Chapter Five: The King
2015-07-14
Author: Floating Tower
Boom!
A dull roar echoed across the battlefield.
Accompanied by a mournful trumpet, the Half-Orcs surged forward like a tide, turning the entire city wall into a bloody meat grinder. The primal and wild charge repeatedly assaulted the ancient walls, while the Abyss Werewolves darted among the ranks of Half-Orcs, agilely leaping and continually searching for opportunities to strike. These incredibly nimble enemies inflicted heavy casualties on the Half-Elves, as they could climb over ten meters high walls with their bare hands.
“Milan!”
A raspy roar came from ahead, and then a middle-aged man, covered in blood and flesh, charged forward with a heavy hammer in one hand. He swung the warhammer down, smashing a Half-Orc clambering up the wall before rapidly rushing over and growled, “Are you crazy? What are you doing here? Get down!”
“Go take care of those women and children!… This is not the place for you!…”
Bang.
Another strong Half-Orc climbed up. The middle-aged man grabbed an iron shield and slammed it into the enemy, instantly knocking him four or five meters away, before crashing down to the ground, dead beyond any hope of revival.
“Go!”
The middle-aged man looked at the little girl in front of him, his eyes bloodshot from days of relentless fighting, his heightened tension and willpower failing to notice the unusual situation surrounding her. He reached out to grab her, intending to take her down the wall, as the situation on the battlefield was becoming increasingly dire; there was no time to look after a little girl who would only create chaos by staying.
“Hm?”
Faced with the approaching middle-aged man, the little girl slightly furrowed her delicate brow. She shifted her foot, turned gracefully, and brushed past him without even touching his sleeve.
“Eh?” The middle-aged man stood stunned in place.
His hands were empty; he hadn’t even grazed the edge of the little girl’s clothes. Her every move had been fluid and seamless, revealing an astonishing agility.
Milan did not look back.
The middle-aged man was merely a Priest who had lost his Divine Technique, not worth attracting her attention, wasting her precious time.
Because every second was earned with mental energy!
………………
“Roar!”
A wild roar erupted. An armored Half-Orc warrior charged up the city wall, his gaze landing on a beautiful white figure, a little girl in a pure white dress, blooming like a sacred lotus amidst the blood-soaked battlefield. That pure white stood out so starkly against the battlefield stained with blood, instantly piercing the Half-Orc warrior’s blood-red pupils, causing him to let out a low growl and swing his blade without hesitation.
In his madness, he sought to wither this pure beauty like a lotus, letting scarlet blood flow amidst the pristine white.
Clang!
With a gentle tap of her snow-white toes, Milan’s figure fluttered like a butterfly, instantly sliding past a Half-Elf defender, and the next moment a long, narrow elven curved blade appeared in her palm. She did not pause for a second, swiftly passing by the Half-Orc warrior, her cold blade cutting through the air, time freezing in that moment. The Half-Orc warrior’s figure stiffened in place.
Thud.
The clear sound of a body hitting the ground.
A head fell, and the beheaded Half-Orc warrior’s body slowly toppled. Blood gushed forth wildly, but not a single drop touched Milan’s pure white dress.
Her figure danced across the city wall, gracefully fluttering like a butterfly!
At that moment.
The attention of the entire battlefield was drawn to the white figure; countless fighters caught sight of her existence.
Courage.
Her presence seemed to awaken the courage of the warriors. Even in their extreme fatigue, a burst of strength surged within them, forcing the enemy’s advance back.
Roar!
A mad roar echoed.
Abyss Werewolves leapt up from the corners of the wall. These powerful monsters with blood-red pupils noticed the little girl’s presence, rushing from all directions like shadows, suddenly lunging toward her, aiming to decapitate the only ray of white light on this battlefield!
“Hmph!”
Facing the Abyss Werewolves rushing from all sides, a sneer appeared at the corners of the little girl’s mouth. She lightly hooked her snow-white toes, and a second elven curved blade landed in her palm.
Clang!
A crisp sound of metal clashing.
Milan’s figure soared into the air, spinning rapidly, with both blades transforming into a flurry of cold light. Her white dress made her look like a dancing butterfly, quickly flying out from among the shadows, her figure sweeping through the air, with drops of blood sliding off her blades, followed by the sound of bodies thudding to the ground as Abyss Werewolves fell directly from the sky.
Clang.
The little girl landed lightly, frowning as she glanced at the elven curved blade in her hand that was already somewhat blunted and casually tossed it aside.
Weapons were scattered everywhere on the battlefield.
She shot a cold glance at others, quickly found two more curved blades, and then her figure became a white shadow racing through the air, leaving behind cold and merciless blade flashes, and following her white silhouette were the bodies of Half-Orcs and Werewolves.
All were slain with a single blow!
Not a single enemy could withstand more than one of her strikes; not even the Abyss Werewolves could last even a second longer!
The battlefield fell into a deathly silence.
Milan’s figure darted across the city wall, slaying over a hundred Half-Orcs and Werewolves in an instant.
The Half-Orc assault was abruptly halted.
Accompanied by the mournful trumpet, the frenziedly attacking Half-Orcs began to recede like a tide.
A cheer erupted.
When the enemies before them retreated from the city wall, the surviving Half-Elf warriors couldn’t help but cheer.
………………
Dong! Dong! Dong!
The heavy sound of war drums resonated from the Half-Orc rear, echoing like a frenzied ritual, instantly choking the throats of all the Half-Elf warriors, forcing them to stop their cheers, their expressions tense as they looked toward the rear of the Half-Orc formation. Waves of Half-Orcs parted like a tide, and with the gradually intensifying and chaotic drumbeat, a massive creature that was clearly of dragonblood lineage appeared. It had sturdy dragon horns, a massive body, strong limbs, and tough dragon skin.
The aged figure of the Half-Orc Priest appeared!
Eugene stood atop the giant beast, holding a Bone War Spear, with the ashes of his kin smeared across his face, his chest bare and marked with countless scars.
Memories seemed to drift back to that winter.
In that cold and snow-covered season, he also stood there bare-chested, gripping a war spear against the Frost Giant army threatening the tribe’s survival!
Roar!
He let out a roar.
The aged body could not hide the power within; Eugene gazed at the battlefield before him, bellowing, “For the tribe! For the Toothfang Clan! For our descendants!!!”
Buzz.
The Bone War Spear cut through the air, and as Eugene pointed toward the blood-stained city wall, countless Half-Orcs issued wild roars. They gripped their crude weapons tightly, fiercely pounding their chests; the fatigue from days of relentless assaults transformed into a surge of ferocious courage.
“Eugene! Toothfang! Eugene! Toothfang!”
Countless Half-Orcs frantically shouted Eugene’s name, their blood-red eyes charging once more toward the battlefield ahead!
Cold, hunger, death.
This was the battle that would determine the fate of the Half-Orcs for the next several hundred years!
Since this land was seized by the Half-Elves, the Half-Orc clans had been driven to the cold and desolate areas, with the shadows of hunger and death consistently looming over them.
But!
The Half-Orcs did not fall because of this, nor did they fail.
Because they have Eugene!
The greatest Half-Orc leader in history!
He led his kin to explore the northwest wilderness. He traveled the continent alone solely to find ways to strengthen the Toothfang Clan! He united all the Half-Orcs with love and tolerance! He was cruel and merciless to enemies, yet treated his kin like his own children, always displaying compassion and sadness in his eyes! He slaughtered winter wolves in the biting cold, entered the deadly marsh to slay black dragons single-handedly, and beheaded their king under the siege of the Frost Giant army!
He supported the spine of the Toothfang Clan with his aged back!
He spent his entire life without marrying or having children, with no mate. Just this one elderly Half-Orc shaman, after leading his kin to defeat the Half-Elf army, the first thing he did was not to celebrate victory, but to kneel and kiss the black fertile land beneath his feet.
He is Eugene the Spear!
He is the backbone of the Half-Orcs, the hope of the Half-Orcs, the true chief of the Half-Orcs!
……………… (To be continued ~^~)
