Chapter 816: Beating
All those fragments that had soared into the sky now plummeted toward the ground. Countless Blazeforge Orcs, as if caught in slow-motion flight, were swept away like leaves in a gale, scattering in every direction.
The lingering shockwave spread in all directions. Thorne and the few surviving members fought with everything they had just to avoid being blown away.
Dust and wind swept outward. Thorne raised his greatsword to shield himself, and only after a long moment did the furious gale finally subside.
The mountain ahead had completely vanished, replaced by a vast field of rubble and ash. At the very center lay a terrifying, bottomless pit, wisps of bluish smoke drifting upward.
Thousands of elite Blazeforge Orcs, along with the massive Teleportation Array, were obliterated in what could only be considered a warm-up strike from the Hand of Destruction.
The remaining Blazeforge Orcs at the front were almost all wounded; only two or three hundred escaped unscathed...
Hobart, who had tried to flee, lay sprawled atop his wyvern, staring blankly at the scene. His eyes nearly burst with blood as he let out a frenzied howl. Blood spewed from the scorched hole in his abdomen, and his innards spilled from the head-sized wound.
Hobart wanted to leap back into battle, but as soon as he jumped off the wyvern, his body seemed to lose all control, plummeting straight to the ground. With a dull thud, Hobart's torso shattered into fragments, his lifeless eyes fixed on the distant ruins.
The mighty chieftain of the Fireblade Tribe, who had blocked the warhost for decades, now died—crushed by his own rage.
In the distance, Thorne watched the Blazeforge Orcs claw their way up from the ground. Strangely enough, he felt neither fear nor despair.
A thousand Blazeforge Orcs could no longer stop them from escaping.
Because Master Leon was here.
Thorne and the remaining Merlin Family members all thought the same thing.
But in the next moment, something happened that left Thorne even more stunned.
From the USS Dauntless, countless gryphons and flocks of wyverns swooped down, followed by masses of figures leaping off the ship...
They looked like elves, but their skin was pale and covered in arcane tattoos.
Orcs with gray skin, dwarves with crimson skin...
Seeing these exotic races appear, Thorne was beyond shock. He could only stare as those figures landed and, like a pack of mad dogs, charged straight at the Blazeforge Orcs.
"Damn bastards, who dares oppose Master Merlin? Are you looking for death?"
"Kill them all! Anyone who dares defy Master Merlin must die!"
Thorne recognized him instantly—it was Hubert! Right now, Hubert was swinging his warhammer as he descended from the sky, a gray-skinned orc shouting alongside him.
Hubert bellowed at the top of his lungs, radiating an aura that said anyone who crossed Master Merlin deserved death. As soon as he landed, he charged straight at the Blazeforge Orcs without hesitation.
The thousand elite Blazeforge Orcs, though formidable, were all wounded, their morale shattered. The Hand of Destruction's cannon blast had all but crushed their courage.
The Dark Elves were a bit more restrained, but the Ashen Orcs and Forgefire Dwarves had truly gone mad.
This was their first battle after pledging themselves to Leon, and they were determined to give it everything they had.
Everyone who jumped from the USS Dauntless only slowed their fall at the last moment with a group Featherfall spell—just to hit the ground faster.
The Ashen Orc Wind Riders were already diving toward the Blazeforge Orcs. Wyverns swooped down, and the Wind Riders hurled their poisoned spears with deadly speed at the orcs below.
The surviving Blazeforge Orcs were at their lowest point ever, unable to mount any real defense against the sudden assault.
One after another, Blazeforge Orcs were impaled by those lightning-fast poisoned spears, pinned to the ground as explosive sounds echoed across the battlefield.
The muffled thuds of poisoned spears driving into the earth echoed nonstop.
In a single clash, dozens of Blazeforge Orcs were shot dead. Then the Dark Elf Gryphon Riders swept in—arcane tattoos glowing as they unleashed a downpour of magic on the enemy.
Next, the surviving wyverns of the Blazeforge Orcs faced a brutal double assault from the Ashen Orc Wind Riders and the Dark Elf Gryphon Riders.
There was no suspense—within ten seconds, the Blazeforge Orcs' wyverns began plummeting from the sky.
On the ground, the Ashen Orc thralls didn't even make it onto the field; the front line was dominated by the Ashen Orc Wolf Riders. Bloodthirsty and frenzied, they charged, scimitars gleaming coldly, while the Demon Warlocks behind them billowed with black smoke, casting spells as if their lives depended on it.
Oddly enough, the first to make contact with the Blazeforge Orcs on the ground were the Forgefire Dwarves.
After all they'd suffered—their tribe destroyed, their race nearly wiped out—the Forgefire Dwarves had been bottling up rage for months aboard the USS Dauntless. Their favorite pastime was group brawling, almost tearing the place apart. If not for the ship's vast interior, they would've wrecked it ages ago.
Rescued and sworn to Leon, this first battle was the perfect outlet for the Forgefire Dwarves.
A horde of red-skinned Forgefire Dwarves charged forward, their momentum more terrifying than a stampede of Kodo Beasts. The earth itself trembled beneath their feet.
Even the Ashen Orc Wolf Riders instinctively steered clear of these half-crazed berserkers.
With just over two hundred meters to go, a horde of Forgefire Dwarves erupted in wild howls, their powerful arms hurling warhammers with berserk fury.
Warhammers exploded with sonic booms, traveling faster than sound itself. White mist appeared in their wake, and flashes of lightning crackled along the hammers, wrapping them in terrifying energy as they smashed toward the Blazeforge Orcs ahead.
After their initial shock and panic, the Blazeforge Orcs quickly regained their composure, showing far greater discipline than the earlier elite troops.
Shields were raised, Blazeforge Orc warlocks conjured magical barriers, and spears were hurled at the berserk Forgefire Dwarves. Spells flew, and a barrage of fireballs rained down on the dwarves.
But these Forgefire Dwarves, long on the brink of madness, ignored the flames completely.
The Forgefire Dwarves are mostly blacksmiths, used to working beside blazing furnaces. Ordinary fire can't harm them, and their unique physiology lets them absorb and store heat. Fire spells shatter under their hammers without slowing them down.
Spears thrown at them were casually deflected by the Forgefire Dwarves, who swung their hammers to knock them aside.
In the next moment, the Blazeforge Orcs witnessed just how terrifying the dwarves' only ranged attack could be.
Warhammers charged with lightning smashed into steel shields, shattering them instantly. Even the Blazeforge Orcs behind the shields were blasted backward.
The shields were as good as paper—shattered on contact. The Blazeforge Orc warlocks behind them never even had time to scream; their heads burst open like smashed watermelons.
Hundreds of warhammers violently tore open the Blazeforge Orcs' defenses, killing hundreds on the spot.
A mob of Forgefire Dwarves swung their massive hammers, charging into the Blazeforge Orc ranks like they’d found their mortal enemies. The elite orc warriors couldn’t withstand even a single blow; the dwarves’ arms were as thick as their thighs—sometimes even thicker!
Most of these elite Blazeforge Orcs were in their twenties, about the same level as the Forgefire Dwarves, but the difference in racial talent was like night and day.
Even the Ashen Orcs would admit the Forgefire Dwarves were stronger. As the mightiest of the three great races of the Divine Demon Realm, their reputation was well-earned.
By the time the Ashen Orcs charged into the fray, the Forgefire Dwarves had already killed over two hundred Blazeforge Orcs.
The Ashen Orc Wolf Riders slashed through spells cast by the Blazeforge Orcs, beheading every orc they encountered without exception.
In ground battles, even Forgefire Dwarves couldn’t hold back an Ashen Orc Wolf Rider charge—let alone these demoralized Blazeforge Orcs.
The Ashen Orc Wolf Riders shot through the Blazeforge Orc lines like arrows. Only then did the Demon Warlocks in the rear begin casting, raining down a barrage of molten meteors.
In the rear, the Dark Elves surged into the battle, unleashing wave after wave of spells—completely ignoring the berserk Forgefire Dwarves rampaging through the field.
As spells rained down, the Forgefire Dwarves finally withdrew from the melee in a fury.
"Damn Dark Elves, damn Ashen Orcs—you bastards!"
The lead Forgefire Dwarf slammed his hammer into a Blazeforge Orc Sword Saint’s chest, caving it in completely.
Fireballs, ice spikes, wind blades, meteors—a storm of spells rained down.
With no choice, the Forgefire Dwarves angrily withdrew, surrounding the Blazeforge Orcs.
Dark Elf spells, Demon Warlock magic, Ashen Orc Wind Knights’ poisoned spears, Forgefire Dwarves’ warhammers...
There was no coordination or strategy—just pure, brutal violence raining down.