Necromancer, summoning 055? What the heck?

Chapter 425 Three Days of Heavenly Fire
Unlike the all-out, three-pronged approach used in the East Bailu Plain, the battle in the West Bailu Plain had only one battlefield from beginning to end—the Vulture Cliff Mine.

The surrender of a tribal chieftain of the leopard race sparked this massive storm.

For Overseer Calgaras, there was no choice but to risk everything to reclaim the mine.

The casualty figures and the future of the plains are not important, or rather, they are not as important as the head on his own neck and the family behind him.

If they can't take Vulture Cliff, the orcs might be able to hold on, but the warlord will die, and his relatives might not escape the fate of becoming lowly laborers.

Kagarus was once one of the most powerful warriors among the orcs. He was not afraid of death; death was just another form of returning to the embrace of his ancestors.

However, the thought of his family being reduced to lowly laborers filled him with dread.

He has no choice!

Only attack, relentless attack, never-ending attack.

We will not give the enemy even the slightest chance to breathe.

For the Jiuquan Legion's Starry Sky Independent Column on the defensive line, this tactic of overwhelming the enemy with sheer numbers and disregarding casualties was quite effective.

There's no time to recover the battlefield at the front. The entire defensive position is a sea of ​​shattered life and bones. Driven to madness by the near-endless death, the orc warriors are venting their frustration by beating and hammering everything they can see that belongs to the enemy.

So much so that amidst the blood and charred blackness of the front line, large patches of white appeared.

That was an army of tens of thousands of undead skeletons that had not been cleared in time. They were smashed into bone fragments, bone pieces, and even bone powder, which were scattered in dense layers on the ground in front of the trenches.

However, they still couldn't break through.

One and a half kilometers behind this line of white bones, the machine gun positions of the Han Hai Territory were set up. Further behind, there were grenade launchers, mortars, heavy artillery, and rocket launcher positions.

Although the main force of the Hanhai Army could not arrive at the scene immediately, their ammunition was reinforced. The entire field army system and the national defense army system delivered the bullets and shells they had saved. In just over ten days, the amount of ammunition consumed had exceeded the total amount of the previous year's war.

The scene was so brutal that it was clear the force used was too weak and the treatment too gentle.

Meanwhile, in the orc camp at the foot of the mountain, the warlord was pacing back and forth. With each heavy step, the wooden planks of the tent floor groaned under the strain.

The leaders of the various tribes trapped here truly felt this violent pressure, not only in terms of its aura but also in terms of its physical force.

Every time Kagaras turned around, a gust of wind carrying dust and the smell of blood would blow through the tent, hitting the faces of the chiefs and elders.

A large section of the battle map on the wall was torn off, the table was broken into three pieces, and the floor was littered with scattered sheepskins and broken wooden stakes. In the corner, there seemed to be some dark red, orcish-looking tissue stuck to the tent wall, which had been dried for a long time.

Another messenger stumbled into the tent and knelt down.

"Your Excellency, General Tik's 10,000-strong force has just made its seventh charge, but has been driven back again..."

"Then let's go for the eighth time!" Kagaras said without turning his head.

"General Tik said he had no more troops and requested..."

"Then he'll do it himself!"

Kagarus whirled around, his golden mane bristling with rage, resembling a large, gaping chestnut with its enormous eyes staring out from the crack.

He stretched out his finger and pointed at each of the orc leaders in the tent who were bowing their heads and remaining silent.

"You, you, all of you! Tell me, how many enemies are on the mountain?"

"One thousand? Two thousand?"

"A few brats, a bunch of lowly commoners, plus some frail skeletons that could break at the slightest touch—why can't we take them down? Why?!"

As Kagaras called out their names, the orc chieftains lowered their heads, not daring to look directly into the warlord's bloodshot eyes, nor daring to utter a sound.

They knew in their hearts that this guy had gone mad.

No matter how loyal the chieftains were to the wasteland, they could not possibly die with this madman. But now, the leaders of the three tribes had been forcibly kept here by this madman, surrounded by Kagaras's personal guards.

The lion guards, clad in heavy armor, stood like statues on either side of the tent entrance.

In this situation, they could only be coerced into repeatedly issuing orders to headquarters to launch a full-scale attack.

Or rather, it was an order to be sent to one's death.

Just then, the tent flap was lifted again, and another messenger rushed in, his voice filled with barely suppressed panic: "Sir! The grain transport team has been robbed!"

A gust of foul wind swept by, and Kagaras strode up to the messenger, his massive shadow completely enveloping him: "Where? Who are the enemies? Explain yourself."

"It's...it's those leopards!"

"They came out of the Black Forest, intercepted the grain convoy, the centurion protecting the grain was killed in battle, the entire army was wiped out, and of the 120 carts of grain, they took a small portion, and the rest... were burned..."

"impossible!"

An enraged lizardman elder from the Fire Rock Tribe stood up, grabbed the messenger by the neck, and angrily demanded, "The main force of 'Thunderjaw' was clearly trapped in the fortress, how did they manage to slip out?"

The sight of the 1.5-meter-tall lizardman grabbing the 2.3-meter-tall lion clan messenger was somewhat comical.

"They're cavalry. There are several cavalry units on the plain, and they've already..."

Kagaras strode forward, swung his giant hand, and the beast's head fell to the ground, splattering blood all over the head and face of the "Fire Rock" lizardman elder who hadn't even reacted yet.

"Providing false military intelligence and undermining morale, kill them!"

He roughly wiped the corpse a couple of times with his large hands, then tossed the messenger's body away.

How many messengers have died today? Eight? Or nine?

Can't you let him finish speaking?

The chiefs and elders of each tribe looked at this madman who had fallen into a frenzy, gesticulating wildly and shouting, and felt a chill run down their spines.

Only the warlord's voice echoed repeatedly in the camp!
"Everyone, keep the attack going!"

"This battle is one of advance or retreat, a fight to the death!"

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

At dawn on the third day, the mountainside defenses at Vulture Cliff finally gave way and collapsed.

Amidst the hills of corpses, wisps of black smoke billowed out, swaying and twisting above the battlefield, echoing the orcish battle banners fluttering below, proclaiming this "great victory."

The reason for being shot down is somewhat absurd.

Because of the relentless rolling attacks of the orcs, the Han Hai Territory was unable to clear the battlefield during lulls in the fighting, resulting in an ever-growing number of corpses in front of the position, so many that they could no longer be blown apart or shot, forming a barrier of flesh and armor.

Because this area is close to our own lines, with skeleton warriors, laborers transporting supplies, and mages who periodically summon enemies for battle, the heavy artillery regiment cannot fire at the front lines of our own lines.

They could only watch helplessly as the corpses piled up higher and higher, until they severely obstructed the field of fire.

If the firepower interception is inefficient, the orcs can launch a charge from a distance of up to a hundred meters, or even tens of meters, jump into the defensive line, and crush the undead skeleton soldiers wielding spears.

Milos led the leopard guards to escort the mage group in their retreat, and the orcs finally managed to capture the first line of defense with great difficulty.

Standing in the observation post behind the third line of defense, Lin Xiangming looked through his binoculars at the mountain of corpses and sea of ​​bones, and couldn't help but let out a trembling sigh, as if it came from his chest.

"What a pity……"

"So many top-quality materials, and they've been smashed to pieces like this!"

"How much money has been wasted!"

Sure enough, it's only when it comes to settling accounts that we remember this guy's true colors as a "rotten sack".

Over the past few days, this fat man has successfully "lost weight" again. The only thing that still shows he's fat is his swollen eye bags, which look like they're filled with water.

This is where the benefits of having more fat become apparent. The instructor next to him, Qiu, had also lost about the same amount of weight and looked like a dried-up corpse.

Qiu Yeyu looked up at the sky, then looked down at her watch: "The lord ordered us to hold out for three days. Today is the third day, and the enemy has only just broken through the first line of defense."

"If we start counting from that night the lord said, there's only a little over half a day left. We've managed to hold out no matter what!"

"But I'm a little unwilling! We can leave, but so many miners can't!"

"You're worrying unnecessarily!"

Lin Xiangming shook his head dismissively: "You think the commander-in-chief wants us to hold out for three days and then run away?"

"Let me tell you, I'm not as good as you at academics, and my spellcasting skills are far inferior to yours, but when it comes to judging people, I'm much better than you!"

"The commander-in-chief ordered us to hold out for three days. There's a 99% chance that these guys on the other side will be finished after three days!"

"Ah? Is that so?"

Seeing Qiu Yeyu's puzzled eyes, Lin Xiangming chuckled.

"The other side is trading lives for space, while we are trading summons for time."

"Guess what the commander-in-chief will do with the extra time he gets?"

Qiu Yeyu pondered for a moment and nodded: "You've got it all figured out. I'll have to ask you for some advice on this later!"

"No!" Lin Xiangming's smile vanished.

"Commander and Instructor, you must work together militarily, but you absolutely cannot have too good a personal relationship. I guess you were sent to this position to keep an eye on me because you used to dislike my 'rotten sac'."

"We can't get too close; we have to maintain a healthy tension!"

"What's the problem? Go talk to the General Staff!"

After capturing the first line of defense, the orcs' morale was indeed greatly boosted.

The defensive line that had held them back for dozens of days and claimed the lives of countless warriors was finally breached. The exhilaration at that moment was like finally being able to squat in the toilet when you're about to burst – an indescribable feeling of pure bliss.

But the war continued.

A new army of ten thousand men surged in once more, beginning the endless cycle of charge, death, charge, death.

As evening fell, the second line of defense was declared lost, and the orcs' wild cheers echoed throughout Vulture Cliff.

The warlord Kagaras, who had been staying in his tent, also came out with a radiant face. He brought out the chiefs and elders of the three tribes and, under the guise of observing the battlefield and celebrating the victory, quietly lifted their house arrest.

Victory is within reach; there is no need to resort to such methods anymore.

Just as a group of high-ranking orcs were feeling smug, a red glow appeared against the backdrop of the magnificent evening sunset—a visitor from outer space.

The Longsword 1000 cruise missiles landed squarely in the orc army's camp.

The target of the attack was not people, but food.

Faced with an army of hundreds of thousands, composed of multiple tribes united, should you kill their supreme leader or destroy their granary?

Chen Mo chose the latter.

Cruise missiles do carry conventional warheads, but there are also some less conventional types of conventional warheads.

For example, when attacking a grain warehouse, they would carry special incendiary bombs.

The missiles rained down from the sky, so fast that before any of the orcs could react, the explosions echoed throughout the camp.

Like a giant beast taking a deep breath in the abyss, the air above the orc camp's warehouse suddenly contracted inward.

Then, a ball of orange-red fire suddenly expanded, warming the cold winter evening.

Thick, sticky, infernal fire, like lava, flowed throughout the camp, licking every tent, every supply wagon, every bag of dried meat, every bundle of parcels...

The red glow on the face of the orc warlord Kagarus had not yet faded; it was either the thrill of victory or the afterglow of the sunset.

Then, at that moment, his face turned even redder.

It was illuminated by the firelight!

The flames were an eerie blend of bright white and orange-red, rising more than twenty meters high. A plume of thick black smoke billowed from the top of the flames, shooting straight into the evening sky, creating a striking contrast with the magnificent sunset.

There's also a heat wave.

The air, as if scalded, formed an invisible yet clearly perceptible wall of air that rushed towards us, making everything moving in the camp whistle and rustle.

Flags fluttering in the wind, ornaments hanging high in the air, hair blown straight out of its styling, and robes and cloaks swirling and dancing...

Overseer Kagalas's hand, pointing at Vulture Cliff, froze in mid-air, his fingers unconsciously curling up.

what happened?
Perhaps it was the stark contrast between the ups and downs that made the warlord unable to accept reality for a moment, so he just stood there frozen in place until shouts came from all directions.

"We, our food!"

"Quickly put out the fire!"

"This is human magic. How can they shoot so far?"

"Divine punishment! Divine punishment!"

A beastman shaman let out a sharp, distorted scream, his bone staff clattering to the ground. His legs gave way, and he collapsed to the ground, his eyes glazed over as he stared at the billowing flames and thick smoke.

For the believers of these gods, events beyond their comprehension are the most terrifying punishment from the gods!
Anger, confusion, panic, despair!
But the bombardment with longswords was just the beginning.

The aircraft broke through the clouds again.

This time, instead of heavy bombers, a large number of light drones were deployed from the drone carrier.

The rack was released, and what fell was not a bomb, but a flurry of paper scraps.

This thing is called a flyer.

There is only one line of text and two pictures above.

The script used is the common script of the orcs, and considering that most orcs have limited cultural knowledge, the most straightforward expressions are used.

[Your hometown was attacked! The child is crying and looking for his father!]

The accompanying pictures showed the red flag being planted at the Ironspine Camp, the shattered gates of Firerock Fortress, the pale faces of the elders who were tied up, and female orcs and their cubs huddled together.

When these fluttering pieces of paper fell into the orc formation, time seemed to freeze at that moment.

Several chieftains and elders looked at Overseer Kagaras in disbelief.

The contents of the flyer were so real that they recognized the houses, the familiar faces, and even the placement of the totem poles was exactly the same.

Unless one is a god, only someone who has personally visited the site could forge such a picture.

If what is said here is true, then this is definitely not something that happened overnight; it can only mean that the leader has blocked the news.

The orcs, who were charging forward just moments before, retreated like a tide, and the opposing side also stopped attacking at just the right time, giving them space and time to think.

Kagaras still tried to struggle.

"Don't be afraid, it doesn't matter if we run out of food, the mines have food!"

"There are many!"

"Just a little bit more! Don't be swayed by the enemy's tricks, as long as..."

"Your Excellency!" The chieftain of the Fire Rock Tribe bristled, his scales bristling. "I swear in the name of the Beast God, in the name of your Lion Clan ancestors, you haven't lied to me! My tribe has not been attacked!"

Under the gaze of everyone, Kagarus opened his mouth, then opened it again, lowered his eyes to avoid eye contact, and ultimately could not utter a word.

The orcs collapsed.

Without any action from the Han Hai Territory, their hundreds of thousands of troops collapsed like a house of cards.

The chieftains didn't even glance at the overseer, and each rushed back to their camp as quickly as possible. Then, one orc army after another broke camp and ran towards the wilderness that was gradually sinking into darkness.

In the tide of retreat, Kagaras was swept along by the guards, involuntarily moving backward. He looked at the plumes of smoke rising into the sky from the camp, then at the still-flying, glaring red flag on Vulture Cliff, his eyes filled with sorrow.

A shaman elder staggered up to him, his withered old face smeared with tears.

"Commander! Surrender—while there's still time..."

Without hesitation, Kagaras drew his sword.

With a flash of light, the shaman elder's head flew off, spraying blood all over his head and face.

Shaking off the orc warrior who was supporting him, Kagarus took a few strides and arrived before the still-burning Urgom.

"Beast God above... Ancestors above..."

"I, Goldenmane Kagaras, Royal Warlord, Son of the Holy Mountain, offer you my most fervent prayers—"

The orc warlord's voice grew softer and softer until it was barely audible. As he muttered to himself, he diligently wiped the dust and bloodstains from his golden mane, tidying up his magnificent ceremonial robes to make them even more neat. He even carefully adjusted the ornaments on his chest, arranging the beast teeth on both sides in a symmetrical and orderly fashion.

Then, he drew from his waist the dagger inlaid with gold lines, a gift from his esteemed father on his coming-of-age ceremony.

Kagaras slit his wrists, letting his blood drip into the flames of the Urgo Sacred Fire.

The blood sizzled under the high temperature, and white smoke with a burnt smell rose up.

The orc warlord stared at the smoke for a long time, as if trying to see some kind of revelation in the drifting smoke, or... the fate of the orcs.

Unfortunately, he couldn't see anything.

He kicked away the guard who was trying to pull him back again, and Kagaras gripped the hilt of his sword in reverse, pointing the sharp tip at his heart.

Prick it down hard!

The angle was well chosen; the blade pierced through the leather, through the muscle, through the ribs, and finally stopped deep inside the heart.

Kagaras's tall body swayed, but he persevered and did not fall. He leaned against the large jar of sacred fire and slowly slid down to the ground, his golden mane fluttering slightly in the evening breeze.

He struggled to lift his head and glanced again in the direction of the Vulture Cliff mine.

The flame flickered one last time in his gradually blurring pupils before finally freezing.

　Chapter 2 is under review, please wait a bit~
　　
　
(End of this chapter)