novelraw Chapter 238: Surprise Attack, Decapitation Strike!
Chapter 238: Surprise Attack, Decapitation Strike!
"Stop those bugs climbing the walls!"
Suddenly, human guards' shouts came from above.
The lizardfolk had been discovered.
Simultaneously, the lizardfolk leader emitted a sharp hiss.
The climbing lizardfolk almost simultaneously raised their heads upward, opening their mouths filled with fine sharp teeth, spraying streams of dark green viscous liquid like water arrows.
Sizzle—!
The corrosive liquid landed on the stone platform, visibly eroding the rock. Archers felt the ground tremble beneath their feet, their aim becoming slightly off.
The lizardfolk no longer concealed their bodies, charging upward at maximum speed, attempting to assassinate archers and shaman sorcerers and other ranged units.
However, things didn't go as planned.
Whoosh whoosh whoosh!One after another, barbarian guards climbed the cliff walls like agile apes, equally sure-footed, rushing toward the lizardfolk. Close combat ensued, with battle axes and greatswords unstoppable—the lizardfolk were quickly slaughtered and eliminated.
Frenzied Assault!
The barbarians' eyes seemed to ignite with flames, their movements suddenly accelerating.
The lizardfolk leader's head soared into the sky, decapitated by an axe. But the monster's tenacious life force kept it fighting after death—its sharp tail stabbed out the elite berserker's right eye.
Silently, as the barbarian squad leader roared, a shadow emerged from behind him.
Dag's dagger swept across the berserker's neck, blood gushing like a fountain.
...The barbarian's eyes widened wide, swinging back with his axe, but it hit empty air—the treacherous kobold assassin had already vanished without a trace.
"Smash it open!"
Ogre leader Balrog roared hoarsely.
He and the other strongest ogres rushed together to the massive gate, swinging their heavy, hard steel weapons engraved with alchemical enhancement runes, smashing down heavily.
Boom—!!!
A dull, heart-stopping loud noise echoed through the pass.
The tremendous impact made the entire gate shudder violently, dust and rubble falling from above.
The heavy gate continuously dented inward, the bolts groaning under excessive strain. Even though made of hard metal with magical protection from shaman sorcerers, it still couldn't withstand the ogres' assault.
As the ogres attacked fiercely, more rubble fell, large cracks appearing on the gate panels.
"Hold! Hold the gate!"
Behind the gate came human warriors' roars, mixed with the sound of wood being squeezed to its limit.
The archers on the cliff top were distracted by the lizardfolk's venom assault, the arrow rain briefly thinning.
The gnoll leader seized this fleeting opportunity, emitting a bloodthirsty growl from his throat: "Wolf pups! Follow me!"
He no longer hugged the wall, instead charging like a gray lightning bolt with the gnolls through the sparse arrow rain toward the narrow, relatively safe dead zone beneath the gate.
They would use claws and teeth to tear at the spears thrusting from behind the door cracks, buying time for the ogres.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Crack!
With a crisp sound, a thick bolt completely snapped.
The gate was forced open enough for an ogre to squeeze through sideways.
"Roar—!" The ogre leader emitted a victorious roar, his massive hands gripping the gate's edge, bulging muscles like granite, trying to completely tear apart this obstruction.
However, just as the gate was forced open.
As Balrog squeezed half his body through the gap, his vision was suddenly engulfed by surging shadows!
These weren't human soldiers.
They were orcs! Ironblood Tribe's elite berserkers!
They resembled evil ghosts crawling from hell's magma, each over two meters tall, scar-covered bulging muscles painted with dark red war patterns, rough heavy plate armor covering vital areas, exposed arm and calf muscles like coiled tree roots.
They wielded massive double-bladed battle axes nearly as tall as humans, with serrated and notched edges, heavy flails, giant hammers with vicious spikes.
The foremost orcs had blood-red eyes, muscles contracting like living creatures, inhuman roars rolling in their throats—
This was the reaction of simultaneously activating rage and frenzy states.
"Kill!!"
The thunderous orc war cry erupted from behind the gate, almost shattering the bloody scent in the air.
Balrog was greeted by a war hammer with a sharp whistle!
The hammer solidly struck his thick chest, making a dull sound like beating leather. Balrog's massive body shook violently, skin splitting over his chest revealing tough muscle texture, embedded metal fragments clinking.
Excruciating pain enraged the ogre.
He roared wildly, his huge fist carrying immense force smashing toward the berserker who attacked him.
Boom! The fist missed, heavily striking the adjacent rock wall, rubble flying everywhere.
The orc berserker dodged with astonishing agility, his left battle axe chopping into Balrog's thick arm. The axe blade deeply embedded in tough flesh but got stuck against hard bone.
Balrog's other hand grabbed the orc's helmet, lifting him like a ragdoll, savagely slamming him against the ground, then raising his heavy leg to stomp down wildly.
Crunch!
A teeth-grating bone-cracking sound.
The orc's head shattered like a rotten watermelon, red and white matter splattering all over Balrog.
But more berserkers surged forward like sharks smelling blood! Heavy weapons landed on the ogre like a storm, creating heart-palpitating dull thuds.
Balrog's massive body became the perfect target.
He roared, swinging his wolf tooth club to smash two dodging orcs against the rock wall, but instantly more weapons targeted him.
"Hold on!"
The other ogres finally squeezed through, their huge bodies temporarily blocking the gap.
They swung their weapons, each strike stirring up bloody winds. An orc berserker hit in the waist by a stone club flew out like a ragged sack, knocking over several companions, visceral fragments spewing from his mouth.
But the orcs' counterattacks were equally fierce. An orc wielding a massive flail spun the spiked iron ball, savagely smashing an ogre's knee side. A horrifying cracking sound echoed as the ogre's hill-like body painfully knelt on one knee.
Another orc berserker seized the opportunity, leaping high, his double-bladed battle axe bringing full body strength chopping toward the ogre's neck.
The axe blade severed the thick neck bone, a massive head soaring skyward with a spray of scalding blood, the headless corpse collapsing with a crash.
The narrow space behind the gate instantly became a meat grinder.
Ogre roars, orc war cries, bone-cracking sounds, weapon impacts, death screams mixed into a cruel symphony.
Thick plasma flowed freely on the rough ground, mixing with mud and shattered viscera, creating a sticky, slippery surface.
Outside the gate, Lac and other gnolls, along with a few centaurs, tried charging through the gap to support, but were stopped by the kobold leader's furious roar: "Fools! Above!"
Lac looked up to see that with the gate forced open, human archers freed from venom interference were again drawing bows. More critically, he spotted several figures wearing heavy animal skin robes with painted faces appearing at the cliff edge.
—Dawn Tribe shamans.
One old shaman held high a staff embedded with mammoth tusks and unknown crystals, chanting obscure spells. The crystal atop the staff suddenly blazed with piercing white light!
"Scatter!"
The gnoll screamed in terror, voice hoarse.
Boom! A thick white lightning bolt tore through the air with deafening thunder, descending from above.
The gnoll's worry was unnecessary—the target wasn't the ground gnolls, but the ogres.
The lightning precisely struck an ogre raising its war hammer. Blinding white light instantly engulfed it, not even time for a scream. Its body charred, carbonized, violently trembling before an orc berserker's finishing blow ended its life.
When other monsters tried to reinforce.
Dawn Tribe barbarians jumped down like cannonballs one after another, charging through the waves of gnolls and kobolds. Combined with archer and shaman sorcerer attacks, they were kept fully occupied.
The battle inside the gate also rapidly deteriorated.
The old shaman waved his staff, pale lightning striking down repeatedly. The ogres suffered heavy casualties, each killed by coordinated berserker attacks.
Now only Balrog and one other ogre remained.
Though both were incredibly brave, they were overwhelmed by numbers. Under the orc berserkers' fearless siege, they were drenched in blood, covered in wounds.
Balrog had one arm severed at the elbow by a giant axe, blood spraying wildly from the stump.
His remaining arm swung the wolf tooth club, forcing back several orc berserkers, but an opening was spotted by a rear orc berserker wielding a heavy greatsword.
This orc berserker had a massive chest wound but seemed completely unfazed.
He took a deep breath, muscles bulging, eyes blood-red. The greatsword carried his full strength and charging momentum like a black lightning bolt, brutally stabbing toward Balrog's back.
Thud! The greatsword pierced through the ogre's thick back, emerging dripping with blood and flesh from his chest.
The ogre's movements instantly froze, looking down in disbelief at the blood-stained sword tip protruding from his chest.
His massive body swayed several times, strange sounds coming from his throat, the ferocity in his eyes rapidly dimming. But as he was about to collapse, he had a final resurgence—the wolf tooth club suddenly surged upward, smashing the orc berserker's head, making it explode like a watermelon.
Meanwhile, the last ogre was simultaneously pierced by several weapons, emitting a final mournful cry before collapsing heavily.
At the gate breach, orc berserkers stepped on the ogres' massive corpses, waving blood-dripping weapons, emitting earth-shaking victory roars! Their crimson eyes looked past the blood-stained gate, firmly fixed on the Molten Iron cannon fodder outside thrown into temporary chaos by their leaders' deaths.
The Molten Iron Tribe's assault, after paying a bloody price, was brutally suppressed outside the pass.
Blackstone Pass resembled a giant beast's blood-stained fangs, chewing up and swallowing wave after wave of charging Molten Iron soldiers.
"Still not coming down?"
Skulltaker Scarr muttered to himself.
He was a Dawn Tribe barbarian senior leader. He didn't participate directly, only watching the sky from the pass shadows, his gaze locked on the white dragon silhouette soaring high above, standing ready.
This offensive and defensive battle was extremely intense.
The Molten Iron Tribe was at a disadvantage, but their counterattacks weren't weak, causing significant casualties. The entire Blackstone Pass seemed transformed into a meat grinder.
However, at this stage, victory was already decided.
Ogre corpses blocked part of the gate breach, but couldn't stop the orc berserkers' bloodthirsty desire.
They roared furiously like wild beasts breaking free from chains, leaping over companion and enemy corpses, howling as they charged from the pass's narrow shadows, pouncing toward the chaotic Molten Iron Legion vanguard on the plain.
"Push forward, push forward!"
The gnoll overseer's voice turned sharp with fear, waving his whip, desperately lashing those gnolls and kobolds shrinking back after the ogre leader's death. The whip cracks and overseer's screams seemed so feeble against the orcs' war cries.
Kobold Dag flapped his wings, appearing silently where the shamans were.
Rip!
His dagger sliced across the old shaman's neck, killing him instantly. Then under the astonished, furious gazes of surrounding barbarian guards, he vanished again. When he reappeared, he was flapping wings, hovering mid-air.
"Retreat!"
This Iron Will warhost leader issued the retreat order.
The already morale-broken monsters fought while retreating, leaving corpses everywhere under human and orc pursuit.
"Why hasn't he attacked yet? What's the purpose of this white dragon's existence?"
Skullsplitter frowned tightly, feeling inexplicably uneasy.
Just then, his communication device vibrated violently.
—Ancestral Spirit Altar under attack!
Several dozen seconds earlier, northern convergence lands, Dawn Tribe's ancestral ceremonial grounds.
The Iron Spine Mountains' backbone stood silent in the night. The ancestral altar was embedded at the main peak's summit, leveled ground carved with ancient petroglyphs depicting ancient hunting, warfare, and star totems.
Ancestral Guardians stood like ancient mountain rocks, totem patterns faintly glowing in the shadows.
Their physiques far exceeded ordinary barbarian warriors, wearing hard leather armor embedded with thick bone plates. Exposed skin bore complex, dense tattoo patterns telling stories of Dawn Tribe ancestors challenging nature, hunting fierce beasts since ancient times, exuding a heavy sense of accumulated history.
Ancestral Shaman Leoni, a slender yet upright old woman, silver-gray hair braided into countless thin braids reaching her waist.
She was the Dawn Tribe's most powerful shaman and eldest wise one. Current chieftain Brenhild was born under her watch, receiving her blessings in his swaddling clothes. Highly respected and prestigious within the Dawn Tribe.
Leoni's eyes were slightly closed, lips moving silently.
She seemed to listen to whispers from the earth's depths, or perhaps pray to sleeping ancestral spirits.
Suddenly, her heart tightened as if gripped by an invisible hand, an extremely dangerous palpitation spreading through her.
Buzz—!
A sharp tearing sound abruptly pierced the dead silence.
Not mountain wind, not thunder.
But something tearing through air at terrifying speed, friction creating a death sound that could make rocks tremble!
Shaman Leoni's eyes snapped open, those aged eyes showing no cloudiness. Her bone staff heavily struck the altar stone.
"Enemy attack! Ancestral spirits protect!"
Her raspy voice carried a strange resonance, almost overwhelming the piercing screech, as if awakening sleeping mountain spirits.
Simultaneously, the surrounding Ancestral Guardians exploded with terrifying presence as if struck by an invisible hammer.
The four guardians protecting the altar core area almost instinctively looked up simultaneously, weapon-gripping arm muscles bulging like steel cables, body totem patterns instantly blazing with piercing light.
But it was too late.
That fierce, vicious dragon silhouette—its entire body like peerless weaponry—was already right before them.
Death's harbinger, he had come!
"Hear the extinct silence!"
Boom!
The dragon silhouette blazed like a meteor falling, tearing a long tail streak across the sky, wrapped in flames and lightning enough to ignite air and destructive shockwaves, precisely smashing into the mountain peak.
Crack—! Rumble—!
Earth shook, mountains trembled. The spell-enhanced, iron-hard mountain rock ground shattered like fragile thin ice, fractured, splintered, buckled.
Guardians at the center died instantly, bodies utterly destroyed. A deep circular impact crater instantly formed, spiderweb-like massive cracks spreading wildly from the impact point in all directions, the entire peak swaying precariously.
Then.
The majestic figure slowly rising from dust and rubble made the air solidify like iron.
The red iron dragon stretched its wings, black-silver dragon scales covering its body with many cracks, rolling cold air spreading out, freezing the surrounding ground inch by inch, coating it with frost.
"Humans, let your ancestral spirit remnants sacrifice to my war banner, comforting the Molten Iron warriors' souls."
Extremely aggressive dangerous gaze swept over the surviving ancestral guardians and old shaman, the red iron dragon slowly spoke.
As the words fell, two shadows simultaneously enveloped the mountain peak ruins.
Iron dragon Sorog and red dragon Samantha, two young adult dragons soared left and right, circling around the red iron dragon, eyes gleaming with ferocious light.
The Ignas brothers, taking advantage of the Blackstone Pass war distracting the Dawn Tribe's attention, utilized the dragon race's sky dominance to surprise attack the Dawn Tribe's ancestral altar.
With the ancestral altar present, those barbarian leaders could be saved as long as they didn't die instantly.
Moreover, this place concentrated the Dawn Tribe's beliefs, their spiritual anchor.
Destroying this place, making the Dawn Tribe humans grief-stricken—whether they became angrier or morale plummeted—would make all casualties at Blackstone Pass worthwhile.