Chapter 676: Soro's Spear
"Move! Move!"
"By Father God Gewush, how do those Imperials have such weapons?!"
"No wonder the Highland Kingdom was destroyed by them! With just these lowly orcs, how could we ever take back Avendeldan?"
Staring at the land in the distance, covered in smoke and fire, the orcs were visibly terrified. They didn't even bother collecting supplies as they once again fled north in panic.
Fortunately, the pure-blood orcs' camps were located far behind the battlefield. A retreat of just a few dozen miles would return them to their homeland — the Ugo Great Prairie.
Soro sat atop a prairie land lizard, turned his head, and gazed at the battlefield strewn with chaos. Firelight reflected in his eyes, but deep within his pupils burned a hatred too profound to hide.
At this point, Soro's grand ambition of conquering Avendeldan and leading the orcs to dominate the Feianso Continent had utterly turned to dust.
His "one million orc" army didn't even touch the walls of Avendeldan before being incinerated by the all-consuming flames of the Ember Empire.
And burned alongside those green-skinned orcs were Soro's honor and prestige as the Grand Chieftain.
——Over the past few days, he had already heard whispers that, due to their defeat, clan leaders were plotting to split off again after the war, no longer recognizing the Redblood Tribe's leadership.
How could he not hate them?
Soro didn't just hate the Ember Empire that had crushed his dreams—he loathed those selfish, shortsighted clan chiefs. He was filled with fury at their treachery.
Thinking of this, the veins on Soro's forehead bulged. Through clenched teeth, he growled, "Ember Empire, one day I'll lead countless orcs to massacre your citizens! I'll cut off that red dragon's head and hang it on the walls of Avendeldan."
"But first, I'll deal with those damned traitors!" The orc chieftain clenched his blood-smeared spear tightly, bloodshot eyes brimming with murderous intent.
"Whoosh——"
A sharp screech came from the distant sky. Several armored wyverns swooped through the air, dropping bombs over the retreating orc army.
"Boom!"
"Boom! Boom!"
Flames soared to the heavens, explosions rattling the earth. The orcs flailed helplessly, waving their weapons in terror, completely powerless.
"Damn it, it's those Imperial wyverns again!"
"How can this be—they actually chased us all the way here?!"
"By Gewush, are these Imperials' spells and divine arts truly endless?!"
"Quick! Damn it, shoot them down!" Soro roared as he watched dozens of elite orcs die. Looking up at the black dots in the sky, he erupted in fury.
An orc rider beside him pulled a bitter face and whispered, "Grand Chieftain, they're flying too high and too fast. Our shortbows can't possibly—"
"Useless! A bunch of useless trash!"
Soro was utterly enraged. It was one thing for lowly orcs to be slaughtered, but now these damn wyverns were killing his elites—slaughtering them right in front of him!
In orcish terms: that was like taking a dump on his head!
"Damn Imperials, I'll make you pay for this!"
Soro yanked the spear from the rider's hands and glared at the sky with bloodshot eyes. Far above, the wyverns were climbing once more—clearly about to circle back.
High in the sky, the aerial corps' wyvern riders were carrying out their routine task—pressing buttons, dropping bombs, killing orcs.
Compared to the tense, thrilling air battles of the past, their job now was practically like working on an assembly line: repetitive and dull, with only a few "fireworks" fueled by orc lives.
This time, their targets were the pure-blood orcs in retreat.
Looking at the string of experience prompts flashing on his system panel, Mantou frowned. "The orc density here is way too low. One bombing run only killed a dozen or so. At least their challenge level is a bit higher."
Singo commented, "These last few missions spoiled your appetite, huh? Back then, you were rushing to do janitor jobs for a few hundred EXP, and now you're scoffing at thousand-point bombings."
Mantou curled his lip. "Back then was back then. Now's now. Ugh, this mission has everything—except excitement."
"All I do every day is eat, sleep, bomb some orcs, pocket a few thousand EXP. It's boring. Totally boring!"
Singo laughed. "If you say that out loud, the newbies struggling to level up are gonna hunt you down."
Mantou retorted proudly, "So what? They gonna kill me? Heh, if they do show up, one bomb from me and I'll send them flying to the afterlife!"
Singo said flatly, "'Whom the gods would destroy, they first make proud.' You're getting cocky, kid."
Mantou pouted and shot back, "Shut it, Sin-Dog! Don't pull that crap with me. You're the real show-off around here—every event, it's always you hogging the spotlight."
"Wait a second—"
Singo's tone suddenly turned strange. "Mantou, that 'battle excitement' you were craving… might be coming your way."
"What?"
Mantou looked down in confusion and saw a heavily-armored, massive orc below, gripping a spear and glaring at him with pure hatred.
At the same time, his helmet display suddenly flashed with red text: [Warning, Warning! You are about to encounter danger! Evacuate immediately!]
Curtis's voice came through the headset. "You've been marked by a powerful orc. Our energy signature scanner identifies him as beyond Legendary rank—and there's an undetectable aura radiating from him.
Retreat now. If he catches you—tsk, well, good luck."
The transmission ended.
Mantou wore a miserable face and wished he could slap himself for jinxing it.
Death penalties deduct EXP proportionally. If he dies, he'll lose more than half the massive EXP he earned these past few days.
But then, Mantou gritted his teeth and cursed, "Damn it, it's just an orc! What's he gonna do—fly?!"
Following Curtis's order, the wyvern riders all yanked their joysticks and climbed almost vertically toward the sky.
Ever since they'd been outfitted with Skyfire Armor, the wyverns had lost a bit of agility but gained immense speed. Flying low was risky—best to gain altitude and put distance between them and the enemy.
No matter how strong that orc Warrior was, he didn't have wings. He couldn't possibly soar like they could.
But Soro's muscles tensed all over as he dropped to one knee. His legs coiled like compressed springs.
"Boom!"
With a thunderous crash, the ground sank beneath him and dust burst skyward. Driven by an overwhelming force, Soro's towering six-meter frame leapt into the air, shooting up a hundred meters like he was flying.
Spiderweb cracks split the ground, forming a massive crater several meters wide and deep.
"Whoosh——"
As he rocketed upward, the air scraped against his body at extreme speeds, generating trails of flame. He looked like a meteor shooting from the ground into the sky.
Inside Soro's body, a heart saturated with primal orc spores pounded wildly, unleashing waves of powerful force fields and pressure.
Watching the beast burst from the sky, drawing closer every second, Mantou was stunned. "What the hell is that monster?! That thing still counts as an orc?!"
The wyvern riders, seeing this, stopped holding back. They all hit the acceleration triggers.
"Whoosh——"
Flames burst from the steel pipes at the rear of their Skyfire Armor, hurling them into high-speed flight—each of them a crimson blur piercing the heavens.
After a few seconds aloft, gravity kicked in and the orc's momentum waned. He began falling back to earth.
But at that moment, he was only a few dozen meters away from Mantou! That final stretch, though—it just wasn't enough.
Mantou finally relaxed, turned his head, made a face, and taunted, "Heh, eat my wyvern exhaust, sucker!"
"Bastard!"
Soro erupted in fury. His face twisted into a savage mask, muscles bulging and veins popping as he summoned terrifying power.
Staring at the sharp spear in Soro's hand, Mantou suddenly had a bad feeling. A chill crawled up his spine. "Wait… is this guy actually gonna—"
"Whoosh——"
A piercing blast tore through the sky as the sharp spear ripped the air apart, hurtling straight at Mantou.
"Shameless Imperial! Die!"
Soro's thunderous roar followed right behind.
Mantou hit every emergency switch on his armor, sending fire, lightning, and force fields blasting from the wyvern's back, zigzagging in frantic evasive maneuvers.
But the spear, enveloped in primal orc spores, was ghostlike—tracking him relentlessly. In seconds, it closed in from beneath.
"Rip——"
A sharp snap, then the sound of steel piercing flesh. The spear shredded through armor, impaling the wyvern and Mantou straight through.
Mantou looked down at the bloody spearhead protruding from his chest, face twisted in despair.
A slowed-down version of "See you again" played in his headset, followed by Curtis's half-amused voice: "Mantou, thanks for taking one for the team. The rest of the flight squad got away safely."
Done for. He pushed his luck too far.
——That was Mantou's final thought.
"Boom!"
The wyvern's belly detonated—its self-destruct triggered. A dozen stored bombs exploded at once, lighting up the sky in a blinding fireball.
Burning debris rained down. Mantou's body was now just charred meat—oddly in sync with the BGM.
The orc Warrior slammed into the ground with a thunderous crash.
"Chieftain Soro!"
"Mighty Soro! Your power is awe-inspiring! You even killed a wyvern!"
"Wyvern Slayer, Soro!"
"Grand Chieftain, you've avenged our warriors!"
"Enough!"
But Soro's face was cold and grim. There was no thrill from killing his enemy, only irritation. "The Imperials will return. We need to retreat now!"
"Yes, Grand Chieftain."
Soro scanned the surroundings, his face unreadable. At least now that he'd shown his power, the orcs would obey—clan chiefs included.
He looked again toward the fortress atop Blackstone Mountain, vowing in his heart: Avendeldan, I will return.
Next time, I'll lead an even stronger orc army, retake Avendeldan—and I won't flee like this again.
"General Drol, the orc chieftain is retreating north with the Redblood Tribe. Should we intercept them?"
"No. That's unnecessary."
The hobgoblin waved a hand and turned toward the north. "Don't forget His Majesty's command. Our goal isn't to win this war—it's to root out the orc threat in the Ugo Great Prairie."
The adjutant asked, puzzled, "But the Ugo Prairie is vast. Once they reach it, it's their home turf."
Drol shook his head and grinned wickedly. "His Majesty Cassius once said: you can run with the bishop, but the cathedral stays put."
"As long as they go back, we can follow and find the source of the green-skinned orcs. Then we'll annihilate their settlements—solve the orc problem at its root."
The adjutant nodded repeatedly, flattering, "You're truly farsighted and cunning. You understand His Majesty's wisdom deeply."
Drol smiled with satisfaction. "Of course. His Majesty gave me those orders personally."
"As expected of General Drol. You've earned His Majesty Cassius's trust!"
Once this mission's wrapped up, I might just get promoted to Duke. The hobgoblin general was pleased with himself.
Suddenly, Curtis's voice came through the magic transmitter. "General Drol, we just lost a Skyfire unit."
Drol frowned. That armor was insanely expensive—just one unit cost thousands of gold. Each one was invaluable.
Drol asked, "What happened? Those weak green-skinned orcs managed to damage our air corps?"
Curtis answered truthfully, "We ran into the orc main force and conducted a probing attack. They've got a Warrior stronger than Legendary rank—most likely the Grand Chieftain."
"Legendary..." Drol's expression grew grave.
Someone of that caliber was a serious threat across the entire continent. Even the Ember Empire had only a handful.
Drol asked, "If you can't handle him—should I request help from Lady Misha?"
"No need, General."
To his surprise, Curtis declined and added, "Actually... I'd like to test whether 'that thing' can kill a Legendary-tier Warrior."
Drol caught the barely concealed glee in Curtis's voice—and felt a chill down his spine.