Necromancer, summoning 055? What the heck?

Chapter 40 The Shattered Bone Tribe of the North Wind Wasteland
The immense force sent numbness through Pevin's arm, and the wolf's claws seized the opportunity to tear several deep gashes into the chainmail on his calves, causing blood to seep out instantly.

"Roar!" The orc lieutenant roared, and swung his warhammer in a wide arc, bringing with it a foul gust of wind, as it crashed down on Pevin's head!
Pevin gritted his teeth, and taking advantage of the last bit of healing light, he neither dodged nor evaded, but instead swung his sword to meet the attack head-on. This time, he actually managed to avoid his opponent's warhammer and adopted a posture of trading his life for it.

The orc lieutenant panicked.

He just wanted to curry favor with the leader and show his loyalty, not to actually lay his heart bare for the boss.

Hastily dropping the hammer, the lieutenant's massive body lurched backward in an extremely disheveled manner to avoid it. The out-of-control warhammer slammed heavily onto Pevin's shoulder armor, producing a teeth-grinding metallic clang, instantly denting and deforming the armor.

But Peiwen's sword, imbued with all his strength, pierced precisely and viciously into the vice general's abdomen, which was wide open from his dodge, accompanied by a shrill scream.

The orc lieutenant clutched his wound, from which hot, shards of metal gushed, and writhed and convulsed in agony in the mud.

Ignoring his numb half-body and his still-rolling opponent, Peiwen pushed off the ground with one foot, pouring all his strength, will, and courage into this leap. Raising his greatsword high with both hands, he shot like an arrow towards the figure sitting firmly on the hilltop, launching a desperate attack!
Sky Dome Standard Military Sword Technique - Wrathful Slash!

The sword's edge tore through the air, emitting a sharp crack, and pale golden battle aura flickered on the blade.

Then, this attack, brimming with fighting spirit, was swatted away by a black battle axe that the opponent pulled out from who-knows-where.

Peiwen was thrown back by the terrifying force of the recoil, like a kite with a broken string, crashing heavily onto the blood-soaked hillside, rolling several times before coming to a stop.

Because of the distance, Master Locke's healing range couldn't reach the heavily injured captain of the guard. The old man tried to rush forward, but was mercilessly driven back by the howling wolf knights wielding their chain hammers.

Peiwen struggled to his feet, spitting out a mouthful of blood. Facing the orc chieftain who had dismounted and was striding towards him, he swung his sword once more.

Without a doubt, the orc leader on the other side was at least a Barrier-level Grand Knight. Even at his peak, Pavin could only last a few more rounds against him. Now, wounded again and again, he was completely powerless to fight back.

"Don't hurt him!"

Seeing the captain of the guard in imminent danger, Princess Liushuang let out a heart-wrenching scream. She shoved aside Lady Linda in front of her, gripped the Radiant Knight Sword that symbolized her status, and was about to rush out of the defensive line at all costs.

Lady Linda, her face deathly pale, stood firmly in front of her, her voice trembling with tears, "Your Highness! You can't go out! I beg you! I beg you!!!"

The orc chieftain had clearly heard Frostfall's scream. He lowered his massive black battle axe and slowly walked up to Peiwen, looking down at him. From inside his helmet came a low, contemptuous snort of ambiguity.

Then, he stretched out his large hand covered by heavy arm armor and easily grabbed the front of Pevin's breastplate, as if lifting a tattered sack. Facing the human camp below, which was surrounded by wolf riders and was now in a deathly silence, he walked down the hillside step by step.

Pevin is still fighting back.

However, it was all in vain. Faced with the opponent's imposing physique and absolute strength, he was as weak as an infant.

The orc chieftain completely ignored his futile struggles.

This general, from an unknown orc tribe, was wearing a suit of refined plate armor. Pavin, who had lost his two-handed greatsword, took the dagger from his belt, which was only used to remove rust from his armor.

The heavy combat boots pounded the ground with dull thuds as they descended the hillside.

Every step felt like stepping on the heart of the remaining human beings.

The captain of the guard was hanging, blood dripping down his torn lamellar armor, leaving intermittent dark red trails behind his leader.

Within that small human stronghold, the surviving guards and mercenaries were pale, their hands trembling visibly as they gripped their weapons; several maids had already collapsed to the ground. Of the remaining professionals, Master Locke held a magical artifact in his hand, seemingly muttering something haltingly; Lady Linda, on the other hand, struggled to her feet, shielding the young princess behind her.

Princess Liushuang, that young princess, gripped the Flowing Light Knight Sword tightly, her knuckles turning white from the excessive force. The sword's magnificent brilliance seemed to sense its owner's despair, dimming and losing its luster.

The orc chieftain was very pleased with the suffocating scene of despair before him. He held the still struggling captain of the guard firmly in his right hand, and easily inserted the huge black battle axe back into the weapon slot on his back with his left hand. Then he pushed open the visor with his thick fingers, revealing a face full of muscles and protruding canines.

"Your Highness Princess Liushuang," his voice was rough, with a heavy beastman accent, yet he deliberately imitated human etiquette, creating a chilling contrast.

"Mogru, the Bonecrusher of the Northwind Wastes, sends you his sincerest greetings. On behalf of the great Bonecrusher Chieftain, he invites you to visit our Northwind tribe!"

He bowed slightly, performing an awkward, stiff, and mocking knightly salute.

"North Wind? You came from the north?" Before the others could react, the most knowledgeable old Locke shouted, "You've gone around most of the Starry Continent, crossed the Storm Sea, and come here to ambush the princess of Cloud Mist Territory. What exactly do you want?"

The orc grinned, about to speak, when a piercing, ear-splitting noise rang out!
Taking advantage of the moment when the leader's attention was diverted, Peiwen pulled out a small dagger from somewhere, the kind used to trim the fletching of crossbow bolts, and with his last bit of strength, he slashed a long white mark across the leader's shiny plate armor!

Hearing the creepy friction sound, even the thick-skinned orc leader couldn't help but shake his head.

That sounds awful, and the damage it caused was even higher than the damage from the previous Wrathful Slash.

"Damn bugs!" Mogru was completely enraged. He snatched the small dagger, and without even looking at it, plunged it into the gap in the guard captain's shoulder armor, which had been shattered by the orc lieutenant, causing severe secondary damage.

The excruciating pain made the captain of the guard's vision blur. He could only futilely grope in his weapon pouch with his still functional right hand, trying to find another weapon.

Of course, facing a Grand Knight who is at least at the Barrier level, it's futile to use any weapon.

Mogru was clearly annoyed by this tenacious, ant-like resistance. In order to calm the young princess down, he did not violently end the life of the guard captain, so he had to endure the harassment of various small objects before finally venting his frustration by inserting them back into the guard captain.

A slightly trembling hidden dart, a silver fruit knife, a small stainless steel animal trap, a small steel fork for shoveling meat during outdoor meals, and an ornament that is hard to tell whether it is a hairpin or a brooch...

The valiant captain of the guard, Peiwen, was soon covered with these strange, everyday trinkets, which seemed utterly absurd on the battlefield, like a rag doll covered in trinkets by a mischievous child, or a walking display shelf of miscellaneous items.

It has a touch of tragedy, and a hint of absurdity...

"Enough! Damn bugs!" the orc chieftain Mogru growled irritably, snatching the comb that Peven had just pulled out and slamming it into the captain of the guard until the handle was gone.

"Your Highness, my patience is very limited. If you don't hurry up and tell those fools around you to stop their useless resistance and come with me obediently, I'll have to feed them all to my little darling!"

"As for you, Your Highness, rest assured, I will bring you unharmed to the main tent in the Northern Wilderness, where our chieftain will hold the grandest welcoming ceremony for you!"

"So please stop struggling in vain! It won't do anyone any good!"

The orc chieftain's incessant chatter and arm waving caused Captain Pevin's head to slam against the ground. Due to excessive blood loss, Captain Pevin, whose consciousness was already fading, regained some clarity and once again reached into his spare pouch.

Then, he touched a cylindrical object.

(End of this chapter)