Somehow, I get this feeling that I’ll never understand the way these half-orcs think…I’m the one who enslaved them and yet they’re risking their lives to save me?
Half-orcs were initially stationed among the reserves and so they were sufficiently close to the sabre wielders and the shieldbearers.
My intention was to utilize them while minimizing any casualties among them. My concern then was ensuring that they didn’t feel like I was treating them as cannon fodder…
Technically, that was my original intention but still…sending them to die right after I enslaved them was just looking for trouble.
However, from the way they’re rushing into battle now, it looks like these muscle heads never intended to rebel against me in the first place.
By now, the shield formation had fell apart from the werewolves’ unstoppable charge. Behind them, the Mo sabres laid strewn across the battlefield, unwanted and untouched. The werewolves’ had no use for “toys” such as these; to them, their claws and teeth were much more trustworthy.
It was in this unfavorable situation that the half-orcs decided, of their own volition, to join in the fight. The disastrous situation on the frontlines seemed to have no effect on their morale as the half-orcs plunged into the losing battle, their spirits high as they howled at the top of their lungs.
The half-orcs split off a squad to help plug the breach in our frontline while the rest of them rushed in and picked up the scattered heavy shields and sabres. With their looted equipment in hand, they joined the fight against the terrifying werewolves.
Initially, this unexpected move by the half-orcs startled One-eye; he thought that they were planning to betray us. However, upon seeing them fight the werewolves, he knew that he was wrong. Reacting to their much needed aid, he immediately ordered his men to stall the werewolves in order to give the half-orcs more time to equip themselves.
It was at this moment that No.3 and Big 4 joined in the fight as well. The pair immediately matched themselves against a two-star werewolf of their own.
While they were both short an arm, their combat strength was still formidable. With the aid of their nearby allies, they managed to hold their own against the herculean werewolves.
The hellhounds were Violet Snow’s subordinates and so I had no control over them. Thankfully however, these clever hounds knew to cooperate with our forces in taking down these werewolves.
While the half-orcs were gearing up, they took the initiative to aid this process. They would lunge at any nearby werewolf and stall them while some even brought the half-orcs their gear…
Thanks to them, the half-orcs managed to swiftly arm themselves.
These half-orcs had a natural affinity for weapons. Just based on the fact that they chose to wield a club was proof enough of this. Without any prior training given, these normally dim half-orcs instinctively knew what to do with their newly acquired gear.
The shield wielding orcs immediately formed a frontline for their sabre wielding brethren who retreated right away behind the safety of the heavy bone shields. With their safety secured, they immediately focused their spear thrusts on the nearest werewolves they could find.
Just based on this performance alone, these half-orcs clearly lived up to their reputation as the premier combat race in Gehenna; their talent for weaponry was clearly above my large imps.
Thanks to their impeccable timing, the battle finally took a turn for the better.
With the frontline stabilized, the suppressive effect of the bone archers’ attacks finally shone through.
Given their relative safety, 100 meters away from the frontlines, the archers were able to rain death upon the werewolves with near impunity, causing them a great deal of pressure. These werewolves not only had to deal with the half-orcs, they also had to watch out for any arrows from above, lest they get skewered by them.
This feeling of being cornered didn’t sit well with the werewolves, if these archers were given space to act as they wished, their defeat was only a matter of time. And so, the werewolves split off four two-star werewolves to handle this problem.
The four werewolves adopted their beastial stance once more and broke into a four-legged charge towards my general direction. Their target, the bone archers atop my bone wall.
However, in order to do so, they first had to overcome the difficult task of breaking through my reserves and half-orcs.
While they weren’t a match for the werewolves in terms of combat strength, their numbers more than made up for this. There were more than 10 times the amount of troops on our side and if they were to focus on stalling the werewolves, even their two-star strength wouldn’t help them much.
This, however, would result in enormous casualties on our side and this was something I didn’t wish to see, whether it was from a sentimental standpoint or a practical one. In order to leave the Prison of the Dead, such needless sacrifices must be avoided.
“Let them through.” I ordered my henchmen after which I divvied up the responsibilities.
“Big 5, you’re in charge of stalling one. Violet Snow will take one while I’ll take another. As for the last one…”
He was taken away by Vick.
This unpredictable fellow had always been prone to such sudden appearances. Perhaps it was due to the novelty of meeting these werewolves for the first time but Vick decided to charge at one of the two-star werewolves without even waiting for my instructions.
As the wispy humanoid came into sight, the werewolf immediately picked up the speed of his charge. His lupine mouth cracked into a toothy grin as his muscular legs rammed even harder into the ground, propelling him forward with greater force. His plan was the same as always, ram into any obstacles standing in his way.
Unfortunately for him, Vick wasn’t any old enemy. He was a wraith and that meant he was immune to any pure physical attack.
As his bulging frame rammed into Vick, a bone-chilling gust of coldness penetrated his body. His body trembled uncontrollably as his body temperature plummeted and his blood circulation slowed to a crawl.
His limbs began to feel like lead as the penetrating cold worked its way throughout his extremities, forcing him to halt his charge and focus his attention on the enemy he had just charged through.
As he did so, a curious Vick began circling around the furry humanoid.
It was his signature move [Running Circles Around You]!
The werewolf didn’t understand the meaning behind the wraith’s seemingly harmless circling but that didn’t stop him from attacking Vick anyway. He leaped at Vick, his mouth wide open and his teeth glimmering in the air. Unfortunately for this dim-witted werewolf, he attack was doomed to fail once more.
He passed through the ghost just like before without causing any damage on Vick. This frustrated the werewolf immensely who immediately began chasing his foe.
As for Vick , he was in cloud nine at the moment, having just gotten a new playmate to tease. He would drift towards the werewolf and immediately retreat right as the werewolf’s attack was about to hit him.
I wryly smiled as I looked upon this scene. It reminded me of a dog wildly pouncing around as it tried to snap at a butterfly.
Of course, this was just an analogy. Vick was too ugly to be a butterfly.
Due to his lack of subordinates, Big 5 had been by my side this entire. This was to be his maiden battle riding his hellhound into battle and it showed on his face. His excitement could barely be contained as he rode off into battle, short sabre waving in the air as he did so.
Instead of dodging his charge, the werewolf met it head on. Claw met with sabre as the two collided. As the dust settled on the titanic clash, both parties didn’t manage to get a decisive lead over the other. The werewolf’s fingers dangled limply by the side of his hands as the sabre ripped through leaving a wound of unknown depth on his claws.
As for Big 5, the force of the collision threw him off his hellhound. Feeling the sudden lightness on his back, the hellhound immediately knew what had happened to his companion. However, instead of heading back to Big 5, he made use of this opportunity to tear into the werewolf’s legs.
The werewolf howled in pain as he viciously clawed at the hellhound, desperately trying to shake him off. Unfortunately for him, the hellhound had predicted his counterattack and with a nimble shake of his body, dodged it while he leaping back towards Big 5.
I had warned him of this possibility beforehand, thankfully, his hide was pretty tough and so the fall didn’t injure him.
With this lesson learnt, he no longer thought of acting cool but instead fought on the ground obediently.
Back when I crafted that Mo sabre for him, I was afraid of just such a scenario and so I shortened the Mo sabre from 2.5m to 2m. The range of the Mo sabre wasn’t as advantageous in a melee fight as one would think. The length would end up being a burden if the enemy managed to get close to the wielder.
The 2m Mo sabre was a lot better in this regard. While it still didn’t measure up to shorter weapons in terms of agility, it was less cumbersome and given the shortage of mana, this was the best solution I could come up with.
Big 5 had just evolved into a head imp and so was only recently given this weapon. As such, his combat experience with it was severely lacking but fortunately for him, he had a trusty sidekick by his side, the hellhound.
Knowing that he couldn’t take on this werewolf head on, the hellhound smartly chose to adopt the role of an assassin. While Big 5 handled the werewolf, he would sneak in attacks from time to time.
Having just experienced the strength of Big 5’s “toy”, the werewolf knew not to face it head on and instead used his speed to dive Big 5. However, his plan didn’t work out as planned as the hellhound was simply too capable to allow that.
Whenever he tried to approach Big 5, his trusty hellhound would lunge in and despite his measly one-star strength, prevent the werewolf from advancing any further. The werewolf turned around to claw at the hellhound but before it could do so, the nimble hellhound had already retreated to safety.
While the fight ended up being a close match, this wasn’t the case on the side of Violet Snow where her opponent could only be said to be unlucky for getting matched up with her.
Having been with her for a while now, I was basically sure that she was a three-star. However, she basically stood on the sidelines during most of our fights; perhaps she had an issue with her mana consumption and with her body not being suitable for close combat.
Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that she was more of a mage-type character who had a few powerful spells which could only be used a few times.
This explosive power of hers was probably the reason for the lack of stamina on her part.
Her chosen werewolf barely got within several tens of meters of her before he was met with a speeding bullet in the form of a snowball. With a quick twist of his body, he neatly dodged the incoming bullet, however, this was the end of his good fortune. Just as he did so, an icicle the size of an adult’s thigh shot out of the ground and pierced his abdomen.
The sudden impact of the icicle, caused his speeding body to lose balance, tumbling off to the side and ripping apart the wound on his abdomen. Pain shot through his body like lightning as he barely managed to stumble back on his feet. His eyes locked squarely onto his foe, the hatred seeping from his gaze as he stood there panting heavily.
Even injured, he didn’t forget to express his anger at Violet Snow. However, his fate was sealed the moment he tumbled.
As the howl left his mouth, his face suddenly froze, his eyes as wide open as his gaping mouth. Right in his blindspot at the back, was a similarly sized icicle piercing into his heart, skewering him like a shishkebab…even with their renowned sturdiness, a mortal blow like this spelled instant death for them.
“You’re just too strong.” Her ever-changing magical attacks left me in awe once more.
“Instead of wasting time talking, perhaps you should spend it casting spells instead.” She ignored my praise and calmly trotted to the side, clearly not intending to partake in the fight any longer.
“Won’t you consider taking on another?”
Fine, trying to skive in front of this ice queen was pointless to begin with.
By now, the last werewolf was nearly within striking distance of me. I knew that my fireball couldn’t hit him and so I opened up with my fast casting bone spears.
As the bone spears hurtled towards him, the werewolf had to veer off course in order to dodge them, buying me enough time to summon up a bone wall to block his path. With the bone wall stalling him, I began casting my flame whip.
The fiery elements converged on my palm, stretching out into a snake-like object as I pulled my hands apart. By the time my whip had fully taken shape, the werewolf had just managed to break through the bone wall.
The bone wall crumbled as the werewolf’s claws ripped through its chalky interior, revealing the face of my opponent once more. However, instead of charging right at me, the werewolf stood there for a second, his eyes wide open as he looked in the direction of the skewered werewolf.
Seeing the tragic fate of his companion, he became wary of the snow white puppy beside me. This coupled with my recent display of magic, caused him to reconsider his actions.
Unfortunately for him, the skeleton archers weren’t nice enough to give a person time to do so. Due to the proximity of this werewolf, the tireless archers had designated this poor wolf as their main target.
As the hail of arrows whistled through the air, the demonic werewolf didn’t even consider taking them on and instead ran off with his tail between his legs…
Synopsis: Somewhere in the universe, there was an altar. On it, laid a bloody eye as big as the sun itself. It burst with light and bathed the entire star system in red.
"The aura of an ancestral artifact!" Someone's voice rose in surprise.
The Great Galactic Era had begun.