Translator: AnubisTL
With the archers and warlock shamans raining attacks from above, the enemy was too overwhelmed to even deal with the barbarians.
The battle inside the gatehouse also took a sharp turn.
The old shaman brandished his staff, calling down bolt after bolt of pale lightning. The ogres were being slaughtered, each one brought down by the orc berserker in a coordinated assault.
Now, only Baroque and another ogre remained.
Though both were incredibly fierce, they were simply outnumbered. Under the relentless assault of the death-defying orc berserker, they were covered in blood and riddled with wounds.
Baroque's arm had been severed at the elbow by a giant axe, blood spraying from the stump.
He swung his wolf-toothed club with his remaining arm, forcing back several orc berserker. But an orc berserker behind him, wielding a heavy two-handed greatsword, seized the opening.
The orc berserker had a massive gash across his chest but seemed completely unbothered by it.
He took a deep breath, his muscles bulging, his eyes bloodshot. With all his strength and the momentum of his charge, he thrust the greatsword forward like a bolt of black lightning, piercing Baroque's back.
Puchi!
The greatsword tore through the ogre's thick back, emerging from his chest dripping with blood and flesh.
The ogre froze instantly, staring down in disbelief at the blood-stained sword tip protruding from his chest.
His massive body swayed for a few moments, a strange gurgling sound escaping his throat. The fierce light in his eyes rapidly faded, but just before he collapsed, he experienced a final surge of strength. His wolf-toothed club swung up violently, smashing into an orc berserker's head and bursting it like a watermelon.
At that moment, the last ogre was pierced by several weapons at once. After letting out a final, mournful cry, he crashed to the ground.
At the gap in the gate, orc berserker trampled over the ogre's massive corpse, brandishing their blood-dripping weapons and letting out an earth-shaking roar of victory! Their crimson eyes fixed on the Ironforged cannon fodder outside, who had fallen into brief chaos after their boss's death.
The Ironforged Tribe's assault, after paying a devastating price, was brutally halted at the pass.
Blackrock Pass was like the blood-stained fangs of a giant beast, chewing up and swallowing the waves of Ironforged soldiers that charged forward.
"Are you not coming down yet?"
Skull Splitter Skar muttered in his mind.
He was a high-ranking barbarian chief of the Dawn Tribe. He had not joined the battle directly, but stood in the shadows of the pass, gazing at the sky, his eyes locked on the white dragon shadow soaring high above, ready for the worst.
The battle of offense and defense had been incredibly fierce.
The Ironforged Tribe was on the defensive, but their counterattacks were far from weak, inflicting significant casualties. The entire Blackrock Pass had been transformed into a meat grinder.
By now, however, the outcome was decided.
The corpses of ogres choked the narrow gaps in the pass, but they couldn't stem the bloodlust of the orc berserker.
Bellowing in rage, the orcs broke free like unleashed beasts. They trampled over the bodies of both allies and enemies, charging out of the pass's narrow shadows and into the chaotic vanguard of the Ironforged Legion on the plains.
"Hold the line! Hold the line!"
The Hyenaman Overseer's voice, shrill with terror, tore through the air. He lashed his long whip desperately at the hyena-men and kobolds who had faltered after their ogre boss fell. The sharp crack of the whip and the overseer's screams were drowned out by the orcs' war cries.
Doug the kobold flapped his wings, appearing silently beside the shaman.
Slicke!
His dagger slashed across the old shaman's throat, killing him instantly. Before the surrounding barbarian guard could react in shock and fury, Doug vanished again. When he reappeared, he was hovering in mid-air, wings beating.
"Retreat!"
The battle group commander, a man of steel will, issued the order.
The monsters, their morale already shattered, fought a fighting retreat. They left a trail of corpses across the battlefield as humans and orcs relentlessly pursued them.
"Why hasn't it acted yet? What is the purpose of this white dragon's existence?"
Skull Splitter frowned, an inexplicable sense of unease washing over him.
At that moment, his communication device vibrated violently.
— The ancestor spirit altar is under attack!
Dozens of seconds ago, in the northern Frontierlands, at the Dawn Tribe's ancestral sacrificial grounds.
The Ironspine Mountains' peaks stood silent in the night. The ancestor altar was embedded at the very summit of the main peak. The flattened ground was covered in ancient rock paintings depicting ancestral hunts, wars, and stellar totems.
The ancestor guards stood as still as ancient boulders, their totem tattoos glowing faintly in the shadows.
Their physiques far surpassed those of ordinary barbarian warriors. They wore hardened leather armor reinforced with thick bone plates, and their bare skin was etched with intricate, dense tattoos. These markings told the story of the Dawn Tribe's ancestors challenging nature and hunting ferocious beasts throughout the ages, radiating a profound sense of history.
ancestor shaman Leonie, a gaunt yet erect old woman, had her silver-gray hair braided into countless thin plaits that hung down to her waist.
She was the Dawn Tribe's most powerful shaman and its eldest sage. She had watched the current chief, Brunhilde, be born and had even blessed her in the cradle. Leonie was held in the highest esteem and occupied a position of immense prestige within the Dawn Tribe.
Leonie's eyes were half-closed, her lips moving silently.
She seemed to be listening to the whispers from deep within the earth, as if praying to the sleeping souls of her ancestors.
Suddenly, her heart tightened, as if gripped by an invisible hand, sending a jolt of extreme danger through her.
VROOOOM—!
A piercing shriek of tearing air shattered the deathly silence.
It wasn't the mountain wind, nor was it thunder.
It was the sound of something slicing through the air at an absolutely terrifying speed—a deathly roar that made the very rocks tremble!
Shaman Leonie's eyes snapped open. Her ancient gaze held no trace of cloudiness as she slammed her bone staff down onto the stone surface of the altar.
"Enemy attack! Ancestral spirits, protect us!"
Her hoarse voice carried a strange resonance, nearly drowning out the ear-piercing shriek, as if awakening the sleeping spirit of the mountain.
Simultaneously, the surrounding ancestor guards, as if struck by an invisible hammer, instantly erupted from their stillness with a terrifying aura.
The four guards protecting the altar's core looked up in unison, their movements instinctive. The muscles in their arms, gripping their weapons, bulged like steel cables, and the totem tattoos on their bodies flared with blinding light.
But it was too late.
That towering, ferocious dragon shadow, its entire form honed like an ultimate weapon, was already upon them.
The Ominous Star of Death had arrived!
"Hearken to the silence of annihilation!"
BOOM!
The dragon shadow, blazing like a falling star, tore a long trail across the sky. It struck the mountain peak with pinpoint accuracy, wreathed in air-igniting flames, lightning, and a devastating shockwave.
CRACK—! BOOM—!
The earth shook and the mountain trembled. Enhanced by magic, the iron-hard rock shattered, splintered, and heaved like fragile thin ice.
The guards at the center were killed instantly, their bodies utterly obliterated. A deep, circular impact crater formed in an instant, and massive, spiderweb-like cracks radiated outward from the point of impact, leaving the entire mountain peak teetering on the brink of collapse.
Then...
A majestic figure slowly rose from the dust and rubble, turning the very air as solid as iron.
The red-iron dragon unfurled its wings. Its body was covered in black-silver scales, many of which were cracked. Chilling frost radiated from it, freezing the surrounding ground inch by inch.
"Humans, your ancestral spirit remains will consecrate my war banner and soothe the souls of the Ironforged Warriors."
The red-iron dragon spoke slowly, its fiercely aggressive gaze sweeping over the surviving ancestor guards and the old shaman.
As its voice faded, two shadows simultaneously blanketed the ruined peak.
Iron Dragon Solgorn and Red Dragon Samantha, two juvenile dragons, circled the red-iron dragon, one on each side, their eyes gleaming with murderous intent.
The Ignis Brothers seized the opportunity. While the battle at Blackrock Pass drew the Dawn Tribe's attention, they leveraged dragonkind's mastery of the skies to launch a surprise attack on the Dawn Tribe's ancestor altar.
As long as the ancestor altar stood, any barbarian boss who wasn't killed instantly could be resurrected.
Furthermore, this site was the focal point of the Dawn Tribe's faith, the spiritual anchor of their people.
If they could destroy it and plunge the Dawn Tribe's humans into despair, the casualties suffered at Blackrock Pass would be worth it—regardless of whether the tribe's morale shattered or their fury intensified.
(End of the Chapter)
---------------------------
📖 You are reading [215] Chapters behind.
🔥 Read up to Chapter [475] now, only on 𝕔𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕥𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝕞.
📚 Read upto [12,000+] Chapters on Site with [9,900+] Free Chapters!
🚫 Also get FREE lifetime ad-free and join the giveaway by joining our Discord!
---------------------------