The battle cries soared into the sky. In this cold-weapons war, once the soldiers became locked in close combat, the scene was utterly brutal.
One of their soldiers, covered in blood, was gasping heavily. He gripped in one hand the battle-axe he had snatched from a dwarf soldier. The axe's edge was already curling. He had forgotten how many enemies he had hacked down—five? Seven? He could no longer remember.
As a four-star title, War Lord's bonuses were astonishing: +5 to all true attributes and +50 morale. These bonuses applied to every soldier. Soldiers fought using their Strength, Agility, and Constitution attributes, so a fifteen-point increase across the three attributes was clearly extraordinary.
With a boom, a fireball exploded near the soldier. His flesh was burned away, leaving only a skeleton that clattered to the ground.
"Kill every one of these dwarf bastards!"
A one-eyed soldier on their side roared. The instant he finished speaking, a thud rang out at the back of his head, and then he knew nothing more.
Splurt, splurt.
A soldier swung his greatsword wildly, cutting down three dwarves. One of them had it worst of all. Only his upper body remained, yet he was still alive, collapsed on the ground and howling without end.
Flames scorched the corpses. The smell of blood mingled with thick smoke, creating an odor that was both choking and capable of stimulating Adrenaline. This was the smell of a battlefield.
Once the two armies became embroiled in close combat, the fighting quality of this dwarf force became apparent. The dwarf main force engaged their soldiers head-on. After the two wings enveloped them from both sides, they rapidly regrouped. The dwarves' ram riders formed groups of "swords" and charged into their formation from the flanks, intending to split it apart and