
Right then, the dragon's roar shattered the heavens, drowning out even the howling shrieks of the bloodspear.
Every dwarf, elf, and orc across the battlefield looked up. Amidst the groan of shifting stone atop the watchtower, the colossal gold dragon beat its wings and soared into the sky, kicking up raging gales.
Chapter 576