Solo's Spear

"Move! Move!" "By All-Father Gruumsh, how could those Imperials have weapons like this?!" "No wonder the Mountain Kingdom fell to them! How could we ever take back Evindeldan with just these lesser orcs?!" Gazing at the distant earth shrouded in dense smoke and fire, the orcs looked terrified. Without even taking the time to pack their supplies, they fled northward in panic once more. Fortunately, the pureblood orcs' encampment was situated deep in the rear of the battlefield. They only needed to retreat several dozen li to return to their homeland—the Ugo Steppe. Mounted atop a wasteland landwyrm, Solo turned his head to look back at the devastated battlefield. Firelight reflected in his eyes, but deep within his pupils burned a fathomless hatred. By now, Solo's grand ambition to seize Evindeldan and lead the orc race to conquer the Feanso Continent had completely gone up in smoke. His army of a "million orcs" had not even touched the walls of Evindeldan before being incinerated to ash by the Cinder Empire's overwhelming flames. Burned to ashes alongside those green-skinned orcs were Solo's honor and prestige as Great Chieftain. Over the past few days, he had already caught wind of numerous rumors: because of this crushing defeat, clan chieftains were conferring about splitting up once the war was over, refusing to submit to the Red Blood Tribe's leadership any longer. How could he not hate them? Solo not only hated the Cinder Empire for destroying his dream, but he also despised those selfish, short-sighted clan chieftains, loathing their treasonous scheming to the bone. Thinking of this, blue veins bulged on Solo's forehead, and he ground out through clenched teeth: "Cinder Empire... one day, I will lead countless orcs to slaughter your people down to the last one. I will personally hack off that red dragon's head and hang it from the walls of Evindeldan... "Of course, first I'll deal with those damned traitors!" The orc chieftain tightened his grip on his blood spear, a thick, palpable murderous intent flashing in his turbid eyes. Whoosh— An ear-piercing screech drifted from the distant horizon as several wyverns swept across the high sky, dropping bombs onto the marching orc army below. "Boom!" "Boom! Boom!" Flames surged into the sky, and the thunderous roar shook the earth. Terrified and helpless, the orcs waved their weapons frantically, entirely powerless against the onslaught. "Damn it, it's the Imperials' wyverns!" "How can this be?! They chased us all the way out here!" "Gruumsh above, is there no end to the Imperials' magic and divine spells?!" "Hurry! Shoot them down, damn it!" Seeing dozens of elite orcs blasted to death, Solo looked up at the black specks in the sky and roared. A nearby orc cavalryman whimpered with a miserable face, whispering, "Great Chieftain, they're flying too high and too fast! Our shortbows can't possibly..." "Useless! A bunch of useless trash!" Solo was beside himself with rage. It was one thing for the lesser orcs to be slaughtered, but these blasted wyverns had actually come for his elites! Right before his eyes, butchering them with impunity! To put it in the crude phrasing of orcs: they were taking a shit right on top of his head! "Damned Imperials, I will make you pay!" Solo snatched the spear from the orc cavalryman's hands and fixed his bloodshot eyes on the sky. Far off, the wyverns were climbing, seemingly preparing to turn back for another pass. ... High in the sky, the wyvern knights of the Aerial Corps were carrying out their routine duties: press button, drop bombs, kill orcs. Compared to their past white-knuckle, thrilling dogfights, their current job felt as repetitive and dull as assembly-line work, only with "fireworks" fueled by orc lives. This time, their targets were these retreating pureblood orcs. Watching notifications of earned EXP scroll across his system panel, Mantou knitted his brows. "The orc density here is way too low. A whole bombing run only killed a dozen or so. At least their Challenge Rating is a bit higher." Singo remarked, "These past few days have really spoiled your appetite, haven't they? Back then, you rushed to do toilet-plunging chores for a few hundred EXP, and now you're turning your nose up at a bombing run that yields over a thousand." Mantou curled his lip. "That was then, this is now. Sigh, everything about this quest is great, except it's too boring. There's no thrill of combat. "Eat, sleep, and bomb orcs every day, easily raking in thousands of EXP. Boring, so damn boring!" Singo chuckled. "If you post that publicly, you'll probably have a mob of rookies who are starving for EXP camping outside your door." Mantou looked completely unabashed. "So what? Think they can kill me? Humph, if they really come, I'll send them straight to kingdom come with a single bomb!" Singo remarked placidly, "'Those whom the gods wish to destroy, they first make mad.' I'd say you're getting way too cocky..." Mantou sneered back, "Shut it, Sing-dog! Cut the crap. You're the biggest poser here—haven't you stolen the spotlight in every single event?" "Wait—" Singo's tone suddenly turned strange. "Mantou, that thrill of combat you wanted... I think it's about to arrive!" "What?" Confused, Mantou looked down. On the earth below, an exceptionally burly orc clad in heavy armor gripped a spear, staring up at him with unbridled hatred. On the heads-up display inside his helmet, red characters abruptly flashed: "WARNING, WARNING. IMMINENT DANGER! EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY!" Curtis's voice came through the headset: "You've been targeted by a powerhouse among the orcs. According to our energy level identification system, this guy is a legendary-tier being or higher, emitting an undetectable aura... "Evacuate immediately. If he catches you—well, good luck to you." The transmission ended. Mantou wore a miserable face, wishing he could slap himself so he'd never jinx things again. The death penalty deducted EXP on a percentage basis; if he died, he would have to spit out the greater part of the massive EXP he had earned over the past few days. Gritting his teeth, Mantou cursed under his breath, "Damn it, isn't he just an orc? What, can he fly or something?" Upon receiving Curtis's order, the Aerial Corps' wyvern knights pulled back on their control sticks in unison, climbing almost vertically away from the ground. Equipped with Skyfire Armor, the wyverns lost considerable maneuverability, but their speed increased drastically. Skimming at low altitudes posed significant risks; opening the distance and ascending to high altitude was the best course of action. No matter how strong that orc warrior was, he had no wings and couldn't soar freely like them. Yet Solo tensed every muscle in his body, dropping into a half-kneel as his legs compressed like coiled springs. Boom! With a deafening crash, the ground caved in violently, sending dust shooting into the sky. Propelled by that immense force, Solo's massive six-meter-tall body surged upward, hurtling hundreds of meters into the air in an instant—virtually flying. Spiderweb-like fractures spread across the earth, leaving behind a crater several meters wide and several feet deep. Whoosh— At such blinding speed, the friction between the orc's body and the air ignited streaks of fire, making him resemble a meteor ascending from the earth into the sky. Inside Solo, the heart saturated with primal orc spores beat frenziedly, continuously discharging a powerful forcefield and crushing pressure. Staring at the orc tearing through the air and steadily catching up with them, Mantou was dumbfounded. "What the hell is this monster? Can this thing even be called an orc?!" Confronted by this sight, the wyvern knights held nothing back and slammed their boost buttons. Whoosh— Flames erupted from the steel nozzles behind the Skyfire Armors, boosting their speed as they transformed into crimson afterimages piercing the sky. After several seconds airborne, bound by gravity, the orc's velocity gradually slowed, and he was on the verge of falling back to earth. At this moment, barely dozens of meters separated him from Mantou! Yet that final stretch was impossible to bridge. Mantou finally breathed a sigh of relief. Turning around, he made a funny face and taunted, "Heh, eat my dragon's exhaust!" "Bastard!" Solo flew into a rage, his expression twisting ferociously. The muscles of his arms bulged and blue veins corded as he gathered monstrous power. Looking at the sharp spear in his hand, Mantou suddenly had a bad feeling, a spine-chilling dread welling up within him. "Wait, this guy isn't going to..." Whoosh— A piercing sonic boom echoed across the sky as the sharp spear sheared through the air, hurtling straight toward Mantou. "Shameless Imperials! Die!" Solo's thunderous roar followed hard upon it. Mantou accelerated desperately, mashing every emergency button on his armor. Bursts of fire, lightning, and forcefield energy flared across the wyvern's back as it executed several emergency evasive maneuvers. Yet the spear wrapped in orc spores tracked like a phantom, following him like a shadow, and in the blink of an eye arrived beneath the wyvern. Squelch— First came a crisp tearing sound, followed by the wet crunch of steel puncturing flesh. The spear pierced right through the armor, skewering the wyvern and Mantou one after the other in a clean impalement. Mantou looked down at the bloodstained spearhead protruding from his chest, wanting to cry but having no tears. Appropriately enough, an altered-speed rendition of "See You Again" played through his headset, accompanied by Curtis's half-smiling voice: "Mantou, thank you for stepping up and covering the rest of the aerial wing's smooth retreat." It's over... I got too cocky. —That was the last thought that flashed through Mantou's mind. Boom! In the next instant, the self-destruct mechanism beneath the wyvern's belly was triggered. The dozen-plus bombs stored within detonated at once, producing a blinding fireball in the sky. Burning debris rained down across the earth. Mantou's body had been reduced to charred mince—which, fittingly enough, matched the BGM quite well. Meanwhile, the orc warrior crashed heavily back down to earth. "Chieftain Solo!" "Mighty Solo! Your power is breathtaking! You can even bring down those wyverns!" "Solo, Wyvern Slayer!" "Great Chieftain, you have avenged our warriors!" "Enough!" Yet Solo's face was grim. Showing not the slightest excitement at slaying an enemy, he merely barked an annoyed command: "Those Imperials will be back. Retreat, now!" "Yes, Great Chieftain." Solo surveyed his surroundings, his expression dark and uncertain. At least after displaying his might, these orcs would obey his orders for now—even those clan chieftains were no exception. Once more he looked toward the fortress on Blackrock Mountain, secretly vowing in his heart: Evindeldan, I will return. Next time, however, I will bring an even stronger orc legion here to reclaim Evindeldan. I will never flee in disgrace like this again. ... "General Dror, that orc chieftain is leading the Red Blood Tribe north in retreat. Should we intercept them...?" "No, no need." The hobgoblin waved his hand and turned to face north. "Do not forget His Majesty's will. Our objective this time is not merely winning this war, but eradicating the orc forces of the Ugo Steppe... root and branch." The adjutant said in confusion, "But the Ugo Steppe is vast and boundless. Once out there, it's the orcs' home turf." Dror shook his head, a sinister grin on his face. "His Majesty Cassius once said: the bishop can run, but the cathedral cannot escape. "As long as they return, we can follow their trail to find the source of the green-skinned orcs, strike a devastating blow to their settlements, and solve the orc problem at its root." The adjutant nodded repeatedly, flattering him, "Your Excellency is truly farsighted and shrewd, possessing such deep understanding of His Majesty's aphorisms." Hearing this, Dror was quite pleased, declaring triumphantly, "Of course. His Majesty conveyed the order to me personally." "As expected of General Dror! You truly possess Emperor Cassius's trust!" 'Once this mission is flawlessly completed, perhaps I will be promoted to duke,' the hobgoblin general gloated inwardly. Suddenly, Curtis's voice sounded through the magical communicator: "General Dror, just now, we lost a unit of Skyfire Armor." Dror's brow furrowed. That armor was extraordinarily expensive, costing thousands of gold coins in production alone; every single unit was precious. Dror asked, "What happened? How could those weak green-skinned orcs harm our aerial formation?" Curtis answered honestly, "We encountered the main orc force and launched a probing attack against them. In their ranks is a powerhouse above the legendary tier—presumably that Great Chieftain." "Legendary..." Dror's expression instantly turned solemn. A being of that tier was a force not to be underestimated anywhere across the continent. Even the Cinder Empire today possessed only a handful of them. Thinking of this, Dror asked, "If you cannot handle it—do you need me to request assistance from Lady Misha?" "No need, General." To his surprise, Curtis shook his head in refusal and added, "As it happens... I'd like to test whether the power of 'that thing' is enough to kill a legendary warrior." Hearing the casual delight leaking through Curtis's words, Dror felt a slight chill run down his spine.