"Stop those vermin climbing the walls!"
Suddenly, a shout came from the human guards above.
The Lizardfolk were exposed.
At the same time, the Lizardfolk leader let out a sharp hiss.
The climbing Lizardfolk raised their heads almost simultaneously, their maws filled with tiny, sharp teeth opened, and jets of viscous, dark green liquid sprayed out like water arrows.
Sizzle—!
The corrosive liquid landed on the stone platform, eroding the rock at a speed visible to the naked eye. The archers felt the shaking beneath their feet, and their aim wavered.
The Lizardfolk no longer concealed their bodies, charging up at top speed, attempting to assassinate the archers, Shamans, and other ranged units.
However, things did not go as planned.
Swish, swish, swish!
Barbarian guards climbed the cliff face like agile apes, moving as if on flat ground. They sprinted toward the Lizardfolk, and in the close-quarters combat that followed, their battle-axes and heavy swords were unstoppable, quickly slaughtering and clearing out the Lizardfolk.
Berserk Strike!
Flames seemed to ignite in the Barbarian's eyes, and his movements suddenly quickened.
The Lizardfolk leader's head soared into the sky, decapitated by an axe. However, the monster was tenacious, refusing to die easily; its sharp tail blinded the elite Berserker's right eye.
Silently, while the Barbarian squad leader roared, a shadow emerged from behind him.
Doug's dagger slashed across the Berserker's neck, blood gushing out like a fountain.
"Hrk, hrk, hrk." The Barbarian's eyes widened, and he swung his axe back, but it struck nothing; the treacherous Kobold assassin had already vanished.
"Smash it open!"
The Ogre leader, Barock, roared hoarsely.
He and the other strongest Ogres charged side-by-side to the massive gate, swinging their heavy, hard refined steel weapons, which were engraved with alchemical reinforcement runes, and smashed them down heavily.
Boom—!!!
A dull, heart-stopping boom echoed through the pass.
The immense impact caused the entire gate to shake violently, and dust and rubble from the top rained down.
The heavy gate buckled inward, and the door bolt groaned under the unbearable strain. Even though it was crafted from hard metal and reinforced with magical protection cast by Shamans, it still could not withstand the Ogres' attack.
As the Ogres attacked fiercely, more rubble fell, and large cracks appeared on the gate panels.
"Hold! Hold the gate!"
Shouts from human warriors came from behind the gate, mixed with the creaking of wood being pressed to its limit.
The archers at the cliff top were distracted by the Lizardfolk's venom attack, and the rain of arrows thinned briefly.
The Gnoll leader seized this fleeting opportunity, letting out a bloodthirsty growl: "Pups! Follow me!"
He no longer hugged the wall, moving like a grey bolt of lightning. Leading the Gnolls, he braved the sparse rain of arrows and charged toward the narrow, relatively safe blind spot beneath the gate.
They intended to use their claws and teeth to tear at the spears trying to poke out from behind the gate gaps, buying time for the Ogres.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Crack!
Accompanied by a crisp sound, a thick door bolt snapped completely.
The gate was smashed open, creating a gap wide enough for an Ogre to squeeze through sideways.
"Roar—!" The Ogre leader let out a triumphant roar. His massive palms gripped the edge of the gate, his knotted muscles bulging like granite as he prepared to tear this obstacle apart completely.
However, the moment the gate was smashed open.
A blast of scorching, violent air—mixed with the stench of sweat, metal, and blood—rushed toward them, making even the Ogres feel a palpitation of the heart.
Barock had just squeezed half his body through the gap when his vision was suddenly shrouded by a surging shadow!
These were not human soldiers.
They were Orcs! The elite Berserkers of the Ironblood Tribe!
They looked like demons crawled out from the magma of Hell, each over two meters tall. Their knotted muscles were covered in scars and painted with dark red war patterns. Rough, heavy plate armor covered their vital points, and the muscles on their exposed arms and calves looked like coiled tree roots.
In their hands, they wielded massive double-edged battle-axes nearly as tall as a human, with blades covered in serrations and notches, heavy flails, and giant hammers adorned with hideous barbs.
The few Orcs at the very front had eyes red as blood, their muscles tightening and relaxing like living creatures, and inhuman roars rolling in their throats.
—This was the reaction of simultaneously activating Fury and Berserk states.
"Kill!!"
A thunderous Orc war cry erupted from behind the gate, nearly shattering the scent of blood in the air.
A war hammer, whistling sharply, greeted Barock!
The war hammer slammed solidly into his thick chest, emitting a dull thud like hitting cured leather. Barock's massive body swayed violently. The skin on his chest split open, revealing tough muscle fibers, and shards of iron embedded in his flesh clinked.
Intense pain enraged the Ogre.
He roared, his massive fist smashing toward the Berserker who attacked him with the force of ten thousand pounds.
Boom! The fist missed, slamming heavily into the adjacent cliff wall, sending stone fragments flying.
The Orc Berserker dodged with astonishing agility, his left-hand battle-axe hacking into Barock's thick arm. The blade embedded deeply into the tough flesh but got stuck on the hard bone inside.
Barock grabbed the Orc's helmet with his other hand, as if picking up a ragdoll, slammed him fiercely to the ground, and raised his heavy leg to stomp down madly.
Crack!
A teeth-grinding sound of bone breaking.
The Orc's skull shattered like a rotten watermelon, and red and white matter splashed all over Barock.
But more Berserkers surged up like sharks smelling blood! Heavy weapons fell upon the Ogre like a storm, creating heart-palpitating thuds.
Barock's massive body became the perfect target.
He roared, swinging his mace to send two Orcs who couldn't dodge in time flying into the cliff wall, but in an instant, more weapons rained down upon him.
"Hold on!"
The other Ogres finally squeezed in, their massive bodies temporarily blocking the gap.
They brandished their weapons, each swing unleashing a bloodbath. An Orc Berserker was struck in the waist by a stone club, flying out like a broken sack, knocking over several companions, with visceral fragments spraying from his mouth.
But the Orcs' counterattacks were equally fierce. An Orc wielding a massive flail spun the spiked iron ball, smashing it hard into the side of an Ogre's knee. A spine-chilling cracking sound rang out, and the Ogre's mountain-like body dropped to one knee in pain.
Another Orc Berserker seized the opportunity, leaping high, his double-edged battle-axe coming down with the force of his entire body toward the Ogre's nape.
The axe blade severed the thick cervical vertebrae, and the massive head soared into the sky with a spray of scalding blood. The headless corpse collapsed with a crash.
The narrow space behind the gate instantly turned into a meat grinder.
The roars of Ogres, the war cries of Orcs, the sounds of shattering bone, weapons entering flesh, and dying screams mixed into a cruel symphony.
Thick blood flowed wantonly on the rough ground, mixed with mud and shattered viscera, making it sticky and slippery underfoot.
Outside the gate, Lakk and other Gnolls, along with a small number of Centaurs, tried to rush into the gap to provide support, but were stopped by the Kobold leader's roar: "Idiots! Above!"
Lakk looked up and saw that because the gate had been smashed open, the human archers had shaken off the venom interference and were drawing their bows again. More critically, he saw several figures wearing heavy animal-skin robes and face paint appearing on the edge of the cliff top.
—Shamans of the Dawn Tribe.
One of the Old Shamans held high a staff embedded with mammoth tusks and an unknown crystal, chanting obscure incantations. The crystal at the tip of the staff suddenly lit up with blinding white light!
"Scatter!"
The Gnolls were terrified, screaming hoarsely.
Boom! A thick white lightning bolt tore through the air, descending from the sky with a deafening thunderclap.
The Gnolls' worry was unnecessary; the target was not the Gnolls on the ground, but the Ogres.
The lightning struck an Ogre holding a war hammer with precision. The blinding white light instantly engulfed him. Before he could even scream, his body was charred, carbonized, and trembling violently, until an Orc Berserker finished him off with a follow-up attack.
And just as the other monsters wanted to rush to their aid.
The Barbarians of the Dawn Tribe jumped down one by one like cannonballs, charging into the tide composed of Gnolls and Kobolds. Combined with the attacks from archers and Shaman spellcasters, it left them scrambling to defend themselves.
The battle inside the gate also took a sharp turn for the worse.
The Old Shaman waved his staff, and pale lightning struck down again and again. The Ogres suffered heavy casualties, each one killed by the coordinated efforts of the Orc Berserkers.
Now, only Baroque and one other Ogre remained.
Although both were incredibly brave, they were overwhelmed by numbers. Under the fearless siege of the Orc Berserkers, they were covered in blood and riddled with wounds.
One of Baroque's arms was severed at the elbow by a giant axe, and blood sprayed wildly from the stump.
His remaining arm swung his mace, forcing back a few Orc Berserkers, but an Orc Berserker wielding a heavy two-handed greatsword behind him spotted an opening.
That Orc Berserker had a massive wound on his chest, yet he acted as if nothing were wrong.
He took a deep breath, his muscles bulging, his eyes blood-red. The greatsword, carrying the full force of his body and the momentum of his charge, struck like a black lightning bolt, piercing viciously into Baroque's back.
Squelch! The greatsword pierced through the Ogre's thick back, exiting his chest with dripping flesh.
The Ogre's movements froze instantly, and he looked down in disbelief at the blood-stained sword tip protruding from his chest.
His massive body swayed a few times, a strange rattling sound emitting from his throat. The fierce light in his eyes faded rapidly, but in the moment before he collapsed, he experienced a final burst of strength. His mace swung violently, smashing into the Orc Berserker's head, causing it to burst like a watermelon.
At this moment, the last Ogre was also pierced simultaneously by several weapons, and after letting out a final mournful cry, he crashed to the ground.
At the gate's breach, the Orc Berserkers stepped over the Ogres' massive corpses, waving their dripping weapons and letting out earth-shaking roars of victory! Their crimson eyes peered past the blood-stained gate, locking onto the Molten Iron cannon fodder outside who had fallen into brief chaos due to the death of their leader.
The Molten Iron Tribe's offensive, after paying a tragic price, was forcefully strangled outside the pass.
Blackstone Pass was like the blood-stained fangs of a giant beast, chewing up and swallowing wave after wave of charging Molten Iron soldiers.
"Are you not coming down yet?"
Skull-Eater Skar whispered in his heart.
He was an Advanced Barbarian leader of the Dawn Tribe. He did not directly participate in the battle, but instead stared at the sky from the shadows of the pass, his gaze locked onto the white Dragon shadow soaring high above, ready for battle.
This battle of offense and defense was extremely intense.
The Molten Iron Tribe was at a disadvantage, but their counterattack was not weak, causing quite a few casualties. The entire Blackstone Pass seemed to have turned into a meat grinder.
However, as things developed, the outcome was already decided.
The Ogres' corpses blocked part of the gate's breach, but could not stop the bloodthirsty desire of the Orc Berserkers.
They roared in Fury, like Vicious Beasts that had broken free from their chains, climbing over the corpses of companions and enemies, roaring as they rushed out of the narrow shadows of the pass, pouncing on the vanguard of the Molten Iron Legion that was in disarray on the plains.
"Hold the line, hold the line!"
The Gnoll overseer's voice was sharp and distorted by fear. He waved his long whip, frantically lashing out at the Gnolls and Kobolds who were cowering due to the death of the Ogre leader. The crisp sound of the whip and the overseer's screams seemed so weak in the face of the Orcs' war cries.
The Kobold Doug flapped his wings, appearing silently where the Shaman was.
Slash!
His dagger sliced across the Old Shaman's neck, slitting his throat. Then, under the shocked and angry gaze of the surrounding Barbarian guards, he disappeared again. When he reappeared, he was flapping his wings, hovering in mid-air.
"Retreat!"
This commander of the Iron Will gave the order to retreat.
The monsters, whose morale had already collapsed, fought while retreating, leaving corpses everywhere under the pursuit of the humans and Orcs.
"Why has it not made a move this whole time? What is the purpose of this White Dragon's existence?"
Skull-Splitter frowned, feeling inexplicably uneasy.
Just then, his communication device vibrated violently.
— The Ancestral Spirit Altar is under attack!
A few dozen seconds ago, in the northern part of The Borderlands, the ancestral sacrificial grounds of the Dawn Tribe.
The spine of the Iron Ridge Mountains was silent in the night. The Ancestral Spirit Altar was embedded at the very top of the main peak. The flattened ground was carved with ancient rock paintings, depicting ancient hunting, war, and star totems.
The Ancestral Guardians stood like ancient mountain rocks, the totem patterns faintly glowing in the shadows.
Their physiques far exceeded those of ordinary Barbarian warriors. They wore hard leather armor inlaid with thick bone plates, and their exposed skin was branded with complex and dense tattoo patterns, telling the stories of the Dawn Tribe's ancestors from ancient times to the present challenging nature and hunting Vicious Beasts, exuding a sense of heaviness accumulated over the years.
The Ancestral Shaman Leoni, a thin yet upright old woman, had silver-gray hair braided into countless fine plaits that hung down to her waist.
She was the most powerful Shaman of the Dawn Tribe and the oldest wise one. She had watched the current leader, Brunhild, be born; he had even received her blessing while in his swaddling clothes. She was highly respected and held a lofty status in the Dawn Tribe.
Leoni closed her eyes slightly, her lips moving silently.
She seemed to be listening to the whispers from deep within the earth, and also seemed to be praying to the sleeping ancestral spirits.
Suddenly, her heart tightened, as if gripped by an invisible hand, bringing a sense of extreme danger and palpitations.
Hum—!
A sharp tearing sound suddenly pierced the dead silence.
It was not the mountain wind, nor was it thunder.
It was the sound of death, caused by something tearing through the air at a terrifying speed, creating friction that was enough to make the rocks tremble!
Shaman Leoni opened her eyes abruptly; there was not a trace of cloudiness in those aged eyes. The bone staff in her hand struck heavily against the stone surface of the altar.
"Enemy attack! Ancestral spirits, protect us!"
Her hoarse voice carried a strange resonance, almost drowning out the shrill screech, as if awakening the sleeping mountain spirits.
At the same time, the surrounding Ancestral Guardians were struck as if by an invisible heavy hammer, instantly erupting from their calm state with a terrifying Aura.
The four Guardians protecting the core area of the altar almost instinctively looked up at the same time. The muscles in their arms, gripping their weapons, bulged like steel cables, and the totem patterns on their bodies instantly lit up with blinding light.
However, it was too late.
That towering, fierce Dragon shadow, with a body that seemed like an unparalleled weapon, was already right before their eyes.
Death Omen Star, he had arrived!
"Listen to the silence of extinction!"
Boom!
The Dragon shadow was as blazing as a falling meteor, tearing a long trail in the sky. Carrying flames and lightning capable of igniting the air, along with a destructive shockwave, it smashed with pinpoint accuracy onto the mountain peak.
Crack-crack—! Rumble—!
The earth shook and the mountains swayed. The mountain rock ground, reinforced by Spell and hard as iron, exploded, shattered, and buckled like fragile thin ice.
The Guardians at the center were killed on the spot, leaving no corpses behind. A deep circular impact crater formed instantly, and huge, spiderweb-like cracks spread wildly in all directions from the point of impact, leaving the entire mountain peak teetering on the verge of collapse.
Subsequently.
The magnificent figure that slowly stood up from the dust and rubble made the air solidify into iron.
The Red-Iron Dragon stretched his wings. His body was covered in black-Silver Dragon scales with many cracks, and cold air rolled out in all directions, freezing the surrounding ground inch by inch and coating it with frost.
"Humans, let your ancestral remains be the sacrifice for my war banner, to comfort the souls of the Molten Iron warriors."
The Red-Iron Dragon said slowly, his extremely aggressive and dangerous gaze sweeping over the surviving Ancestral Guardians and the Old Shaman.
As his voice fell, two shadows simultaneously shrouded the mountain ruins.
Iron Dragon Sorog and Red Dragon Samantha, two Young Dragons, flew on the left and right, circling around the Red-Iron Dragon with fierce glints in their eyes.
The Ignas Siblings, taking advantage of the fact that the war at Blackstone Pass had drawn the attention of the Dawn Tribe, utilized the Dragonkin advantage of dominating the sky to launch a surprise attack on the Dawn Tribe's Ancestral Spirit Altar.
With the Ancestral Spirit Altar, those Barbarian leaders could be saved as long as they didn't die on the spot.
Moreover, this place condensed the beliefs of the Dawn Tribe and was the place where their spirits rested.
As long as this place was destroyed, leaving the humans of the Dawn Tribe in utter grief, regardless of whether they became more furious or suffered a collapse in morale, the casualties paid at Blackstone Pass would all be worth it.
PS: Give me Power Stones.