Dark Wizard: Rise! My undead army!

The dwarf king stood atop the gate tower of the underground fortress, gazing at a distant map, and drew a line on it with his finger.

Originally, it wanted to send troops as soon as the world was integrated, but after learning about the orcs' movements, it hesitated and did not order an attack.

"Three hundred million orcs, while our dwarf kingdom only has twenty million troops in total. If we encounter an orc army, we won't even be enough to fill their teeth."

He turned to look at the general behind him.

"Send the order to gather all ships in the kingdom. Send a portion out to sea to scout the coastline and see if there are any large islands or suitable ports for landing on that other world continent. The rest of the ships should stand by and be ready to invade by sea at any time."

The general responded and ran out.

The dwarf king stood atop the city gate tower, gazing at the direction of the narrow landmass on the map in his hand, without uttering a word.

Since the land route is not feasible, let's try the water route.

The dwarves' ironclad warships are renowned throughout the world, capable of crossing oceans to conquer that otherworld.

In the wilderness of the northern border of the Origin Realm, a few wild goblins squatted beside the entrance of a cave, looking up at the sky.

The sky has returned to its normal blue, and the reflection is no longer visible.

But their ears could hear sounds coming from afar; the earth was shaking, as if many things were moving in their direction.

They didn't know it was an orc army, nor did they know where the army was going.

But they know that the world has changed.

In their hearts, there is a hope.

Those of our people, dressed neatly, living in houses, and not going hungry, will soon arrive.

...

In the Goblin World, inside the observation room.

The screen was covered with countless red dots, which crowded together like a pool of flowing blood.

Sweat beaded on the technician's forehead as his fingers flew across the keyboard, zooming in and out, until the red dots transformed into concrete images.

The orcish ranks stretched as far as the eye could see, extending from the depths of the northern wastelands all the way to the entrance of the strategic pass.

The orc warriors huddled together, some leading dire wolves, some carrying battle flags, and some pushing makeshift catapults.

The group also included women and children, the elderly and the wounded, and herdsmen driving cattle and sheep.

They walked slowly, but their steps never stopped.

The technician paused for a moment.

He zoomed in on the image to estimate the quantity; the numbers on the screen jumped several times before finally stabilizing.

His expression changed. He pushed back his chair, stood up, turned around, ran to the communication station, and pressed the call button.

"Your Majesty! The observation report indicates that the orc army numbers over one hundred million! And it's still increasing!"

Haru stood in the palace command center, the screen in front of him displaying those red dots.

He saw those images, saw those orcs huddled together, saw those figures with their families.

These orcs... they don't seem to have any good intentions!

"Draw troops from all the cities to reinforce the northern border, and have the factories produce weapons at full capacity. At all costs, we must guard that passage and not let them set foot on our land."

Haru's voice was extremely solemn.

This is the first clash between the two worlds. He must defeat the enemy, make them fear him, and make them never dare to set foot in the goblin world again.

The ministers beside him kept their heads down and no one spoke.

...

On the other side, the orc vanguard was arrayed outside the entrance to the passage.

The vanguard leader, the Mane Rock Wolf, rode on the back of a huge dire wolf. The dire wolf had dark gray fur, an open mouth revealing two rows of sharp teeth, and saliva dripping from the corners of its mouth.

The mane-shaped wolf's fur is also grayish-white, extending from the top of its head to its back, swaying slightly in the wind.

It wore a heavy suit of iron armor, with several scratches on the plates, marks left by old wounds.

It held a two-handed knife in its hand. The back of the blade was thick, and the edge was blunt, but it was very heavy. If it were to strike, it could split a person in two.

It looked at the passageway in front of it, its mouth twitched, revealing a few sharp teeth.

A scout rode back from afar on an eagle and landed in front of the mane rock werewolf.

The scout jumped off the eagle's back and knelt on one knee.

"Chief, we've learned from the images transmitted by the eagle that there are a large number of goblins on the other side of the passage, as well as a lot of iron boxes and iron pipes, lined up in a long queue. There are also some large iron birds flying in the sky, flying very low."

The scout paused. "My eagle tried to get closer to take a look, but it was shot down."

The mane-wielding werewolf raised an eyebrow. "An iron box? An iron pipe? A giant iron bird?"

Its lips twitched again. "Could it be that those green rats are planning to hide inside these metal boxes to defend themselves against an attack?"

"No matter how tough those iron boxes are, they can't stop the great orc race!"

It raised its sword, the tip pointing towards the passage. "Advance at top speed! I want to personally tear that goblin leader apart!"

The vanguard of a million orcs moved, launching a fierce attack on the vital passage guarded by the mighty army.

The procession surged in through the entrance to the passage. The orcs' footsteps pounded the ground, causing it to tremble. The sound came from afar, muffled and like drumbeats.

The dire wolf ran ahead, with the orc on its back holding a spear and a bow and arrow.

The infantry followed behind, some carrying stone axes, some dragging bone hammers, and some carrying slings.

The line was very crowded, with no space between them; the orcs' shoulders were touching and their arms were pressed together.

They don't need a formation; they just need to charge forward in a swarm.

On the screen in the goblin command center, those red dots were moving rapidly.

The commander stood in front of the screen, his hands behind his back, his expression calm.

The red dots were crowded together, like a moving patch of blood, moving very fast, but without changing direction.

They rushed straight into the passage.

"First round of artillery fire, three rounds in a row, airships on standby, aircraft taking off."

The commander already had a plan in mind; his voice was calm, as if he were reciting a prepared script.

A short reply came from the communicator: "Received."

The orcs had barely set foot on this strategic pass when the magic cannons roared to life.

The first rank of cannons fired, their muzzles emitting orange-red light as the shells traced arcs through the air before landing in front of the orcish ranks.

The explosion was loud, echoing through the canyon, the reverberations layered upon each other, as if magnified several times over.

Shrapnel exploded on the gravel ground, sending tiny pieces of metal flying in all directions, slicing through the air with a sharp whistling sound.

The orcs at the forefront were hit by shrapnel. Some fell, some clutched their wounds and continued running, and some were blown away, their bodies tumbling through the air before landing on the ground, motionless.

The second rank of cannons then opened fire, and the shells landed in the middle of the orc ranks.

The shockwave from the explosion knocked down the surrounding orcs; some were thrown over, some were buried under rubble, and some suffered bleeding from their ears and noses from the shockwave.

The shells from the third rank of cannons landed behind the column, blocking their retreat.

Shells rained down, sending rubble and dirt flying, and dust obscured the sky and blocked the view.

The aircraft took off from behind the position, and rockets from under its wings rained down on the hillsides on both sides of the passage.

The rolling stones bury the orcs who were trying to hide down the hillside in the rubble.

The airships floated down from higher ground, bombs hanging in their pods, dropping them one after another onto the most densely packed areas of the orcish ranks.

The explosion was louder than a cannonball, flames shot into the sky, and the shockwave pushed the surrounding orcs dozens of meters away.

The magic tanks rolled out from the rear of the position, their tracks grinding over the gravel ground, their cannons slowly rotating, aiming at the orc troop's position.

One shell after another was fired, landing in the passage, the shrapnel flying like invisible knives through the orc horde.

The magic-powered mech moved with heavy steps, each step causing the ground to tremble slightly.

They had rapid-fire cannons on their arms, aimed at the orc troops, and fired continuously, the sound like the pounding of metal, dense and rapid.

The sound of the magic gun was even fainter, like tearing cloth, but when it hit an orc, the effect of flesh exploding was just as gruesome.

One hundred thousand vanguard troops were wiped out in just a few minutes!